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ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
SEVENTH EDITION.
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
OR
DICTIONARY
or
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND GENERAL LITERATURE.
SEVENTH EDITION,
WITH PRELIMINARY DISSERTATIONS ON THE HISTORY OF THE SCIENCES,
AND
OTHER EXTENSIVE IMPROVEMENTS AND ADDITIONS;
INCLUDING THE LATE SUPPLEMENT.
A GENERAL INDEX,
AND NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS.
VOLUME XIV.
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH;
M.DCCC.XLIL
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Magne- r| ''HE term Animal Magnetism has been employed to
tism, denote an agency or influence to which certain singu-
Animal. iar phenomena, occurring, or said to occur, in the economy
— of particular individuals, have been supposed to be attri¬
butable. The phenomena whichithis agency has been con¬
ceived to produce in those to whom it is applied, may be
comprehended under two distinct classes; those which oc¬
cur whilst the person operated upon remains awake, and
those which take place whilst the patient is in a state of
sleep, or in a state resembling it. To the former class of ef¬
fects belong, first, various sensations, more or less painful,
experienced particularly in those parts of the body that are
the seat of disease, and which enable the practitioner to
detect what that seat actually is; secondly, convulsive and
other nervous affections, which have been regarded by the
advocates of animal magnetism as salutary crises; and, third¬
ly, the removal of any diseases with which the persons mag¬
netised may be affected, the magnetic influence proving in
this respect an universal curative of disease and preservative
of health. Under the latter class of effects, or those occur¬
ring whilst the persons magnetised are in the state of mag¬
netic sleep, may be included the power they acquire of
carrying on a continued conversation with their magnetiser,
without being at all sensible of the presence or conversa¬
tion of others, and sometimes in a language, and upon mat¬
ters, with which they are little if at all acquainted; the
power of discovering the secret thoughts of others; the
power of receiving, through the medium of the epigastrium,
or other parts of the circumference of the body, those im¬
pressions of external objects which, in ordinary circum¬
stances, are received only through the peculiar organs or
external sensation, or that power which, in the technical
language of magnetism, is shortly termed the transference
of the senses ; the power of detecting the internal altera¬
tions which have been produced by disease in their own
bodies, or in those of others with whom they may be placed
in the relation of animal magnetism; the power of fore¬
telling the nature of the changes which are to occur in their
own maladies, or in the maladies of others; the power of in¬
stinctively suggesting the remedies by which these changes
may be best promoted, and the cure of the diseases accom-
VOL. XIV.
plished ; together with various other extraordinary, or, as Magne-
they have usually been deemed where they have been sup- tism,
posed to occur, preternatural powers of a similar kind.’ Animal.
These two classes of phenomena belong to different pe- v'—“v-”—
riods of the history of animal magnetism. To those of the
first class chiefly the early practitioners of this mysterious
art confined their pretensions ; and it was only at a later
period that the magnetisers laid claim to the power of pro¬
ducing the wonderful manifestations included under the
second class. In the following article we purpose briefly
to trace the history of the opinions entertained respecting
the occurrence of the first class of phenomena, and the na¬
ture of the powers, agencies, or dispositions, to which they
ought to be ascribed; reserving the consideration of the
phenomena of the second class for the article Somnam¬
bulism.
The history of animal magnetism is interesting, from
the illustration it affords of some of the peculiar difficul¬
ties, arising out of the complex nature of the human eco¬
nomy, and the various agencies, physical, vital, and men¬
tal, by which it may be influenced, which present them¬
selves to the medical inquirer, in his endeavours to ascer¬
tain the real nature and the specific operations of remedial
agents. It is interesting, also, from the light it seems to
throw upon that disposition in human nature which has
led man, in all ages and nations of the world, to believe in
the existence and agency of marvellous, magical, and su¬
pernatural powers. But of the various effects which have
been supposed to result from the operation of such powers,
none has obtained a more universal or lasting belief than
that of the cure of diseases, by influences or agencies alto¬
gether different, in their nature and mode of operation,
from those ordinary remedial means, in the use of which
the experience and studies of medical men have taught
them to place all their hopes of success in the practice of
their art. There seems reason to believe, however, that
the existence and operation of those spontaneous processes
by which the animal economy is in a great number of in -
stances restored from a morbid to a healthy condition,
have at all times mainly contributed to produce and to
foster such beliefs. The public in general, and perhaps
A
2 MAGNETIS
Magne- even the medical profession itself, have very inaccurate
tism, notions what share in those changes on which the resto-
ration of health depends, is attributable to the remedies
employed, and what share to circumstances occurring in the
economy independently of medical aid ; and consequently
no very great address has ever been required on the part of
pretenders to extraordinary powers in the cure of diseases,
to persuade both the learned and the unlearned, that the
means which they have administered or recommended were
entitled to the whole merit of the cures that ensued.
The remarkable property which the loadstone or mag¬
net possesses, of attracting iron, appears to have very early
excited the attention of philosophers. Aristotle informs
us that Thales, who lived six hundred years before our
era, ascribed this property of the magnet to its being en¬
dowed with a soul, without which, he conceived, no motion
of any kind could take place. It does not seem surpris¬
ing, that a substance manifesting such singular physical
properties as those which the magnet possesses, should
by analogy have been conceived to be capable of exerting
some special influence upon the human economy; and ac¬
cordingly we find that various remarkable, but at the same
time very opposite properties, were ascribed to it by the
old authors, one regarding it as a substance capable of
acting upon the moral, and another upon the physical part
of the economy; some looking upon it as possessing decid¬
edly noxious and morbific qualities, and others consider¬
ing it as an agent endowed with highly salutary medici¬
nal powers. Thus the loadstone was superstitiously be¬
lieved to have the power of exciting love, of detecting
adultery, and of re-establishing conjugal fidelity and hap¬
piness. Its use was resorted to by some under the belief
that it was capable of prolonging the period of youth,
whilst, by others, properties directly deleterious were as¬
cribed to it. Hence, in several medical works, we find it
ranged in the list of poisons, and its antidotes duly pointed
out. Hippocrates, in his Essay on Internal Diseases, re¬
commends the use of the magnesian or loadstone as a pur¬
gative ; and Dioscorides and Galen inform us that the na¬
tural magnet was in their time employed in a pulverized
state as an evacuant, particularly in cases of melancholy
and dropsy. By more modern authors, and especially by
Rattray, Reuss, Zwinger, and other physicians of the fif¬
teenth and sixteenth centuries, the internal use of the
powdered loadstone was extended to the treatment of a
number of other diseases, such as catarrhs, diarrhoeas,
haemorrhagies, burns, erysipelas, quartan fevers, cancer,
worms, nervous affections, and various diseases of the eye,
spleen, and uterus.
But besides being administered as an internal reme¬
dy, the loadstone in a pulverized state was likewise em¬
ployed as an external application. Pliny says that the pow¬
der of the magnet is useful in diseases of the eyes, and for
the cure of burns and scalds; and Serapion, a medical
author of the ninth century, mentions that powder as an
ingredient in a plaster which he had applied to poisoned
wounds, evidently in the belief that by its attractive
power it would be instrumental in extracting from these
wounds the poisons with which they might happen to be
impregnated. Platearius, in the thirteenth century, recom¬
mended the application of the loadstone to wounds, both
in the form of a simple powder, and as an ingredient in
an attractive vulnerary plaster. This magnetic, or divine
plaster, as it was sometimes termed, appears to have
been very generally used in the surgery of those times.
Boet de Boet speaks of it as a remedy adapted for the
cure of all kinds of wounds, as calculated to purify them
from all malignity, to favour the generation of new flesh,
and to avert all those accidents with which wounds are
liable to become complicated during the progress of their
treatment. Paracelsus imagined that the pulverized mag-
M, ANIMAL.
net, formed into a plaster, was capable of attracting any par- Magne-
ticles of iron which might happen to be lodged in wounds tism,
inflicted with steel weapons ; and accordingly it was em- ^ Animal,
ployed for that purpose by several of his followers, and^""’”'-''"^
applied also as an attractive plaster in gout and in mania,
and as an alexipharmic remedy in the plague.
Dr Gilbert of Colchester, in his excellent Experimental
Treatise on the Magnet, published in 1600, first distinctly
stated that the loadstone has its magnetic properties
completely destroyed by being reduced to the state of a
powder, and consequently that in this state it could act
on the animal economy only as a ferruginous substance.
Yet, notwithstanding the knowledge of this precise and in¬
controvertible fact, the pulverized magnet continued to be
Used by various medical practitioners, both as an internal
expulsive remedy, and as an external attractive applica¬
tion, up to the beginning of the eighteenth century. Since
that period the employment of the powdered loadstone
appears to have been entirely abandoned, both in medi¬
cine and in surgery; and it is now, in the retrospect, sin¬
gular, and indeed somewhat humiliating, to remark how
many delusive and groundless fancies existed amongst
well-informed medical men regarding the peculiar action
and virtues of that substance, and in what decided lan¬
guage many respectable authors have spoken both of its
noxious and salutary effects; knowing, as we now do, that
it was physically impossible it could possess any of the
properties attributed to it, or indeed exercise any phy¬
siological or therapeutical powers beyond those which de¬
pended on its containing a portion of iron in its composi¬
tion. In the strange medley of superstitious beliefs and
practices which have been enumerated, we have a re¬
markable and instructive example of that sort of know¬
ledge which has not unfrequently been denominated me¬
dical experience. The history of the materia medica fur¬
nishes but too many examples of remedies which have en¬
joyed, in the confidence of the public, and of the medical
profession, an equally high and undeserved place with the
magnet, and which are now wholly discarded from the phar¬
macopoeia. How many of those much-vaunted remedies
that are still in popular repute, and in use even with me¬
dical men, are destined, in the progress of therapeutical
science, to undergo the same fate, time only can reveal.
A slight account of the virtues attributed to the ac¬
tion of the magnet in its entire state, upon the human
economy, will be found to be not less illustrative of the dif¬
ficulties which occur in judging between the real and the
supposed effects of therapeutic agents, and particularly be¬
tween the operation of physical and mental influences in
the relief and cure of diseases, than that which has just
now been given of the supposed virtues of the magnet em¬
ployed in a pulverized form. Aetius appears to have been
the first Greek author who mentioned the use, in me¬
dicine, of the magnet in its natural or unpulverized
state. He says, that when held in the hand of the pa¬
tient, it had been reported to prove beneficial in allaying
the pains of gout, and in curing convulsions. The em¬
ployment of the magnet in this form, and for nearly
the same purposes, is alluded to by other Greek, and by
some Arabian physicians; but the author who first brought
the virtues of the entire magnet most prominently into
repute, was the celebrated Paracelsus. In his works,
published at Basel in the earlier part of the sixteenth
century, this author has made the medicinal virtues of
the magnet, in all its forms and preparations, but particu¬
larly in its entire state, the subject of much theoretical
and mystical explanation, not to add exaggerated panegy¬
ric. He attributes to it the property of dislodging and
attracting towards itself all material diseases; and in
this list he includes uterine discharges, fluxes of the belly,
jaundice, dropsy, hernia, ulcers, hysteria, epilepsy, spasms.
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Magne- tetanus, convulsions of pregnant women, defluxions of the
tism, eyes> ears, nose, mouth, and external parts, cancers, fis-
Amnaal. an(j congestions of blood. To this copious list of
diseases said by Paracelsus to be susceptible of being re¬
lieved or cured by the magnet in its entire state, a con¬
siderable number was added by his more immediate fol¬
lowers, and by several medical authors of the seventeenth
and the commencement of the eighteenth centuries ; more
especially by Van Helmont, Borel, Reichel, Klarich, and
Kircher. The use of this remedy was extended by these
authors to the treatment of mania, palsy, palpitations, &c.;
and its employment in convulsions, and in painful affec¬
tions, particularly in toothach and rheumatism, was highly
recommended.
Ihe belief in the efficacy of the magnet, whether ad¬
ministered internally or applied externally, in curing dis¬
eases, seems, with most of those who adopted it, to have
constituted only a part, of a great • system, in which they
recognised magnetism as a general power or principle,
pervading the whole universe, and establishing particular
connections between all its various parts. To these mutual
relations of the different parts of the universe, material and
animated, they gave the names, sometimes of attraction
and repulsion, and sometimes of sympathy and antipathy.
Gilbert, to whose work upon the magnet reference has
already been made, conceived that the earth is a great
magnet, which acts and is acted upon by the other pla¬
nets in the universe; and that this planetary influence
operates upon all the bodies, animate and inanimate, which
exist upon the surface of our globe. Fludd, in his Philo-
sophia Moysaica, published in 1638, developed a theory of
the universe, in which its phenomena were mainly ac¬
counted for by the attractive or magnetic virtue, and the
antipathy of bodies. Man, considered as the microcosm,
he held to be endowed with a magnetic virtue, subject to
the same laws as that of the great world ; having his poles
like the earth, and his favourable and contrary winds. He
describes the circumstances which produce negative or
positive magnetism between different persons; and states,
that when the latter subsists, not only the diseases and
particular affections, but even the moral affections, are
communicated from the one person to the other. Kir¬
cher, in his work on the magnet, published at Rome in
1641, describes the influence of magnetism, not only as it
is universally diffused throughout the planetary system,
but also as acting upon and existing in minerals, plants,
and animals. He seems to have been the first author who
made the distinction between, and employed the terms of,
mineral, vegetable, and animal magnetism. Similar ideas
are to be found in the Nova Medicina Spirituum of Wirdig,
published in 1673; in the Medicina Magnetica of Alex¬
ander Maxwell, a Scotch physician, published in 1679 ; and
in the Philosophia Recondita, sive Magicce Magneticce Mu-
mialis Scientics Explanatio of Santanelli, published in
i/23.1 It was, it may be remarked, upon this general
doctrine of the sympathy pervading all parts of the uni¬
verse, that the sympathetic treatment of wounds and dis¬
eases practised by Paracelsus, Sir Kenelm Dieby, and
others, was founded.
Ihe medicinal virtues of the loadstone in its entire
state continued occasionally to engage the attention of
medical men up to the middle of the eighteenth century,
when, in consequence of the great improvements that had
been made in forming artificial magnets possessing strong-
ei attiactive powers than the natural loadstone, and ad¬
mitting of a much more ready application in the treat-
3
ment of diseases (from their being of comparatively small Magne-
size, and capable of being adapted to all parts of the tism,
body), these were substituted instead of the loadstone. Animal.
Numerous reports were soon published in medical jour¬
nals, and in separate publications, of the great efficacy and
success of these instruments. One of those who distin¬
guished themselves the most in the formation and use of
artificial magnets, was M. le Noble, a French abbe, who
obtained for the magnets which he had manufactured the
approbation of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris.
In applying his magnets to different parts of the body, M.
le Noble employed them sometimes temporarily, and of
great size and power ; but, for more general and permanent
use, he had them formed into different pieces of ornamen¬
tal or useful dress, such as caps or bandeaux for the head,
necklaces, crosses, bracelets, girdles, and garters. By nu¬
merous and frequent trials, he convinced himself, and sa¬
tisfied many of his patients, that his magnetic dresses and
ornaments were often speedy and effectual means of cure
in a great variety of diseases. After having been engaged
for a number of years in forming artificial magnets, and in
adapting them to the different parts of the body, M. le
Noble was, in 1777, induced to apply to the Royal Society
of Medicine of Paris, and to request that they would ap¬
point a committee of their body to make an experimental
trial of the medicinal virtues of his magnets. The socie¬
ty, in compliance with his wishes, appointed two of its
members, Messieurs Andry and Thouret, to undertake this
task, and to report to them the result of their investiga¬
tions. These gentlemen appear to have bestowed unwea¬
ried diligence and taken uncommon pains in their trials
of M. le Noble’s magnets and ornamental dresses, in the
treatment of the diseases of no fewer than forty-eight pa¬
tients, whom they selected for the purpose. We learn by
the very full and circumstantial report which they drew
up of these cases (read to the Royal Society of Medicine
on the 29th August 1780, and afterwards published in its
Memoirs), that they were fully convinced, by the trials
which they themselves had made, as well as from the pre¬
vious records of medicine, that the magnet is capable of
producing a great variety of salutary effects upon the
human economy in different states of disease. “ The dis¬
eases,” MM. ihouret and Andry remark, “ in which we
have employed the magnet, have first, different kinds
of painful affections, as those of the teeth, nervous pains
in the head and of the kidneys, rheumatic pains, and that
particular affection of the face known under the name of tic-
douloureux; and, secondly, spasmodic affections, such as
spasms of the stomach, convulsive hiccough, cramps of the
extremities, and palpitations, different kinds of tremblings,
convulsions, epilepsy, and vertigo.” The experimenters
were convinced of the medicinal efficacy of the magnet;
first, by their observing that in most instances its ap¬
plication was either immediately or in a short time fol¬
lowed by the total cessation, or great alleviation, of the
diseased affections for which it was employed; secondly,
by the sudden return of these affections when the magnet
was withdrawn or accidentally displaced ; and, thirdly, by
their frequently observing the great relief which many of
their patients experienced in having their magnetic dresses
renewed when their influence had been exhausted or had
become effete. Besides the salutary effects which result¬
ed in painful and spasmodic affections, from the use of the
magnets and of magnetic dresses, MM. Andry and Thou¬
ret mention also a variety of other physiological pheno¬
mena which they had observed in their experiments ; such,
f °r a vicw °.f tlie opinions of authors respecting the agency of magnetism in the system of the universe in funeral and of
in the ” ma? refer t0 'rll0Uret’s *•*'"*« " “ ***»*, Anh.au and to theVticle’^moat
4 MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Xvlagne- for instance, as the sudden excitement of anomalous and
tism, remarkable sensations of heat or cold, of itchiness or prick-
- Ill‘lia_J “'S pains in the parts to which the magnet was applied,
and sometimes even the aggravation instead of the allevia¬
tion of the old pains, or the production of pains entirely
new; together with the sudden and considerable increase
of different secretions, such as those of perspiration, the
urine, and other alvine excretions. In one instance the use
of magnetised water was observed to be constantly followed
by an evacuation of the bowels. It is mentioned by Andry
and Thouret that several of their patients affirmed that they
saw the skin dart forward to the magnet when it was brought
near to their bodies ; and that that instrument produced its
curative effects when it was kept at some distance from the
body, as well as when it was brought into contact with the
diseased parts. MM. Andry and Thouret acknowledge, that
in a variety of instances they had failed in procuring re¬
lief for their patients by magnetism, and this they ascribe
partly to the magnet’s having been too weak, or applied
for too short a period of time, and partly also to the incu¬
rable nature of the diseases with which some of their pa¬
tients were affected.
In reviewing this laborious and most minute investiga¬
tion of the numerous and greatly varied effects which were
observed to occur after the application of artificial mag¬
nets, we cannot but feel some degree of surprise that no
suspicion should have arisen in the minds of the expe¬
rimenters, that some of these effects might be the result of
those spontaneous operations of the economy itself, which,
from the earliest periods of medical science, have been
known under the appellation of the Vires Conservatrices
et Medicatrices Natures; that others were the effect of a
proper and stricter attention perhaps to clothing, diet, and
regimen than had been previously employed; and that the
greater part of the sudden cures were probably the result
of hope, engendered by belief in the efficacy of the re¬
medy and confidence in those who applied it, or of other
mental impressions, the influence of which in producing
remarkable and sudden effects upon the corporeal and men¬
tal functions of the human economy, and in promoting the
operation of remedial agents, has long been recognised by
medical men under the general, but not always accurately
defined, term of the power of imagination.
Notwithstanding the very favourable nature of the re¬
port of MM. Andry and Thouret, the use of the magnet as
a therapeutical agent does not appear to have been promot¬
ed by it in France; a circumstance which must in a great
measure be ascribed to the public attention having been
at that time particularly engaged by the more ostentatious
pretensions and splendid apparatus of certain other cura¬
tive processes, which will be presently noticed. Since that
period, however, several French authors have alluded in
their writings to its use. Professor Alibert, in his work
on Therapeutics, speaks of its action on the human econo¬
my as incontestable. The late M. Laennec, in his excel¬
lent treatise on Diseases of the Chest, states that he had in
his own practice employed with marked success magnetis¬
ed steel plates applied to the chest in asthma or painful
affections of the lungs, and in angina pectoris, or painful
affections of the heart. MM. Merat and Lens, in their
dictionary of Materia Medica (1829), seem inclined to
concede to the magnet a certain degree of medicinal ac¬
tion, and cite several distinguished Parisian physicians of
the present day (MM. Recamier, Cayol, and Chomel) as
having observed facts corroborative of those mentioned
by MM. Andry and Thouret. We are even assured that
the application of strong magnets was extensively em¬
ployed at Vienna by Drs Becker and Schmidt, in the
treatment of cholera during its epidemic prevalence in
that city, and with most beneficial effects; and lately one
of these gentlemen (Dr Schmidt) has endeavoured to call
the attention of English practitioners to its use as a me- Magne-
dicinal agent, in a paper published in the London Medi- tism,
cal and Surgical Journal for November 1835. Animal.
As nearly allied to the magnet in their mode of applica-v'-'■v'—
tion and operation, and in the effects described as aris¬
ing from their employment for the cure of diseases, may be
noticed here the instruments invented by Mr Perkins
of Connecticut in North America, towards the end of last
century, and denominated by him metallic tractors. These
instruments, which were all fashioned after one particular
pattern, consisted of an alloy of different metals. They
had a semi-globular shape at one end, and at the other ter¬
minated in a sharp, sword-like point. In employing the
tractors, Mr Perkins directed that the diseased and neigh¬
bouring parts should be slightly rubbed or touched with
the sharp point, for a longer or shorter time, according to
circumstances; and in some cases the instruments were
ordered to be drawn over the affected part in one particu¬
lar direction, and in other cases in a different direction.
Mr Perkins, from numerous experiments which he made
with his instruments, was convinced that their employ¬
ment had proved beneficial in a great number of diseases,
as in different kinds of inflammation, in diseases of the
nerves, burns, contusions, envenomed wounds, ophthalmia,
erysipelas, herpes, rheumatism, gout, headach, toothach,
pain of the breast, and other topical diseases. The state
of Connecticut, in consideration of the value of Mr Per¬
kins’ discovery, granted him a patent for the manufac¬
ture of his instruments. Soon afterwards his son came
oyer to England, and practised for some time the me¬
dicinal employment of the tractors with great fame and
success in London. At the same time, their use was in¬
troduced into Denmark, and other parts of the continent
of Europe, by different individuals; and several pamphlets
were published, both abroad and in this country, containing
accounts of their wonderful efficacy.
In 1799, being the year subsequent to that in which the
younger Perkins came to England, and when the employ¬
ment and effects of the metallic tractors were exciting in
a very great degree the attention of the English public,
both professional and non-professional, the late Dr Hay-
garth of Bath determined to perform some experiments
with a view of putting to the test the accuracy of the ef¬
fects attributed to these instruments, and of endeavouring
to trace the nature and cause of their effects. The first
suggestion of the experiments that were performed for
this purpose was originally communicated by that gentle¬
man to Dr Falconer. “ The tractors,” he observed, “ have
obtained such high reputation at Bath, even among per¬
sons of rank and understanding, as to require the par¬
ticular attention of physicians. Let their merit be im¬
partially investigated, in order to support their fame,
if it be well founded, or to correct the public opinion, if
merely formed upon delusion. Such a trial may be ac¬
complished in the most satisfactory manner, and ought fo
be performed without any prejudice. Prepare a pair of
false exactly to resemble the true tractors. Let the se¬
cret be kept inviolable, not only from the patient, but
every other person. Let the efficacy of both be impar¬
tially tried, beginning always with the false tractors. The
cases should be accurately stated, and the reports of the
effects produced by the true and false tractors be fully
given in the words of the patients.” Experiments of the
kind suggested by Dr ^Haygarth were made on a number
of persons affected with the diseases in which the metallic
tractors had been represented to prove beneficial,—at Bath
by Drs Haygarth and Falconer, at Bristol by Mr Smith,
and in Germany by Schumacher; and the results which
were obtained, particularly as regards the removal of un¬
easy sensations, and the production of various feelings not
previously experienced, were not less wonderful than those
MAGNETIS
Magne- which the advocates of the genuine tractors had recorded.
tism, sjiau content ourselves with quoting, from the very
_n™aJ , valuable reports furnished to Dr Haygarth by Mr Smith,
the notes of two cases in which the spurious tractors were
employed; the one illustrating the disappearance of pain and
stiffness in a joint, and the other the appearance of intense
pain and other symptoms, during, and to all appearance in
consequence of, the employment of these instruments.
“ Robert Thomas, aged forty-three, who had been for
some time under the care of Dr Lovell in the Bristol in¬
firmary, with a rheumatic affection of the shoulder, which
rendered his arm perfectly useless, was pointed out as a
proper object of trial by Mr T. W. Dyer, apothecary to the
house. Tuesday, April 19th, having everything in readi¬
ness, I passed through the ward, and, in a way that he might
suspect nothing, questioned him respecting his complaint.
I then told him that I had an instrument in my pocket
which had been very serviceable to many in his state;
and when I had explained to him how simple it was, he
consented to undergo the operation. In six minutes no
other effect was produced than a warmth upon the skin ;
and I feared that this coup d’essai had failed. The next
day, however, he told me that ‘ he had received so much
benefit that it had enabled him to lift his hand from his
knee, which he had in vain several times attempted on
the Monday evening, as the whole ward witnessed.’ The
tractors I used being made of lead, I thought it advisa¬
ble to lay them aside, lest, being metallic points, the proof
against this fraud might be less complete. Thus much,
however, was proved, that the patent tractors possessed
no specific power independent of simple metals. Two
pieces of wood, properly shaped and painted, were next
made use of; and, in order to add solemnity to the farce,
Mr Barton held in his hand a stop-watch, whilst Mr Lax
minuted the effects produced. In four minutes the man
raised his hand several inches, and he had lost also the
pain in his shoulder usually experienced when attempting
to lift any thing. He continued to undergo the operation
daily, and with progressive good effect; for on the 25th
he could touch the mantel-piece. On the 27th, in the
presence of Dr Lovell and Mr J. P. Noble, two common
iron nails, disguised with sealing-wax, were substituted
for the pieces of mahogany before used. In three minutes
‘ he felt something moving from his arm to his hand,’ and
soon after he touched the board of rules, which hung a foot
above the fire-place. This patient at length so far recover¬
ed that he could carry coals, &c. and use his arm sufficient¬
ly to assist the nurse; yet previous to the use of the spu¬
rious tractors, ‘ he could no more lift his hand from his
knee than if a hundredweight were upon it, or a nail driven
through it;’ as he declared in the presence of several gentle¬
men, whose names I shall have frequent occasion to men¬
tion. The fame of this case brought applications in abun¬
dance ; indeed, it must be confessed, that it was more than
sufficient to act upon weak minds, and induce a belief that
these pieces of wood and iron were endowed with some pe¬
culiar virtues.”
“ April 20th, I requested Mr Barton to operate upon
Peter Seward, aged thirty-two, who had, for four years,
been troubled with pains and weakness in his right arm.
From the minutes taken by Mr Lax, I learned that he had
experienced a good deal of pain during the operation. The
next day I was assisted by Mr Bernard and Mr Lowe jun.;
and as the case is rather curious, I shall copy verbatim the
notes written upon the spot. In one minute, ‘ feels the pain
coming on at the same place as yesterday; the limbs feel
warm ; pain higher up and sharperin two minutes, ‘ pain
increases;’ in three and a half, ‘ very acute, darting towards
the collar-bone, and begins to give him so much uneasi¬
ness that he will not have it done any longer;’ perspires
profusely, and is gone to bed.
M, ANIMAL. 5
“ It was fortunate for me that the above gentlemen could Magne-
bear witness to the remarkable effects of the imagination ; ti8m5
it was, notwithstanding, I believe, generally thought in Animal-
the house that the account was exaggerated. On theV^~N'-^
25th, however, in the presence of Messrs Jolliffe, Barton,
Gaisford, Emery, and Wylde, Dr Lovell made use of one
bit of mahogany, whilst I gently drew down the man’s arm
with the point of the other. When he sat down he was ‘ per¬
fectly easy.’ In a few seconds ‘ the pain commenced as be¬
fore ;’ in two minutes it was very acute at the elbow and col¬
lar-bone ; in four he became very uneasy, looked very red
in the face, and begged the operation might be discontinued.
This request was complied with, and he immediately went
to bed with a pulse at 120°. Three quarters of an hour
after, being still in bed, I asked him how he felt himself.
He replied that he was in more pain than when the sur¬
geon took five pieces of bone from his leg, in a compound
fracture which he unfortunately met with in Wales. It
may, perhaps, be thought that he feigned all this. I can¬
not assert that he did not; but he could have no point to
gain by such a conduct, and he certainly must have been
a very excellent mimic to deceive so many people. This
case excited much curiosity; and, on the second of May,
Dr Moncrieffe, Messrs Noble, Greatman, Clayfield, Pro-
bert, Notcutt, Lax, and Jolliffe, were assembled to view
the effects produced by those two wonder-working pieces
of wood. The man dreaded the operation so much, that
he requested to have it done in bed. Mr Clayfield and
myself used the tractors. In a few seconds, a spasm was
evident upon the biceps flexor cubiti ; in two minutes, pain
in the arm and collar-bone; in three, increased in the
hand and armpit, and he continued in pain some time af¬
ter the operation, which had considerably accelerated his
pulse. This patient could scarcely be prevailed upon to
submit any longer to their use, although he confessed that
upon the whole he had received much benefit.”
The nature of the facts elicited by the experiments
of Dr Haygarth, Mr Smith, and others, was such as to
prove to the satisfaction of every one that the metallic
tractors of Mr Perkins did not produce their effects upon
the human system by any action peculiar to themselves,
but by some influence or agency altogether independent of
the particular materials of which the instruments were com¬
posed, and common to them with every other substance
mineral and vegetable, that was employed in the same
manner. Dr Haygarth himself had no hesitation in ascrib¬
ing these effects to the influence of the imagination. “ I
have long been aware,” says he, “ of the great importance
of medical faith. Daily experience has constantly con¬
firmed and increased my opinion of its efficacy. On nu¬
merous occasions I have declared that I never wished to
have a patient who did not possess a sufficient portion of
it. The trials with the false tractors place its efficacy in
a very conspicuous point of view, and must even astonish
persons who have particularly attended to this subject;
they clearly prove what wonderful effects the passions of
hope and faith, excited by mere imagination, can produce
upon diseases. On this principle we may account for the
marvellous recoveries frequently ascribed to empirical
remedies, which are commonly inert drugs, and generally
applied by the ignorant patient in disorders totally differ¬
ent from what the quack himself pretends that they can
cure. Magnificent and unqualified promises inspire weak
minds with implicit confidence.”
These experiments are worthy of being recalled to the
attention of the public, and of being kept in mind by those
who are at present endeavouring to revive the use of na¬
tural or artificial magnets as therapeutic agents; the more
so that it does not appear to have occurred to MM. An-
dry and Thouret, nor to those who have since employed
the magnet, to put the results which they obtained from
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
6
Marrne- the use of that agent to the test, by a comparative series
net ism, of trials of the description suggested by Dr Haygarth.
s ^nima ', After this slight sketch of the various fates of the mine-
ral magnet as a therapeutical agent, we come now to
consider those practices which have usually been compre¬
hended under the name of animal magnetism, or which
might perhaps be more properly denominated Mesmerism.
These practices were invented and brought into full ope¬
ration and high repute by Mesmer, a German physician,
whose claims to original, wonderful, and useful discovery
have been, and still continue to be, so differently estimated.
The character and procedure of this remarkable person
are, we conceive, so intimately interwoven with the credi¬
bility of his discoveries, as to render his personal history a
leading and most essential consideration, in any view that
can be taken of animal magnetism.
Mesmer appears to have been, from the commencement
of his medical career, strongly inclined to the study of the
occult and astrological sciences. On taking his degree
in physic at Vienna, in 1766, he chose for the subject of
his inaugural dissertation, the Influence of the Planets on
the Human Body; a choice which indicated the natu¬
ral bias of his mind, and which could not fail to deter¬
mine in some degree the course of his future speculations
and pursuits. We have not had an opportunity of seeing
that dissertation, but, from the account given of its con¬
tents by Mesmer himself in his subsequent writings, it
would appear that in it he had endeavoured to prove that
the planets not only act upon one another through the me¬
dium of a fluid universally diffused, but that they likewise
exercise an unceasing influence, by means of this fluid,
over the nervous systems of animated beings. That pro¬
perty of the animal economy which renders it susceptible
of the action of this principle, Mesmer informs us he
denominated animal magnetism. He conceived that the
intension and remission of this magnetic fluid produces in
the animal economy a flux and reflux similar to that which
the sea exhibits in the ebbing and flowing of its tides ; and
he attributed to this flux and reflux the periodical changes
which appear in the economy of the female sex, and, in
general, those periodicities which physicians of all times
and of all countries have observed to occur in the course
of diseases. To this train of investigation Mesmer informs
us that he was led by a persuasion which he had early
adopted, that there are few of the opinions which have been
very generally entertained by mankind, however erroneous
or absurd they may appear to us, which have not had some
foundation in nature, and consequently which do not con¬
tain in them something true and useful.
After taking his degree in physic, Mesmer settled as a
physician in Vienna. He is said to have made an advanta¬
geous marriage ; and he himself alludes, in one of his writ¬
ings {Precis Historique, p. 67), to his being easy or inde¬
pendent in his circumstances. The first public account
that was given of Mesmer’s discovery of animal magnetism
as a remedial agent is to be found in a letter of date 5th
January 1775, addressed by him to Dr Unzer of Altona,
which was printed in the Nouveau Mercure Savant of that
city, and which he appears to have soon afterwards circu¬
lated extensively amongst the different learned societies
and academies of Europe. From the statement contained
in this letter, it appears that, during the two preceding
years, Mesmer had had living in his house, under medical
treatment, Mademoiselle CEsterline, a lady twenty-nine
years of age, who was suffering from a very complicated
nervous disorder, consisting, as he informs us, of repeated
attacks of an hysterical fever, conjoined at intervals with
obstinate vomitings, inflammations of the different viscera,
retentions of urine, violent toothachs and ear-achs, melan¬
cholic and maniacal delirium, opisthotonos, faintings, blind¬
ness, suffocations, palsies of several days’ duration, and
other symptoms. In the progress of this case, Mesmer Magne.
found, that though he succeeded, by great attention, and tism,
by the employment of the usual remedies, in obtaining a Animal,
temporary abatement or cessation of the symptoms, these
recurred from time to time. But he came at last to be able to
foresee these relapses, their progress, duration, and declen¬
sion ; and was led, as he informs us, to conceive the idea of
establishing in the body of his patient a kind of artificial
tide, by means of the magnet. This project he communi¬
cated to Father Hell, astronomer to their imperial majes¬
ties, who approved of it, and offered his assistance. Father
Hell caused some pieces of the magnetic steel to be con¬
structed, which, says Mesmer, he had invented fourteen
years before, and had these artificial magnets made of such
shapes that they fitted conveniently to the different parts
of the body. The following is the account which Mesmer
gives, in the document referred to, of the results of his ex¬
periments with Father Hell’s magnets.
“ The patient having suffered a relapse in the month of
July last, 1774, I attached to her feet two concave mag¬
nets, and placed another of a heart-shape upon her chest.
She immediately experienced a burning and lancinating
pain, which mounted from the feet to the crest of the ossa
ilii; there it became united with a similar pain, that de¬
scended on one side from the place where the magnet was
attached to the chest, and mounted on the other side up to
the head, where it terminated on the crown. This pain,
in dissipating, left in all the joints a burning heat like fire.
The magnetic vapour appeared sometimes to break and
disperse in different parts, sometimes to reunite with im¬
petuosity. The patient and the assistants were frightened
at this phenomenon, and wished the experiment to be put
a stop to. But I insisted on its being continued, and ap¬
plied additional magnets to the lower parts. She then felt
the pains which had tormented the upper parts of the body
descend impetuously. This transportation of the pain con¬
tinued the whole night, and was accompanied with abun¬
dant perspiration on the side which had been paralysed since
the previous attack. At length all the symptoms gradually
disappeared, and the patient having become insensible to
the action of the magnet, was cured of that attack. She
has since had some relapses, which have been easily and
promptly cured. I attribute these relapses to her extreme
debility, and to the disease being of so long standing.” In
concluding his account of this case, Mesmer states, that he
advised his patient constantly to wear some magnets, and
that subsequently to her doing this, she had recovered and
was in good health.
It is of some importance, as we shall afterwards find, to
attend to the fact, that at the time of his letter to Unzer,
Mesmer seems to have had no doubt that the beneficial
effects which he had been able to produce in Mademoiselle
CEsterline, and in other patients, depended upon the em¬
ployment of the magnets. “ I had occasion,” says he, “ in
the treatment of this disease, to make several very curious
experiments. I discovered the rules which determine in
what cases, on what parts, in what quantity, for how long a
time, and with what precautions, the magnet must be ap¬
plied. I communicated these rules to Father Hell, and to
some physicians. Of the great number of very astonishing
observations which I made,” he continues, “ I shall here
relate some, wnich have been established in presence of
Father Hell, and of other respectable persons. I have ob¬
served, that the magnetic matter is almost the same thing
as the electric fluid, and that it is propagated, like it, through
the medium of other bodies. Steel is not the only sub¬
stance susceptible of it; I have rendered magnetic, paper,
bread, wool, silk, leather, stones, glass, water, different
metals, wood, men, dogs, in a word, every thing that I
touched, to such a degree, that these substances produced
on the patient the same effects as the magnet.” This, it
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Magne- may be remarked, is the only proof which Mesmer adduces
tism, 0f these substances having had magnetism communicated
Animal. ^
Y The account of Mademoiselle CEsterline s case, given by
Mesmer in a subsequent publication, viz. his Memoir on the
Discovery of Animal Magnetism, published at Paris in 1779,
differs from that contained in his letter to Unzer in several
respects. It differs to a considerable degree in the detail
of her symptoms, and in the statement of the effects pro¬
duced upon her by the application of the magnets; but it
differs in a still greater degree in the view that it gives of
the effects which this case produced upon the progress of
his own opinions. In the memoir, instead of boasting how
much he had added to the knowledge of magnetism, he
states, that his observation of the effects produced in this
case, combined with his ideas of the general system of the
universe, threw a new light on his views. “ In confirming,”
says he, “ my previous ideas on the influence of the gene¬
ral agent, it taught me that another principle caused the
magnet to act, it being of itself incapable of this action upon
the nerves; and showed me that I had only some steps to
make to arrive at the imitative theory which formed the
object of my researches.” (Memoire, p. 17, 18.) It may
be proper to notice, that the other principle alluded to by
Mesmer, is one of which he does not himself appear ever
to have given any distinct explanation, constituting appa¬
rently the secret which he repeatedly professes to retain in
his own hand. By some of his followers this principle has
been supposed to consist in the influence of volition.
Again, in speaking of the communication which he re¬
ceived from the academy of Berlin, in answer to the
copy of his letter to Unzer which he had transmitted to
that body, Mesmer says that the academy confounded
the properties of animal magnetism which he announced,
with those of the magnet, of which he spoke only as a
conductor. “ It has not,” he adds, “ been this academy
alone which has fallen into the error of confounding animal
with mineral magnetism, though I have constantly persist¬
ed, in my writings, in maintaining, that the use of the mag¬
net, though serviceable, was always imperfect without the
assistance of the theory of animal magnetism. The philo¬
sophers and physicians with whom I have been in corre¬
spondence, or who have endeavoured to discover my secret
{a me penetrer), in order to usurp this discovery, have pre¬
tended and affected to say, some that the magnet was the
only agent which I employed, others that I joined elec¬
tricity to it, and that because they knew I had made use
of these two means. Most of them have been undeceived
by their own experience ; but instead of acknowledging
the truth which I announced, they have concluded from
their not themselves obtaining success from the use of these
two agents, that the cures which I professed to have ob¬
tained were supposititious, and that my theory was illusory.
The desire of setting aside for ever such errors, and of com¬
pletely establishing the truth, has made me resolve, since
1776, no longer to make any use of electricity, or of the
magnet.” {Memoire, p. 30-2.)
In comparing these statements, it seems impossible to
doubt, that, subsequently to the date of his letter to Unzer,
Mesmer’s views with regard to the use of the magnet
underwent a great change ; for in that letter there is no
hint of the magnet being merely a conductor, and of second¬
ary importance only in the cures which he had effected.
It appears from the memoir, that the friendly relations
which seem to have existed between him and Father Hell
at the date of the letter were soon broken off. He repre¬
sents Father Hell as claiming for his own magnets the
power of curing diseases of the nerves, and as alleging
that Mesmer’s cures, to which he referred in confirmation
of the truth of this power, had been undertaken at his
suggestion. It appears to have been, in part at least, for
the purpose of overturning this pretension on the part of Magne-
Father Hell, that Mesmer broached the doctrine of animal tism,
magnetism being totally distinct from and independent Animal,
of the magnet. {Memoire, p. 19.) Both parties seem to ^ v-*-1
have appealed to the public in support of their respective
pretensions ; but Mesmer complains that the scientific re¬
putation of his opponent procured for Father Hell, on this
occasion, undeserved credit from the public.
Another circumstance, which could not fail to make it
desirable for Mesmer to establish a distinction between
common magnetism and the agent by which he professed
to effect his cures, was the strong opinion expressed by
the Berlin Academy of Sciences, as to the erroneous na¬
ture of the discoveries which he pretended to have made
in magnetism ; for a careful perusal of the judgment pro¬
nounced by that body completely satisfies us of the truth
of M. Bertrand’s observation {Du Magnetisms Animal en
France, p. 25), that the members to whom the considera¬
tion of Mesmer’s letter was referred could not possibly
have deceived themselves so grossly as Mesmer endea¬
vours to insinuate, respecting the nature of the discovery
to which he laid claim in that document.
It deserves also to be remarked, that the period at which
Mesmer first became aware of the independence of animal
magnetism upon the magnet, is not the only circumstance
in the early history of his discoveries respecting which
there exists a discrepancy of statement. Two different
accounts, at least, have been given to the public, of the
manner in which he first became aware that he himself
possessed a magnetic quality. One of these is contained
in a discourse of M. Mesmer’s, published in the Recueil
des Effets Salutaires ds VAimant dans les Maladies. Gene¬
va, 1782. “ One day,” says he, “ being near a person who
was being bled, I perceived that, as I approached or reced¬
ed, the course of the blood varied in a remarkable man¬
ner ; and having repeated this experiment in other circum¬
stances, with the same phenomena, I concluded that I pos¬
sessed a magnetic quality, which was not perhaps so strik¬
ing in others, but which they might possess in a greater
or less degree.” The other account of his discovery of his
possessing a magnetic quality in his own person, is related
by a pupil and admirer of his, M. Picher-Grandchamp of
Lyons. “ It has been said,” observes this gentleman, “ that
Newton derived the first idea of his system of gravitation,
since so learnedly developed, from perceiving an apple fall
from a tree. Dr Mesraer had the first idea of his system
from observing, that every time when, at table or elsewhere,
a servant or person of his acquaintance placed themselves
behind him, by a particular sensation, and without perceiv¬
ing them by sight, he was able to announce that it was
such or such a person who procured him this observation.
Born very sensitive, and naturally a great observer, it is
from these first effects, and from these first causes, that he
has drawn and built his system, established his doctrine,
and applied them to the cure of diseases. He has several
times repeated this anecdote to me.” Which of these is
the genuine statement, we profess ourselves unable to de¬
termine ; nor does it appear at what time tire discovery of
these extraordinary powers had actually been made, whe
ther previously to, subsequently to, or during the progress
of, his magnetic experiments on Mademoiselle (Esterline.
■ The dispute in which Mesmer had become involved with
Father Hell was soon followed by another with Dr Ingen-
housz, who was established under the imperial patronage
as an inoculator for small pox at Vienna. Mesmer informs
us, that a few days before the publication of his letter to
Unzer, he learned that Dr Ingenhousz had spoken of his
operations as chimerical, and that he even came to his
house to persuade him to suppress their publication. “ I
told him,” says Mesmer, “ that he had not enough of in¬
formation on the'subject to give me this advice, and that
8 MAGNETIS
Magne- I should be happy to convince him of this on the first
\n7mal ProPe.r opportunity. This occurred two days after. Ma-
^ . demoiselle ffisterline experienced a fright and a cold,
which occasioned a sudden suppression of her periodical
return. She fell into her usual convulsions. I invited
Dr Ingenhousz to come to my house, and he came, accom¬
panied by a young physician. The patient was then in a
faint, accompanied with convulsions. I informed him that
this was a favourable occasion for him to convince him¬
self of the existence of the principle which I had an¬
nounced to him, and of the property which he himself pos¬
sessed of communicating it. I made him go near the
patient, from whom I retired, desiring him to.touch her;
he did so; she did not move. I called him back, and tak¬
ing him by the hand, communicated to him the animal
magnetism ; I then made him go again near the patient,
keeping myself always at a distance, and desired him to
touch her a second time, the result of which was, her be¬
ing thrown into convulsive motions. I made him repeat
this touch several times, which he did with the point of
his finger, varying its direction each time ; and, to his great
astonishment, he produced always a convulsive effect in
the part that he touched. At the termination of these
operations he told me he was convinced. I proposed to
him a second trial. We retired from the patient, so as not
to be perceived by her even if she should recover her con¬
sciousness. I presented to Dr Ingenhousz six porcelain
cups, and begged him to point out the one to which he
wished me to communicate the magnetic virtue. I touched
that which he chose, and made him apply successively the
six cups to the hand of the patient; when he came to that
which I had touched, her hand moved, and she appeared
to feel pain. Dr Ingenhousz having repeated the expe¬
riment with the six cups, the same effects were produced.
I then put back the cups into the place from which they
had been taken, and after a short time taking hold of one
of his hands, I desired him to touch with the other any of
the cups which he pleased; he did this, and the cups be¬
ing brought into contact with the patient, the same effects
as before took place. The communicability of the prin¬
ciple having been established to the satisfaction of Ingen¬
housz, I proposed to him a third experiment, in order to
make him acquainted with its action at a distance, and its
penetrating virtue. I directed my finger towards the pa¬
tient at the distance of eight paces; a moment after, her
body became convulsed, so as to raise it upon her bed
with the appearances of pain. I continued in the same po¬
sition to direct my finger towards the patient, placing at
the same time Ingenhousz between her and me. She
experienced the same sensations. These trials being re¬
peated at the pleasure of Ingenhousz, I asked him if he
was satisfied with them, and convinced of the wonderful
properties I had announced to him, offering, if he was not,
to repeat our trials. His answer was, that he had nothing
more to desire, and that he was convinced; but he ex¬
horted me, by the regard which he had for me, not to com¬
municate any thing relative to this matter to the public,
in order to avoid exposing myself to its incredulity. We
separated ; I went back to my patient to continue the treat¬
ment. It had the most happy result. I succeeded the
same day in re-establishing the ordinary course of nature,
and by this put a stop to all the symptoms which the sup¬
pression had occasioned. Two days afterwards, I learned
with astonishment that M. Ingenhousz used in public, lan¬
guage very different from what he had held at my house;
that he denied the success of the different experiments
which he had witnessed, affected to confound animal mag¬
netism with the magnet, and endeavoured to tarnish my
reputation, by spreading a report, that, with the aid of
some magnetised pieces, with which he had provided him¬
self, he had succeeded in unmasking me, and in establish-
M, ANIMAL.
ing that it was only a ridiculous and preconcerted trick.” Magnet
It is deserving of notice, that in these experiments per- tism,
formed upon Mademoiselle CEsterline in Dr Ingenhousz’s Animal,
presence, Mesmer makes no mention of his having used ''"""'v'’""**
Father Hell’s magnets.
Mesmer alludes {Memoire, p. 29, note) to a letter upon
animal magnetism and the electrophorus, addressed by
Klinkosch, professor of medicine at Prague, to M. le Comte
de Kinszky, and inserted in the Actes des Savans de Bo-
heme, fox the year 1776 (tom. ii.), as containing Ingen¬
housz’s representation of these transactions. This letter we
have not had an opportunity of seeing. It would not, how¬
ever, be difficult to suggest various considerations likely to
occur to Ingenhousz, in reflecting upon the scene in which
he had performed a part at M. Mesmer’s house, and to ex¬
cite in him the suspicion of a deception having been attempt¬
ed to be practised upon him. To believe that the pheno¬
mena he had witnessed depended upon the causes to which
Mesmer attributed them, it would have been necessary for
Ingenhousz to admit that Mesmer not only possessed this
remarkable virtue himself, and was capable of exercising
it at a considerable distance, but also that he was able to
transfer a limited portion of it to another individual, and
even to a piece of earthen ware, either by immediate con¬
tact, or through the medium of another person’s body.
Had Ingenhousz been convinced of the validity of Mes¬
mer’s discovery of a new and unknown agent, and of his
power of employing this agent in producing such extra¬
ordinary phenomena as those which he had been called to
witness in Mademoiselle CEsterline, is it possible to con¬
ceive that he would not have felt an irresistible inclina¬
tion to return to Mesmer’s house, to see the same effects
reproduced in Mademoiselle CEsterline, or the same in¬
fluence exerted on some others of the patients who were
under Mesmer’s care ? Is it possible to conceive that he
would not have wished himself to be possessed of such a
power, or that the knowledge of it should, for the be¬
nefit of all ranks, be communicated to others ? Such a
perversity of disposition as that attributed to Ingenhousz
never existed, we believe, in any rational or sane mind,
and is totally inconsistent with his philosophical curiosity
and habits, and with the respectable character which he
held in society.
In finding himself thus in open hostility with two such
formidable antagonists as Father Hell and Dr Ingenhousz,
Mesmer became desirous to obtain the countenance of Ba¬
ron Stoerck, president of the Faculty of Medicine at Vien¬
na, and first physician to her majesty the empress queen,
and who, in that capacity, was in some sort minister for
medical affairs in Austria. Baron Stoerck was a country¬
man of his own, and Mesmer says he was particularly ac¬
quainted with him. Mesmer represents Baron Stoerck
as having manifested great fickleness in their intercourse
on the subject of animal magnetism. “ Being attached to
him, I offered to communicate to him all my means of
operation, without any reserve, urging him to satisfy him¬
self of the truth with his own eyes. This physician, too
timid for the place which he occupies, has never been able
to take a decided part. He has always vacillated according
to the circumstances of the moment. Sometimes he was
afraid of compromising himself, or of my compromising the
faculty; sometimes he agreed to my demonstrating the uti¬
lity ot my principles in an hospital; then he had not the
courage to make a report be presented to him of the effects
which I there produced. He constantly refused me a
commission of the faculty, which I asked for, and appeared
himself at the head of a deputation, for which I did not
ask. On that occasion he loudly joined his suffrages to
those of the public, assuring me, in presence of witnesses,
how much he regretted having so long delayed to favour
with his avowal the importance of my observations; and
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Magne- yet he never had courage to avow or defend this at times
when it might have been serviceable. Lastly, I have
Animal, igtterg from him, in which he acknowledges his opinion:
I have an order from him, in which he taxes me with
trickery.” (Precis Historique, p. 14, 15.)
Beginning to despair (Memoire, p. 32) of success in his
magnetical practice at Vienna, Mesmer made a journey, in
1775, through Suabia, Bavaria, and Switzerland, and per¬
formed a number of cures, publicly as well as privately, in
these countries. His success, indeed, was such as to encou¬
rage him to repeat his journey in 1776. In visiting Ratis-
bon, he had occasion to observe the performance of cures
there, without the aid of medicines or of magnets, which
were not less wonderful than his own. These cures were
performed by Gassner, an ecclesiastic, who had long en¬
joyed a great reputation for his success in curing diseases,
particularly those occasioned by demoniacal possession.
This person, after having been settled as a parish priest,
near to Coire in Switzerland, his native country, became
afflicted with a disorder which resisted all the ordinary
powers of medicine, and produced a state resembling me¬
lancholic mania. In reflecting upon his disorder, he was
led to believe that a great portion of the diseases to
wdiich human nature is liable is produced by the agency
of the devil; and conceiving that his own ailments might
have that origin, he was led, by the study of books upon
exorcism, and by his reflection on the powers which had
been communicated to him by the church in his ordina¬
tion as a priest, to believe in the possibility of his being
able to eject the devil, and to cure himself, simply by ad¬
jurations and commands given in the name of Jesus Christ.
The employment of this curative process was followed with
complete success ; and Gassner was encouraged to extend
to those in his neighbourhood afflicted with the same spe¬
cies of disorder, the benefit of the means wdiich he had
found so successful in his own case. The reputation of his
cures and the number of his patients increased rapidly j so
that whilst he remained in the district of Coire, many hun¬
dreds of patients flocked to him annually from all the sur¬
rounding countries. But neither Gassner’s mode of conduct¬
ing himself as a parish priest, nor his exorcismal cures, being
quite to the satisfaction of the bishop of the diocese, he was
dismissed from his charge. Sprengel informs us (Hist, de
la Medecine, vi. 89), that “ Gassner went, in the month of
June 1774, to Moersburg, the residence of the Prince Bishop
of Kostnitz, but he practised his miraculous cures there only
for a few weeks ; for the cunning which he employed was
soon discovered, and the wise bishop expelled him from his
diocese in the month of August, stating, as the chief ground
of complaint against him, that in his exorcisms he did not
conform to the ritual of the Roman church. At the same
time he wrote to the Bishop of Coire, to request him to re¬
call his priest. His desire was accomplished; but Gassner
remained only two months in his diocese, for the Bishop
of Ratisbon expressed a wish to see him at Ellwangen.
He consequently went there in the month of November
1774, and this town became for some time the theatre of
his miraculous performances. The Bishop of Ratisbon gave
him the titles of chaplain of the court, and ecclesiastical
councillor; and several thousand patients, and persons
supposed to be possessed with the devil, were seen to flock
to him, all of whom he threw into the most frightful con¬
vulsions, by the abuse which he made of the name of God
and of Jesus Christ.” From Ellwangen he was brought to
Ratisbon, where Mesmer saw him. In his “ Memoire,”
Mesmer alludes to Gassner in the followirtg terms: “ It
was from the year 1774 to 1775 that an ecclesiastic, a man
of good faith, but of an excessive zeal, performed in the
diocese of Ratisbon, upon different patients of a nervous
constitution, effects which appeared supernatural in the
eyes of the least prejudiced and most enlightened men of
VOL. xtv.
9
that country. His reputation extended to Vienna, where Magne-
the public was divided into two parties; one treated these tism,
effects as impostures and trickery, whilst the other regard- Animal,
ed them as miracles wrought by divine power. Both, how-
ever, were in error ; and my experience had by that time
taught me that this man was merely in this matter the in¬
strument of nature. It was only because his profession,
seconded by chance, determined near him certain natural
combinations, that he renewed the periodic symptoms of
diseases, without knowing the cause of this. The end of
these paroxysms was regarded as real cures; time alone
could disabuse the public.” (Memoire, p. 32-3.) And in a
later work Mesmer remarks, “ I have said in one of my
writings, in reference to M. le Cure Gassner, that he pro¬
duced real effects, but that he was ignorant of the cause
of them. I repeat the same here.” (Precis Historique,
p. 125.)
Several circumstances seem to have contributed at this
period, in Austria, to create doubts in the minds of the me¬
dical practitioners of that country, and of the government,
with regard to the existence and frequent occurrence of
diseases depending on witchcraft, or on demoniacal posses¬
sion ; and also with regard to the pretensions of those who
affected to cure diseases by exorcismal or supernatural
powers. Amongst these may be mentioned, first, the great
increase of demoniacal diseases, which seemed to take place
in consequence of the success of Gassner’s practice ; and,
secondly, the results of the clinical observations of Dr de
Haen, who had been engaged for a long series of years in
detecting and exposing feigned diseases, and particularly
those attributed to demoniacal possession, in patients who
were placed under his inspection at the desire of the Em¬
press Maria Theresa, and her son the Emperor Joseph II.
De Haen was satisfied, from the authority of Scripture,
of the possible occurrence of magical and miraculous
events; but in no one of the patients sent to him by the
authority of the government, pretending or said to be af¬
fected with demoniacal diseases, could he discover the
slightest evidence of such a disease. In all of them the
symptoms were feigned, and that not unfrequently in de¬
ceitful collusion with others. It seems to have been the
results of his own personal observation, his knowledge of
Gassner’s miraculous cures, and perhaps the more recent
pretensions to similar powers upon the part of Mesmer,
that called De Haen’s attention, in a particular manner,
to the investigation of feigned and demoniacal diseases at
this period, and which gave rise to two remarkable es¬
says which he composed; the first in defence of the ex¬
istence of magic, as described in Scripture, dedicated to
Cardinal Eugenius, in October 1774; and the second upon
Miracles, dedicated to the same person, dated Vienna, Feb¬
ruary 1776.
It is curious to observe how very generally the object
and tendency of these writings of De Haen have been mis¬
understood and misrepresented. In the essay on Miracles,
he seems to have had for his particular object the determi¬
nation of the criteria or conditions by which true miracles are
and must be characterised, and infallibly distinguished from
those that are pretended and spurious. By these conditions
he examined, in a most minute and circumstantial manner,
the miraculous cures of Gassner, and demonstrated unde¬
niably the total groundlessness and absurdity of these and of
all similar pretensions. The whole of this essay is in every
respect worthy of its learned and distinguished author.
The fifth and last chapter, in particular, contains an accre¬
dited statement of Gassner’s exorcismal cures, derived from
the most authentic sources; from a great number of publica¬
tions, some by Gassner himself, and from a protocol of a
regular examination of these cures, instituted by the autho¬
rity of the Archbishop of Ratisbon, which was sent to the
empress of Austria, and by her transmitted for De Haen’s
B
10
M A G N E T I S M, A NIM A L.
“ST adjudgment. In this chapter, De Haen states, in the neighbourhood of Ratisbon, where no one was al- Magne-
usm, 1^, that Gassner’s mirarnlmis rurp* wmro omrl Eod i j . i • . , , ’ vvll5«e une was ai- ^gue-
Animal.
that Gassner’s miraculous cures were, and had been
^ for a long time, by their number, continuance, and surpris¬
ing nature, the admiration of Austria, and of surrounding
countries : 2d, that Gassner, in consequence of his dis¬
covery, that a great number of diseases were the work of
the devil, distinguished diseases into demoniacal, natural,
and mixed : 3c?, that Gassner admitted that his cures were
confined to demoniacal diseases, and to the diabolical part of
mixed diseases ; and affirmed that they were accomplished
solely by his using the sacred name of Jesus Christ, and by
the faith of his patients in that name: 4t/i, that by his use
of, and faith in, that name, he could make the devil repro¬
duce diseases which were absent or latent at the time, in
one, two, or more paroxysms, according to his pleasure:
5t/t, that he had made the devil excite in his patients the
states of laughing, howling, anger, rage, and fury, and
even the appearance of death, and could repeat in the
same day the same phenomena, without any injury to the
health of even the most delicate females: 6^, that he
frequently questioned the devil in the same person for se¬
veral days, two or three hours at a time, and convicted
him of lies, though he sometimes had an opportunity of
praising him for speaking truth: 7t/i, that Gassner ascer¬
tained, from th'fe same competent authority, that instead
of a legion, there might be some thousands or millions of
demons in the same person: 8t/i, that he seldom cured
any one possessed by demons at once, but usually after
repeated exorcisms: 9t/i, that he had contracted a great
familiarity with the devil, and frequently conversed with
him audibly, and usually in the Latin language, about mat¬
ters quite foreign to his patients or their diseases: 10*4,
that alter making the devil produce convulsions, excite
rage, or utter blasphemies, he could immediately bring
back his patients to a sound state of mind and body: 1L4,
that he could transfer to others the power which he had
received from his ordination as a priest, of casting out
devils, and that even to laics, and his ordinary patients:
12/4, that, amongst other wonders, he could produce any
kind of pulse in his patients, great, small, or intermittent,
which the medical men attending his more wealthy pa¬
tients might desire him to produce: 13/4, that in perform¬
ing his cures, he always held a crucifix in his right hand,
wore a red cloak bound round his loins with a black gir¬
dle, and had a chain hung from his neck, to which was at¬
tached a cross, containing a small portion of the true cross:
14/4, that he sent his patients, after he had cured them,
to the apothecary s shop at Ellwangen, in order to purchase
there some article which he had blessed, and to the use of
which they might confidently resort for a cure in the
event of a return of their disorder: 15/4, that his miracles
were worked, first, to show the power of faith in the name
ol Jesus Chiist; secondly, the services which, from the con¬
fessions of the devil, the society of Jesuits had rendered
to the church for two centuries; and, thirdly, the disad¬
vantages that were likely to accrue from the suppression
of that order, which had been decreed by the see of Rome
a short time before the regular examination and protocol
of Gassner’s cures had been commenced. “ A very re¬
markable circumstance,” says Sprengel, “ is, that the de¬
vil, in speaking by the mouth of possessed persons, always
painted the Jesuits as his irreconcileable enemies. Ac-
cordingly it was they who most cried up to the skies the
miracles of Gassner, pretending that not to believe in
them was a sufficient proof of want of religion.”
The vauous puiposes, personal and ecclesiastical, to
which Gassner rendered his pretensions subservient, leave
it doubtful whether he ought to be regarded more as the
dupe of his own enthusiasm, or as a knave. But his pro¬
ceedings were put a stop to by an order from his superior,
tor his being shut up in a fraternity of priests at Ponton,
lowed to see him or to be cured by him, without an ex- tism’
press permission to that effect obtained from the bishop. ^iniaL
Sprengel states, that the Archbishop of Prague issued an ^ v
order to the bishops and curates under his jurisdiction,
exposing to them the malpractices of Gassner, and warn¬
ing them against falling into similar errors. Subsequent¬
ly to this, his miraculous power completely ceased • “ and
of the deluge of publications,” adds Sprengel, “ almost all
detestable, to which this devilry had given rise, there re¬
mains now nothing but the titles preserved in the archives
of literature.”
It would appear that M. le Roux, who subsequently
accompanied Mesmer to Paris, was also his companion in
his journey to Bavaria, and transmitted some account of
his proceedings at Munich and Augsburg, in a letter to
the editor of the Gazette d'Agriculture, in 1777 (Anti-
Magnetisme, p. 126.) This letter, however, we have not
seen. Mesmer mentions, that he performed, at Munich
and Ratisbon, a number of experiments in the presence of
Mr Elliot, envoy from England to the diet of Ratisbon, and
communicated to him, at his request, a summary of his
doctrines, which was transmitted, in 1776, to the Royal
Society of London. (Memoire, p. 54, note.)
On returning to Vienna,-after his second journey to
Bavaria, in 1776, Mesmer tells us that he refused till the
end of that year to undertake the magnetical treatment of
any patients. At length, however, he yielded to the soli¬
citation of his friends, and to the hope of being able, by
some stiiking cure, to establish, in a triumphant manner
the truth of his doctrines. Amongst other patients whose
cure he undertook at that time, was one whose case ^ave
rise to much unpleasant discussion, and led him, according
to his own statement, to resolve definitively on quitting
Vienna. This was Mademoiselle Paradis, a musical girl
eighteen years of age, who had been blind from her infan¬
cy with a complete amaurosis, accompanied with convul¬
sions, which made her eyes start out from their sockets.
This girl, who was a pensioner of the empress, was board¬
ed with Mesmer in the beginning of the year 1777. No¬
thing can be more contradictory than the accounts that
are given by Mesmer and by his opponents, of the state of
this patients vision, and of the degree of improvement
that took place in it whilst she was under his treatment.
A most violent altercation took place between Mesmer
and the girls father, the former insisting on retainino-
her in his house till her cure should be completed, the
latter demanding that she should be restored to her family.
It was upon this occasion that Baron Stoerck issued the
order alluded to in the passage formerly quoted from
Mesmer. “ I received, in fact,” says Mesmer, “ through
M. Ost, physician to the court, an order in the writing
of M. Stoerck, in his quality of first physician, dated
Schoenbrunn (the imperial palace), 2d May 1777, which
enjoined me to put an end to that trickery (supercherie)
and to restore Mademoiselle Paradis to her family, if I
thought it could be done without danger.” It was alleged
b} Mesmer s opponents that he received a communication
also from the Archbishop of Vienna, Cardinal Migazzi, in¬
timating to him that he would do well to go elsewhere to
play his pantomimes. Mesmer speaks of the allegation of
Ins having been enjoined by the authorities to quit Vienna
as a useless calumny, alleging in disproof of it that he was
recommended to the Austrian ambassador in France, by
the minister of foreign, affairs at Vienna, and that his’ex¬
cellency never disavowed him.
Another account of the circumstances under which Mes¬
mer left Vienna is given by Sprengel (Sendschreiben fiber
1 hierischen Magnetismum mit Zusatzen, Llalle, 1788 p
IGL), on the authority of a work entitled Magnetist, pub¬
lished by C. L. Hoffmann, at Frankfort, in 1787. That
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Magne- author states that a commission was named by the Ero¬
tism, press Maria Theresa, for the investigation of magnetism,
Animal. an(j particularly of the cure said to have been effected on
tjie giri Paradis. Before an assemblage of more than 300
persons, medical men and others, the girl was called on to
distinguish bright colours, and she made the distinction
quite correctly. Some of the commissioners, however, re¬
marked, that Mesmer was giving his patient certain signs,
and he was requested to withdraw. After many protes¬
tations, he reluctantly complied, and now the girl was un¬
able to distinguish any one of the colours that were laid
before her. On the gentlemen of the commission declar¬
ing to her that she could see nothing, she with tears pro¬
tested that she had supposed seeing to consist in the re¬
cognition of the signs that had been given her. When the
commissioners had made their report to the empress, it is
added, that Mesmer received an imperial order to leave
Vienna within twenty-four hours. We are unable to say
how much of these statements is correct. But certain
it is that Mesmer actually left Vienna early in 1778, and
proceeded to Paris, where he arrived in the month of
February of that year.
In Paris, Mesmer might reasonably expect to find a
theatre infinitely more favourable for the exhibition of his
new discoveries, peculiar modes of practice, and wonder¬
ful cures, than by long and persevering trials he had found
Vienna to be. The lively imagination of the French
people, their love of novelty, the power of fashion, of
which Paris was at that time the centre, and the influence
of court favour, if it could be obtained, were all of them
circumstances likely to prove powerful auxiliaries to the
promotion of his views. He has given an account of his
proceedings, subsequently to his removal to Paris, in his
Memoire sur la Decouverte du Magnetisms Animal, publish¬
ed in 1779 ; and in his Precis Historique des fails relatifs
au Magnetisms Animal, published in 1781. In these works
he represents himself as having arrived in Paris without
any determinate object beyond that of spending a few
months there ; and as having been induced to engage in ex¬
pounding the principles of animal magnetism, and illustrat¬
ing their application to the treatment of diseases, rather
in compliance with the solicitations of others, than from
any views of his own. M. le Roi, director, and M. le
Comte Maillebois, member of the Academy of Sciences,
seem, from his own account, to have been the persons in
Paris from whom his doctrines first met with a favourable
reception. In the course of a few months, he had also
become acquainted with Messrs Mauduit, Andry, Des-
perrieres, and the Abbe Tessier, all members of the Royal
Society of Medicine. In their presence he seems to have
performed various detached experiments with a view to
establish the existence of the magnetic principle; and he
at length consented, for their satisfaction, to undertake
the performance of a series of cures by means of this agent.
Besides engaging that he should not enter on the treat¬
ment of any patients till their state had been previously as¬
certained by physicians of the Faculty of Paris (in order
that a correct judgment might be formed of the success
of his practice from an inspection of the patients after
their treatment should be concluded), he agreed, he says,
to make every patient that he was to treat be presented
in succession to the Society of Medicine, in order that it
might satisfy itself of the solidity and truth of the certi¬
ficates ; and he agreed also to place the reports, certifi¬
cates, and attestations of the faculty, in the hands of the
Society of Medicine. In proceeding, however, to carry
these preliminary arrangements into effect, discord arose.
On the first patient being submitted to Messrs Mauduit
and Andry, they declared themselves not to be satisfied
with the evidence adduced respecting her malady, and
wished to take measures for satisfying themselves in re-
11
gard to it. To these, Mesmer says, her relations objected. Magne-
He undertook the charge of her on his own responsibility, tism,
and sent, he tells us, no more patients to be examined by ^ Animal,
these gentlemen. Mesmer represents himself as having^
entered into communication with the above-named mem¬
bers of the Society of Medicine as private individuals, and
not in any official capacity. However this may have been,
the society looked upon the matter in a different light; for
on the 6th May, the secretary, M. Yicq d’Azyr, addressed
a letter to Mesmer, stating that he was desired by the so¬
ciety to return him, unopened, the certificates which had
been transmitted to it on his account. “ The commission¬
ers whom it has named, agreeably to your request,” continues
M. Vicq d’Azyr, “ to follow your experiments, cannot and
ought not to give any opinion without having previously
ascertained the state of the patients by careful examination.
As your letter announces that this examination and the ne¬
cessary visits do not enter into your plan, and that, instead
of these, it is in your opinion sufficient for us to have the
word of honour of your patients and certificates, the so¬
ciety announces to you that it has withdrawn the commis¬
sion with which it had charged some of its members on
your business. It is the duty of the society not to pro¬
nounce any judgment on matters of which it is not placed
in a position to obtain a full and entire knowledge, particu¬
larly when it is called upon to consider novel assertions.
This circumspection, which it owes to itself, it always has
observed, and always will.” In recording this letter, Mesmer
protests that he had made no application to the society for
a commission, but, on the contrary, when the members of
that body with whom he was in communication had pro¬
posed such a step, that he had formally and repeatedly re¬
jected it.
Having collected a sufficient number of patients for his
experiments, Mesmer, in the course of the month of May,
retired with them to the village of Creteuil, two leagues dis¬
tant from Paris, where they remained under treatment for
a period of from three to four months. On the 20th and 22d
of August, he addressed letters to M. Yicq d’Azyr for the
Society of Medicine, and to M. le Roi for the Academy of
Sciences, inviting the two bodies to examine into the actual
condition of his patients, and to compare that condition with
the certificates of their state at the time of their coming
under his treatment. The Society of Medicine simply re¬
plied, that having no knowdedge of the previous condition of
the patients whom he had had under treatment, they could
pronounce no judgment upon the matter ; and, according to
Mesmer’s statement, the reading of his letter to the Aca¬
demy of Sciences was interrupted at the instigation of
Messrs d’Aubenton and Vicq d’Azyr, who formally opposed
its interfering in the matter.
Subsequently to this correspondence, Mesmer returned
to Paris; and though he describes his patients as having
made wonderful improvement under his charge, he repre¬
sents himself as being, if possible, still further removed than
he had been before the commencement of his experiments,
from the jn'ospect of obtaining a fair judgment of his pre¬
tensions. About this time, however, in the month of Sep¬
tember 1778, he had the good fortune to form an acquaint¬
ance with M. d’Eslon, doctor regent of the faculty of medi¬
cine, and physician to the Count d’Artois, the brother of the
king. This acquaintance speedily ripened into an intimate
friendship, which exercised, whilst it lasted, and even after
it had ceased," a most important influence over the fame and
success of Mesmer in Paris; at first by assisting him to pro¬
cure the patronage of the great and powerful, and after¬
wards by its leading to those measures which enabled him
to realize the fortune with which he retired from that capital.
In witnessing the surprising effects of the magnetic treat¬
ment, M. d’Eslon became a sincere convert to Mesmer’s
opinions, and extremely desirous to assist in communicat-
12
Magne¬
tism,
Animal.
ing a knowledge of these, and of the benefits of animal mag¬
netism, to the medical profession and to the public. With
this view he endeavoured to interest the faculty of medicine
in Mesmer’s discoveries; but failing in this, he persuaded
twelve members of that body to come to his house and hear
Mesmer read an account of his doctrines. Three only of
that number, however, could be induced to observe and to
follow out the new practice at the magnetic institution
which Mesmer had opened, viz. MM. Bertrand. Malloet,
and Sollier. I his they did for a period of seven months ;
but at the end of this time, the results of their observation
did not incline them to adopt Mesmer’s opinions, nor to be¬
lieve in the efficacy of his magnetic treatment.
In the course of the year 1779, Mesmer published his
memoir relative to his discovery of animal magnetism, in
which, besides a narrative of the difficulties he had experi¬
enced in Germany, he stated his peculiar doctrines in the
form of twenty-seven distinct propositions. This memoir
gave rise to some controversy at the time of its first appear¬
ance, and was made the subject of a strict critical examina¬
tion four years afterwards by M. Thouret.
In the month of July 1780, M. d’Eslon published his ob¬
servations on animal magnetism, in which he gave an ac¬
count of a number of surprising cures that he had seen
effected by the magnetic processes which Mesmer em¬
ployed, and defended himself against various attacks that
had been made upon him in consequence of his connection
with Mesmer. This publication, and the avowal of his
adoption of Mesmer’s opinions, incurred in a high degree
the displeasure of his colleagues in the medical faculty? A
meeting of that body was held on the 18th of September of
the same year, when one of its members, M. Vauzemes,
accused M. d’Eslon of being associated with Mesmer in his
magnetical practices, and of having become the defender
of his doctrines. In reply, D’Eslon temperately but firmly
expressed his conviction of the importance of Mesmer’s
discoveries, recommended to the faculty an examination
of them, and proposed, in the name of Mesmer, that the
faculty, in making this examination, should, 1#, solicit the
intervention of the government; 2c?, that twenty-four pa¬
tients should be selected, twelve of whom should be treat¬
ed by Mesmer, and the other twelve by members of the
medical faculty; and, 3c?,.in order to avoid all suspicion of
paity spirit, that the persons appointed by the government
as judges of the comparative effects of the magnetical and
usual modes of treatment, should not belong to the medical
profession. Alter having read these proposals on the part of
Pvlesmer, and placed a copy of them on the table, D’Eslon re¬
tired to allow the faculty time to deliberate upon them.
When he was called back, it was announced to him that the
faculty had resolved, Is?, to enjoin him to be more circum¬
spect for the future ; 2<7, to suspend him for a year from a
deliberative voice in its meetings; 3c?, that unless, at the end
of a year, he should have disavowed his opinions on animal
magnetism, his name should be erased from the list of its
members ; and, \>th, to reject Mesmer’s proposals. These
measures on the part of the faculty of medicine were con¬
sidered, by a great portion of the public, as the effects
merely of professional jealousy, and served to promote rather
than to injure the popularity of Mesmer’s magnetic treat¬
ment.
When this rupture took place with the Faculty of Medi¬
cine, Mesmer,felt, he tells us, the necessity of addressing
himself at length directly to the government. Appearances
seemed to promise success ; but when he wished to place
himself in personal communication with those in authority,
he found, he says, the avenues blocked up in such a way as
to obstruct his progress. Suddenly he learned that M. de
Las&onne, first physician to their majesties, from whom,
upon his first arrival in Paris, he had met with an unfa¬
vourable reception, had expressed himself very decidedly
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
as being convinced of the existence and utility of his dis- Magne-
covery ; and M. d’Eslon received encouragement to address tism,
himself to that gentleman, as being instructed to draw up a Animal,
plan for effecting an arrangement between Mesmer and the
government. Accordingly, M. d’Eslon laid before M. de
Lassonne a memorial, stating the conditions on which Mes-
mei was Willing to treat. He proposed that commissioners
s lould be named by the government, not to witness any
new cures performed, but to collect and authenticate those
which had been performed upon previous occasions. At
the same time, Mesmer says, he instructed M. d’Eslon to
say verbally, that, though unwilling to come under any for¬
mal engagement to perform experiments before the royal
commissioners, they would find him ready to give all rea¬
sonable satisfaction in this respect. Some difficulties as to
the powers of the commissioners to be appointed having
been arranged, eight persons were agreed upon as suitable
for the duty, and everything seemed in the way of being
adjusted, when M. de Lassonne announced to M. d’Eslon
that the persons named declined the commission. On this
point Mesmer states that he ascertained that the persons
proposed as commissioners never had been spoken to on
the subject.
“I now, says Mesmer, “no longer hesitated to an¬
nounce to my patients, that as I was to quit France imme¬
diately, my practice would be terminated on the 15th of
April following (1781). This intelligence naturally dis¬
pleased persons who had lost all confidence in ordinary
medicine, and no longer placed any except in mine.
Their alarms penetrated to the foot of the throne. Her
majesty the queen was pleased to charge a person in her
confidence to say to me that she considered the abandon¬
ment of my patients as contrary to humanity, and that
she thought I ought not to leave France in this way. I
replied in substance that my long sojourn in France could
leave her majesty no doubt of the desire I had to prefer
her dominions to all others excepting my native country;
but that despairing, for many reasons, of seeing in France
a conclusion of the important affair which had brought me
there, I had resolved to take advantage of the new sea¬
son to commence operations, which I had, to my great re¬
gret, long put off; and that, besides, I beseeched her ma¬
jesty to consider that there was sufficient time before the
15th of April for the government to come to a determina¬
tion, if the necessity of adopting one was at length acknow¬
ledged.” A few days after this, M. d’Eslon and he were
requested to wait upon a person of rank, having authority
to tieat with them ; and after a long conference, Mesmer
agieed (Uth March) to subscribe a series of propositions,
the principal of which were, that the government should
name five commissioners, two of whom only should be¬
long to the medical profession, to make the final inqui¬
ries that might be judged necessary in order to leave no
doubt as to the existence and the utility of the discovery
of animal magnetism ; that if the report of these commis¬
sioners should be favourable to the discovery, the govern-
ment should, ~\st, by a ministerial letter, declare that M.
Mesmer had made a useful discovery. 2dly, That to re¬
compense M. Mesmer, and to engage him to establish and
propagate his doctrine in France, the king should give
him, in tree gift, an establishment, suitable for the treat¬
ment of patients in the most advantageous manner, and
for communicating his knowledge to medical men. On
the margin of this proposition was written the name of a
particular chateau and estate, which Mesmer preferred to
every other. 3<%, That in order to fix M. Mesmer in
France, and to reward his services, a yearly pension of
20,000 livres should be granted to him. \thly, That his
majesty would require of M. Mesmer that he should re¬
main in kranee till he had completely established his doc¬
trine and practice, and that he should not quit it without
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Magne- the permission of the king. These arrangements were to
tism, be bin(]ing 0n Mesmer only upon condition of their being
Anima^carried into effect by the 15th of April.
A few days after they were signed (28th March), he
was sent for by a minister of state, and told that the king,
being informed of his repugnance to be examined by
commissioners, would dispense with this formality, and at
once grant him a pension of 20,000 livres, and pay, be¬
sides, an annual rent of 10,000 livres for the house which
he should consider most suitable for forming pupils, of
whom three were to be named by the government, he being
left to take such an additional number for his own behoof as
he might judge advisable. These proposals Mesmer declin¬
ed to accept. For this refusal he has assigned a number of
reasons, in some of which he endeavours to make it ap¬
pear that he was actuated by regard to his own dignity.
It is impossible, however, we should think, for his most
zealous partisans to doubt that the true reason of his re¬
fusal was his being dissatisfied with the pecuniary ar¬
rangements. Indeed, in professing regret at having signed
the propositions of the 14th of March, he declares his will¬
ingness still to act up to them, if the free gift of a terri¬
torial possession suitable for the establishment he project¬
ed, which was obviously meant to be of a very costly de¬
scription, was added to the pension of 20,000 livres. “ If
I have rigorously abstained,” says he, “ during my resi¬
dence in France, from bringing into question my personal
remuneration, I have never a single instant doubted that
it should be worthy of the French nation, and of the
greatness of the monarch who governs it.” “ It is a terri¬
torial possession, and not money that I demand.” “ I know
very well that the terms which I demand form a consi¬
derable sum ; but I also know very well that my disco¬
very is above all price.”
On his return from his interview with the minister,
Mesmer addressed a letter to the queen, full of expres¬
sions of respect and devotion, in which, in declaring that
he renounces all hope of arrangement with the French
government, he postpones his departure from France to
the 18th of September, the anniversary of the meeting of
the Faculty of Medicine, at which his propositions had
been rejected. With this letter to the queen, Mesmer
concludes his Precis Historique. In the account we have
given of his proceedings up to this period, we have follow¬
ed very closely his own statements. Trusting to these, it
would be necessary to believe, that, both in Vienna and in
Paris, all with whom he came into contact, however emi¬
nent their situation, or respectable the character which they
held in society, had entered into a universal combination
to thwart and deceive him ; and that he alone pursued an
open, honest, and consistent course. This, however, would
be a greater stretch of confidence than any individual
can hope to receive from an impartial public ; and it would,
we believe, be easy to show, from an examination of Mes-
mer’s proceedings, particularly as regards his love of con¬
cealment, and his desire for pecuniary reward, that it would
be a much higher compliment to his candour and integrity
than is merited by him.
Before quitting France definitively, Mesmer went to
Spa, partly, it was said, on account of his own health, and
partly that he might complete the cures of some of his
patients. Whilst there, he learnt that M. d’Eslon, on being
summoned before the Medical Faculty to make his recan¬
tation, or have his name erased from the list of its members,
so far from renouncing animal magnetism, had professed
himself a practitioner of that art. The faculty, upon this
declaration, deprived M. d’Eslon of his title of doctor regent,
and afterwards adopted most injudicious and even discredit¬
able proceedings against a considerable number of its own
body, who, on witnessing the effects of M. d’Eslon’s mag-
netical treatment, had become convinced of the efficacy
13
of that mode of practice. On hearing of D’Eslon’s reso¬
lution, and the success of his practice in an institution
which he had established for that purpose, Mesmer be¬
came greatly alarmed and depressed in spirts, and was
often heard to exclaim that he was a ruined man; that
he had been cruelly used by those who had betrayed his
confidence, and who wished to deprive him of the reward
that was due to him for his discoveries. Several of his
patients, who believed that they owed to him relief from
disease and suffering, sympatliized with him in his dis¬
tress, and became anxious that some means should be de¬
vised and adopted to secure the continuance of the bene¬
fits of magnetism, and to reward its discoverer. After
various deliberations on this subject, it was at last sug¬
gested (in 1783, according to Foissac) by M. Bergasse, a
member of the Faculty of Advocates, who believed him¬
self much indebted to Mesmer for the improvement of
his own health, that a subscription should be entered into
by a hundred persons, of one hundred louis d’ors each,
for the purpose of raising a sum of money to render Mes¬
mer independent in his circumstances, and to enable him
to communicate to the public, without injury to himself,
the benefits of animal magnetism. This subscription was
filled up chiefly by men of rank and fashion, and by a
few members of the medical profession from Lyons and
from other parts of France. Mesmer, who had in the
mean time returned to Paris, and opened a magnetic in¬
stitution, seems to have commenced his lectures and course
of clinical instruction about the beginning of April 1784,
and to have continued it for a period of nearly two months,
to the general satisfaction of the public and the high gra¬
tification of his pupils. To this there appears to have
been only one exception in M. Berthollet, afterwards so
distinguished as a chemical philosopher, and who, at that
time, was physician to the Duke of Orleans, at whose de¬
sire he became a subscriber to, and attendant upon Mes-
mer’s instructions. In about a month after the commence¬
ment of the course, M. Berthollet gave up attendance,
and laid upon Mesmer’s table a declaration to the following
effect:—
After having attended more than the half of M. Mes¬
mer’s course, of the month of April 1784; after having
been admitted into the wards of cures and crises, where I
have been occupied in making observations and experi¬
ments ; I declare that I have not recognised the existence
of the agent named animal magnetism by M. Mesmer;
that I have considered the doctrine which has been taught
us, during the course, as being contrary to the best es¬
tablished truths relative to the system of the world, and to
the animal economy in particular; and that I have per¬
ceived nothing in the convulsions, spasms, and crises,
which are said to be produced by the magnetic processes
(when the symptoms actually occurred), which ought not
to be altogether attributed to the imagination, to the me¬
chanical effect of the frictions upon very nervous parts,
and to that law, long ago recognised, according to which an
animal has a tendency to imitate, and to place itself, even
involuntarily, in the same position in which it sees ano¬
ther animal, a law on which convulsive diseases so fre¬
quently depend. Lastly, I declare that I regard the doc¬
trine of animal magnetism, and the practice to which it
leads, as perfectly chimerical; and I consent to any use
being henceforward made of this declaration. (Signed)
Berthollet. Ist May 1784.”
The following circumstances respecting Mesmer’s lec¬
tures on animal magnetism are mentioned by M. Picher-
Grandchamp of Lyons, in a letter prefixed to his- edition
of the Memoire de F. A. Mesmer sur ses Decouvertes, Paris,
1826, and seem worthy of being noticed. The letter is
addressed to M. Bourdois de la Motte, who was named, in
1825, president of a commission charged by the Royal Aca-
Magne-
tism,
Animal.
H MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
ftlagne- deray of Medicine to examine into animal magnetism,
tism, “ Courses of that doctrine being announced, and the number
Animal. 0f pUpils or auditors fixed, MM. Faissole, Orelut, Bonnefoi,
Y ^ and myself, all physicians of Lyons, from the curiosity natu¬
ral to our profession, set out for Paris, wishing principally,
if possible, to augment or correct our medical knowledge.
We were, during more than fifteen days, rigorously exa¬
mined on our attainments in physics, on our capacity and
our morality, and admitted as pupils, or adepts if you will,
with reciprocal conditions written and signed. We were,
if I remember rightly, forty or fifty in number, amongst
whom there were physicians, surgeons, advocates, savans,
counsellors of parliament, intendants, and persons of high
rank. I have lost the printed list which I possessed of all
these gentlemen ; but my memory recalls the following:—
Monseigneur le Due de Coigni, MM. de Montesquieu,
de Lafayette, de Puysegur, de Chatelux, Bergasse, the
first commissary of police, M. Judel (formerly a deputy,
now physician at Versailles), the late Prince de Conde,
the present Due de Bourbon, and others. The course
lasted two months, and a treatment, established in the sa¬
loons and chambers of crises, as they were called, joined
at the same time practice to theory. I have never yet
heard that any member of that brilliant and honourable
assembly has not remained perfectly convinced of the re¬
ality of an active principle, and of the great utility of the
discovery. Some select medical men, of whom I had
the honour to be one, were alone permitted to enter into
the crises chambers, and take the direction of them. This
exclusive arrangement did not affect their serene high¬
nesses Monseigneurs de Conde and de Bourbon. There,
agitations, sweats, crises by all the emunctories, weeping,
sleeps, respecting which, for particula-r reasons, we had
not yet been instructed, excited our meditations. In the
midst of a second course, which we followed with, if possi¬
ble, still more ardour and assiduity, along with a part of the
company who attended the first course, and a new one com¬
posed of the same class of persons, it was proposed that these
courses, and the doctrine in general, should be printed.
A decided and successful opposition was made to this pro¬
position, particularly on the part of some savans and gen¬
tlemen of the court, resting on the following considerations :
Medicine, they said, ‘ has lost much of its consider¬
ation, of the kind of reverence which surrounded its ex¬
istence and decrees, of the public esteem and confidence
with which it was honoured, since the art of printing has
revealed the whole science, its maxims, its fundamental
truths, its faults, its errors, and even its occult and myste¬
rious practices. All this is now in the hands of the whole
world. Ignorance and avarice there unceasingly search
for maxims which they travesty, as well as for receipts
and remedies called secret; hence a general and fearful
empiricism. . The educated physician has continually to
contend against the prejudices, the errors, the preventions,
and the obstinacy of patients, in consequence of this vul¬
gar publicity; and science loses its true lustre and its value,
seeing itself, too, every day turned into ridicule upon the
stage, and that even by writers of note.’ Cette sortie fut
jrappante. It was determined, that without regard to the
expense, all the elements, principles, and applications of
this new science should be carefully engraved ; that in or¬
der to preserve to them a suitable and merited dignity,
only one copy should be delivered to those who should be
collectively authorized to establish a magnetical institu¬
tion and courses of instruction, in some towns that were
fixed upon. We (the physicians of Lyons) acquired one of
these copies, secured against an indiscreet publicity by the
precaution of having the essential and technical words ex¬
pressed by figures or signs, of which we were furnished with
the key. Hence the reasons why a sort of mystery has
surrounded that science and its practice, which undoubt¬
edly would have been always very useful in the exercise Magne-
of ordinary medicine. As survivor, I possess this engraved tism,
work in all its integrity.” “ I have the honour to offer to Animal,
you, and to the commission over which you are to preside,
this engraved work in all its purity and integrity; and at
the same time to deliver to you the key. It contains the
whole system, the whole doctrine, the processes, and the
other elements of which this science consists.”
We are not aware that this mysterious volume ha$ yet
seen the light. It appears, however, that Mesmer dictated
to his pupils a series of propositions, exhibiting a general
view of his system and practice, upon which he commented
in his lectures. These were published at Paris in the
course of the same year (1784), by M. Caullet de Veau-
morel, under the title of Aphorismes de M. Mesmer.
Towards the conclusion of these courses, a quarrel arose
between Mesmer and his pupils, who had formed them¬
selves into a society, under the name of the Society of
Harmony. The pupils conceived that they had acquired a
right to diffuse the knowledge of animarmagnetism, and
wished for that purpose to institute a public course of in¬
struction for those who were desirous to be initiated in its
doctrines and practices; whilst Mesmer maintained that
they had come under an obligation of secrecy to him, and
though they might practise animal magnetism in isolated
cases, from motives of benevolence, that they were bound
by their engagements not to communicate a knowledge
of his discoveries to others without his consent and ap¬
probation. Those who are curious will find an account of
this quarrel in Bertrand’s History of Animal Magnetism
It may be mentioned, however, that M. Bergasse, the origi¬
nator of the subscription, published a memoir in justifica¬
tion of the Society of Harmony. Hie issue of the quarrel
was, that Mesmer endeavoured, though without success,
to raise subscriptions for courses of instruction throughout
several towns in France, at half the price that had been
paid for his instructions in Paris; whilst the Society of
Harmony patronised a public course on animal magnetism,
given by M. Despremenil, one of their own members, and
opened establishments to the number of thirty, for the
practice of animal magnetism in various towns of France,
and in other parts of the Continent.
We have already hinted at the considerations on which
Mesmer, in removing to Paris, might have rested his hopes
oi success in that quarter ; and the circumstances we have
mentioned show that such anticipations, if formed, did not
fail to be realised. It has been justly observed by a late
author on animal magnetism, that “ the progress of ani¬
mal magnetism in Paris was greatly accelerated in con¬
sequence of the successful magnetic treatment of some
patients from amongst the more respectable classes of
society, who published accounts of their cures; and, be¬
ing astonished at the result of the means employed, took
occasion to bestow the most extravagant panegyrics upon
Mesmer and his remedial art.” “ It is a very great mis¬
take to suppose that all learned and intelligent men were
opposed to the doctrine of Mesmer. On the contrary,
he had a considerable number of adherents amongst the
most respectable and best-educated classes of society
M. de Segur the elder, formerly ambassador from France
at the court of St Petersburg, in his amusing publication
entitled Memoires, informs us that he himself was one of
the most zealous disciples of Mesmer, as were also MM.
de Gebelin, Olavides, Despremenil, de Jaucourt, de Chas-
tellux, de Choiseul Gouffier, de Lafayette, and many others,
all enlightened and talented men.” It has not been in
the case of Mesmer alone that the higher classes of so¬
ciety have shown a discreditable facility in listening to
those who have pretended to possess extraordinary powers
in curing diseases. The following anecdote, related by
Madame Campan in her Journal, whilst it throws some
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Magne- light on Mesmer’s proceedings, reminds us in a lively
tism, manner that the importance of testimony in matters of
Animal, this kind, is not in all cases to be estimated by the rank,
nor even by the general intelligence, of the person by
whom it is given. “ At the time,” says she, “ when Mes-
mer made so much noise at Paris with his magnetism,
M. Cam pan was his partisan, like every person who moved
in high life; to be magnetised was then a fashion. In
the drawing-room nothing was talked of but the new dis¬
covery ; people’s heads were turned, and their imagina¬
tions heated to the highest degree. To accomplish this ob¬
ject, it was necessary to bewilder the understanding; and
Mesmer with his singular language produced that effect.
To put a stop to the fit of public insanity was the grand
difficulty, and it was proposed to have the secret purchased
by the court. Mesmer fixed his claims at a very extrava¬
gant rate; however, he was offered fifty thousand crowns.
By a singular chance, I was one day led into the midst of
the persons under magnetic influence. Such was the en¬
thusiasm of the numerous spectators, that in most of them I
could observe a wild rolling of the eye, and a convulsed
movement of the countenance. A stranger might have
fancied himself amidst the unfortunate patients of Charen-
ton (a lunatic asylum in the neighbourhood of Paris). Sur¬
prised and shocked at seeing so many people almost in a
state of delirium, I withdrew full of reflections on the scene
I had just witnessed. It happened that about this time my
husband was attacked with a pulmonary disorder, and he de¬
sired that he might be conveyed to Mesmer’s house. Being
introduced into the apartment occupied by M. Campan, I
asked the worker of miracles what treatment he proposed
to adopt. He very coolly replied, that to insure a speedy
and perfect cure, it would be necessary to lay in the bed
of the invalid, at his left side, one of three things ; namely,
a young woman of brown complexion, a black hen, or an
empty bottle. ‘ Sir,’ said I, ‘ if the choice be a matter of
indifference, pray try the empty bottle.’ M. Campan’s
side grew worse, he experienced a difficulty of breathing
and a pain in his chest; all the magnetic remedies that
were employed produced no effect. Perceiving his fail¬
ure, Mesmer took advantage of the period of my absence,
to bleed and blister the patient. Mesmer asked for a cer¬
tificate to prove that the patient had been cured by means
of magnetism only, and M. Campan gave it. Here was a
trait of enthusiasm; truth was no longer respected. When I
next presented myself to the queen, their majesties asked
what I thought of Mesmer’s discovery. I informed them
of what had taken place, earnestly expressing my indig¬
nation at the conduct of the bare-faced quack. It was
immediately determined to have nothing more to do with
him.”
It was in this divided and uncertain state of the public
mind, and when the subscription for Mesmer’s first course
of lectures was in progress, that commissioners to investi¬
gate the nature and effects of animal magnetism were ap¬
pointed by the government. On the 12th of March 1784,
the king named four members of the Faculty of Medicine
of Paris, MM. Sallin, d’Arcet, Guillotin, and Majault, to en¬
ter into the examination, and to lay before him an account
of animal magnetism as practised by M. d’Eslon ; and, on
the petition of these physicians, his majesty associated w ith
them in this examination five members of the Royal Aca¬
demy of Sciences, MM. Franklin, le Iloi, Badly, de Bory,
and Lavoisier. On the 5th of April following, MM, Pois-
sonnier, Caille, Mauduit, Andry, and Jussieu, were named
by the Baron de Breteuil, agreeably to the orders of the
king, as a commission of the Royal Society of Medicine,
likewise to follow M. d’Eslon’s practice in the application
of animal magnetism to the treatment of diseases, and
to report upon it. The medical men in these two com¬
missions have been represented by some as persons who
15
were prejudiced against animal magnetism, and all those Magne-
who practised it; but we have not been able to discover any tism,
proofs of their having yielded to such prejudices, either in Animal,
the trials to which they subjected animal magnetism, or in^-
the accounts which they gave of these trials. Of the mem¬
bers of the Academy of Sciences who were conjoined with
the first commission, three of them at least, MM. Badly,
Lavoisier, and Benjamin Franklin, must be allowed to have
been no incompetent judges in matters of science, obser¬
vation, or common sense ; and they cannot be suspected of
having been influenced in the judgment which their exa¬
mination led them to form of the nature and merits of Mes¬
mer’s discoveries, by any feelings of professional jealousy.
In the introduction to an English translation of the re¬
port of the joint commission of the Faculty of Medicine
and Academy of Sciences, published at London in 1785,
it is stated (p. xv.) that “ M. Mesmer refused to have any
communication with these gentlemen (the commission¬
ers) ; but M. d’Eslon, the most considerable of his pupils,
consented to disclose to them his principles, and assist
them in their inquiries.” How far this statement is cor¬
rect, we are unable to say ; but certain it is that the
commissions, as issued, were for the examination of ani¬
mal magnetism as practised by D’Eslon. On the same
day on which the royal commission to the Faculty of Me¬
dicine is dated, M. Thouret was desired by the Royal So¬
ciety of Medicine to draw up and communicate to them a
history of animal magnetism, a subject on wdiich he was
known to have been for a long time engaged.
These commissions occasioned the production of no few¬
er than five separate reports. The first, that of M. Thou¬
ret, was given in to the Royal Society of Medicine on the
9th July 1784; the second, a report to the government,
for publication, by the joint commission of the members
of the Royal Academy of Sciences, and of the Faculty of
Medicine, was dated the 4th of August following; the
third, a private report, by the same commissioners, to the
king, of the same date, treated of some particular effects
of animal magnetism ; the fourth, the report of the Royal
Society of Medicine to the government, was dated 16th of
August; and the fifth, a separate report by Jussieu, one of
the commissioners of that society, who held some opinions
peculiar to himself, was dated 12th of September. These
reports exercised a most important influence on the opi¬
nions of a great portion of the public, and on the manner
in which magnetism was afterwards practised in the dif¬
ferent countries of Europe; and we shall therefore endea¬
vour, as briefly as possible, to make our readers acquaint¬
ed with their contents.
The report of the commissioners of the Faculty of Me¬
dicine and Academy of Sciences, whom we shall in future
designate as the joint commissioners, is understood to have
been drawn up by M. Badly, whose various writings, par¬
ticularly those relating to astronomy, sufficiently establish
his claims to the character of a philosopher; as his conduct
during the progress of the French Revolution, up to the
period when he became the victim of its barbarities, justly
entitle him to the appellation of a virtuous patriot. The
more popular style of this report, and the greater celebrity
of some of those from whom it proceeded, have thrown
comparatively into the shade the report presented by the
commission of the Society of Medicine. Yet it is impos¬
sible to read the latter document without coming to the
conviction that it is the production of men thoroughly
versed both in theoretical and practical medicine.
The title of M. Thouret’s report, Researches and Doubts
on Animal Magnetism, indicates the two objects which
the author had in view in its composition, In the histori¬
cal part, or researches, M. Thouret undertakes to prove
that the doctrine of animal magnetism announced by Mes-
xner as an entirely new discovery, had prevailed very ge»
16
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Magne¬
tism,
Animal.
nerally, under the same name, during a century at least,
having been adopted by a great number of partisans, and
made the subject of numerous dissertations and writings.
By passing successively in review the several propositions
to which Mesmer had reduced his system, M. Thouret en¬
deavours to show that there existed not only a general si¬
milarity of doctrine between Mesmer and former writers
on magnetic medicine, particularly Kircher, Maxwell, and
Santanelli, but also the strictest conformity between them
in matters of detail. A similar and not less able review of
Mesmer’s propositions is to be found in an anonymous work,
entitled Anti-Maynetisme, ou Oriyine, Progres, Decadence,
Renouvellement, et Refutation du Magnetisme Animal, a
Londres, 1784. In the critical part of his report, or the
doubts which he suggests regarding the correctness of
Mesmer’s views, M. Thouret briefly illustrates the sources
of fallacy to which we are exposed in attributing the ef¬
fects which manifested themselves, during the operations
of the magnetisers, to the agency of a single and peculiar
principle, and points out distinctly various ways in which
these effects might be accounted for, independently of such
an agent. “ Ces details,” says he towards the conclusion
ot his work, “ paroitront peut-etre bien rigoureux, mais ils
m’ont semble necessaires. Ils font naitre au moins une re¬
flexion qu’il est en general utile de presenter. C’est que pour
determiner la confiance dans une doctrine, il ne suffit pas de
re peter qu’il y a des faits en sa faveur. N’en a-t-on pas cite
a 1’appui de toutes les impostures ?” “ On parle toujours
de faits, on parle sans cesse d’observer. Mais il y a peut-
etre autant de fausses observations, qu’on a fait des faux
raisonnemens. lout depend d’une chose dans ces deux
objets, de la maniere d’y proceder. Il est aussi commun,
aussi possible d’observer mal, que de mal raisonner. Ce
n est done ni a 1’apparence ni a la multitude des faits qu’
on doit s arreter; mais a leur qualite, a leur nature parti-
culiere. C est ici la discussion qui doit terminer, et non
la premiere apparence. On a ete tant de fois seduit par
des tentatives du meme genre, qu’on a droit d’exiger de la
severite dans 1 examen, et de mettre de la reserve dans sa
croyance.”
The doubts which it was the province of M. Thouret
merely to suggest, or at most to illustrate from the pre¬
vious records of medicine, the other commissioners were
called upon, by the nature of their appointment, to brino-
to the test of practical observation and experiment. But
befoie noticing the judgments which the commissioners
have expressed respecting animal magnetism, we shall
quote from the reports their accounts of the practices
wflnch they saw employed for its administration, and of the
effects which they saw to result from their employment.
With regard to the arrangements of the apartments in
which the magnetic practices were conducted, the com¬
missioners of the Royal Society of Medicine mention the
following particulars: “ \st, A vessel of wood, closed above,
very large, of an oval form, about twenty-four inches in
height, which has been called the bucket {baquet), occu¬
pies the middle of the apartment. The lid which covers
the bucket is pierced on its borders, and throughout its
whde circumference, with holes, whence there arise rods
of polished iron, of the thickness of the finger, terminat¬
ing in a rounded point, bent, and alternately a long and
a short one. The extremities of the rods can at plea¬
sure be plunged into the bucket, drawn back, or entirely
removed. At the base of the rods are attached long
cords, nearly of the same thickness as the rods themselves.
I he patients are placed around the bucket: they
are seated on chairs, each separately, and form, according
to their number, one, two, or three rows. Each patient
directs the extremity of one of the iron rods towards the
part which is regarded as the seat of his ailment, and ap¬
plies it to that part. They at the same time make several
coils of the cord attached to the rod round the parts in Magne-
which they usually experience pains, or which they be- tism,
heve to be affected with disease. The bucket is regarded Animal.
by the persons who employ animal magnetism, as&being   
suited for collecting and concentrating the fluid or agent
the existence of which they assume ; being, according to
them, as it were, a reservoir. The iron rods and the cords-
are considered as conductors. It is important to mention
that we have not observed any proof of these assertions’
nor been furnished with any. The bucket accordingly is
not considered as essential, but only as accessory. The
doors and windows of the apartment are kept closed ; cur¬
tains prevent the entrance of more than a soft and feeble
light; silence is observed, the only conversation being in a
low tone; all noise and tumult are forbidden. From these
precautions it results, first, that the atmosphere becomes
Heated, and the patients respire a heavy and vitiated air,
such as is met with in all close places in which a great num¬
ber of people are assembled; and, second, that the ap¬
pearance of the apartment predisposes to reflection and me¬
ditation ; the spectacle before their eyes is in general that
of persons in suffering, and who have a melancholy aspect •
the only distraction from this picture is the manipulations’
piactised by the magnetisers, or the agitation and move¬
ments of the magnetised, who fall into convulsions; the
quiet which prevails is interrupted only by yawnings, sighs,
sobbmgs, lamentations, sometimes cries, in short, by the
different expressions of exhaustion or pain. In some apart¬
ments there is a pianoforte, on which a number of airs are
performed, particularly towards the termination of the
sittings. Wi Servants supply the patients, when they ask
for drink, with water in which cream of tartar has been dis¬
solved.
As to the mode in which the magnetic fluid or influence
is transmitted to the person or persons to be magnetised,
the same commissioners mention that “ there are two ways
of magnetising; by immediate contact, and by the direction
of a finger, or of a conductor at some distance. Is*, The
most ordinary process, in magnetising by contact, consists
in applying the hands to the hypochondria, the extremities
ot the fingers being directed towards the umbilicus. Fre¬
quently the thumbs, or the extremities of the two fore-fin¬
gers, are applied to the epigastrium. It is likewise common
to place the hands upon the region of the kidneys, particu¬
larly in magnetising women. The other parts that are
touched are determined by the seat of the disease; but
whatever be the part operated on, besides simple contact,
fnctions are performed over a larger or smaller extent of
surface, and with more or less force, and these are prac-
tisea particularly upon the umbilical and epigastric regions.
£d. In magnetising at a certain distance, the finger or
a conductor is presented under the nostrils, at the mouth
or eyes, at the bottom of the neck, and, behind, between
the shoulders. The finger or conductor is presented also
on the crown of the head, forehead, and behind the head.
Ihey are carried likewise in the direction of the arms,
along the sides of the body, and upon the thighs and legs;
sometimes the straight or elongated fingers are brought
near to, but not in contact with, one another, and the hands
are shaken as if the operator were making hasty sprinklings
o tiie fluid, which is supposed to emanate from the fingers
that are shaken. When the patients have fallen into con-
vu sions, the magnetising is usually continued by contact
with one hand, and at a certain distance by means of the
other. Whilst this latter operation is continued, the pa¬
tients have, at intervals, remissions and fresh paroxysms of
convulsions.”
Of the perceptible effects produced upon those who are
magnetised, the joint commission of the Faculty of Medi¬
cine and the Academy of Sciences has given the following
account: “ The patients present a very varied spectacle,
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Magne- from the difference of their conditions. Some of them are
tism, calm, tranquil, and unconscious of an effect; others cough,
Animal. Spjtj feei some slight pain, a local or a universal heat, and
v' are thrown into perspiration ; others are agitated and tor¬
mented by convulsions. These convulsions are extraordi¬
nary, from their number, their duration, and their violence.
As soon as one convulsion commences, several others suc¬
ceed. The commissioners have seen some last for more
than three hours; they are accompanied with the expecto¬
ration of a turbid and viscid water, brought away by the vio¬
lence of the efforts. Sometimes streaks of blood are to be
seen in the expectoration, and, amongst other cases, they saw
a young man who frequently brought up blood in consider¬
able quantity. The convulsions are characterised by rapid
involuntary motions of all the extremities, and of the whole
body, by a sense of suffocation, by subsultusof the hypochon¬
dria and epigastrium, by distraction and wildness of the eyes,
by piercing cries, weeping, hiccoughing, and immoderate
laughter. They are preceded or followed by a state of lan¬
guor or reverie, by a sort of dejection, and even drowsiness.
The smallest unexpected noise occasions startings, and it
has been remarked, that changing the key and the time of
the airs played on the pianoforte had an effect on the pa¬
tients, so that they became still more agitated with a quick¬
er motion, and the vivacity of their convulsions wafc renew¬
ed. Nothing,” add the commissioners, “ can be more as¬
tonishing than the sight of these convulsions. Without hav¬
ing seen it, it is impossible to form an idea of it; and in
beholding it, one is equally surprised by the profound re¬
pose of one portion of these patients, and by the agitation
manifested by the others, by the repetition of the various
phenomena, and by the sympathies that are developed.
Patients are seen seeking each other exclusively, and in
precipitating themselves towards one another, smiling, con¬
versing affectionately, and mutually soothing each other’s
crises. All are under the authority of the magnetiser; and
though they may appear to be in a state of extreme drow¬
siness, his voice, or a look or sign from him, rouses them
from it. It is impossible not to recognise, in these con¬
stant effects, a great power which agitates the patients, and
obtains the mastery over them, and of which the magne¬
tiser appears to be the depositary.”
With regard to the persons who fall into those convul¬
sive movements that have been called crises, the commis¬
sioners of the Society of Medicine make the following im¬
portant statements: “ ls£, That this occurs only to persons
who, whether from constitution or from the effect of dis¬
ease, are exceedingly sensitive : 2d, That persons do not
fall into convulsions till after having been submitted for a
longer or shorter time to the processes of animal magne¬
tism by immediate contact; it being so rare to meet with
persons in whom this state is produced by the simple direc¬
tion of the finger, or of a conductor, that scarcely any
examples of it are referred to : 3d, That persons, even
though very sensitive, who are magnetised separately, with
difficulty, and very seldom, experience convulsions, whilst,
when the same persons are magnetised in a place where a
number of patients are collected together, they are sooner
and more frequently thrown into convulsions: Uh, That
there are much fewer men than women susceptible of con¬
vulsions, and more women in affluent than in indigent cir¬
cumstances : and, bth, That it is not till after having re¬
mained for some length of time in the place where the mag¬
netising is carried on, that the persons who fall into con¬
vulsions become thus affected.”
We shall next state, in distinct propositions, what appear
to have been the results of the experimental investigations
instituted upon this occasion, and illustrate each of them
by a few examples. On most points there is a perfect
agreement in the statements contained in the several re¬
ports.
VOJL. XIV.
17
I. It is established in all of them, that the magnetic fluid, Magne-
if it exists, is incapable of being recognised by any sensi- ti?m’
ble or physical properties. The joint commissioners inform Amma1, y
us, that the first object to which they directed their at- ^ J*~Y mj>
tention, was to determine how far the existence of mag¬
netism was capable of being demonstrated. They soon
satisfied themselves, that if it exists in us and around us,
it is in an absolutely insensible manner ; it cannot be seen,
beard, smelt, tasted, nor touched. Some, indeed, of those
who have been magnetised, have said that they have seen
it passing out at the extremities of the fingers of the mag¬
netiser, which served as its conductors, or felt its passage
when his fingers were moved about before the face or upon
the hand ; and some, that they had been able to smell the
fluid. These observations, the commissioners were con¬
vinced, were erroneous, and they have endeavoured to give
an explanation of some of the sources of fallacy from which
the mistakes had originated. M. d’Eslon himself admit¬
ted to them, that the only way in which he could demon¬
strate the existence of the magnetic fluid, was by the
changes it produces on animated beings. Similar and cor¬
responding statements on this point are made by the com- *
missioners of the Society of Medicine, and by M. Jussieu.
II. It is admitted in all the reports, that many persons
who were operated upon exhibited none of the magnetic
phenomena. In comparing the results of their experiments,
the joint commissioners found, that of fourteen sick per¬
sons operated on by them, five only appeared to experience
any effect, whilst nine experienced none whatsoever. Of
the first-mentioned five, in two the effects were not of a
nature to require or admit the supposition of their depend¬
ing on magnetic influence, so that there were in fact only
three out of the fourteen cases in which the agency of mag¬
netism could be supposed to have operated. These three
persons were of the lower class of society, and the com¬
missioners were strongly disposed to believe that moral
circumstances had had a very principal share in producing
the sensations they professed to experience ; and the more
so, as they found that no effect was produced by the ope¬
ration of magnetising upon children. To the same pur¬
pose the commissioners of the Society of Medicine men¬
tion the case of a young lady, sixteen years of age, whose
intellectual faculties were impaired, and who was subject
to attacks of epilepsy that recurred every three or four days.
“ On being submitted to the different processes of animal
magnetism for sixty-five minutes, this girl did not expe¬
rience any effect from it; at least she did not make her go¬
verness, who is accustomed to judge of her feelings, aware
of any, and she had no attack of epilepsy, as, the partisans
of magnetism say, should usually happen to those who are
subject to it.” Jussieu likewise enumerates a considerable
number of instances of persons who were subjected to mag¬
netism, without any effect being produced upon them ; and
from the number of cases of this kind with which he was
acquainted, he expresses his conviction that the magnetic
fluid, if it exists, has not, on most,men, whether in a state
of health or of disease, an action that can manifest itself by
sensible signs.
III. It is distinctly stated in all the reports, that many
persons who were led to believe that they were under
magnetic operation, when they were not actually so, ex¬
hibited precisely the same phenomena as those who were
magnetised. The commissioners of the Society of Medi¬
cine give an account of two persons whom they had been
magnetising, after having blindfolded them, and on whom
they ceased to operate without their being aware of it.
“ Thinking,” they say, “ that we were continuing the pro¬
cess of magnetism, they have, during that interruption,
which has been of long duration, declared that they ex¬
perienced sensations in different parts. We have several
times,” they add, “ repeated and varied, in different per-
c
18
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Magne- sons, in health and in sickness, these experiments, and
tism, • the results have always been the same.” One of tlie best
Animal illugtrat;ons ^ been given 0f tile production of the
so-called magnetic phenomena, independently of mag¬
netic operations, is the following experiment, which is re¬
lated in the report of the joint commissioners. “ When
a tree has been touched,” they remark, “ according to
the principles and method of magnetism, every person
who stops under it ought to experience, in a greater or
less degree, the effects of this agent; there have been
some in this situation who have swooned, or experienced
convulsions. We communicated our purpose respecting
the following experiment to M. d’Eslon, who replied that it
ought to succeed, provided the subject operated on were
extremely susceptible; and it was agreed with him that it
should be performed at Passy, in the presence of Dr Frank¬
lin. The necessity that the subject should be susceptible,
suggested to the commissioners, that to render the experi¬
ment decisive and unanswerable, it was necessary it should
be made upon a person chosen by M. d’Eslon, and whose
f susceptibility to the operation of magnetism he had already
put to the proof. M. d’Eslon, therefore, brought with
him a boy of about twelve years of age ; an apricot-tree
was fixed upon in the orchard of Dr Franklin’s garden,
considerably distant from any other tree, and consequent¬
ly calculated to retain the magnetical power which might
be impressed upon it. M. d'Eslon was led thither alone
to magnetise the tree, the boy in the mean time remain¬
ing in the house, and another person along with him. The
commissioners could have wished that M. d’Eslon had not
been present at the subsequent part of the experiment,
but he declared that it might fail if he did not direct his
cane and his countenance towards the tree, in order to
augment the action of the magnetism. It was therefore
resolved that M. d’Eslon should be placed at the greatest
possible distance, and that some of the commissioners
should stand between him and the boy, so as to satisfy
themselves of the impracticability of any signals being
made by M. d Eslon, or of any intelligence being main¬
tained between them. The boy was then brought into the
orchard with his eyes covered with the bandage, and pre¬
sented successively to four trees upon which the opera¬
tion had not been performed, and caused to embrace each
of them foi the space of two minutes, agreeably to what
had been directed by M. d’Eslon himself. M. d’Eslon,
present, and at a considerable distance, directed his cane
towards the tree which was really magnetised. At the first
tree, the boy, being interrogated at the end of a minute,
declared that he perspired in large drops; he coughed, spat,
anu complained of a slight pain in his head ; his distance
from the magnetised tree was about twenty-seven feet
At the second tree he felt stupified, and the pain in his
head continued ; the distance was thirty-six feet. At the
third tree the stupefaction and headach increased consider¬
ably ; he said that he believed he was approaching to the
tree which had been magnetised; he was then about thirty-
dght feet from it. Lastly, at the fourth unmagnetised tree,
and at the distance of about twenty-four feet from the tree
which had been magnetised, the boy fell into a crisis; he
fainted away, his limbs stiffened, and he was carried to a
neighbouring grass plot, where M. d’Eslon hastened to his
assistance and recovered him. This experiment,” the com¬
missioners remark, “ is entirely conclusive: the boy knew
that he was about to be led to a tree upon which the mag-
strnnk ^Peratlon h^d been performed; his imagination wfs
stiuck, it was exalted by the successive steps of the opera¬
tion, and at the fourth tree it was raised to the height ne¬
cessary to produce the crisis.” b
IV It is established by all the reports, that many per-
sons who were subjected to magnetic operation without their
beinB aware of it, did not exhibit the usual phenomena,
even though these same persons had on former trials been Marme
found to be very susceptible of magnetic influence. The tism,
commissioners of the Society of Medicine mention the case Animal.
of a woman who complained of oppression and uneasiness' * 
whenever she saw the finger of a magnetiser or his con¬
ductor directed towards her in front, or perceived that they
were presented to her behind ; she entreated that the ac¬
tion upon her might be discontinued, as she was about to
become sick. “ One of us having fixed her looks upon some
object, and in this way arrested her attention, another pre¬
sented his finger behind her for ten minutes without her
perceiving it, and without her having said that she had ex¬
perienced any sensation.” As illustrative of the dependence
of the production of the magnetic phenomena on the belief
the person entertains of being operated upon, the joint com¬
missioners relate the following very conclusive experiment.
Having made choice of two rooms contiguous to each
other, and united by a door of communication, they caused
the door to be taken away, and a frame of wood substituted
in its place, covered with two folds of paper. In one of
these rooms was placed a commissioner to make minutes
of what might occur, and a lady, who was given out to be
just arrived from the country, and to have linen which she
wis led to be made up. Madlle. B. a sempstress by profes¬
sion, who had been already employed in the experiments
at i assy, and whose sensibility to the magnetism was well
known, was sent for. Everything was arranged before
her arrival, m such a manner that there was but one seat
upon which she could place herself, and that seat stood in
the recess of the door of communication, so that she was
as it in a niche. The commissioners were in the other
room, and one of them, a physician, who had upon former
occasions performed the magnetical operation with suc¬
cess, was charged with the magnetising of Madlle. B.
thiough the paper partition. It is a principle in the the¬
ory of animal magnetism, that this agent passes through
wooden doors, walls, &c. A partition of paper could there¬
fore be no obstacle; besides, M. d’Eslon had positively de¬
clared that the magnetism passes through paper. Madlle.
B. was accordingly magnetised during half an hour, at
the distance of a foot and a half. During the operation,
she conversed with much gaiety; and, in answer to an in¬
quiry concerning her health, she readily replied that she
was perfectly well. At Passy she had fallen into a crisis
m the course of three minutes: on the present occasion,
when ignorant of the magnetism being applied, she under¬
went the operation without any effect for thirty minutes.
Only one objection, the commissioners conceive, can be
suggested to this experiment; that Madlle. B. might at
mat particular time be indisposed to receive the mao-ne-
tic fluid, and less susceptible to its operation than usual.
Ihe commissioners, foreseeing this objection, made the fol¬
lowing experiment. As soon as they had ceased to mag¬
netise the patient through the paper partition, the same
commissioner passed into the other room, where he found
no difficulty in engaging Madlle. B. to submit to the magne¬
tical operation. It was accordingly repeated in precisely
the same manner as in the former experiment, at the same
distance of a foot and a half, and by the intervention of
gestures only, together with the employment of the right
finger and the rod of iron. In three minutes she felt a sen¬
sation of uneasiness and suffocation ; to these succeeded an
interrupted hiccough, a chattering of the teeth, a pressure
at the throat, and an extreme pain in her head; she was rest¬
less in her chair; she complained of a pain in her loins •
now and then she struck her foot with extreme quick¬
ness on the floor; afterwards she stretched her arms be¬
hind her, twisting them extremely, as she had done at
Passy; in a word, the convulsive crisis was complete and
perfectly characterised. All these symptoms appeared in
twelve minutes, though the same process employed for
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL. 19
Magne. thirty minutes, a little before, had not produced any effects
tism, whatever. The commissioner who magnetised her having
Animal, said aloud £ that it was time to have done,’ at the same
time continued his magnetic operation in the mode he had
practised it through the whole of this experiment; no ac¬
tual alteration thei’efore had been made, and the same pro¬
cess being continued, the same impressions ought also to
have continued. But the declared intention of the opera¬
tor was sufficient to put a stop to the crisis; her heat and
the pain in her head ceased. The magnetist pursued the
malady from place to place, announcing at the same time
that it was going to disappear. In this way the contraction
of the throat ceased, and then successively the affections
of the breast, of the stomach, and of the arms. The whole
required only three minutes, after which Madlle. B. de¬
clared that she no longer felt any sensation, but was per¬
fectly restored to her usual state.
V.* It is distinctly shown in all the reports, that mistakes
analogous to those mentioned in the two last articles were
committed by many persons as to the seat in which they ex¬
perienced magnetic sensations; that is, from misconception
as to the proceedings of the magnetiser, these persons expe¬
rienced sensations in parts not operated on, and none in parts
against which the magnetic conductor was directed. The
joint commissioners mention the case of a woman, who, on
being magnetised on the forehead, but without touching her,
said that she felt a sensation of heat. M. Jumelin, the mag¬
netiser, moving about his hand, and presenting the five ex¬
tremities of his fingers over the whole of her face, she said
that she felt as if a flame were moving from place to place.
On being magnetised upon the stomach, she said that she
felt heat there ; when magnetised on the back, she said she
felt the same heat there ; she likewise declared that she felt
hot in every part of her body, and that her head ached.
But when this woman was blindfolded and magnetised, the
phenomena no longer corresponded to the places against
which the magnetism was directed. Being magnetised
successively on the stomach and on the back, she felt only
heat in the head, pain in the right eye, and in the left eye
and ear. Her eyes being unbandaged, and M. Jumelin
having applied his hands upon her hypochondria, she said
she felt heat there ; and some minutes afterwards she said
she was becoming sick, and this was found actually to be
the case. On her recovery, her eyes were again bound,
M. Jumelin was removed, silence ordered, and the woman
made to believe that she was again magnetised. The ef¬
fects were the same, though she was not acted upon either
near or at a distance ; she experienced the same heat, the
same pain in the eyes and ears ; and she also felt heat in
the back and in the kidneys. After a quarter of an hour
had elapsed, a sign was made to M. Jumelin to magnetise
her on the stomach ; she felt nothing of it; and when mag¬
netised on the back, was actually insensible to it. The
sensations diminished instead of increasing; the pains of
the head continued; the heat in the back and in the kid¬
neys ceased. “ Two men,” say the commissioners of the
Society of Medicine, “ one of them still young, and from
birth very sensitive and irritable, the other older, and in a
state of bad health, both declared that they experienced
sensations in the parts against which the finger or a con¬
ductor was directed. Their sensations appeai*ed to corre¬
spond to the different movements that were executed. We
bandaged their eyes, and during all the time that we kept
them deprived of light, the sensations which these two men
declared they experienced no longer corresponded regular¬
ly with the different movements which we executed. They
frequently named a part as the seat of a sensation wdiilst
we were operating on a very distant part, in which they
said they felt nothing.”
VI. From the results of the experiments which they
witnessed, the joint commissioners of the Faculty of Me¬
dicine and Academy of Sciences, and the commissioners Magne-
of the Society of Medicine, with the exception of M. Jus- tism,
sieu, considered themselves as authorized to conclude that v Animai.
the effects upon the human economy attributed by Mes-
mer and his followers to the influence of animal magnetism,
ought to be ascribed to other causes, and particularly to
the handlings and frictions practised by the operators, to
the influence of imagination, and to the principle of instinc¬
tive imitation or sympathy. M. Jussieu, whilst he allowed
that a large portion of the phenomena that were observ¬
ed in the course of the investigation ought to be accounted
for upon these principles, conceived that in a small number
of instances the phenomena could not be so explained, and
that, for the explanation of these, some other principle must
be had recourse to. Of such instances he has mentioned
only four, the twro most specious of which we shall now lay
before our readers, to enable them to judge of the charac¬
ter of the facts that made Jussieu conceive it necessary to
admit the agency of a principle different from those which
his brother commissioners were disposed to recognise, as
producing the extraordinary phenomena that presented
themselves during the so-called magnetic processes. We
may here remark, however, that Jussieu did not think it
necessary to admit, with Mesmer, the existence or agency of
the magnetic, or, as he terms it, an undemonstrated universal
fluid ; but that he attributed the influence which, from the
facts alluded to, he supposed one individual to be capable
of exerting over another, to the animal heat existing in
bodies, which, he says, emanates from them continually, is
conveyed to a considerable distance, and may pass from one
body to another.
“ Having placed myself,” says M. Jussieu, “ on one side
of the bucket, opposite to a woman whose blindness, oc¬
casioned by two very thick specks, had been a month be¬
fore ascertained by the commissioners, I saw her during a
whole quarter of an hour very tranquil, appearing more oc¬
cupied with the iron rod of the bucket directed upon her
eyes than'wich the conversation of the other patients. At
a time when the noise of voices was sufficient to put her
hearing at fault, I directed, at the distance of six feet, a
rod upon her stomach, which I knew to be very sensitive.
At the end of three minutes she appeared restless and agi¬
tated ; she turned about on her chair, and declared that
some one placed behind or alongside of her was magnetis¬
ing her, though I had previously taken the precaution to
remove all persons who might have rendered the experi¬
ment doubtful. Her restlessness ceased almost immediate¬
ly after my movements were discontinued, and she be¬
came tranquil as before, particularly when she was assured
that there was neither patient nor medical man behind her.
Fifteen minutes afterwards, taking advantage of the same
circumstances, I renewed the trial, which afforded exactly
the same result.”
“ The crisis of another female patient was a general spasm,
accompanied with a transient loss of the senses, without any
violent motion. The head was carried forwards, the eyes
w ere shut, the arms thrown backwards and extended along
the sides, the hands open, the fingers much separated. When
my finger was placed upon her forehead, between the eyes,
it appeared to soothe her a little. If I drew it gently
away, the head, though no longer in contact, followed it
mechanically in all sorts of directions, till it came again to
rest upon it. If, after having thus directed her head to
one side, I presented my other hand at the distance of an
inch from her opposite hand, she drew it back precipitate¬
ly, with marks of a smart impression. These movements
have been repeated three or four times in ten minutes ;
but at the end of this time the spasm diminishing, the sen¬
sibility to the impression of the finger was no longer the
same. When she recovered from this state, the patient
was ignorant of what had taken place. I have made this
20
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Animal.
Magne- trial a single time. Its completeness was owing to my
tism> having observed the same phenomena a month before, in
watching the same crisis produced by another physician.
It is proper to add, that this patient had returned to the
treatment that same day, after having been in the country
for three weeks, during which she said she had experienced
no crisis.”
It is impossible, we conceive, to read these narratives of
M. Jussieu, without feeling that the consideration to which
they are entitled is most materially diminished by the cir¬
cumstance of no mention being made of any persons by
whom the experiments were witnessed. If the other com¬
missioners were present when these experiments were per¬
formed, it must be inferred, from their silence respecting
them, that they were not satisfied of their accuracy. If,
again, they were made in the absence of his colleagues in
the commission, and rest solely upon M. Jussieu’s authority,
then, with perfect confidence in his veracity, and every
disposition to give him credit for sagacity and accuracy of
observation, it is obvious that the very nomination of a com¬
mission implies the importance of several persons being
present at an investigation of this kind, to secure against
deception on the one hand, or mistake upon the other. The
perusal of the cases suggests, too, the observation, that it is
not on the credibility of M. Jussieu, but on that of the sub¬
jects of his experiments, that their value depends; for M.
Jussieu seems to have taken the good faith of these per¬
sons for granted, without enforcing those prudent precau¬
tions which, as is well observed in the report of the joint
commissioners, “ in an experiment that ought to be au¬
thentic, are indispensable without being offensive.”
In regard to the first of the cases we have quoted, M.
Jussieu states, in general terms, that none of the precau¬
tions possible on such an occasion had been neglected ;
that he was satisfied that the patient had derived no other
advantage from the treatment she had undergone, than
an obscure and confused perception of certain objects at
a distance of three or four inches; that the light fell la¬
terally upon her and upon himself; that he could not sus¬
pect collusion on the part either of the patients, who
were occupied with some totally different object, or of
the medical men recently admitted to follow' the treat¬
ment, and who sought only to see the effects ; and, lastly,
that one of the chefs de la salle was present, but always
by his side, observing silence, and allowing him to ope¬
rate at his pleasure. Now, it must be apparent to every
one. that these were not all the precautions possible or
desirable in a matter of this kind. If the specks allowed
of a slight degree of vision at a distance of three or four
inches, we know no reason why they should prevent such
a degree of vision at the distance of six feet, as would ad¬
vertise her of the presence of M. Jussieu and his magne¬
tic rod. It would have been satisfactory, therefore, that
t ic eyes of this woman had been covered with a ban-
cage, as was done by the joint commissioners in experi¬
menting upon a woman who had specks upon her eyes,
ibis suggests the inquiry whether the same person was
tTeMUiJeCt- °f ^ experiments of the commissioners and
ot M. Jussieu. The woman operated on by the commis-
. flners affoj;ded ample proof how much she was under the
influence of the imagination, and how necessary was the
precaution of the application of the bandage. It is to be
regretted, too, that M. Jussieu had not taken the precau¬
tion to remove a 1 bystanders whose services he did not
fidence’ ^ m Wh0m he C°uId not place unliraited con-
In the second case, also, those precautions seem to have
been omitted which would have been essential to the va-
hdity of the experiment. M. Jussieu assumed that the
patient did not perceive the motions of his hand, because
there was transient loss of the senses, and her eyes were
shut; and because, on recovering from the state of insen¬
sibility, she declared that she was ignorant of what had
taken place. M. Bertrand conceives that all the difficul¬
ties of this case are got rid of by assuming that the pa-
tient was in a state bordering upon somnambulism. To
us, we confess, the symptoms of the crisis during which
M. Jussieu’s experiments were performed, seem to bear a
striking resemblance to those which are frequently ob¬
served in a paroxysm of ordinary hysteria, in the course
of which the patient, though presenting the appearance
of insensibility, is often quite aware of the conversation
and actions of those by whom- she is surrounded. M. Jus¬
sieu does not attempt to determine whether the motions
of the head in this case are to be attributed to a physical
attraction exerted over it by the magnetising finger, or
to an instinctive motion of the muscles, calculated^ if’not
intended, to retain to the head that soothing influence which
it seemed to experience from the finger being brought
into contact with it. Nor does he seem to have endea¬
voured to ascertain whether any other part of the body,
besides the head, as the hand or foot, for example, would
have undergone similar motions in similar circumstances.
In mentioning, indeed, that painful and diseased organs
not unfrequently experience a smart impression, or even
a burning heat, from the contact of the finger or rod, M.
Jussieu adds, that sometimes the tumour, when thus heat¬
ed, advances and rolls under the finger, and appears for
an instant to increase in size. These two effects, he
says, he had several times produced. Similar effects, it
may be icmarked, are alluded to by Thouret, as having
occurred in his experiments with artificial magnets. But
to establish the reality of such a phenomenon would re¬
quire a kind of evidence more extensive and precise than
that by which this extraordinary fact has hitherto been
attested. This fact, however, of the movement of parts
of the body to which magnets or magnetic rods are ap¬
plied, towards these substances, must either be admitted
to be true, or be regarded, as we suspect it well may, as
a fallacy engendered in the imagination of the observers.
Upon the whole, then, we cannot but concur with M.
Bertiand, in the judgments which he has pronounced
both with regard to the particular facts on which M. Jus¬
sieu has grounded his difference of opinion from his col¬
leagues, and on the general tendency of his report. Of
the first, Bertrand remarks, that “ these facts, which
would be so important if they were established in a way
to leave no doubt, are unquestionably too few in number
to produce conviction.” “ It is very unfortunate that M.
Jussieu, in the course of five months, during which he at¬
tended very assiduously at the public treatments, has not
been able, out of a very great number of patients, to col¬
lect more than this small number of facts in favour of
the hypothesis of a particular agent.” Respecting the
general tendency of M. Jussieu’s report, M. Bertrand ob¬
serves, that it “contains all that a judicious, well-informed,
and impartial observer, aided besides with all imaginable
facilities for the examination of animal magnetism, could
find in the way of arguments in its favour. Yet this re¬
port, made in such friendly intentions, but made by a man
who placed the interest of truth before everything else,
was much more opposed than favourable to the preten¬
sions of the magnetisers.”
VII. \\ ith regard to the consideration of the curative
influence of animal magnetism, the two commissions pro¬
ceeded differently, each, however, pursuing the mode
of investigation best suited to his habits of study and
experience. I he joint commissioners remark, that “ there
are two different ways in which the action of magnetism
upon animated bodies may be observed ; f/sl, by its cura¬
tive effects, when pursued for a length of time, in the treat¬
ment of diseases; or, second, by its more speedy effects
Magne¬
tism,
Animal.
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Magne- upon the animal economy, and the observable changes
tism, which it produces upon that economy.” M. d’Eslon in-
AnimaL sistej that the first of these methods should be principally
^ and almost exclusively followed in their examination ; but
this the joint commissioners declined, from the consider¬
ation of the uncertainty that in all cases exists, even
when recovery takes place during the use of particular re¬
medies, how much of the cure is attributable to the efforts
of nature, and how much to the action of the remedies em¬
ployed. “ The treatment of diseases,” they observe, “ can
furnish only results that are always uncertain and often de¬
ceptive ; nor could this uncertainty be dissipated, and every
cause of fallacy obviated, but by an infinity of cures, and
perhaps by the experience of several ages. The object and
the importance of the commission require prompter means
of decision. The commissioners felt it incumbent upon
them, therefore, to confine themselves to proofs purely
physical, that is to say, to the instantaneous effects of the
fluid upon the animal body, excluding from these effects
all the fallacies that might mix with them, and satisfying
themselves that they could proceed from no other cause
than animal magnetism.”
But whilst the joint commissioners confined their obser¬
vations to the immediate effects produced on those who are
magnetised, the commissioners of the Society of Medicine,
agreeably with their instructions, extended their observa¬
tions to the employment and effects of magnetism in the
treatment of diseases. In communicating the results of
their observations as to the effects of magnetism considered
as a therapeutic agent, they divide the classes of cases in
which they saw it employed, under three heads: Pa¬
tients whose affections were evident, and had a known
cause ; 2c%, those whose slight ailments consisted in in¬
definite affections, without any determinate cause; and,
'Mly, melancholics. Of the patients of the first class, those
whose affections were evident and had a known cause, they
state that they had seen none cured or manifestly reliev¬
ed, though they had followed the magnetical treatment of
them during four months, and learned that some of them
had been under treatment for more than a year. They
remark, however, that even though there had been, as
they were assured, some patients of that class cured be¬
fore the appointment of the commission, no conclusion
should be deduced from this, because the examples that
could be cited must be few in number, and because, of
a multitude of patients brought together at hazard, na¬
ture cures some, and that often in a shorter space of time
than is employed in the treatment by animal magnetism.
As to the patients of the second class, those having slight
and indefinite ailments, the commissioners state that they
have seen several who assured them that they felt their
health improved, that they had more appetite and better
digestion, &c. These patients, the commissioners ob¬
serve, are not of the number of those who experience
convulsions; whether that no attempt is made to produce
those in them, or that by their constitution or the state of
their health they are not disposed to undergo them. The
commissioners point out various circumstances which may
have operated in producing the improvement in the health
of this class of patients. “ As to the third class of patients,
the melancholics, it is well known,” they remark, “ how
easy it is to afflict such persons, to console them, to suspend
for some time their sufferings, to occupy them, to distract
them, and, in short, how little we must depend on their tes¬
timonies, on their cure, and on the success obtained in the
treatment of their diseases.”
M. Jussieu, after giving a short account of the therapeu¬
tical effects which seemed to result from the magnetical
treatment, and of the diseases in which it appeared to prove
beneficial, proceeds, in conformity to his general doctrine,
to endeavour to prove that these effects are referrible to
21
the transmission of animal heat. “ The facts quoted,” says Magne-
* he, “ prove in general the tonic action of the remedy (mo- tism,
yen') employed. I have not beemable to attribute to other ^Anima*'
causes the improved health which 1 observed in some of ”
the patients. Undoubtedly the imagination, the exercise
necessary for going to the place of treatment, the absti¬
nence from every other remedy which might fatigue the
body, the relaxation of mind resulting from the assemblage
of several persons, the pleasure which music excites, and
the habitual use of the cream of tartar administered in this
treatment, are means which sometimes add much to the ac¬
tion of the principal remedy ; but it would be unnatural to
suppose them sufficient in all cases. In reflecting on all
these effects,” he continues, “ it is easy to perceive that
they are determined by a physical cause, which is animal
heat, and that this heat forms the basis of the magnetical
treatment.”
VIIL The commissioners pointed out two kinds of dan¬
gers as liable to result from the practice of animal magne¬
tism, in the mode in which they saw it conducted, one af¬
fecting the health, and the other the morals, of the persons
operated upon. The dangers which the joint commission¬
ers apprehended might result to the health of those who
were subjected to the magnetical operations, were of two
kinds; 1st, the immediate injury liable to result in many
cases from the violence of the crises, as they were called,
or the convulsions, &c. into which the patients were thrown ;
and, 2dly, the liability of a habit of experiencing such con vid-
sions being established in the economy. “ The imagination
of sick persons,” they remark, “ has unquestionably, in many
instances, great influence in the cure of their diseases. Its
effect is known only by a general experience, and has not
been determined by positive experiments; but it does not
seem to admit of doubt. It is a well known adage, that in
medicine men are saved by faith; this faith is the product
of the imagination ; in this case the imagination acts only
by mild means.” “ But when the imagination produces
convulsions, it acts by violent means, and these means are
almost always injurious. There are a very few cases in
which they may be useful; there are desperate cases in
which il faut tout troubler pour ordonner tout de nouveau.
These dangerous shocks are to be had recourse to in medi¬
cine in the same way as poisons. They must be required by
imperious necessity, and employed with the greatest re¬
serve. The need for them is momentary ; the shock ought
to be single. Far from repeating it, the wise physician oc¬
cupies himself with the means of repairing the necessary evil
which it has produced. But in the public practice of mag¬
netism, the crises are repeated every day, they are long-
continued, and severe in degree.” And again, “ Who will
assure us that this state of crises, at first voluntarily in¬
duced, shall not become habitual ? And if this habit, thus
contracted, frequently reproduces the same symptoms, in
spite of the will, and almost without the assistance of the
imagination, what would be the fate of an individual sub¬
jected to these violent crises, tormented physically and
morally by their unfortunate impression, whose days are
divided between apprehension and pain, and whose life is
only an uninterrupted punishment ? These diseases of the
nerves, when occurring naturally, are the opprobrium of
medicine; how little ought it to be the object of art to pro¬
duce them.”
Into the consideration of the moral dangers with which
the commissioners conceived the practice of animal mag¬
netism to be attended, we shall not enter here. They
formed the subject of the secret report already alluded to
as having been submitted to the king by the joint commis-
sionersofthe Faculty of Medicine and Academy of Sciences;
a report equally remarkable for the elegance of its com¬
position and the delicacy of its sentiments. That the
hints which it contained were proper and necessary, may
22
Magne¬
tism,
Animal
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
be presumed from the attention they met with at the time,
and also from the regulations which have since been adopt-
, ed in other countries where the practice of magnetism has
received the sanction of government; as well as from the
rules laid down by various practical physicians, who, in re¬
commending magnetism as a means of cure, show how
much they were aware of the abuses to which its unre¬
strained practice is liable. The reader who has any curi¬
osity upon this subject, may consult the observations of
Hufeland, in his Journal der Practischen Arzneykunde for
1815 and 1820; and of Kieser, System des Tellurismus
oder Thierischen Magnetismus, ii. 437, &c.
A feeble attempt was made on the part of Mesmer and
his admirers to persuade the public that, however appli¬
cable the conclusions of the commissioners might be to
the magnetic proceedings of his pupils, which alone they
had had an opportunity of witnessing, they could not fairly
be extended to the doctrines and practice of the master.
“ Happily for M. Mesmer,” it was said, “ there are in his
system things which it is not easy to transmit, which are
not even as j'et developed, and which, hitherto made more
to be felt than expressed, will not be easily stripped from
him.” Against this objection the commissioners had care¬
fully guarded themselves, by stating very fully the grounds
they had for believing that the system and practice of
D’Eslon did not materially differ from those of Mesmer him¬
self. _ “ It is easy to prove,” say they, “ that the essential
practices of magnetism are known to M. d’Eslon. M.
d’Eslon has been for many years the pupil of M. Mesmer.
He has seen constantly, during that period, the practices
of animal magnetism employed, and the means of exciting
and directing it. M. d'Eslon has himself treated patients
in presence of M. Mesmer; at a distance from him he has
produced the same effects as at M. Mesmer’s house.
Again, when together, they have combined their patients,
and have treated them indiscriminately, and consequent¬
ly in following the same processes. The method which
M. d’Eslon at present follows cannot, therefore, be differ¬
ent from that of M. Mesmer. The effects, likewise, corre¬
spond. There are crises as violent, as numerous, and ac¬
companied by similar phenomena, at the house of M. d’Es¬
lon as at that of M. Mesmer; these effects, therefore,
are not dependent on a particular practice, but on the
piactice of magnetism in general.” M. Foissac says (Rap¬
ports et Discussions, p. 223), in reference to the commis¬
sioners having carried on their investigations at D’Eslon’s
instead of at Mesmer’s institution, that “ Mesmer in vain
addressed the most urgent remonstrances to Franklin and
xM. le Baron de Breteuil : it was in vain that he protested
against everything that should be done elsewhere than in his
own house ; they did not listen to him, they did not deign
to honour him with the smallest answer.” Mesmer himself
says, in a work subsequently published, “ A minister of
the past reign abused all his power to destroy the grow¬
ing opinion. After having ordered, notwithstanding my
protestations, the formation of a commission to judge of
my doctrine, and to condemn it in the practice made of it
by a person whom I disavowed, he made his triumph be
ce ebrated at the Academy of Sciences, where he wasap-
plauded to the skies for having preserved them, as they
said, from a great error, which constituted the disgrace of
the age He inundated the whole of Europe with a report
made by that commission, and ended by giving up to
public derision, upon the theatres, both my doctrine and
my method of cure.
A number of answers were published to the reports of
the commissioners, to some of which the names of the au¬
thors were attached, while others were anonymous. To
the former class belong the works of MM. d’Eslon de
Montjoye, Bonnefoy, and Bergasse. To the latter class,
the Doutes d un Provincial,” understood to be the com¬
position of M. Servan of Grenoble ; the “ Reflexions Im-
partiales,” &c.; the “ Observations, &c. par un Medecin
de Provinceand the “ Supplement aux Deux Rapports.”,
An analysis and refutation of most of these answers was
published by M. Devillers under the title of “ Le Colosse
aux Pieds d’Argile.” In 1785 there were published, by
order of the king, extracts of the correspondence of the
Royal Society of Medicine, relative to animal magnetism
drawn up by M. Thouret. This again called forth seve-’
ral replies, particularly from M. de la Boissiere, physician
at Bergerac, from M. Bonnefoy of Lyons, and from M
d’Eslon.
The doubts of M. Jussieu, and the arguments of the more
decided supporters of animal magnetism, would probably
have had little influence in saving it from the general dis¬
repute and oblivion to which the reports of the commis¬
sions threatened to consign it, had not some of Mesmer’s
pupils about this time discovered that this agent is capable
of producing a set of phenomena still more wonderful than'
those which had engaged the attention of the commis-'
sioners. The consideration of these phenomena, however,
we must, as we have already announced, postpone to the
article Somnambulism. All that we can at present
propose to ourselves, is to collect a few notices respecting
the subsequent history of Mesmer, and to point out some
of the more general conclusions that seem deducible from
the review which we have taken of his transactions.
In the introduction to the English translation of the re¬
port of the joint commission, already referred to, it is
stated, that “ M. Mesmer appealed from the decision of
the commissioners to the parliament of Parisand in a
postscript there is given an extract of a letter, said to be
from the best authority, from Paris, and to have been re¬
ceived while the translation of the report was in the press.
“ Mesmer has complained to the parliament of the report
of the royal commissioners, and requested that they would
appoint a new commission, to examine, not his theory and
practice, but a plan, wdiich shall exhibit the only possible
means of infallibly demonstrating the existence and utility
of his discovery. The petition was printed : many thought
the parliament would do nothing in it. But they have laid
hold of it to clinch Mesmer, and oblige him to expose all
diiectly ; so that it must soon be seen whether there is any
difference between his method and D’Eslon’s. I give you
theii airet of the 6th September 1784. * I he parliament
ordains that Mesmer shall be obliged to expose, before four
doctors of the Faculty of Medicine, two surgeons, and two
masters in pharmacy, the doctrine which he professes to
nave discovered, and the methods which he pretends must
be adopted for the application of his principles. They
likewise ordain that a report of his communications shall
then be delivered to the attorney-general, to be laid before
parliament for their sentence.’ ” ‘ Whether any proceedings
took place in consequence of this decree, and if so, of what
nature they were, we are unable to say ; nor how far Mes¬
mer’s departure from Paris about the end of 1784 is to be
considered as having been influenced by it.
Very little seems to be known of Mesmer’s proceedings
subsequently to his leaving Paris at this period. M. De-
leuze mentions that Mesmer was desirous to teach his doc¬
trines in England as he had done in France. In a letter
written by Mesmer to M. Picher-Grandchamp of Lyons,
dated Paris, 19th May 1787, he says, “ I arrived lately from
England, where I had passed a month in amusing my¬
self.” We find no other mention of Mesmer’s ever having
been in England, except that Gorton, in his Biographi¬
cal Dictionary, says he had lived there for some time sub¬
sequently to 1784, under a feigned name. The transla¬
tion of Bailly’s report into the English language in 1785,
and the impression which it made upon the public mind,
probably took from him all hope of a favourable reception
Magne¬
tism,
Animal.
MAGNETISM, ANIMAL.
Magne- in this country. He appears from time to time to have re-
tism, visited Paris. M. Foissac mentions (p. 226, note) that Dr
Animal, ^nbry, a particular friend of Mesmer’s, informed him, that
during the dismal events of 1793, Mesmer witnessed the
frightful agony and execution of Bailly in the Champ de
Mars, whether as a compulsory or as a voluntary spectator
does not appear.
In 1799, Mesmer published a new work under the title
of Me moire de F. A. Mesmer sur ses Decouvertes. This
work must be considered as belonging rather to the se¬
cond than to the first period of animal magnetism ; for in
it Mesmer has, with very considerable art, endeavoured to
assume to himself those new views of theory and practice
which had been opened up by his pupils subsequently to
his development of his system in 1784, particularly those
relative to somnambulism and its phenomena, which,
though he seems to look upon them with no very favour¬
able eye, he represents as necessary consequences of his
doctrines.
Mesmer passed the latter years of his life at Frauen-
feldt in Switzerland, near to the Lake of Constance. He
was visited there by Dr Egg of Zurich in 1808, and by
Dr Wolfart of Berlin in October 1812. To the latter,
who had been engaged in magnetical practice in Berlin
since the year 1808, he confided his manuscripts, out of
which that physician drew up a system, which he publish¬
ed at Berlin in 1814, under the title of Mesmerism, or
System of the Operations, Theory, and Application, of
Animal Magnetism, as the general Curative for the pre¬
servation of Mankind. The manuscripts of this work
seem to have been transmitted to Mesmer for his revision,
and to have received his warmest approbation. Mesmer
died at Mersburg, on the 15th of March 1815, at the age
of eighty-one years. In the course of the same year, Wol¬
fart, to whom he left his Harmonicon as a legacy, published
Commentaries on the Aphorisms contained in his System.
In reviewing the history of animal magnetism, such as
we have endeavoured to sketch it in the foregoing pages,
the questions that present themselves for our determina¬
tion seem to be principally the following: ls£, Did Mes¬
mer make a discovery ? 2d, If so, did his discovery consist
in the observation of facts not previously known, or in a
more correct explanation of facts that had been previous¬
ly observed ? ‘id, If he made no discovery, either in mat¬
ters of fact or explanation, did he direct the attention of
men of science, more strongly than had previously been
done, to facts already known, but not sufficiently appre¬
ciated? and, kth, Whatever may have been the nature of
Mesmer’s services to science, were they rendered in a way
that entitles him to the gratitude of mankind ?
To enable us to answer the first two of these questions,
it is obviously essential for us to determine in our own
minds what are the general facts which were brought to
light or illustrated by the practices of the magnetisers, and
what are the general principles to which these facts ought
to be referred. It would be impossible, perhaps, to make
a better arrangement of the facts of animal magnetism than
that adopted by the French commissioners, into two classes;
the first comprehending those more immediate effects which
were produced, in the operations of the magnetisers, upon
the different functions of the economy, particularly on the
nervous and muscular systems, and on the organs of secre¬
tion and excretion,—such as the production, removal, and
migration of painful sensations, the occurrence of convul¬
sions, and of the various natural discharges; and the second
class comprehending the cures of diseases which occurred
in the progress of the magnetical treatment. Now, there
has, we think, been a good deal of inaccuracy in the man¬
ner in which some of those who have been adverse to the
pretensions of Mesmer have expressed themselves in re¬
gard to these facts; and at the same time no small degree
23
of misrepresentation in the opinions, on this subject, which Magne-
have been ascribed by his admirers to others of his oppo- tismi
nents, and particularly to the French commissioners. Of AmmaI-
the effects which Mesmer and his followers declare them-
selves to have produced, there can, we conceive, be little
doubt that a large portion actually occurred; and such, we
think, has been the general conviction of the opponents of
animal magnetism. The reports of the French commis¬
sioners furnish, indeed, the most authentic record which we
possess of the reality of the facts. It is therefore on the
principle on which these facts ought to be explained, that
the difference of opinion with regard to animal magnetism
properly depends. Are they, or are they not, attributable
to those physical, vital, and mental agencies to which man¬
kind has been wont to refer the natural and daily observed
phenomena of the animal economy, and, in particular, to
the handlings and frictions of various parts of the body, to
the impressions of awe and hope produced by the mysteri¬
ous ceremonies, and to the force of instinctive imitation ;
or, are these agencies incapable of furnishing an explana¬
tion of the phenomena of animal magnetism, and is it ne¬
cessary, for this purpose, to admit the existence and agency
of a new and peculiar principle ? Mesmer upon various oc¬
casions takes great credit to himself for having discovered
the existence of the principle of animal magnetism by a
priori reasoning. The absurdity of such a pretension is
now, however, universally admitted; and the only question,
as it appears to us, that remains for consideration, is this,—
seeing that it is established beyond all reasonable doubt that
the phenomena attributed to animal magnetism can be pro¬
duced by other and familiar agencies, ought we, for the
explanation of the very few cases in which some difficulty
may occur in tracing the intervention of these agencies, to
have recourse to one of an entirely new and unknown cha¬
racter? Nothing, it is obvious, can in sound philosophy
justify us in recognising such a principle, but our finding
its admission essential to the explanation of the phenomena
that present themselves to our observation.
It would not be difficult to point out a variety of falla¬
cies in the arguments of those who have opposed the ex¬
planations of the effects observed in the practice of animal
magnetism, which were suggested by M. Berthollet, and
concurred in by the French commissioners. It has been
argued, that, because the so-called magnetic phenomena
have manifested themselves in some cases where no hand¬
lings or frictions have been practised, and in other cases in
which the individuals have been operated on singly, and
consequently where there was no room for imitation, we are
not entitled to attribute to these powers any influence in the
production of the phenomena in question. But in attri¬
buting the magnetic phenomena to several different prin¬
ciples, it was not meant to be implied, either that in each
individual case one only of these principles could be sup¬
posed to operate, or that in each case all of them must
be supposed to act in combination. There can be no
doubt, that more or fewer of these agencies will be requir¬
ed to produce sensible effects, according to the constitu¬
tions and dispositions of the individuals who are the sub¬
ject of operation; and that, in like manner, the space of
time within which these effects can be induced, and their
intensity, must be the joint result of the number and force
of the impressions, and the susceptibilities of the persons
operated on. Not the least singular, certainly, of the fal¬
lacies to which we have adverted, is that of supposing that
persons of low station in society, and little cultivation of
mind, are less under the influence of imagination than per¬
sons of refined manners and education. The whole history
of witchcraft, of sorcery, of demoniacal possession, and of
spurious miracles, affords abundant proofs of the absurdity
of such an opinion.
In admitting the reality of most of the effects which the
24 MAG
Magnify- animal magnetisers professed to produce, we find it neces-
sary to guard against any misinterpretation of our mean-
Magnus ing’ 80 as regards their pretensions to the cure of dis-
Campus. eases. that a recovery took place in many cases in which
animal magnetism was practised, might be acknowledged,
without admitting that these practices had any influence
in producing this recovery. If we examine the histories
of those cases of cures by the Mesmerian practices which
have been recorded, it will be found that many of them
were slow processes, occupying months, and even years, for
their accomplishment. It would be no difficult task to col¬
lect accounts of cases in which equally remarkable recove¬
ries had occurred, sometimes under the supposed influence
of medical art, and often also when all remedial means had
been abandoned or dispensed with. But, admitting that the
practices of animal magnetism assisted in curing the dis¬
eases of some, and in ameliorating the symptoms of others,
—-in doing which, we feel assured, they could act only on the
principles explained by the commissioners,—we are very far
from being disposed to allow that all those diseases were
cured by these means, which the magnetisers claim to have
cured. There are two wide sources of fallacy in judgments
of this kind; the doubts that may be entertained, first,
as to the diseases having actually been of the nature al¬
leged ; and, secondly, as to these diseases having been ac¬
tually cured. But on these points we shall not enter more
fully here. In the article Medicine, an opportunity will
occur for treating at greater length of thpse numerous fal¬
lacies to which the public in general, and even medical
men, are exposed in judging of the curative influence of
remedies over diseases. We may remark, however, that
medical men have been much reproached for not availing
themselves of that beneficial influence over the imagina¬
tions of their patients, which the experiments of Mesmer
and others show that it is possible to exercise. We must
confess, that we are not of those who are willing to encou¬
rage medical men to have recourse to the practice of fraud
in the exercise of their profession; or to prefer that blind
and spurious trust which ignorance is ever ready to bestow
upon mummery and mystery, to that legitimate confidence
which is inspired by a belief in the experience, sagacity,
and skill of the medical practitioner. Licere medicum men-
tiri may be a very good topic to exercise the talents of a
disputant, but it is a maxim which requires rather to be
kept in check than to be encouraged. The necessity may
unquestionably arise for the practitioner to deceive his pa¬
tient for a time as to the means which he is employing
for his cure, but this should be only on rare occasions,
and under very peculiar circumstances. It is plain, indeed,
that if it were once understood that medical men were ha¬
bitually wont to address their remedial measures to the
imaginations of their patients, a jealousy of their proceed-
MAH
ings would be engendered in the public mind, which would Magnus
not only render these particular means of no avail, but Portus
would involve the whole practice of the art in suspicion, II
so that, instead of being assisted by this spurious confi- Maliaba-
denee, the medical practitioner would have to contend v iPuram-
against distrust in circumstances in which it would never ^~ v '
otherwise have arisen.
As to our third question, relative to the originality of
Mesmer’s observations, it would be easy to show, from the
history ol the wonder-workers and great curers of all ages,
—and it is in fact partly apparent from the slight review
of the employment of the mineral and artificial magnets,
prefixed to this article,—that, neither as regards the im¬
mediate sensible effects which he induced, nor the ultimate
cure of diseases, did Mesmer add more to what had been
accomplished on innumerable occasions before his time,
than merely the invention of a new apparatus. By connect-
ing his practices with a branch of science of great obscu¬
rity and interest, and which was then exciting in the
highest degree, as it still continues to do, the attention of
men of science, he no doubt secured for the phenomena
which he professed to produce, a greater degree of atten¬
tion than they, in all probability, would otherwise have
received ; and in this manner his name must remain as¬
sociated, to a greater degree perhaps than it is justly en¬
titled, with a class of phenomena which, so long as igno¬
rance and credulity furnish elements for their production,
can never cease to excite the astonishment of the vulgar!
W ith regard to the last topic to which we have advert¬
ed, Mesmer’s claims to the gratitude of mankind, we must
acknowledge that we are not able to concur in what has
been said on this subject by his eulogists. Notwithstand¬
ing all his professions of disinterestedness and high mind¬
edness, of his zeal for truth, and his desire to court in¬
vestigation, of his anxiety for the benefit of his species,
and of the patriotic feelings he entertained in spite of
the ingratitude of his country, we confess we can find
no evidence in his conduct to justify us in believing that
these were actually the feelings by which his mind was
swayed. The proceedings of a man inspired, not by a
desire for immediate celebrity or immediate gain, but by
a pure and sincere love of truth ; indulging possibly a hope,
that when the justness of his views should come by the
force of conviction to be acknowledged, his own claim
to admiration and gratitude, or even to more substantial
lewards, should not be overlooked ; but chiefly urgent in
forcing his discovery on the attention of mankind, from
the conviction that it materially affected their happiness
and welfare; would not have evinced those marks of con¬
cealment and mystery, and those pretensions to infallibi¬
lity, which form so prominent and so constantly recurring
a feature in the history of Mesmer. (F. f. f. f.)
MAGNIFYING, the making objects to appear larger
than they naturally are ; and hence double convex lenses,
which have the power of doing this, are called magnifying
glasses. See Optics.
MAGNITUDE, whatever is made up of parts locally
extended, or that has several dimensions; as a line, sur¬
face, solid, and the like.
MAGNOLIA, the Laurel-leaved Tulip Tree, a
genus of plants belonging to the polyandria class, and in
the natural method ranking under the fifty-second order,
Coadunatce. See Botany.
MAGNUS Campus, in Ancient Geography, a tract ly¬
ing towards Scythopolis, or Bethsan, in Galilee, beyond
which it extends into Samaria. It is also called Esdrae-
lon, and is thirty miles long and eighteen broad, having
Samaria with Mount Ephraim to the south, the Lake Ge-
nesareth to the east, Mount Carmel to the west, and Le¬
banon to the north.
Magnus Portus, in Ancient Geography, a port of the
Belgae, in Britain, situated on the Channel, and thought
to be Portsmouth.
MAGO, the name of several Carthaginian generals.
See the article Carthage.
Mago, in Ancient Geography, a citadel and town of
the Balearis Minor, or Minorca, now Mahon. Long. 4. 6
E. Lat. 39. 5. N. b
MAGONTIACUM, Mogontiacum, or Mogontiacus,
truncated afterwards by the poets to Mogontia, Magun-
tia, and Moguntia, a town of Gallia Belgica, now Mayence,
situated at the confluence of the Rhine and the Maine.
Long. 8. E. Lat. 50. N.
MAHABALIPURAM, a town of Hindustan, in South-
MAH
Mahanud- ern India, in the province of the Carnatic. It is noted for
dy. the celebrated ruins of ancient Hindu temples in the vici-
II nity, dedicated to Vishnu, generally called the Seven Pa-
Mahie. g0C]as> though it is not known for what reason, as no such
number exists here. There is a high rock, or rather a
hill, of stone, about 100 yards from the sea, covered with
images, so thickly scattered as to convey the idea of a pe¬
trified town. On this hill a temple is cut out of the solid
rock, with figures of idols cut in alto relievo on the walls,
and well finished. On an adjoining hill there is a gigantic
statue of Vishnu asleep on a bed, with a huge snake wound
round in many coils as a pillow, the whole cut out of one
solid stone. A mile and a half to the southward of the
hill are two pagodas, about thirty feet long by twenty wide.
Near to these is the figure of an elephant as large as life,
and of a lion much larger than life. There are here also
other pagodas, and curious monuments of superstition.
This town is said to have extended many miles to the
eastward, into what is now covered by the sea; and there
is every reason to believe that it was formerly a very large
city. Long. 78. 18. E. Lat. 12. 23. N.
MAHANUDDY, or the Large River, a river of Hin¬
dustan, which has its source in the province of Gundwa-
na, though the exact spot is not known. It proceeds with
a very winding course towards the Bay of Bengal, cross¬
ing the province of Orissa; in the province of Cuttack
it receives the contributions of the Sollundee, the Gain-
tee, the Bitrunnee, the Cursan, the Bamoni, and the Co-
morea. About two miles west of the town of Cuttack,
the Catjoura, separating from the Mahanuddy, flows to
the southward of the town ; whilst the Mahanuddy bends
its course to the Bay of Coojung, where it falls into the
Bay of Bengal by several mouths forming a delta. In¬
cluding its windings, it has a course of 500 miles.
MAHE, a town of Hindustan, on the sea-coast of the
Malabar province, and the principal French settlement on
the coast. It is situated at a short distance from Telli-
cherry, on the banks of a river, which is navigable for large
boats a considerable way up the country. Small vessels
can also cross the bar, where there is a secure harbour.
The town was formerly neat, and contained many good
houses; but it had been long in a decaying condition,
until the British commercial residency was removed to it
from Tellicherry. The principal export is pepper, which
is produced in abundance in the surrounding country. It
was taken possession of by the French in 1722, but was
retaken by the British in 1761. It was restored at the
peace of Paris in 1763, but was again taken in 1793, and
has since been retained. It is situated in long. 75. 38. E.
and lat. 11. 42. N.
MAHIE, the name given by the inhabitants of Ota-
heite to their bread-fruit when made into a kind of sour
paste, which, in consequence of undergoing a fermentation,
is found to keep a considerable time, and supplies them
with food when no ripe fruit is to be had. When, there¬
fore, they see a great show of new fruit on the trees, they
strip them all at once of their former crop, out of which they
make mahie. This substitute for ripe bread-fruit is pre¬
pared as follows. They gather the fruit before it becomes
perfectly ripe, and laying it in heaps, cover it closely with
leaves. In this state it ferments, and becomes disagreeably
sweet; the core is then taken out entire, and the rest of the
fruit thrown into a hole in their houses, dug on purpose,
and neatly lined in the bottom and sides with grass. The
whole is then covered with leaves, and heavy stones are
laid upon it. In this state it undergoes a second fermen¬
tation, and becomes sour, after which it experiences no
change for many months. It is taken out of this hole as
it is wanted for use, and being made into balls, it is wrap¬
ped up in leaves and baked, and, thus dressed, it will keep
for five or six weeks. It is eaten both cold and hot, and
VOL. XIV.
MAH 25
the natives ot those countries seldom make a meal with- Mahim.
out it; but to Captain Cook and his company the taste II
was as disagreeable as that of a pickled olive generally is Mah°m-
the first time it is eaten. x me(^
MAHIM, or Mahaim, a town of Hindustan, situated on —“
the northern point of the island of Bombay. It formerly
possessed a small fort, which was the defence of the chan¬
nel running between it and Salsette. Here is the tomb
of a Mahommedan saint, with a mosque attached to it;
also a Portuguese church, with a college for Roman Ca¬
tholic priests depending on it. It is 117 miles north of
Bombay fort. Mahim is also the name of a town in the pro¬
vince of Dowletabad, belonging to the Mahrattas. Long.
72. 48. E. Lat. 19. 39. N.
MAHMUD ABAD, a town of Hindustan, in the province
of Gujerat. This place was founded by Sultan Mahmoud
of Gujerat in the fourteenth century. It contained many
stately edifices, and was surrounded with a brick wall
fourteen miles in extent; but of these there are now
few remains. Long. 72. 52. E. Lat. 22. 47. N. It is also
the name of a town in the province of Agra and district
of Furruckabad. Long. 79. 25. E. Lat. 27. 19. N.
MAHOMMED, Mohammed, or Mahomet, surnamed
Abul-Cassem, prophet and legislator of the Moslemins,
and founder of the Arabian empire, as well as of the reli¬
gion to which he has given his name, was born at Mekka
on the 10th of November 570 of our era, according to the
more probable opinion. He came into the world under
considerable disadvantages. His father Abdallah was a
younger son of Abd’almotalleb, and having died young, left
his widow and infant son in very mean circumstances, his
whole substance consisting only of five camels and one
Ethiopian female slave. Abd’almotalleb was, therefore,
obliged to take care of his grandchild Mahommed, which
he not only did during his own lifetime, but at his death
enjoined his eldest son Abu Taleb, who was brother to
Abd’allah by the same mother, to provide for him in fu¬
ture, which he very affectionately did, and having instruct¬
ed him in the business of a merchant, took him into Syria
when he was only thirteen, with a view to engage him in
that calling. He afterwards recommended him as factor
to Khadijah, a noble and rich widow, in whose service he
conducted himself so well, that she made him her hus¬
band, and thus raised him to an equality with the richest
in Mekka.
Soon afterwards, when he began to live at his ease, in
consequence of this advantageous match, he formed the
scheme of establishing a new religion ; or, as he expressed
it, of replanting the only true and ancient faith professed
by Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and all the pro¬
phets, by destroying the gross idolatry into which the ge¬
nerality of his countrymen had fallen, weeding out the cor¬
ruptions and superstitions which the Jews and Christians
had, as he thought, introduced into their religion, and re¬
storing it to its original purity, which consisted chiefly in
the worship of one only God.
Before he made any attempt abroad, how ever, he rightly
judged that it was necessary for him to begin with the con¬
version of his own household. Having, therefore, retired
with his family, as he had done several times before, to a
cave in Mount Hara, he there opened the secret of his
mission to his wife Khadijah, and informed her that the
angel Gabriel had just before appeared to him, and told him
that he was appointed the apostle of God. He also repeated
to her a passage which he pretended had been revealed to
him by the ministry of the angel, and mentioned those other
circumstances of this first appearance which are related by
the Mahommedan writers. Khadijah received the news
with great joy, swearing by him in whose hands her soul
was, that she trusted he would become the prophet of his
nation ; and she immediately communicated what she had
D
26 M A H 0
Mahom- heard to her cousin Warakah Ebn Nawfal, who, being a
med. Christian, could write in the Hebrew character, and was
tolerably well versed in the Scriptures; whilst he as rea¬
dily came into her opinion, assuring her that the same an¬
gel who had formerly appeared unto Moses was now sent
to Mahommed. The first overture made by the prophet was
in the month of Ramadan, in the fortieth year of his age,
which is therefore usually called the year of his mission.
Encouraged by so good a beginning, he resolved to pro¬
ceed, and try for some time what could be done by private
persuasion, not daring to hazard the whole affair by expos¬
ing it too suddenly to the public. He soon made prose¬
lytes of those under his own roof, namely, his wife Khadi-
jah, his servant Zeid Ebn Haretha, to whom he gave his
freedom on that occasion, and his cousin and pupil Ali,
the son of Abu Taleb, though then very young; but this
last, making no account of the other two, used to style him¬
self the “ first of believers.” The next person to whom Ma¬
hommed applied was Abdallah Ebn Abi Kohafa, surnamed
Abu Bekr, a man of great authority amongst the Koreish,
and one whose influence he well knew would be of great
service to him. This soon appeared ; for Abu Bekr having
been gained over, prevailed also on Othman Ebn Affan,
Abd’alraham Ebn Awf, Saad Ebn Abbi Wakkas, A1 Zobeir
Ebn al Awam, and Telha Ebn Obeid’allah, all principal
men of Mekka, to follow his example. These were the
six chief companions, who, with a few more, were con¬
verted in the space of three years; at the end of which,
Mahommed having, as he hoped, a sufficient interest to
suppot-t him, no longer kept his mission a secret, but gave
out that God had commanded him to admonish his near re¬
lations ; and in order to do it more conveniently, and with
a greater prospect of success, he directed Ali to prepare
an entertainment, and invite the sons and descendants of
Abd’almotalleb, intending then to open his mind to them.
This was done, and about forty of them came; but Abu
Laheb, one of his uncles, making the company break up
before Mahommed had an opportunity of speaking, oblig¬
ed him to give them a second invitation the next day, and
when they were come he made them the following speech:
“ I know no man in all Arabia who can offer his kindred
a more excellent thing than I now do you; I offer you
happiness both in this life and in that which is to come ;
God Almighty hath commanded me to call you unto him.
Who, therefore, amongst you will be assistant to me here¬
in, and become my brother and my vicegerent ?” All of
them hesitating, and declining the matter, Ali at length
rose up, and declared that he would be his assistant, and
vehemently threatened those who should oppose him.
Upon this Mahommed embraced Ali with great demon-
.strations of affection, and desired all who were present to
hearken to and obey him as his deputy; at which the
company broke out into loud laughter, telling Abu Ta¬
leb that he must now pay obedience to his son.
This repulse, however, was so far from discouraging
Mahommed, that he began to preach in public to the peo¬
ple, who heard him with some patience, until he came to
upbraid them with the idolatry, obstinacy, and perverse¬
ness of themselves and their fathers ; but this so highly in¬
censed them, that they declared themselves his enemies,
and would soon have procured his ruin, had he not been
protected oy Abu Taleb. Ihe chief of the Koreish warmly
solicited this person to desert his nephew, making frequent
remonstrances against the innovations which he was at¬
tempting to introduce ; and when these proved ineffectual,
they at length threatened him with an open rupture, if he
did not prevail upon Mahommed to desist. At this Abu
Taleb was so far moved, that he earnestly dissuaded his
nephew from pursuing the affair any farther, representing
the great danger which he and his friends must otherwise
run. But Mahommed was not to be intimidated, telling
M M E D.
his uncle plainly, “ that if they set the sun against him on Mahom.
his right hand, and the moon on his left he would not med
abandon his enterprise;” and Abu Taleb, seeing him sos—
firmly resolved to proceed, used no further arguments, but
promised to stand by him against all his enemies.
The Koreish, finding that they could not prevail either
by fair words or menaces, tried what they could do by force
and ill treatment, using Mahommed’s followers so verv
injuriously, that it was not safe for them to continue any
longer at Mekka; whereupon Mahommed gave leave to
such of them as had not friends to protect them, to seek
refuge elsewhere. And accordingly, in the fifth year of
the prophet’s mission, sixteen of them, four of whom were
women, fled into Ethiopia ; and amongst these were Oth¬
man Ebn Affan and his wife Rakiyah, Mahommed’s daugh¬
ter. This was the first flight; but afterwards several others
followed, his adherents retiring one after another, to the
number of eighty-three men and eighteen women, besides
children. Ihese refugees were kindly received by the
Najashi, or king of Ethiopia, who refused to deliver them
up to those whom the Koreish sent to demand them, and,
as the Arabian writers unanimously attest, even professed
the Mahommedan religion.
In the sixth year of his mission, Mahommed had the
pleasure of seeing his party strengthened by the conversion
of his uncle Hamza, a man of great valour and merit; and
of Omar Ebn al Kattab, a person highly esteemed, and
once a violent opponent of the prophet. As persecution
generally advances rather than obstructs the spreading of
a religion, Islamism made so great progress amongst the
Arabian tribes, that the Koreish, in order, if possible, to sup¬
press it effectually, in the seventh year of Mahommed’s
mission, made a solemn league or covenant against the Ha-
shemites and the family of Abd’almotalleb, engaging them¬
selves to contract no marriages with any of them, and to have
no communication with them; and, to give this compact the
greater sanction, reduced it into writing, and laid it up in
the Kaaba. Upon this the tribe became divided into two
factions; and the family of Hashem all repaired to Abu
Taleb as their head, excepting only Abd’al Uzza, surnam¬
ed Abu Laheb, who, out of inveterate hatred to his nephew
and his doctrine, went over to the opposite party, whose
chief was Abu Sosian Ebn Harb, of the family of Ommeya.
The families continued thus at variance for three years;
but in the tenth year of his mission, Mahommed told his
uncle Abu Taleb, that God had manifestly showed his
disapprobation of the league which the Koreish had made
against them, by sending a worm to eat cut every word
of the instrument except the name of God. Of this acci¬
dent Mahommed had probably received some private no¬
tice ; for Abu Taleb went immediately to the Koreish, and
acquainted them with it, offering, if it proved false, to de¬
liver his nephew up to them; but in case it were true, he
insisted that they ought to lay aside their animosity, and
annul the league which they had entered into against the
Hashemites. To this they acquiesced, and, going to in¬
spect the writing, to their great astonishment found it to
be as Abu Taleb had said ; upon which the league was
declared void.
In the same year Abu Taleb died, at the age of above
fourscore; and it is the general opinion that he died an
infidel, though others say, that when he was at the point
of death he embraced Mahommedanism, and produce some
passages from his poetical compositions to confirm their
assertion. About a month, or, as some state, only three
days, after the death of this great benefactor and patron,
Mahommed had the additional mortification to lose his
■wife Khadijah, who had so generously made his fortune ;
for which reason this year is denominated the “ year of
mourning.”
On the death of these two persons, the Koreish began
M A H O M M E D.
Mahom- to be more troublesome than ever to the prophet, and es-
mech pecially some who had formerly been his intimate friends ;
insomuch that he found himself obliged to seek shelter
elsewhere, and first pitched upon Tayef, about sixty miles
east from Mekka, as the place of his retreat. Thither
therefore he went, accompanied by his servant Zeid, and
applied himself to two of the chief of the tribe of Thakif,
who were the inhabitants of that place ; but they received
him very coldly. However, he staid there a month, and
some of the more considerate and better sort of men treat¬
ed him with a little respect; but the slaves and inferior
people at length rose against him, and bringing him to the
wrall of the city, obliged him to depart and return to
Mekka, where, on his arrival, he put himself under the
protection of A1 Motaam Ebn Adi.
This repulse greatly discouraged his followers. How¬
ever, Mahommed was not wanting to himself, but boldly
continued to preach to the public assemblies at the pilgrim¬
age, and gained several proselytes, amongst whom were
six of the inhabitants of Yathreb, of the Jewish tribe of
Khazraj, who, on their return home, failed not to speak
much in commendation of their new religion, and exhort¬
ed their fellow-citizens to embrace the same.
It was in the twelfth year of his mission that Mahommed
gave out that he had made his night journey from Mekka
to Jerusalem, and thence to heaven. Dr Prideaux thinks
he invented this fable, either to answer the expectations
of those who demanded some miracle as a proof of his mis¬
sion, or else, by pretending to have conversed with God,
to establish the authority of whatever he should think fit
to leave behind by way of oral tradition, and make his
sayings to serve the same purpose as the oral law of the
Jews. But it does not appear that Mahommed himself ever
expected that so great respect should be paid to his say¬
ings as his followers have since shown ; and seeing that he
all along disclaimed any power of performing miracles, it
seems rather to have been a fetch of policy to raise his
reputation, by pretending to have actually conversed with
God in heaven, as Moses had heretofore done in the mount,
and to have received several institutions immediately
from Him, whereas before he contented himself with per¬
suading them that he had received all by the ministry of
Gabriel.
However, this story seemed so absurd and incredible,
that several of his followers left him on its promulgation ;
and it would probably have ruined the whole design, had
not Abu Bekr vouched for his veracity, and declared, that
if Mahommed affirmed it to be true, he verily believed the
whole. This happy incident not only retrieved the pro¬
phet’s credit, but increased it to such a degree that he was
secure of being able to make his disciples swallow whatever
he pleased in future to impose on them. And this fiction,
notwithstanding its extravagance, was one of the most art¬
ful contrivances Mahommed ever put in practice, and what
chiefly contributed to raise his reputation to the great height
to which it afterwards attained.
In this year, called by the Mahommedans the “ accepted
year,” twelve men of Yathreb or Medina, of whom ten were
of the tribe of Kahzraj, and the other two of that of Aws,
came to Mekka, and took an oath of fidelity to Mahommed
at A1 Akaba, a hill on the north of that city. This oath
was called the “ women’s oath not that any women were
present at this time, but because a man wTas not thereby
obliged to take up arms in defence of Mahommed or his
religion. In fact, this was the same oath that was after¬
wards exacted of the women, the form of which we have in
the Koran, and it is to this effect: That they should re¬
nounce all idolatry ; that they should not steal nor commit
fornication, nor kill their children (as the Pagan Arabs used
to do when they apprehended they should not be able to
maintain them), nor forge calumnies ; and that they should
27
obey the prophet in all things that were reasonable. When Mahom-
they had solemnly engaged to all this, Mahommed sent med.
home with them one of his disciples, named Masab Ebn '
Omair, to instruct them more fully in the grounds and ce¬
remonies of his new religion. Masab being arrived at Me¬
dina, by the assistance of those who had been formerly con¬
verted, gained several proselytes, particularly Osaid Ebn
Hodeira, a chief man of the city, and Saad Ebn Moadh,
prince of the tribe of Aws ; and Mahommedanism spread
so fast, that there was scarcely a house in which there were
not some who had embraced it.
The next year, being the thirteenth of Mahommed’s mis¬
sion, Masab returned to Mekka, accompanied by seventy-
three men and two women of Medina who had professed
Islamism, besides some others who were as yet unbelievers.
On their arrival they immediately sent to Mahommed, and
offered him their assistance, of which he was now in great
need ; for by this time his adversaries were grown so power¬
ful in Mekka, that he could not stay there much longer
without imminent danger. Wherefore he accepted their
proposal, and met them one night, by appointment, at A1
Akaba above mentioned, attended by his uncle A1 Abbas,
who, though he was not then a believer, wished his nephew
well, and made a speech to those of Medina, in which he
told them, that as Mahommed was obliged to quit his native
city, and seek an asylum elsewhere, and they had offered
him their protection, they would do well not to deceive
him ; that if they were not firmly resolved to defend, and
not betray him, they had better declare their minds, and
let him provide for his safety in some other manner. Upon
their protesting their sincerity, Mahommed swore to be
faithful to them, on condition that they should protect him
against all insults as heartily as they would their own wives
and families. They then asked him what recompense they
were to expect if they should happen to be killed in his
quarrel; to which he answered, Paradise. They then
pledged their faith to him, and so returned home, after
Mahommed had chosen twelve out of their number, who
were to have the same authority amongst them as the twelve
apostles of Christ had amongst his disciples.
Hitherto Mahommed had propagated his religion by fair
means, so that the whole success of his enterprise, prior
to his flight to Medina, must be attributed to persuasion
only, and not to compulsion. For, before the second oath
of fealty or inauguration at A1 Akaba, he had no permis¬
sion to use any force at all: and in several places of the
Koran, which he pretended were revealed during his stay
at Mekka, he declares that his business was only to preach
and admonish ; that he had no authority to compel any
person to embrace his religion ; and that, whether people
believed or not was no concern of his, but belonged solely
unto God. And he was so far from allowing his followers
to use force, that he exhorted them to bear patiently those
injuries which were offered them on account of their faith ;
and, when persecuted himself, he chose rather to quit the
place of his birth and retire to Medina, than to make any
resistance. But this passiveness and moderation seem to
have been entirely owing to his want of power, and the
great superiority of his opponents for the first twelve years
of his mission. For no sooner was he enabled, by the as¬
sistance of those of Medina, to make head against his ene¬
mies, than he gave out that God had allowed him and his
followers to defend themselves against the infidels ; and at
length, as his forces increased, he pretended to have the
divine permission to attack them, destroy idolatry, and set
up the true faith by the sword. Finding, by experience,
that his designs would proceed very slowly if they were not
utterly overthrown, and knowing that innovators, when
they depend solely on their own strength, and can employ
compulsion, seldom run any risk, he scrupled not to do so;
and hence Machiavelli has observed, that all the armed
28 M A H O
Mahom- prophets have succeeded, and the unarmed ones have fail-
v med^ y ed- Moses, Cyrus, Theseus, and Romulus, would not have
r been able to establish the observance of their institutions
for any length of time, had they not been armed. The
first passage of the Koran which gave Mahommed the
permission of defending himself by arms, is said to have
been that in the twenty-second chapter; after which a
great number to the same purpose were opportunely re¬
vealed.
I hat Mahommed had a right to take up arms in his
own defence against his unjust persecutors, may perhaps
be allowed; but whether he ought afterwards to have
made use of them for the establishing of his religion, it
is not so easy to determine. How far the secular power
may or ought to interpose in affairs of this nature, mankind
are by no means agreed. The method of converting by the
sword gives no very favourable idea of the faith which is
so propagated, and is disallowed by everybody in those of
another religion, though the same persons are willing to
admit of it for the advancement of their own, supposing
that, though a false religion ought not to be established by
authority, yet a true one may; and accordingly force is
almost as constantly employed in these cases by those who
have the power in their hands, as it is constantly com¬
plained of by the parties who suffer the violence. It is
certainly one of the most convincing proofs that Mahom-
medanism was no other than a human invention, that it
owed its progress and establishment almost entirely to the
sword ; and it is one of the strongest demonstrations of the
divine origin of Christianity, that it prevailed against all
the force and powers of the world by the mere efficacy of
its own truth, after having stood the assaults of all manner
of persecutions, as well as other oppositions, for three hun¬
dred years together, and at length made the Roman em¬
perors themselves submit to its authority. After this time,
indeed, the proof seems to fail; Christianity being then es¬
tablished and Paganism abolished by public authority, a
circumstance which has had great influence in the propa¬
gation of the one and the destruction of the other.
Mahommed having provided for the security of his com¬
panions as well as his own, by the league offensive and
defensive which he had now concluded with those of Me¬
dina, directed them to repair thither, which they accord¬
ingly did ; but he himself, along with Abu Bekr and Ali,
staid behind, having not yet received the divine permis¬
sion, as he pretended, to leave Mekka. The Koreish fear¬
ing the consequences of this new alliance, began to think
it absolutely necessary to prevent Mahommed’s escape to
Medina; and having held a council thereon, after several
milder expedients had been rejected, they came to a re¬
solution that he should be killed, and agreed that a man
should be chosen out of every tribe for the execution of
this design, and that each man should have a blow at him
with his sword, in order that the guilt of his blood might fall
equally upon all the tribes, to whose united power the
Hashemites were much inferior, and therefore durst not
attempt to revenge their kinsman’s death.
Phis conspiracy was scarcely formed, when, by some
means or other, it came to Mahommed’s knowledge; and
he gave out that it had been revealed to him by the angel
Gabriel, who had also ordered him to retire to Medina.
Wherefore, to amuse his enemies, he directed Ali to lie
down in his place, and wrap himself up in his green cloak,
which he did; and Mahommed escaped, miraculously as
they pretend, to Abu Bekr’s house, unperceived by the
conspirators, who had already assembled at the prophet’s
door. I he latter, in the mean time, looking through the
crevice, and seeing Ali, whom they took to be Mahommed
himself, asleep, continued watching there till morning,
when Ali arose, and they found themselves deceived.
From Abu Bekr’s house Mahommed and he went to a
M MED.
cave in Mount Thur, to the south-east of Mekka, accom- Mahom-
panied only by Amer Ebn Foheirah, Abu Bekr’s servant, med-
and Abdallah Ebn Oreitah, an idolater whom they had'
hired as a guide. In this cave they lay concealed three
days, to avoid the search of their enemies, which they
very narrowly escaped, and not without the assistance of
more miracles than one; for some say that the Koreish
were struck with blindness, so that they could not find the
cave, and others, that after Mahommed and his compan¬
ions had got in, two pigeons laid their eggs at the entrance,
and a spider covered the mouth of the cave with her web,
which made them look no farther. Abu Bekr seeing the
prophet in such imminent danger, became very sorrowful;
upon which Mahommed comforted him with these words,
recorded in the Koran, “ Be not grieved, for God is with
us.” Their enemies having retired, they left the cave,
and set out for Medina by a by-road ; and having fortu¬
nately, or, as the Mahommedans tell us, miraculously,
escaped some who were sent to pursue them, arrived safely
at that city, whither Ali followed them in three days, after
he had settled some affairs at Mekka.
The first thing Mahommed did after his arrival at Me¬
dina, was to build a temple for his religious worship, and
a house foi himself, which he did upon a piece of ground
that had before served to put camels in, or, as others tell
us, for a burying-ground, and belonged to Sahal and So-
heil, the sons of Amru, who were orphans. This action Dr
Prideaux exclaims against, representing it as a flagrant
instance of injustice ; for, says he, Mahommed violently
dispossessed these two orphans, the sons of an inferior ar¬
tificer, of this ground, and so founded the first fabric of his
worship with the same wickedness as he did his religion.
But, to say nothing of the improbability that Mahommed
should act in so impolitic a manner at such a time, and in
such circumstances, the Mahommedan writers set this af¬
fair in a quite different light. One tells us that he treated
with the youths about the price of the ground, but they
desired he would accept it as a present; whilst other his¬
torians of good credit assure us that he actually bought it,
and that the money was paid by Abu Bekr. Besides, had
Mahommed accepted it as a present, the orphans were in
circumstances sufficient to afford it; for they were of a
very good family, of the tribe of Najjer, one of the most
illustrious amongst the Arabs, and not the sons of a car¬
penter, as Dr Prideaux imagines, taking the word Nojjer,
which signifies a carpenter, for an appellative, whereas it
is a proper name.
Mahommed, being securely settled at Medina, and able
not only to defend himself against the insults of his ene¬
mies, but to attack them, began to send out small parties
to make reprisals on the Koreish. The first party, con¬
sisting of no more than nine men, intercepted and plun¬
dered a caravan belonging to that tribe, and in the action
took two prisoners. But what established his affairs, and
proved the foundation on which he built all his succeeding
greatness, was the gaining of the battle of Bedr, which was
fought in the second year of the Hejira, and is so famous
in the Mahommedan history. Some reckon no less than
twenty-seven expeditions in which Mahommed was perso¬
nally present, in nine of which he gave battle, besides se¬
veral other expeditions in which he was not present. His
forces he maintained partly by the contributions of his fol¬
lowers for this purpose, which he called by the name of
zacat or alms, the payment of which he very artfully made
one main article of his religion ; and partly by ordering a
fifth part of the plunder to be brought into the public trea¬
sury for that purpose, in which matter he also pretended
to act by the divine direction.
In a few years, by the success of his arms, he raised
considerably his credit and power. In,the sixth year of
the Hejira he set out with fourteen hundred men to visit
M A H O
Mahom- the temple of Mekka, though not with any intent of com-
merl. mitting hostilities. However, when he came to A1 Ho-
—deibiya, which is situated partly within and partly without
the sacred territory, the Koreish sent to let him know that
they would not permit him to enter Mekka unless he forced
his way; upon which he called his troops around him, and
they having all taken a solemn oath of fealty or homage
to him, he resolved to attack the city ; but those of Mekka
sending Arwa Ebn Masun, prince of the tribe of Thakif,
as their ambassador, to desire peace, a truce was concluded
between them for ten years, by which any person was al¬
lowed to enter into a league either with Mahommed or
with the Koreish, as he thought fit
It may not be improper, in order to show the inconceiv¬
able veneration and respect the Mahommedans by this
time had for their prophet, to mention the account which
the above-mentioned ambassador, at his return, gave the
Koreish of their behaviour. He said he had been at the
courts both of the Roman emperor and of the king of Per¬
sia, and never saw any prince so highly respected by his
subjects as Mahommed was by his companions ; for, when¬
ever he made the ablution, in order to say his prayers,
they ran and caught the water which he had used; and
whenever he spit, they immediately licked it up, and ga¬
thered every hair that fell from him, with the most eager
superstition.
In the seventh year of the Hejira, Mahommed began to
thinkof propagatinghis religion beyond the limits of Arabia,
and sent messengers to the neighbouring princes, with let¬
ters to invite them to espouse Mahommedanism. Nor was
this project without some success. Khosru Parviz, then
king of Persia, received his letter with great disdain, and
tore it in a passion, sending away the messenger very ab¬
ruptly ;■ which, when Mahommed heard, he said, “ God
shall tear his kingdom.” And soon afterwards a messenger
came to Mahommed from Badhan king of Yemen, who was
a dependent on the Persians, to acquaint him that he had
received orders to send him to Khosru. Mahommed put
off his answer till the next morning, and then told the mes¬
senger that it had been revealed to him during the night
that Khosru was slain by his son -Shiruyeh ; adding, that he
was well assured his new religion and empire would rise
to as great a height as that of Khosru ; and therefore bade
him advise his master to embrace Mahommedanism. The
messenger having returned, Badhan in a few days received
a letter from Shiruyeh, informing him of his father’s death,
and ordering him to give the prophet no further disturb¬
ance ; upon which Badhan and the Persians along with
him turned Mahommedans.
The Emperor Heraclius, as the Arabian historians as¬
sure us, received Mahommed’s letter with great respect,
laying it on his pillow, and dismissed the bearer honour¬
ably ; and some pretend that he would have professed this
new faith, had he not been afraid of losing his crowm.
Mahommed wrote to the same effect to the king of Ethi¬
opia, though, according to the Arabian writers, he had been
concerted before ; and to Mokawkas, governor of Egypt,
who gave the messenger a very favourable reception, and
sent several valuable.presents to Mahommed, and amongst
the rest two girls, one of whom, named Mary, became a
great favourite with him. He also sent letters of similar
purport to several Arabian princes, particularly one to A1
Hareth Ebn Abi Shamar, king of Ghassan, who returning
for answer that he would go to Mahommed himself, the pro¬
phet said, “ May his kingdom perish another to Hawd-
ha Ebn Ali, king of Yemanah, who was a Christian ; and
a third to A1 Monder Ebn Sawa, king of Bahrein, who
embraced Mahommedanism, and all the Arabians of that
country followed his example.
The eighth year of the Hejira proved very fortunate
for Mahommed. In the beginning of it, Khaled Ebn al
M M E D. 29
Walid and Amru Ebn al As, both excellent soldiers, the for- Mahom-
mer of whom afterwards conquered Syria and other coun- med.
tries, and the latter Egypt, became proselytes to Mahom- v-——^
medanism. And soon afterwards the prophet sent three
thousand men against the Grecian forces, to revenge the
death of one of his ambassadors, who, being sent to the go¬
vernor of Bosra, upon the same errand as those who went
to the above-mentioned princes, was slain by an Arab of the
tribe of Ghassan, at Muta, a town in the territory of Balka
in Syria, about three days’journey eastward from Jerusa¬
lem, near which they encountered. The Grecians being
vastly superior in number (for, including the auxiliary
Arabs, they had an army of a hundred thousand men), the
Mahommedans were repulsed in the first attack, and lost
successively three of their generals, Zeid Ebn Haretha,
Mahommed’s freedman, Jaafar the son of Abu Taleb, and
Abdallah Ebn Rawaha; but Khaled Ebn al Walid suc¬
ceeding to the command, overthrew the Greeks with great
slaughter, and brought away abundance of spoil. On oc¬
casion of this action Mahommed gave him the title of Seif
min soyuf Allah, one of the swords of God.
In this year also Mahommed took the city of Mekka, the
inhabitants of which had broken the truce concluded two
years before. For the tribe of Bekr, who were confederates
with the Koreish, attacking those of Khozaah, who were
allies of Mahommed, killed several of them, being support¬
ed in the action by a party of the Koreish themselves.
The consequence of this violation was soon apprehended,
and Abu Sosian himself made a journey to Medina on pur¬
pose to heal the breach and renew the truce; but in vain.
Mahommed, glad of this opportunity, refused to see him ;
upon which he applied to Abu Bekr and Ali, but they gave
him no answer, and he was obliged to return to Mekka as
he came.
Mahommed immediately gave orders for preparations to
be made, that he might surprise the Mekkans whilst they
were unprovided to receive him. In a little time he began
his march thither; and by the time he came near the
city, his forces were increased to about ten thousand men.
Those of Mekka, not being in a condition to defend them¬
selves against so formidable an army, surrendered at dis¬
cretion ; and Abu Sosian saved his life by turning Mahom-
medan. About twenty-eight of the idolaters were killed
by a party under the command of Khaled ; but this hap¬
pened contrary to Mahommed’s orders, who, when he en¬
tered the town, pardoned all the Koreish on their submis¬
sion, except only six men and four women, who were more
obnoxious than the rest, some of them having apostatized,
and been solemnly proscribed by the prophet himself; but
of these no more than three men and one woman were put
to death, the rest obtained pardon on their embracing Ma¬
hommedanism, and one of the women made her escape.
The remainder of this year Mahommed employed in de¬
stroying the idols in and around Mekka, at the same time
sending several of his generals on expeditions for that pur¬
pose, and to invite the Arabs to espouse Islamism; in which
also they now met with great success.
The next year, being the ninth of the Hejira, the Ma¬
hommedans call “ the year of embassies for the Arabs had
been hitherto expecting the issue of the war between Ma¬
hommed and the Koreish; but as soon as that tribe, the
principal of the whole nation, and the genuine descendants
of Ishmael, whose prerogatives none offered to dispute, had
submitted, they were satisfied that it was not in their power
to oppose Mahommed, and therefore began to come in to
him in great numbers, and to send embassies to make their
submission to him, both at Mekka, whilst he staid there, and
also at Medina, whither he returned this year. Amongst the
rest, five kings of the tribe of Hamyar professed Mahom¬
medanism, and sent ambassadors to notify their conversion.
In the tenth year, Ali was sent into Yemen, there to pro-
30 M A H 0
Mahom. pagate the Mahommedan faith ; and, it is said, he convert-
v metL ed the whole tribe of Hamdan in one day. Their example
was quickly followed by all the inhabitants of that province,
excepting only those of Najran, who, being Christians, chose
rather to pay tribute. rIhus was Mahommedanism esta¬
blished, and idolatry rooted out, even in Mahommed’s life¬
time, throughout all Arabia, excepting only Yemanah, where
Mosailamah, who had set up also for a prophet as Mahom¬
med’s competitor, had formed a great party, and was not
reduced until the caliphate of Abu Bekr. The Arabs be¬
ing then united in one faith, and under one prince, found
themselves in a condition to make those conquests which
extended the Mahommedan faith over so large a portion
of the world.
Until his sixty-third year, Mahommed had sustained with
undiminished vigour all the fatigues of his extraordinary
mission. The infirmities of age had not impaired his con¬
stitution, and though his health had suffered a decline, he
still continued equal to the duties which he found him¬
self called upon to perform. But though master of Arabia,
dreaded by the Greeks and the Persians, and respected by
his disciples as a tutelar divinity, this famous legislator did
not long enjoy the empire of which he had just laid the
foundation. Two months after his return to Medina, whilst
in the house of Zainab, one of his wives, he was attacked
with a violent pain in the head, accompanied with fever,
the cause of which he attributed to poison, which he had
taken three years before. He immediately caused himself
to be removed to the house of Aichah, another of his wives,
to whom he was strongly attached. But his malady was
increased by the intelligence he received of the progress of
two apostates from his religion, who had revolted on two
different points; namely, Mosailamah, in the province of
Yemanah, and Aswad-el-Ansi, in that of Yemen. Mahom¬
med did not see the end of the first of these rebellions; but
before closing his career he had the consolation to ascer¬
tain that the second of these revolts had been suppressed
by the death of him who was at its head. To allay the
heat which consumed him, Mahommed ordered his wmmen
to pour a large quantity of cold water on his body. The
affusion afforded him immediate relief, and he found him¬
self so well in consequence, that next day, supported by
Ali, and by Fadhl the son of Abba, he went to the mosque,
where he celebrated the praises of God, humbly asked
pardon of his sins, and expressed his readiness to make re¬
paration to such as he might have unconsciously wronged.
He prayed God for the Moslemins who had perished com¬
bating for the faith ; and then gave his last orders to the
most zealous and faithful of his disciples, recommending to
them to expel all idolaters from Arabia, to grant to prose¬
lytes all the privileges enjoyed by natural-born Moslemins,
and to be constant and regular in prayer. Notwithstand¬
ing his weakness, he continued to repair daily to the mosque;
but on the Friday before his death, being no longer in a
condition to perform the functions of imam, he ordered
Abu Bekr to supply his place. One day, in an access of de¬
lirium, he demanded a pen and paper, in order to write a book
which might serve as a guide to his disciples; but Omar
opposed his request, because, said he, the Koran, which is
the book of God, ought to be sufficient for this purpose.
At length, after fifteen days of severe suffering, Mahommed
having thrown a little water on his countenance, said,
“Lord, be merciful to me, and place me amongst the number
of those whom thou hast distinguished by thy grace and fa¬
vour and immediately after expired. According to the
most accurate computation, his death took place on the 13th
of raby 1st, in the eleventh year of the Hejira (correspond¬
ing to the 8th of June 632 of the Christian era), after he
had lived sixty-three years, prophecied twenty-three, com¬
manded the Arabs about ten, and laid the foundations of
an empire which, aggrandized by his successors, compre-
M M E D.
bended, in less than a century, more countries than the Mahom-
Romans had conquered during eight centuries; and also med.
after he had seen established a religion which still predo-  '
minates over the half of the ancient hemisphere. The death
of Mahommed caused a great tumult at Medina. The
people who besieged his door refused to believe that he
was mortal, and pretended that he had been taken up into
heaven like Jesus Christ; and this notion was espoused by
Omar, who threatened to exterminate all those who should
maintain the contrary opinion.
The personal appearance and private life of the prophet
have been minutely described by the Arabian writers. He
was of the middle height, and of a sanguine temperament;
his head was large, and his complexion dark, but animated
by ruddy hues; his features were regular and strongly
foimed, his eyes black, and full of fire ; he had a prominent
forehead, an aquiline nose, full cheeks, and well-proportion¬
ed jaws ; his mouth, though rather wide, was well formed,
and his teeth white but not closely set; his hair, before he
had it snaved off, was black, and his thick bushy beard had
scarcely begun to blench at the time of his death ; on the
lower lip he had a small black mark, and between his eye¬
brows a vein which swelled under the excitement of choler.
His physiognomy was at once mild and majestic, and his gait
free notwithstanding his stoutness. His bones were thick
and solid; the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands
veie strong and coarse; his ear was acute, his voice fine
and sonorous; and between the shoulders he had an ex¬
crescence or wen, wdiich the Mahommedans called “ the seal
of the prophecy,” and which disappeared after his death.
Such is the portrait which the Arabian authors have left us
of Mahommed, and of which the exactness seems to be at¬
tested by the minuteness of the details.
From the same source may also be collected the princi¬
pal traits of his character. They dwell upon his penetration
and prudence, as wrell as the equity and severe impartiality
of his judgments ; his love for the poor ; his constant endea¬
vours to revive the worship of the true God; his aversion
to futile conversation ; the gentleness and safety of his in¬
tercourse ; his manners noble and polished with strangers,
gay and familiar with his friends, affable and indulgent with
his domestics. Simple and moderate in his habits, he did
not hesitate to milk his owrn goats, and also to repair his dress
and his sandals wrhen they required it. His sobriety was so
great, that he lived on barley-bread, abstained from entirely
satisfying his appetite, and frequently, to overcome the sen¬
sation of hunger, compressed his stomach with a stone
strongly attached to it. His family, imitating his temperance,
abstained from all luxuries, living on dates and pure water.
Endowed with admirable fortitude and patience, he received
the favours of fortune and the frowns ofadversity with equal
resignation. During his first compaign, having lost his daugh¬
ter Rakiyah, who had been married to Othman, he learned
the tidings of her death without emotion, and said without a
tear, “ Let us render thanks to God, and receive as a bless¬
ing even the death of our children.” Mahommed w'as not
insensible to gratitude, and constant in his friendships ; he
knew how to preserve his friends in adversity, and how to win
his enemies in prosperity. He was religious in the observ¬
ance of treaties, and seldom abused the privilege of victory ;
unless when, compelled by necessity to provide for his own
safety, he thought it his duty to strike terror into a perfi¬
dious tribe by a terrible example. His natural clemency
rarely belied itself, and there is no instance of his having
committed in cold blood any of those horrible atrocities
which sully so many pages in the history of the best go¬
verned nations. \\ hatever Mahommed may be reproached
withal, the impartial judgment of history must assign a dis¬
tinguished place to that extraordinary man, who, by his
genius alone, caused the most astonishing revolution re¬
corded in the annals of the world ; w ho not only exercised
M A H O M M E D.
Mahom- the greatest influence upon the age in which he lived, but
med. has preserved it during the twelve centuries which have
since elapsed ; and whose doctrine, notwithstanding all its
errors and imperfections, conveys noble ideas of the divi¬
nity, and recalls to man the dignity of his nature, and his
final destination. The principal vice with which Mahom-
med is chargeable, is that of incontinence ; a vice indeed ot
which his countrymen, and even the Koran itself, furnish
indubitable proofs, and which, strange as it may appear, he
first exhibited about the age of fifty, after the death of
Khadijah, his first wife. It was then that he espoused suc¬
cessively some twelve or fifteen wives, although the Koran
had only authorized four, and thus, by his example, gave
great scandal to his followers.
To form a sound estimate of the character of Mahom-
med as the founder of a new religion and a new empire,
we would require to know whether, from the commence¬
ment of this enterprise, he was moved by ambition, and
the desire of conquest and domination ; or whether, from
the first, the only object which he proposed to himself was to
substitute, for the idolatrous worship of his countrymen,
a religion more worthy of the divinity, and more confor¬
mable to the interests of society and the nature of man.
If attention be given to the conduct which he observed
until the moment when the persecutions of his country¬
men and neighbours forced him to seek ah asylum at Me¬
dina, it will not be difficult to admit the second supposi¬
tion as the more probable ; and if he cannot be freed from
the reproach of having deceived men by attributing to
himself a divine mission which he had not received, it
may perhaps be conceded that the end which he con¬
templated gives to his imposture a character less odious
than would otherwise belong to it. The history, and the
text even, of the Koran may satisfy us, that if, instead
of abolishing a multitude of absurd or ridiculous prac¬
tices which were in use amongst the Arabian idolaters,
he had consecrated some of these by connecting them
with the religion he preached, this would only have been
an act of policy on his part, a species of condescension
or accommodation which could not have entered into the
plan of the religion he had at first formed, and which
was but little removed from Judaism. We know not, it
is true, what, upon this supposition, the public worship
might have been ; and it is possible that Mahommed,
who had seen the Jews without altars, without priests,
without victims, and without a ritual, might not at first
have been disposed to think that a distinct scheme of wor¬
ship, and ceremonies which speak to the senses, were ne¬
cessary to form a national religion. But, however this
may be, it should always be remembered that he abo¬
lished a great number of practices revolting to reason
and humanity, and which ancient usage had naturalized
amongst the inhabitants of Arabia. It is generally be¬
lieved that Mahommed had declared that he had not re¬
ceived the power of working miracles in proof of the truth
of his mission; and many passages of the Koran seem to
justify this opinion. It was, in fact, the best means which
Mahommed could employ to escape the importunity of
the Jews, and particularly of the Christians, who were
accustomed to consider supernatural works as the only
irrefragable proof of an extraordinary mission. But it
must not be concluded from this that Mahommed never
supposed that God had wrought wonders in his favour,
and that he disdained this means of making proselytes,
or confirming the confidence of his followers. Not to
mention the divine origin claimed for his pretended reve¬
lation, and the frequent defiance addressed to his adver¬
saries, whom he challenged to compose any thing equal
to the Koran in miraculous eloquence, and without advert¬
ing to the name of prodigies or signs given to each of the
verses of that book; it is sufficient to observe, that the
31
miraculous voyage of Mahommed to Jerusalem, and his Mahom-
nocturnal ascension into heaven, form the subject of an med.
entire chapter, and that more than once he speaks of the '
divine succours which he received from heaven in differ¬
ent encounters with the infidels, especially on the sangui¬
nary day of Bedr. There is reason to believe, then, that
the recitals to be found in the most accredited writers, of
the marvellous circumstances in the life of Mahommed,
were circulated amongst the Moslemins even during his
life ; and that if he himself did not invent these miracles,
he at least permitted some of his first disciples to take
advantage of the credulity of the people, in order to per¬
suade them that at his voice the moon was cleft in twain,
that the trees and the rocks had saluted him, and that
the entrance of the cave where he lay concealed with
Abu Bekr, after he had quitted Mekka to repair to Me¬
dina, was immediately covered by a spider s web, to screen
from his pursuers the place of his retreat. It is no doubt
true that these recitals were afterwards surcharged with
a multitude of circumstances still less credible, and alto¬
gether unknown to the first Moslemins, and that new
prodigies were hatched by fanaticism and the love of the
marvellous ; but this affords no reason for absolving Ma¬
hommed from a species of artifice so powerful over the
multitude, or for acquitting his first disciples of a credu¬
lity which accords so well with their enthusiasm. And
why should he who feigned divine revelations to excuse
or to palliate the scandal of his incontinence, and to cloak
the turpitude of his family, refuse or hesitate to employ
also pretended prodigies to facilitate the success of his
enterprise? Mahommed did not arrogate to himself the
power of working miracles at pleasure, because such a
part would have been too difficult to sustain; but he sup¬
posed miracles wrought in his favour, as he invented re¬
velations, because his plan could only be realized by the
concurrence of both these means. He also affected,
though rarely, a knowledge of futurity; but he' often
boasted of having received from heaven the knowledge of
ancient things, and, under this pretence, he employed a
great part of the facts of sacred history, and of the Jew¬
ish traditions which he had collected in the conversations
he held with both Jews and Christians,
We cannot conclude this account of the life of Mahom¬
med without some notice of the Koran ; that prodigy al¬
ways subsisting, according to the Moslemins,—that irre¬
sistible proof of the divinity of Islamism,—that book, in
short, which, according to them, displays a sublime and
truly celestial eloquence, that no man has ever been, or ever
will be, able to reach. In support of this opinion, they
have related a multitude of conversions operated by some
verses of the Koran (amongst which that of Omar is the
most celebrated), and the ecstacy of the poet Lebid at the
reading of the second chapter, the most fanciful of all. But
it has met with contradiction even in the bosom of Islamism
itself; and it must be confessed that none but a Mosle-
min could in good faith subscribe to this pretended excel¬
lence of the Koran. That it contains some passages truly
sublime cannot be disputed; but these are of very rare oc¬
currence, and in order to find them it is necessary to wade
through masses of dulness and absurdity. The language
of the Koran is said to be the purest Arabic ; although, to
say the truth, neither we nor the Arabs themselves can
now pretend to judge of the matter, seeing that there re¬
main but few monuments contemporary with the Koran ;
and that all those who have written since the time of Ma¬
hommed have considered the style of the Koran as the
model which they ought to imitate. But as Mahommed
himself lays great stress on the elegance of the language
in which the Koran is written, it may be allowed to possess
this merit. Elegance, however, is not that which essen¬
tially constitutes eloquence; and, assuredly, if clearness
32 M A H
Mahora- be the first merit in any composition, the Koran cannot
, me^‘ pretend to a high degree of estimation, since a multitude
of passages are so obscure that they admit of different and
even contradictory interpretations. The slightest study of
a commentary on the Koran, that of Bei'dhawi for instance,
will be sufficient to establish the truth of what is here stated.
Another cause of obscurity recognised by the commentators
themselves is, that the Koran contains a number of ex¬
pressions peculiar to the dialect of the Hedjaz, which, even
at the period when it was composed, were unintelligible to
the Arabians of other countries, and of which the true sig¬
nification was early lost, or at least had become very pro¬
blematical. In fine, it is only necessary to open the Ko¬
ran, in order to be struck with the incoherence of the mat¬
ters contained in a single chapter, the tedious repetition of
the same narratives, and the vagueness which predominates
in the legislative dispositions, not to mention contradictions
and absurdities almost without number. These defects,
however, may, in part at least, be ascribed to the manner
in which the collection of the pretended revelations of
Mahommed was made under Abu Bekr, by Za'id ben Tha-
bet. Fanaticism rather than good taste presided in this
undertaking. Every thing was religiously collected ; frag¬
ments written on various substances, or preserved in the
memory of those persons who alleged that they had re¬
ceived them mediately or immediately from the prophet;
and when one and the same fragment was produced by se¬
veral persons with certain differences, Zai'd appears to have
adopted all the variations, and distributed them in different
chapters. This is very clearly and strikingly exemplified
by the Baron de Sacy in his Life of Mahommed.
Those who wish for more ample details respecting the
history of the Arabian legislator and conqueror, and to in¬
form themselves of all that concerns him even to the most
minute particulars, may consult, 1. The Life of Mahom¬
med by Prideaux, 1697, in 8vo; 2. The Life of Mahom¬
med, derived from the Annals of Abulfeda, and published
by Gagnier under the title of Ismael Abulfeda de Vita et
rebus gestis Mahommedis, Oxford, 1723, in folio; 3. The
Life of Mahommed, translated from the Arabic of Abul¬
feda, by Murray, 1833 ; 4. Mahometis, auctoris Alcorani,
vita rerumque gestarum Synopsis, prefixed to the work of
Maracci, entitled Prodromus ad Refutationem Akorani,
Rome, 1691, in 8vo; 5. La Vie de Mahomet, avec des
Reflexions sur la Religion Mahometane, by Boulainvilliers,
London, 1730, in 8vo ; 6. Histoire de la Vie de Mahomet,
legislateur de 1’Arabie, by Turpin, Paris, 1773-1779, in
three vols. 12mo; 7. Universal History, vol. xli.; 8. The
article Mahomet in the Biographic Universelle; and, 9.
The Introduction or Preliminary Discourse to the English
Translation of the Koran by George Sale, whom Gibbon
has characterized as half a Moslemin. “ Mahomet” is also
the title of one of the dramatic productions of Voltaire; but
in this “ tragedy,” which embraces the truce and capitu¬
lation of Mekka, the poet has disfigured the history and
character of the Arabian legislator. Sacrificing truth to
scenic effect, and perhaps also to the pleasure of declaim¬
ing against what he calls fanaticism, he has represented his
hero as a man of obscure origin, and a monster of cruelty
and injustice, in order to present the contrast of extreme
baseness with the most undeserved elevation. The poet’s
theory is “ que celui qui fait la guerre a sa patrie au nom
de Dieu est capable de tout.”
Mahommed, the name of several emperors of the Turks,
of whom the most celebrated was,
Mahommed II. surnamed the Great, their seventh sul¬
tan. He was born at Adrianople on the 24th of March 1430,
and is chiefly remembered for having taken Constantinople
in 1453, and thereby driven many learned Greeks into the
west, which was one great cause of the restoration of learn¬
ing in Europe, into which the Greek literature was then in-
M A H
troduced. He was one of the greatest men upon record, as Maho .
far as regarded the qualities necessary to a conqueror; formedani]i
he conquered two empires, twelve kingdoms, and two hun-
dred considerable cities. He was ambitious of the title of
Great, which the Turks gave to him; and even the Chris¬
tians have not disputed it; for he was the first of the Ot¬
toman emperors whom the western nations dignified with
the title of Grand Signior, or Great Turk, which posterity
has preserved to his descendants. Italy had suffered greater
calamities, but she had never felt terror equal to that which
this sultan’s victories inspired. The inhabitants seemed
already condemned to wear the turban. It is certain that
Pope Sixtus IV. represented to himself Rome as about to
be involved in the dreadful fate of Constantinople, and
thought of nothing but escaping into Provence, and once
more transferring the holy see to Avignon. Accordingly,
the news of Mahommed’s death, which happened on the 3d
of May 1481, was received at Rome with the greatest joy.
Sixtus caused all the churches to be thrown open, made
the trades-people leave off their work, ordered a feast of
three days, with public prayers and processions, command¬
ed a discharge of the whole artillery of the castle of St
Angelo, and put a stop to his journey to Avignon.
He appears to have been the first sultan who was a lover
of arts and sciences, and who also cultivated polite letters.
He often read the History of Augustus, and the other Cae¬
sars ; and he perused those of Alexander, Constantine, and
Theodosius, with more than ordinary pleasure, because these
had reigned in the same country with himself. He was
fond of painting, music, and sculpture, and he applied him¬
self to the study of agriculture. He was much addicted
to astrology ; and used to encourage his troops by giving
out that the motion and influence of the heavenly bodies
promised him the empire of the world. Contrary to the
genius of his country, he delighted so much in the know¬
ledge of foreign languages, that he not only spoke the Ara¬
bian, to which the Turkish laws, and the religion of their
legislator Mahommed, are appropriated, but also the Per¬
sian, the Greek, and the Lingua Franca, a species of cor¬
rupted Italian. Landin, a knight of Rhodes, collected seve¬
ral letters which this sultan wrote in the Syriac, Greek, and
Turkish languages, and translated them into Latin. Where
the originals are, nobody knows ; but the translation has
been several times published, as at Lyons 1520, in 4to ;
at Basil, 1554, 12mo; in a collection published by Opori-
nus, at Marpurg, 1604, in 8vo; and at Leipzig, 1600, in
12mo. Melchior Junius, professor of eloquence at Stras-
burg, published at Montbeliard, 1595, a collection of let¬
ters, in which there are three written by Mahommed II.
to Scanderbeg. One cannot discover the least symptom of
lurkish ferocity in these letters. They are written in as
civil terms, and as obliging a manner, as the most polite
prince in Christendom could have employed.
MAHOMMEDANISM, the system of religion estab¬
lished by Mahommed, and still adhered to by his followers.
(See Mahommed, and Koran.) Mahommedanism is pro¬
fessed by the 4 urks, Persians, and several nations amongst
the Africans, and by many amongst the East Indians.
Ihe Mahommedans divide their religion into two ge¬
neral parts, faith and practice. Of these, the first is di¬
vided into six distinct branches ; belief in God, in his an¬
gels, in his Scriptures, in his prophets, in the resurrection
and final judgment, and in God’s absolute decrees. The
points relating to practice are, prayer with ablutions, alms,
fasting, the pilgrimage to Mekka, and circumcision.
I. Of the Mahommedan faith. That both Mahommed
and those amongst his followers who are reckoned ortho¬
dox, had and continue to have just and true notions of
God and his attributes, appears so plain from the Koran
itself, and all the Mahommedan divines, that it would be
loss of time to refute those who suppose the God of Ma-
MAHOMMEDANISM.
Mahom- hommed to be different from the true God, and only a fic-
medanism. titious deity or idol of his own creation.
The existence of angels, and their purity, are absolutely
required to be believed in the Koran ; and he is reckoned
an infidel who denies that there are such beings, or hates
any of them, or asserts any distinction of sexes amongst
them. They believe them to have pure and subtile bodies,
created of fire ; that they neither eat nor drink, nor propa¬
gate their species ; that they have various forms and offices,
some adoring God in different postures, and others singing
praises to him, or interceding for mankind. They hold,
that some of them are employed in writing down the ac¬
tions of men ; others in carrying the throne of God, and per¬
forming various services besides. The four angels whom
they look on as more eminently in God’s favour, and often
mention on account of the offices assigned them, are, Gab¬
riel, to whom they give several titles, particularly those of
the Holy Spirit, and the Angel of Revelations, supposing
him to be honoured by God with a greater confidence than
any other, and to be employed in writing down the divine
decrees; Michael, the friend and protector of the Jews; Az-
rael, the angel of death, who separates men’s souls from their
bodies ; and Israsil, whose office it will be to sound the trum¬
pet at the resurrection. The Mahommedans also believe
that two guardian angels attend on every man, to observe
and write down his actions; that they are changed every day,
and therefore belong to al Moakkibat, or the angels who
continually succeed one another. The devil, whom Mahom-
med names Ebbs, from his despair, was once one of those
angels who were nearest to God’s presence, being called
Azazil; and he fell, according to the doctrine of the Koran,
for refusing to pay homage to Adam at the command of
God. Besides angels and devils, the Mahommedans are
taught, by the Koran to believe in an intermediate order of
creatures, which they call jin or genii, created also of fire,
but of a grosser fabric than angels, since they eat and drink,
and propagate their species, and are subject to death. Some
of these are supposed to be good and others bad, and cap¬
able of future salvation or damnation, as men are; and
hence Mahommed pretended to be sent for the conversion
of genii as well as for that of men.
As to the Scriptures, the Mahommedans are taught by
the Koran, that God, in different ages of the world, gave
revelations of his will in writing to several prophets, the
whole and every one of which it is absolutely necessary for
a good Moslem to believe. The number of these sacred
books was, according to them, a hundred and four. Of
these, ten were given to Adam, fifty to Seth, thirty to Edris
or Enoch, ten to Abraham; and the other four, being the
Pentateuch, the Psalms, the Gospel, and the Koran, were
successively delivered to Moses, David, Jesus, and Ma¬
hommed ; but the last being the seal of the prophets, those
revelations are now closed, and are no more to be expected.
All these divine books, except the four last, they admit to
be now entirely lost, and their contents unknown; though
the Sabians have several books which they attribute to
some of the antediluvian prophets. And of these four, the
Pentateuch, Psalms, and Gospel have, according to them,
undergone so many alterations and corruptions, that, though
there may possibly be found therein some part of the true
word of God, yet no credit is to be given to the present co¬
pies in the hands of the Jews and Christians. The Mahom¬
medans have also a gospel in Arabic, attributed to St Bar¬
nabas, in which the history of Jesus Christ is related in a
manner very difterent from that in which we find it narrated
in the true gospels, and corresponding to those traditions
which Mahommed has followed in his Koran. Of this gos¬
pel the Moriscoes in Africa have a translation in Spanish ;
and there was, in the library of Prince Eugene of Savoy,
a manuscript of some antiquity, containing an Italian trans¬
lation of the same gospel, made, it is to be supposed, for the
VOL. XIV
33
use of renegades. This book appears to be no original for- Mahom-
gery of the Mahommedans ; though they have, doubtless, in- medanism.
terpolated and altered it since, the better to serve their pur- *■''
pose; and in particular, instead of the Paraclete, or Com¬
forter, they have in this apocryphal gospel inserted the word
Periclyte, meaning the “famous” or “ illustrious,” by which
they pretend their prophet was foretold by name, that being
the signification of “ Mohammed” in Arabic ; and this they
say to justify that passage of the Koran where Jesus Christ is
formally asserted to have foretold his coming, under his
other name of Ahmed, which is derived from the same root
as “ Mohammed,” and of the same import. From these, and
some other forgeries of the same stamp, the Mahommedans
quote several passages, of which there are not the least
traces to be found in the New Testament.
The number of the prophets which have from time to
time been sent by God into the world, amounts to no less
than two hundred and twenty-four thousand according to
one Mahommedan tradition, or to a hundred and twenty-
four thousand according to another. Amongst these were
three hundred and thirteen apostles, sent with special com¬
missions to reclaim mankind from infidelity and supersti¬
tion ; whilst six, Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and
Mahommed, introduced new laws or dispensations, which
successively abrogated those that preceded them. All the
prophets in general the Mahommedans believe to have been
free from great sins and errors of consequence, and profes¬
sors of one and the same religion, that is, Islamism, not¬
withstanding the different laws and institutions which they
may have observed. They allow of degrees amongst them,
and hold some to be more excellent and honourable than
others. The first place they give to the authors and foun¬
ders of new dispensations, and the next to the apostles. In
this great number of prophets, they not only reckon various
patriarchs and persons named in Scripture, but not record¬
ed to have been prophets, such as Adam, Seth, Lot, Ish-
mael, Nun, Joshua, and others, and introduce some of them
under different names, as Enoch, Heber, and Jethro, who
are called, in the Koran, Edris, Hud, and Shoaib ; but like¬
wise several others whose very names do not appear in
Scripture, though they endeavour to find some persons there
with whom to connect them, as Saleh, Khedr, Dhu’lkefl,
and others.
The belief of a general resurrection and a future judg¬
ment forms part of the creed of Islamism.' When a corpse
is laid in the grave, they say it is received by an angel,
who gives notice of the coming of the two examiners, two
black and livid angels, of a terrible appearance, named Mon-
her and Nakir. These order the dead person to sit upright,
and then examine him concerning his faith as to the unity
of God, and the mission of Mahommed. If he answer
rightly, they suffer the body to rest in peace, and it is re¬
freshed by the air of paradise ; but if otherwise, they beat
him on the temples with iron maces, till from anguish he
roars out so loudly that he is heard by all from east to west,
excepting men and genii. They then press the earth on
the corpse, which is gnawed and stung till the resurrection,
by ninety-nine dragons, with seven heads each; or, as others
say, their sins become venomous beasts, the more grievous
ones stinging like dragons, the smaller like scorpions, and
the others like serpents; circumstances which some under¬
stand in a figurative sense. As to the soul, they hold, that,
when it is separated from the body by the angel of death,
who performs his office with ease and gentleness towards
the good, and with violence towards the wicked, it enters
into that which they call al berzahh, or the interval between
death and the resurrection. If the departed person was a
believer, they say two angels meet the soul, and convey it
to heaven, that its place there may be assigned, according
to its merit and degree. They distinguish the souls of the
faithful into three classes; the first, those of prophets, whose
£
34
M AHOMMEDANISM.
Mahom- spirits are admitted into paradise immediately; the se-
medanism. cond, those of martyrs, whose spirits, according to a tra-
-v'-—''dition of Mahommed, rest in the crops of green birds,
which eat of the fruits and drink of the rivers of paradise ;
and the third, those of other believers, concerning the state
of whose souls before the resurrection there are various
opinions.
Though some amongst the Mahommedans have thought
that the resurrection will be merely spiritual, and no more
than the returning of the soul to the place whence it first
came, an opinion defended by Ebn Sina, and called by
some the “ opinion of the philosophers and others, who al¬
low man to consist of body only, allege that it will be merely
corporeal; the received opinion is, that both body and soul
will be raised, and their doctors argue strenuously for the
possibility of the resurrection of the body, and dispute with
great subtilty concerning the manner of it. But Mahom¬
med.has taken care to preserve one part of the body, what¬
ever becomes of the rest, to serve as a basis for the future
edifice, or rather a leven for the mass which is to be join¬
ed to it. He taught that a man’s body was entirely con¬
sumed by the earth, excepting only the bone called al ajb,
which we name the os coccygis, or rump-bone; and that, as
it was the first formed in the human body, it will also re¬
main uncorrupted till the last day, as a seed whence the
whole is to be renewed ; and this, he said, would be effect¬
ed by a forty years’ rain, which God would send, and which
would cover the earth to the height of twelve cubits, and
cause the bodies to sprout forth like plants. In this also
Mahommed is beholden to the Jews, who say the same
thing of the bone luz, excepting that what he attributes
to a great rain will, according to them, be effected by a
dew impregnating the dust of the earth.
The time of the resurrection the Mahommedans allow
to be a perfect secret to all but to God alone; the angel
Gabriel himself having acknowledged his ignorance on this
point when Mahommed asked him about it. The ap¬
proach of that day may, however, be known from certain
signs which are to precede it. These signs are distinguish¬
ed into two sorts, the lesser and the greater. The lesser
signs are, the decay of faith amongst men ; the advancing
of the meanest persons to eminent dignity, a maid-servant
becoming the mother of her mistress (or master), by which
is meant, either that towards the end of the world men
shall be much given to sensuality, or that the Mahomme¬
dans shall then take many captives; tumults and sedi¬
tions; a war with the Turks ; great distress in the world,
so that a man, when he passes by another’s grave, shall
say, Would to God that I were in his place; the provinces of
Irak and Syria refusing to pay their tribute ; and the build¬
ings of Medina reaching even unto Yahab. Amongst the
greater signs may be mentioned, the sun’s rising in the
west, which some have imagined it originally did; and the
appearance of the beast, which shall rise out of the earth, in
the temple of Mekka, or on Mount Safa, or in the territory
of Tayef, or in some other place. This beast, they say, is
to be sixty cubits in height; though others, not satisfied
with so small a size, will have her reach to the clouds and
to heaven, when her head only is out, and that she will ap¬
pear for three days, but show only a third part of her body.
They describe this monster as, in x*espect of form, a com¬
pound of various species, having the head of a bull, the
eyes of a hog, the ears of an elephant, the horns of a stag,
the neck of an ostrich, the breast of a lion, the colour of
a tiger, the back of a cat, the tail of a ram, the legs of a
camel, and the voice of an ass. Some say that this beast
is to appear three times in several places, and that she will
bring with her the rod of Moses and the seal of Solomon,
and, being so swift that none can overtake or escape her,
will with the first strike all the believers on the face, and
mark them with the word mumen, or believer; and with
the latter will likewise mark the unbelievers on the face Maho.
with the word kiqfir, or infidel, that every person may be med‘n- itn
known for what he really is. They add, that the same
beast is to demonstrate the vanity of all religions except
Islamism, and to speak Arabic. All this stuff seems to
be the result of a confused idea of the beast in the Reve¬
lation. The third sign is, war with the Greeks, and the tak¬
ing of Constantinople by seventy thousand of the posterity
of Isaac, who shall not win that city by force of arms, but
the walls shall fall down whilst they cry out, “ There is no
God but God; God is most great.” As they are dividing
the spoil, tidings will come to them of the appearance of
Antichrist, upon which they shall leave all, and return
to the place whence they came. The fourth sign is the
coming of Antichrist, whom the Mahommedans call Ma-
sib al Dajjal, that is, the false or lying Christ, and simply
Al Dajjal. He is to be one-eyed, and marked on the
forehead with the letters signifying kiqfir, or infidel.
They say that the Jews give him the name of Messiah
Ben David; and pretend that he is to come in the last
days, and to be lord both of land and sea, and that he
will restore to them the kingdom. The fifth sign is the
descent of Jesus upon earth. They pretend that he is to
descend near the white tower to the east of Damascus,
when the people are returned from the taking of Constan¬
tinople ; that he is to embrace the Mahommedan religion,
marry a wife, beget children, kill Antichrist, and at length
to die after forty years’, or, according to others, twenty-
four years’, continuance on earth. Under him, they say,
there will be great security and plenty in the world; all hat¬
red and malice will then be laid aside; lions and camels,
bears and sheep, shall live in peace, and a child shall play
with serpents unhurt. The sixth sign is, war with the Jews,
of whom the Mahommedans are to make a prodigious slaugh¬
ter ; the very trees and stones discovering such of them as
hide themselves, excepting only the tree called gharkad,
which is the tree of the Jews. The seventh sign is the ir¬
ruption of Gog and Magog, or, as they are called in the
east, Yajij and Majuj, of whom many things are related in
the Koran and in the traditions of Mahommed. These bar¬
barians, we are told, having passed the lake of Tiberias,
which the vanguard of their vast army are to drink dry,
will come to Jerusalem, and there greatly distress Jesus
and his companions; until, at his request, God shall de¬
stroy them, and fill the earth with their carcasses, which,
after some time, birds of prey will be sent to carry away at
the prayers of Jesus and his followers. Their bows, arrows,
and quivers, the Moslemins will burn for seven years toge¬
ther ; and at last God will send a rain to cleanse the earth
and to make it fertile. The eighth sign is to be a smoke
which shall fill the whole earth. The ninth is an eclipse of
the moon. Mahommed is reported to have said, that there
would be three eclipses before the last hour; one to be seen
in the east, another in the west, and a third in Arabia. The
tenth sign is the returning of the Arabs to the worship of
Allat and Al Uzza, and the rest of their ancient idols,
after the decease of every one in whose heart there was
faith equal to a grain of mustard seed, none but the very
worst of men being left alive; for God, they say, will send
a cold odoriferous wind, blowing from Syria Damascena,
which shall sweep away the souls of all the faithful, and
the Koran itself, so that men will remain in the grossest
ignorance for a hundred years. The eleventh sign is the
discovery of a vast heap of gold and silver by the retreating
of the Euphrates, which will be the destruction of many; the
twelfth is the demolition of the Kaaba, or temple of Mek¬
ka, by the Ethiopians; the thirteenth, the speaking of
beasts and inanimate tilings ; the fourteenth, the breaking
out of fire in the province of Hedjaz, or, according to others,
in Yemen ; the fifteenth, the appearance of one of the de¬
scendants of Kahtan, who shall drive men before him by
mahomm;
Mahoro- means of his staff; the sixteenth, the coming of the Mohdi,
nieclanism. 0r the Director, concerning whom Mahommed prophesied,
the world should not have an end till one of his own
family should govern the Arabians, whose name should be
the same with his own name, and whose father’s name
should also be the same with his father’s name, and who
should fill the earth with righteousness. This person the
Sheeites believe to be now alive, and concealed in some
secret place till the time of his manifestation arrive; for
they suppose him to be no other than the last of the twelve
imams, named Mahommed Abu’lkasem, as their prophet
was, and the son of Hassan al Askeri, the eleventh of
that succession, having been born at Sermanrai, in the
255th year of the Hejira. From this tradition it is to be
presumed that an opinion pretty current amongst the
Christians took its rise, namely, that the Mahommedans
are in expectation of their prophet’s return. The seven¬
teenth sign is to be a wind which shall sweep away the
souls of all who have but a grain of faith in their hearts,
as has been mentioned under the tenth sign.
These are the greater signs, which, according to the doc¬
trine of Islamism, are to precede the resurrection, but still
leave the hour of it uncertain, for the immediate sign of its
being come will be the first blast of the trumpet, which
they°believe will be sounded three times. The first they
calf the “ blast of consternation,” at the hearing of which all
creatures in heaven and earth shall be struck with terror,
excepting those whom God shall please to exempt from it.
The effects attributed to this first sound of the trumpet
are very wonderful. It is believed that the earth will be
shaken, and not only all buildings, but the very mountains
levelled; that the heavens shall melt, the sun be darkened,
the stars fall, upon the death of the angels who, as some
imagine, hold them suspended between heaven and earth ;
and that the sea shall be troubled and dried up, or, ac¬
cording to others, turned into flames, the sun, moon, and
stars being thrown into it. The Koran, to express the
greatness of the terror of that day, adds, that women who
give suck shall abandon the care of their infants, and that
even the she-camels which have gone ten months with
young (a most valuable part of the substance of that na¬
tion) shall be utterly neglected. A further effect of this
blast will be that concourse of beasts mentioned in the
Koran, although some doubt whether it is to precede or
to follow the resurrection. They who suppose it will pre¬
cede, think that all kinds of animals, forgetting their na¬
tural fierceness or timidity, will run together into one
place, being terrified by the sound of the trumpet and the
sudden shock of nature. The Mahommedans believe that
this first blast will be followed by a second one, which
they call the “ blast of exinanition, by which all crea¬
tures both in heaven and earth shall die or be annihilated,
excepting those which God shall please to exempt from
the common fate ; and this, they say, shall happen in the
twinkling of an eye, nay, in an instant, nothing surviving
except God alone, with paradise and hell, and the inhabi¬
tants of those two places, and the throne of glory. I he
last who shall die will be the angel of death, forty years
after this will be heard the “ blast of resurrection, when
the trumpet shall be sounded for the third time by Is-
rasil, who, together with Gabriel and Michael, will be pre¬
viously restored to life, and, standing upon the rock of the
temple of Jerusalem, shall, at God’s command, call toge¬
ther all the dry and rotten bones, and other dispersed
parts of the bodies, and the very hairs, to judgment. Ibis
angel having, by the divine order, set the trumpet to his
mouth, and called together all the souls from every part,
will throw them into his trumpet, whence, on his giving
the last sound, at the command of God, they will fly forth
like bees, and fill the whole space between heaven and
earth, and then repair to their respective bodies, which
K D A NI S M. 35
the opening earth will suffer to arise; and the first who Mahom-
shall so arise, according to a tradition of Mahommed, will medanism.
be the prophet himself. For this birth the earth will bes—
prepared by the rain above mentioned, which is to fall
continually for forty years, and will resemble the seed of
a man, and be supplied from the water under the throne
of God, which is" called “ living water,” by the efficacy
and virtue of which the dead bodies shall spring forth
from their graves as they did in their mother’s womb, or
as corn sprouts forth by common rain, until they become
perfect; after which breath will be breathed into them,
and they will sleep in their sepulchres till they are raised
to life by the last trumpet.
When those who have risen shall have waited the limit¬
ed time, the Mahommedans believe that God will at
length appear to judge them ; Mahommed undertaking
the office of intercessor, after it shall have been declined
by Adam, Noah, Abraham, and Jesus, who shall beg deli¬
verance only for their own souls. Iheysay, that upon this
solemn occasion God will come in the clouds surrounded
by angels, and will produce the books in which the actions
of every person are recorded by their guardian angels,
and will command the prophets to bear witness against
those to whom they have been respectively sent. Then
every one will be examined concerning all the words and
actions uttered and done by him in this lite; not as if
God needed any information in these respects, but to ob¬
lige the person to make public confession and acknow¬
ledgment of God’s justice. The particulars of which they
are to give an account, as Mahommed himself enumerated
them, are, 1st, of their time, how they spent it; 2d, of
their wealth, by what means they acquired it, and how they
employed it; 3d, of their bodies, in what they exercised
them; and, lastly, of their knowledge and learning, what
use they made of them. To the questions we have men¬
tioned each person shall answer, and make his defence in
the best manner he can, endeavouring to excuse himself by-
casting the blame of his evil deeds upon others; so that a
dispute shall arise even between the soul and the body, to
which of them their guilt ought to be imputed. The soul
will say, “ O Lord, my body I received from thee ; for thou
createdst me without a hand to lay hold with, a foot to walk
with, an eye to see with, or an understanding to apprehend
with, till I came and entered into this body; therefore pu¬
nish it eternally, but deliver me.” The body, on the other
side, will make this apology ; “ O Lord, thou createdst me
like a stock of wood, having neither hand that I could lay
hold with, nor foot that I could walk with, till this soul, like
a ray of light, entered into me, and my tongue began to
speak, my eye to see, and my foot to walk ; therefore pun¬
ish it eternally, but deliver me.” But God will propound
to them the parable of the blind man and the lame man.
A certain king having a pleasant garden, in which weie
ripe fruits, set two persons to keep it, one of whom was
blind, and the other lame; the former not being able to
see the fruit, nor the latter to gather it. The lame man,
however, seeing the fruit, persuaded the blind man to take
him upon his shoulders, and by that means he easily ga¬
thered the fruit, which they divided between them. The
lord of the garden coming some time afterwards, and in¬
quiring after his fruit, each began to excuse himself. The
blind man said he had no eyes to see with ; and the lame
man, that he had no feet to approach the trees. But the
king, ordering the lame man to be set on the blind, passed
sentence on and punished them both. And in the same
manner will God deal with the body and the soul. As
these apologies will not avail on that day, so it will be in
vain for any one to deny his evil actions, since men and
angels, and his own members, nay, the very earth itself,
will be ready to bear witness against him.
At this examination, the Mahommedans also believe that
36
M A H O M M E D A NI S M.
Mahom. each person will have the book in which all the actions of
medamsm. his life are written delivered to him. These the righteous
will receive into the right hand, and read with great plea¬
sure and satisfaction ; but the ungodly will be obliged to
take them, against their will, in their left, which will be
bound at their back, their right hand being tied up to their
necks.
To show the exact justice which will be observed on
this great day of trial, the next thing they describe is the
balance, in which all things shall be weighed. It will be
held by Gabriel; and it is of so vast a size that its two
scales, one of which hangs over paradise, and the other
over hell, are capacious enough to contain both heaven
and hell. Though some are willing to understand what
is said in the Koran concerning this balance allegorically,
and only as a figurative representation of God’s equity,
yet the more ancient and orthodox opinion is, that the
words are to be taken literally; and since words and ac¬
tions, being mere accidents, are not capable of being
themselves weighed, they say that the books in which
they are written will be thrown into the scales, and ac¬
cording as those in which the good or evil actions are re¬
corded shall preponderate, sentence will be given. Those
whose balances laden with good works shall prove heavy,
will be saved; but those whose balances are light, will be
condemned. Nor will any one have cause to complain
that God suffers good actions to pass unrewarded, because
the wicked for the good they do have their reward in this
life, and therefore can expect no favour in the next.
This examination being ended, and every one’s works
weighed in a just balance, that mutual retaliation will
follow, according to which every creature will take ven¬
geance one upon another, or have satisfaction made them
for the injuries which they have suffered. And since there
will then be no other way of returning like for like, the
manner of giving this satisfaction will be by taking away a
proportional part of the good works of him who offered
the injury, and adding it to those of him who suffered it.
This being done, if the angels by whose ministry it is to
be performed say, “ Lord, we have given to every one his
due, and there remaineth of this person’s good works so
much as equalleth the weight of an ant,” God will, of
his mercy, cause it be doubled unto him, that he may be
admitted into paradise ; but if, on the contrary, his good
woiks be exhausted, and there remain evil works only and
any who have not yet received satisfaction from him, God
will order that an equal weight of their sins be added unto
his, that he may be punished for them in their stead, and
he will be sent to hell laden with both. This will be the
• method of God’s dealing with mankind. As to brutes,
after they shall have likewise taken vengeance upon one
another, he shall command them to be changed into dust •
ei en reserved t0 a more grievous punishment,’
so that they shall cry out, on hearing this sentence pass-
ed on he brutes, “ Would to God that we were dust llso.”
As to the genu, many Mahommedans are of opinion that
such of them as are true believers will undergo the same
fate as the irrational animals, and have no other reward
than the favour of being converted into dust; and for this
they quote the authority of their prophet.
tr:ialS biei?f °ver’,and the assembly dissolved, the
: ornmedans hold that those who are to be admitted in-
desCd toTel^fi C th,n r^t-hand waY> and those who are
destined to hell-fire will take the left; but both of them
must first pass the bridge called in Arabic^ Sirat, which
they say is laid over the midst of hell, and describe to be
finer than a hair, and sharper than the edge of a sword so
lat it seems very difficult to conceive how any one shall
sect of ,'he Mnf»Ttn ^; •and’.f0r this re“s»"> most of the
En Motazahtes reject it as a fable, though the or¬
thodox think it a sufficient proof of the truth of this article,
that it was seriously affirmed by him who never asserted a
falsehood, meaning their prophet. To add to the difficulty medi E
of the passage, he has likewise declared that this bridge is '
beset on each side with briars and hooked thorns; which
will, however, be no impediment to the good, for they shall
pass with wonderful ease and swiftness, like lightning, or
the wind, Mahommed and his Moslemins leading the way :
whereas, from the slipperiness and extreme narrowness of
the path, the entangling of the thorns, and the extinction
of the light which directed the good to paradise, the wicked
will soon miss their footing, and fall down headlong into
hell, which is gaping beneath them.
As to the punishment of the wicked, the Mahommedans
are taught that hell is divided into seven stories or apart¬
ments, one below another, designed for the reception of as
many distinct classes of the damned. The first, which they
call Jehennam, will, according to them, be the receptacle
of those who acknowledge one God, that is, the wicked
Mahommedans, who, after having been there punished ac¬
cording to their demerits, wall at length be released. The
second, named Ladka; they assign to the Jews; the third,
named Al Hotama, to the Christians; the fourth, named
Al Sair, to the Sabians; the fifth, named Sakar, to the
Magians ; the sixth, named Al Jahim, to the idolaters; and
the seventh, or lowest and worst of all, which is called Al
Hawyat, to the hypocrites, or those who outwardly pro¬
fessed some religion, but who in their hearts believed none.
Over each of these apartments they believe that there will
be set a guard or angels, nineteen in number, to whom the
damned will confess the just judgment of God, and beg
them to intercede with him for some alleviation of their
^ivr ^ tbat tb^ rI?a^ delivered by being annihilated.
Mahommed, in his Koran and traditions, has been very
exact in describing the various torments of hell, which, ac¬
cording to him, the wicked will suffer, both from intense
heat and from excessive cold. We shall, however, enter
into no detail respecting them here, but only observe, that
t e degrees of these pains will also vary in proportion to
the crimes of the sufferer, and the apartment he is con¬
demned to inhabit; and that he who is punished the most
lightly of all will be shod with shoes of fire, the heat of
which will cause his skull to boil like a cauldron. The
condition of these unhappy wretches, as the same prophet
teaches, cannot be properly called either life or death; and
their misery will be greatly increased by their despair of
being ever delivered from that place, since, according to
t ie frequent expression of the Koran, “ they shall remain
therem for ever. It must be remarked, however, that
the infidels alone will be liable to eternal damnation; for
the Moslemms, or those who have embraced the true reli¬
gion, and have been guilty of heinous sins, will be delivered
thence after they shall have expiated their crimes by their
sutrermgs. According to a tradition handed down from
t ieir prophet, the time during which these believers shall
be detained there, will not be less than nine hundred
nprfnf t]01 -"Trt lan Seven thousand- And as to the man-
\beir dellver7> they shall be distinguished by the
° prostration on those parts of their bodies with
which th/-n t(?Ucb the Sround in Prayer, and over
biWl fUl W1 1. therefore have no power; and that,
" L r11 ^ ^11S’ C mracteristic’ they wdl he released
and htL hTCy ° Cjr°d’ at the intercession of Mahommed
dead wmbheSSeC!; U?0n phich those vvho sha11 have been
dead will be restored to life, and those whose bodies shall
?ny filth fr°m the flames and sm°ke of hell
^ Lber™enrfse,df ^ rof the rivers °f paradise>cai1^
whiter lhan peart’ WaterS °f which wil1 wash them
i- I.lle,r'g!lt<ious> as tllu Mahommedans are taught to be-
sham br7d”fr™d the and passed the
I ts ove mentioned, before they enter paradise,
i
MAHOMMEDANISM.
37
t ^fahom- will be refreshed by drinking at the reservoir of the pro-
i medanisra. p^et, who describes it as an exact square of a month’s
journey in compass; its water, which is supplied by two
pipes from A1 Cawthar, one of the rivers of paradise, be¬
ing whiter than milk or silver, and more odoriferous than
musk, with as many cups set around it as there are stars
in the firmament, and of this water whoever drinks will
thirst no more for ever. This is the first taste which the
blessed will have of their future and now approaching fe¬
licity.
Though paradise be so frequently mentioned in the Ko¬
ran, yet it is a dispute amongst the Mahommedans whether
it be already created, or only to be created hereafter ; the
Motazalites and some other sectaries asserting that there
is not at present any such place in nature, and that the
paradise which the righteous will inhabit in the next life
will be different from that which Adam was expelled from.
However, the orthodox profess the contrary; maintain that
it was created even before the world ; and describe it from
their prophet’s traditions. They say that it is situated above
the seven heavens, or in the seventh heaven, and next un¬
der the throne of God ; and to express the amenity of the
place, they allege that the earth of it is of the finest wheat
flour, or of the purest musk, or, as others will have it, of
saffron; that its stones are pearls and jacinths, the wralls
of its buildings enriched with gold and silver; and that the
trunks of all its trees are of gold, amongst which the most
remarkable is the tree called Tuba, or the Tree of Happi¬
ness. Concerning this tree, they pretend that it stands in
the palace of Mahommed, though a branch of it will reach
to the house of every true believer; and that it will be
laden with pomegranates, grapes, dates, and other fruits,
of surprising largeness, and of tastes unknown to mortals;
so that if a man desire to eat of any particular kind of
fruit, it will be immediately presented to him; or, if he
choose flesh, birds ready dressed will be set before him,
according to his wish. They add, that the boughs of this
tree will spontaneously bend down to the hand of the per¬
son who would gather of its fruits, and that it will supply
the blessed not only with food, but also with silken gar¬
ments, and beasts to ride on ready saddled and bridled,
and adorned with rich trappings, which will burst forth
from its fruits ; and that this tree is so large, that a per¬
son, mounted on the fleetest horse, would not be able to
gallop from one end of its shade to the other in a hundred
years.
As plenty of water is one of the greatest additions to
the pleasantness of any place, particularly in a burning cli¬
mate, the Koran often speaks of the rivers of paradise as a
principal ornament of that blessed place. Some of these
rivers, they say, flow with water, some with milk, some with
wine, and others with honey, and all take their rise from the
root of the tree Tuba. But all these glories will be eclipsed
by the resplendent and ravishing damsels of paradise, called,
from their large black eyes, Hur-al-oyun, the enjoyment
of whose society will be the principal felicity of the faithful,
ihese, they say, are created, not of clay, as mortal women
are, but of pure musk, being, as their prophet often af¬
firms in his Koran, free from all natural impurities, de¬
fects, and inconveniences incident to the sex, of the strict¬
est modesty, and secluded from public view in pavilions of
hollow pearls, so large that, as some traditions have it,
one of them extends no less than four parasangs in length,
and as many in breadth.
The name which the Mahommedans usually give to this
happy mansion is Al Jannat, or the Garden; and some¬
times they call it, with an addition, Jannat al Ferdaus,
the Garden of Paradise; Jannat A^den, or the Garden of
Eden (though they generally interpret the word Eden, not
according to its acceptation in Hebrew, but according to
its meaning in their own tongue, in which it signifies a set¬
tled or perpetual habitation) ; Jannat al Mawa, the Gar- Mahom-
den of Abode; Jannat al Naim, the Garden of Pleasure, medanism.
and the like. By these several appellations some under- /
stand so many different gardens, or at least places of dif¬
ferent degrees of felicity (for they reckon no less than a
hundred of them in all), the very meanest of which will
afford its inhabitants so many pleasures and delights that
one would conclude they must even sink under the enjoy¬
ment of them, had not Mahommed declared, that, in or¬
der to qualify the blessed for their happy state, God will
give to every one the capabilities of enjoyment of a hun¬
dred men.
With regard to God’s absolute decree and predestina¬
tion both of good and evil, the orthodox doctrine is, that
whatever has or shall come to pass in this world, whether
it be good or whether it be evil, proceeds entirely from
the divine will, and is irrevocably fixed and recorded from
all eternity in the preserved table; God having secretly
predetermined not only the adverse and prosperous for¬
tune of every person in this world, in the most minute par¬
ticulars, but also his faith or infidelity, his obedience or
disobedience, and consequently his everlasting happiness
or misery after death; a fate or predestination which it is
not possible by any foresight or wisdom to avoid. Of this
doctrine Mahommed makes great use in the Koran for the
advancement of his designs ; encouraging his followers to
fight without fear, and even desperately, for the propaga¬
tion of their faith, by representing to them, that all their
caution cannot avert their inevitable destiny, or prolong
their lives for a moment; and deterring them from dis¬
obeying or rejecting him as an impostor, by setting be¬
fore them the danger they thereby incur of being, by the
just judgment of God, abandoned to seduction, hardness
of heart, and a reprobate mind, as a: punishment for their
obstinac}\
II. Of Religious Practice. In this the first point is
Prayer, under which are also comprehended those legal
washings or purifications which are necessary preparations
thereto.
Of these purifications there are two degrees, one called
ghost, being a total immersion or bathing of the body in
water; and the other called wodu (by the Persians abdest),
which is the washing of the face, hands, and feet, after a
certain manner. The first is required in some extraordi¬
nary cases only, as after having lain with a woman, or be¬
ing polluted by emission of semen, or by approaching a dead
body ; women are also obliged to perform it after menstru¬
ation or childbirth. The latter is the ordinary ablution in
common cases, and before prayer, and must necessarily be
employed by every person before he can enter upon that
duty. It is performed with certain formal ceremonies,
which have been described by some writers, but which are
much more easily apprehended by ocular observation, than
by the best description.
That his followers might be more punctual in this duty,
Mahommed is said to have declared, that “ the practice of
religion is founded on cleanliness,” which is the “ one half
of the faith,” and the “ key of prayer,” without which it
will not be heard by God. That these expressions may be
the better understood, Al Ghazali reckons four degrees of
purification ; the first of which is the cleansing of the body
from all pollution, filth, and excrements; the second, the
cleansing of the members of the body from all wickedness
and unjust actions; the third, the cleansing of the heart
from all blameable inclinations and odious vices; and the
fourth, the purging a man’s secret thoughts from all affec¬
tions which may divert their attendance on God. The
body, according to him, is but as the outward shell, in re¬
spect to the heart, which is as the kernel.
Circumcision, though it be not once mentioned in the Ko¬
ran, is yet held by the Mahommedans to be an ancient and
3S
M AHOMMEDANISM.
Mahom- divine institution, confirmed by the religion of Islam, and,
medanism. though not so absolutely necessary that it may not be dis-
pensed with in some cases, yet highly proper and expe¬
dient. The Arabs used this rite for many ages before that
of Mahommed, having probably learned it from Ishmael,
though not only his descendants, but the Hamyarites and
other tribes, practised the same rite. The Ishmaelites, we
are told, used to circumcise their children, not on the eighth
day, as is the custom of the Jews, but when about twelve
or thirteen years old, at which age their father underwent
that operation; and the Mahommedans imitate them so
far as not to circumcise children before they are able dis¬
tinctly to pronounce that profession of their faith, “ There
is no God but God, and Mahommed is the prophet of God
but pitch on whatever age they please for the purpose, be¬
tween six and sixteen or thereabouts.
Prayer was by Mahommed thought so necessary a duty,
that he used to call it “ the pillar of religion” and “ the
key of paradise and when the Thakifites, who dwelt at
Tayef, sent, in the ninth year of the Hejira, to make their
submission to the prophet, after the keeping of their fa¬
vourite idol had been denied them, they begged at least
that they might be allowed to dispense with saying the ap¬
pointed prayers; but the prophet answered, that “ There
could be no good in that religion in which there was no
prayer.”
That so important a duty, therefore, might not be ne¬
glected, Mahommed obliged his followers to pray five times
every twrenty-four hours, at certain stated times, viz. in the
morning before sunrise; when noon is past, and the sun
begins to decline from the meridian ; in the afternoon be¬
fore sunset; in the evening after sunset, and before the
day be shut in; and after the day is shut in, and before
the first watch of the night. For this institution he pre¬
tended to have received a divine command from the throne
of God himself, when he took his night journey to heaven;
and the observation of the stated times of prayer is fre¬
quently insisted on in the Koran, though they be not par¬
ticularly prescribed therein. Accordingly, at the aforesaid
times, of which public notice is given by the Muezzins or
Criers, from the steeples of the mosques, every conscien¬
tious Moslemin prepares himself for prayer, which he per¬
forms either in the mosque, or in any other place, provided
it be clean, after a prescribed form, and with a certain num¬
ber of praises or ejaculations, which the more scrupulous
count by a string of beads, at the same time using certain
postures of worship; all which have been particularly set
down and described, and ought not to be abridged, unless
in special circumstances, as on a journey, in preparing for
battle, and other cases of a similar kind.
For the regular performance of the duty of prayer amongst
the Mahommedans, besides the particulars above mentioned,
it is also requisite that they should turn their faces, whilst
they pray, towards the temple of Mekka, the quarter where
the same is situated being for that reason pointed out
within their mosques by a niche, which they call Al Mehrab,
and without, by the situation of the doors opening into the
galleries of the steeples. There are also tables calculated
for the ready finding of the Keblah, or part towards which
they ought to pray, in places where they have no visible di¬
rection to guide them.
Secondly, Alms are of two sorts, legal and voluntary. The
legal alms are of indispensable obligation, being commanded
by the law, which directs and determines both the portion to
be given, and of what things it ought to be given ; but the
voluntary alms are left to every one’s choice, to give more
or less as he shall think proper. The former kind of alms,
some think, are properly called zacat, and the latter sadakat,
though this last name be also frequently given to the legal
alms. They are called zacat, either because they increase
a man’s store by drawing down a blessing thereon, and pro¬
duce in his soul the virtue of liberality, or because they
purify the remaining part of one’s substance from pollution,
and the soul from the filth of avarice ; and sadakat, because
they are a proof of a man’s sincerity in the worship of God.
Some writers have called the legal alms tithes, but impro¬
perly, since in some cases they fall short, and in others ex¬
ceed the proportion of a tenth part.
Thirdly, Fasting is a duty of so great moment, that Ma¬
hommed used to say it was “ the gate of religion,” and that
the “ odour of the mouth of him who fasteth is more grate¬
ful to God than that of muskand Al Ghazali reckons
fasting “ one fourth part of the faith.” According to the
Mahommedan divines, there are three degrees of fasting ;
1st, the restraining the belly and other parts of the body
from satisfying their lusts; 2dlg, the restraining the ears,
eyes, tongue, hands, feet, and other members, from sin ;
and, Sdlg, the fasting of the heart from worldly cares, and
restraining the thoughts from everything besides God.
The Mahommedans are obliged, by the express com¬
mand of the Koran, to fast during the whole month of Ra¬
madan, from the time that the new moon first appears till
the appearance of the next new moon ; during which period
they must abstain from eating, drinking, and women, from
daybreak till night or sunset. And this injunction they
observe so strictly, that, whilst they fast, they suffer nothing
to enter their mouths, or other parts of their body, esteem¬
ing the fast broken and null if they smell perfumes, take a
clyster or injection, bathe, or even purposely swallow their
spittle; some being so cautious that they will not open
their mouths to speak, lest they should breathe the air too
freely. The fast is also deemed void if a man kiss or touch
a woman, or if he vomit designedly. But after sunset they
are allowed to refresh themselves, and to eat and drink, and
enjoy the company of their wives till daybreak ; though the
more rigid begin the fast again at midnight. This fast is
extremely rigorous and mortifying when the month of Ra¬
madan happens to fall in summer (for the Arabian year
being lunar, each month runs through all the different sea¬
sons in the course of thirty-three years); the length and
heat of the days making the observance of it then much more
difficult and uneasy than in winter. The reason given why
the month of Ramadan was pitched on for this purpose is,
that on that month the Koran was sent down from heaven.
Some also pretend, that Abraham, Moses, and Jesus, re¬
ceived their respective revelations in the same month.
Fourthly, The pilgrimage to Mekka is so necessary a
point of practice, that, according to a tradition of Mahom¬
med, he who dies without performing it may as well die a
Jew or a Christian ; and the same is expressly commanded
in the Koran.
The temple of Mekka stands in the midst of the city, and
is honoured with the title Masjad al Elharam, “ the sa¬
cred or inviolable Temple.” What is principally reverenced
in this place, and gives sanctity to the whole, is a square
stone building, denominated the Kaaba. To this temple
every Mahommedan who has health and means sufficient
ought, once in his life at least, to repair on a pilgrimage;
nor are women excused from the performance of this duty.
The pilgrims meet at different places near Mekka, accord¬
ing to the different parts whence they come, during the
months of Shawal and Dhu’lkaada, being obliged to be there
by the beginning of Dhu’lhajja, which, as its name im¬
ports, is peculiarly set apart for the celebration of this so¬
lemnity.
At the place above mentioned the pilgrims properly assume
that character, when the men put on the Ibram or sacred
habit, which consists only of two woollen wrappers, one wrap¬
ped about the middle to cover their nakedness, and the other
thrown over their shoulders, having their heads bare, and a
kind of slippers which cover neither the heel nor the instep,
and thus they enter the sacred territory in their way to
Mab n-
medai sm.
MAHOMMEDANISM. 39
Ar horn Mekka. Whilst they wear this habit they must neither
jnedanisrn*hunt nor fowl, though they are allowed to fish; a precept
-v—"^ which is so punctually observed, that they will not kill even
vermin if they should find them on their bodies. There
are some noxious animals, however, which they have per¬
mission to kill during their pilgrimage, as kites, ravens,
scorpions, mice, and dogs given to bite. During the pilgrim¬
age, it behoves a man to keep a constant guard upon his
words and actions ; to avoid all quarrelling or bad language,
all converse with women, and all obscene discourse, and to
apply his whole attention to the good work in which he is
engaged. , _ .
The pilgrims, having arrived at Mekka, immediately visit
the temple, and enter upon the performance of the pre¬
scribed ceremonies, which consist chiefly in going in pro¬
cession round the Kaaba, in running between the Mounts
Safa and Merwa, in making the station upon Mount Arafat,
and slaying the victims and shaving their heads in the valley
of Mina. In compassing the Kaaba, which they do seven
times, beginning at the corner where the black stone is
fixed, they use a short quick pace the first three times they
go round it, and a grave ordinary pace the last four; a prac¬
tice which, it is said, was ordered by Mahommed, that his
followers might show themselves strong and active, to cut
off the hopes of the infidels, who gave but that the immo¬
derate heats of Medina had rendered them weak. The
quick pace, however, they are not obliged to exert every
time they perform this piece of devotion, but only at some
particular times. As often as they pass by the black stone,
they either kiss it, or touch it with their hand, and then
kiss that member. The running between Safa and Merwa
is also performed seven times, partly at a slow pace and
partly with speed. They walk gravely till they come to a
place between two pillars, and there they run, and after¬
wards walk again, sometimes looking back, and sometimes
stooping, like one who had lost something, to represent
Hagar seeking water for her son, the ceremony being said
to be as ancient as her time.
On the ninth of Dhu’lhajja, after morning prayer, the
pilgrims leave the valley of Mina, whither they had arrived
the day before, and proceed in a tumultuous and rushing
manner to Mount Arafat, where they stay to perform their
devotions till sunset; then they go to Mozdalifa, an oratory
between Arafat and Mina, and there spend the night in
prayer and reading the Koran. The next morning by day¬
break they visit Al Masher al Karam, or the Sacred Monu¬
ment ; and, departing thence before sunrise, hasten by Batn
Mohasser to the valley of Mina, where they throw seven
stones at three marks or pillars, in imitation of Abraham,
who, meeting the devil in that place, and being by him dis¬
turbed in his devotions, or tempted to disobedience when
he was going to sacrifice his son, was commanded by God
to drive him away by throwing stones at him. But others
pretend that this rite is as old as Adam, who also put the
devil to flight in the same place, and by the same means.
This ceremony being over, on the same day, the tenth of
Dhu’lhajja, the pilgrims slay their victims in the valley of
Mina; and of these they and their friends eat part, whilst
the rest is given to the poor. The victims must be either
sheep, goats, kine, or camels; males if of either of the two
former kinds, and females if of either of the latter, and also
of a proper age. When the sacrifices are ended, they shave
their heads and cut their nails, after which the pilgrim¬
age is looked upon as completed ; though they again visit
the Kaaba, in order to take their leave of that sacred
building.
The rapid success which attended the propagation of this
new religion was owing to causes which are sufficiently ob¬
vious, and must remove, or rather prevent, any surprise,
when they are attentively considered. The terror of Ma-
hommed’s arms, and the repeated victories gained by him
and his successors, were no doubt the irresistible argu- Mahom-
ments which persuaded such multitudes to embrace his re-medanism.
ligion and submit to his dominion. Besides, his law was'^—
artfully adapted to the corrupt nature of man, more parti¬
cularly to the manners and opinions of the eastern nations,
and the vices to which they were naturally addicted; for
the articles of faith which it proposed were few in number,
and extremely simple, and the duties which it required were
neither many nor difficult, nor such as wrere incompatible
with the empire of appetites and passions. It may also be
observed, that the gross ignorance under which the Ara¬
bians, Syrians, Persians, and the greater part of the east¬
ern nations, laboured at this time, rendered many an easy
prey to the artifice and eloquence of this bold adventurer.
To these causes may be added the bitter dissensions and
cruel animosities which reigned amongst the Christian sects,
particularly the Greeks, Nestorians, Eutychians, and Mono-
physites ; dissensions which filled a great part of the East
with carnage, assassinations, and other detestable enormities,
which rendered the very name of Christianity odious. We
may further add, that the Monophysites and Nestorians, full
of resentment against the Greeks, from whom they had suf¬
fered the bitterest and most injurious treatment, assisted
the Arabians in the conquest of several provinces, into
which, of course, the religion of Mahommed was afterwards
introduced. The contrast between Chtisrianity and Islam-
ism is therefore abundantly striking.
The Christian religion is the religion of a civilized people,
and is entirely spiritual; in it everything tends to mortify
the senses, nothing to excite them. Islamism is the reli¬
gion of a people in the infancy of civilization, and it appeals
to the senses alone. Mahommed promised to his followers
odoriferous baths, rivers of milk, black eyed houris, and
groves of perpetual shade ; and the Arab, thirsting for wa¬
ter, and parched by a burning sun, was ready to do any
thing for such a recompence. The reward which Christ
promised to the elect was that they should see God face to
face. Hence it may be justly said that the religion of Christ
is a menace, whilst that of Mahommed is, on the other hand,
a promise. The one seeks to mortify the senses and sub¬
due the passions ; the other to excite and inflame them by
the promise of unlimited enjoyment. The essential differ¬
ence of these religions is also strongly marked by the his¬
tory of their respective establishment. The progress off
Christianity was slow, and three or four centuries elapsed
before it attained a firm footing in the world. It requires
much time to destroy, by the mere influence of persuasion,
a religion consecrated by time, and still more when the new
faith neither appeals to any prejudices, nor kindles any pas¬
sion, nor admits any temporal auxiliaries. The progress of
Islamism was, on the other hand, rapid, and, even before the
death of the prophet, it had established itself in the coun¬
tries where it was first preached. Unlike Jesus Christ, who
declared that his kingdom was not of this world, Mahom¬
med became a king; and, having declared that the whole
universe ought to be subjected to his sway, he ordered his
followers to employ the sword to destroy idolaters and
infidels. Hence, as soon as Islamism had triumphed at
Mekka and Medina, it served as a rallying point to the
different Arabic tribes ; the idolaters of Arabia were soon
converted or destroyed; the infidels in Asia, in Syria, and
in Egypt, were attacked and conquered ; and a whole na¬
tion,Ymbued with a fanatical spirit, precipitated itself upon
its neighbours. Christianity proclaimed peace on earth,
and good will to men. Islamism preached intolerance and
the destruction of infidels. Accordingly, the one advanced
slowly and imperceptibly ; whilst the progress of the other
was that of an overwhelming torrent, and the Arabian
armies, impelled by fanaticism, at once attacked the Ho¬
man empire and that of Persia. In the history of its dif¬
fusion, Christianity presents the most striking evidence of
40 M A H
Mahon its divine origin and the omnipotence of truth. But it is
'I n°t 80 with Islamism, which, engendered in fanaticism,
Manrattas; wag propagated by t]ie swor(]5 ancj established by terror,
by conquest, and by extermination.
MAHON, a city in the island of Minorca, in the Medi¬
terranean Sea, the Portus Magonis of the ancients, said to
have derived its name from the Carthaginian general Ma-
go, and now conferring its name on the eldest son of the
Earl of Stanhope, whose gallant ancestor took it during the
war of the Spanish succession. Before England had ob¬
tained possession of Malta, this place, on account of its har¬
bour, was deemed an object of the greatest importance to
the maintenance of our naval power in the Mediterranean ;
and during the late war it was of great use as long as a
British fleet was blockading the French port of Toulon.
This valuable haven is easily accessible, having a depth of
from fourteen fathoms at the entrance to six fathoms at
the best anchoring place, which is within two cables’
length of the town of Mahon. The ground is clear of rocks,
and very good for the anchor holding. It is well defended
by strong forts at the entrance, and indeed in every part.
The city is well and regularly built, with a fine parade
ground, where the college of the naval cadets, removed from
Madrid in 1808, is situated. In the suburbs are an exten¬
sive naval arsenal, a marine hospital capable of receiv¬
ing 700 sick, and a lazaretto for performing quarantine.
The forts constructed by the English, called Fort St Phi¬
lip and Fort Marlborough, have been demolished. The
city stands in longitude 4. 21. east, and in latitude 39. 52.
20. north. Including the suburbs, it contains 6000 inhabi¬
tants, who carry on the fishery, and what little trade there
is in the island ; but it chiefly depends upon the expen¬
diture of the arsenal.
MAHOOR, a district and town of Hindustan, in the
province of Berar, situated in about the twentieth degree
of north latitude. The district contains part of a high table¬
land between the Wurdah and the Godavery Rivers. The
town is situated in longitude 78. 33. east, and latitude 20.
4. north.
MAHRATTAS. The Mahratta state comprehended
a country in Hindustan, very extensive, and of great natu¬
ral strength, being interspersed with mountains, defiles,
and fortresses, and well adapted for defensive war. It
extended across the peninsula of India, and, generally
speaking, was in possession of the peishwa, Nagpoor Ra¬
jah, Scindia, Holkar, Guicowax-, and other inferior chiefs.
The Mahrattas were not originally a military tribe like
the Rajpoots ; nor do they possess the same grace and dig¬
nity of person, being of a diminutive stature and badly
made, and having more the character of freebooters than
of soldiers. Their original country is said to have includ¬
ed Khandesh, Baglana, and part of Berar, and north-west
as far as Gujeratand the Nerbuddah Rivei\ Others again
say that they are foreigners, who came into India from
the western parts of Persia about 1200 years ago. Little
is known of the history of the Mahratta people till about
the middle of the seventeenth century, when they pos¬
sessed a nari’ow tract of counti'y on the western side of
the peninsula, extending from the fifteenth to the twenty-
first degree of north latitude. The founder of the Mah¬
ratta state, or at least the first person who raised this na¬
tion from obscui’ity, was Sevajee, who was born about the
year 1626, and died in 1680, and who claimed a descent,
but upon very doubtful grounds, from the ranahs of Odey-
poor. The father of Sevajee, named Sahoo Bhosila or
Bhoonsla, was an officer in the service of the last Mahom-
medan king of Bejapoor or Visiapoor. The Mahratta
country was originally divided amongst a number of px-inci-
palities, ruled by independent chiefs, who were combined
into one under Sevajee. He was succeeded by his son Sam-
bajee, who extended his conquests, but who was finally
M A H
taken prisoner by Aurungzebe in 1689, and put to death. Mah| Etas.
Sahoo Rajah, who succeeded him, extended his conquests v'——•w
from sea to sea, and obtained possession of fortresses
commanding a territory reaching from the province of
Agra to Cape Comorin. This great monarch was succeed¬
ed by his son Ram Rajah, whose power was usurped by
the two chief officers of the state, the peishwa or prime
minister Bajeerow, and the paymaster-general Ragojee,
who divided the empire between them. The former fixed
his residence at Poonah ; the latter founded a new king¬
dom at Nagpoor, in the province of Gundwaneh. Bajeerow,
the peishwa, died in 1759, and was succeeded by his son
Ballajeerow. In 1760 the Mahrattas had extended their
conquests as far as the city of Delhi, when a formidable
rival appeared in Ahmed Shah Abdalli, the sovereign of
Afghanistan, to dispute with them the empire of India.
With the Afghans was fought, on the 7th of January 1761,
the great battle of Paniput, in which the Mahrattas were
speedily overthrown with the loss of a great number of
their chiefs. From this period their power began to de¬
cline. Ballajeerow died soon after the battle of Paniput,
and was succeeded by his son Madhoorow, who died in
1772, and was succeeded by his son Narrainrow, who
was murdex-ed the following year by his uncle Ragobah,
who was opposed itx his designs on the throne by a com¬
bination of twelve chiefs. At the head of these was Balla-
jee Pundit, who became dewan or prime minister to the
infant prince. Ragobah fled to Bombay, where he solicit¬
ed and obtained, by means of an advantageous treaty, the
aid of the British government. But this aid was ineffec¬
tual in seating the murderer upon the Mahratta throne.
His crime had brought upon him the general obloquy of
the nation; and his appeal to foreign aid united against
him the whole confederate chiefs of the Mahratta empire.
By the interference of the Bengal government, a treaty
was concluded; but in 1777 the Bombay government again
espoused the cause of Ragobah, and a war ensued, which
was terminated by a disgraceful convention, and Ragobah
abandoned. A general war afterwards took place be¬
tween the British and the Mahrattas, and was terminated
by a treaty in 1782, by which every conquest was restor¬
ed except the island of Salsette. At this period the Mah¬
rattas commenced hostile operations against all those in¬
dependent states which lay between their territories and
those of the Company; and in the course of six or seven
years they were all subdued, by which the Mahratta fron¬
tier bordered with the Bi’itish dominions. In 1785 they car-
x'ied on an unsuccessful war with Tippoo, and were obliged to
purchase peace by the cession of several valuable provinces,
all of which they recovered by their alliance with the British
in 1790. The posthumous and infant son of Madhoorow,
who succeeded to the peishwashipwhen became to maturity,
died in 1795, and the two sons of Ragobah contended for
the office. The cause of the eldest brother, named Bajee¬
row, was espoused by Scindia, by whose aid he was fixed
on the throne; but he was permitted to enjoy nothing of the
sovereignty but the name. In the year 1802 the united
armies of the peishwa and Scindia were defeated by Hol¬
kar ; and the former having taken refuge in the territory
of the British, was, by their aid, reinstated on the throne,
agreeing in return to a treaty offensive and defensive, and
to receive into his pay a force of six thousand infantry,
with the usual proportion of artillery attached, for the pay¬
ment of which he assessed districts in the southern quar¬
ter of the country. From this period the peishwa, mur¬
muring under his degradation into a state of depend¬
ence, chei’ished schemes of hostility against the British.
The first overt act of hostility was the murder of the Gui-
cowar’s ambassador, through the agency of his ambas¬
sador Trimbuckjee. But his intrigues and schemes being
discovered, he vowed the strictest fidelity in future; and
M A I
Mahrisch- in 1815 he delivered up his prime minister to the British.
Kromau He soon contrived, however, to escape to the court of Poo-
II nah; and the peishwa, no longer dissembling, joined the
Maiden. confederacy which had at that time been formed amongst
tiie native princes of India, namely, Scindia, Ameer Khan,
Holkar, and the Berar Rajah, for the destruction of the Bri¬
tish power. But this confederacy was signally overthrown ;
the peishwa’s armies were entirely routed ; and he, reduced
to the character of a wandering fugitive, at last surrendered
himself a prisoner to Sir John Malcolm, on condition of an
allowance being assigned him. It was now resolved by the
Anglo-Indian government to abolish the authority and the
name of the peishwa, which had become a rallying point for
the disaffected, and to occupy the whole of the Poonah do¬
minions for the British nation, with the reservation of cer¬
tain territories for the Satarah family. Thus was extin¬
guished not only the political influence, but the name and
authority, of the Mahratta state.
MAHRISCH-KROMAU,atown of the circle of Znaym,
in the Austrian province of Moravia, situated on the river
Rokitna. There is here an ancient castle belonging to the
Lichtenstein family, with a curious collection of antique
weapons and armour; and in the church is the burial-
place of that house. It contains 204 houses, and 1390 in¬
habitants, whose principal occupation consists in digging
coal and making potash.
MAHRISCH-TRUBAU, a city of the circle of Olmutz,
in the Austrian province of Moravia, situated on the river
Trzebowa. It contains a castle belonging to Prince Lich¬
tenstein, a cathedral, a college, 462 houses, and 3614 in¬
habitants. It is well built, is surrounded with walls, and
has manufactures of fine cloth.
MAHWAH, or Mawee, in Botany, an East Indian
tree, so called by the natives of Bahar and the neighbour¬
ing countries, but the Sanscrit name of which is Mad-
huca, or Madhudruma. It is of the class of the polyan-
dria-monogynia of Linnaeus, but of a genus not described
by him.
MAHY, a river of Hindustan, in the province of Mal-
wah and district of Oojain, not far from the source of the
Chumbul, which, after a course of 280 miles, including
its windings, falls into the Gulf of Cambay. In very few
places does it attain to any considerable depth. The banks
are inhabited by an uncivilized Hindu tribe, who are shep¬
herds.
MAI A, in fabulous history, the daughter of Atlas and
Pleione, and the mother of Mercury by Jupiter. She was
one of the Pleiades, the most luminous of the seven sis¬
ters (see Pleiades). Maia is also a surname of Cybele. I
MAIDA, a town of the kingdom of Naples, in the pro¬
vince of Calabria Ulteriore II. It stands on the river Pesipo,
about ten miles from Squillace, and contains four churches,
a nunnery, and 1860 inhabitants. It suffered very severe¬
ly by the earthquake of 1783. In the neighbourhood
there are several marble quarries, and some salt springs.
It has been rendered interesting as the scene of a battle
fought there on the 4th of July 1806, between a body of
French troops under General Regnier, and an English de¬
tachment of the same number (5000), in which the latter
under General Stewart gained a splendid victory.
MAIDEN, an instrument anciently used for beheading
criminals. Of the use and form of this instrument an ac¬
count has been given by Pennant. “ It seems to have been
confined to the limits of the forest of Hardwick, or the
eighteen towns and hamlets within its precincts. The time
when this custom took place is unknown; whether Earl
W arren, lord of this forest, might have established it among
the sanguinary laws then in use against the invaders of
the hunting rights, or whether it might not take place
after the woollen manufactures at Halifax began to gain
strength, is uncertain. The last is very probable ; for the
VOL. XIV.
MAI 41
wild country around the town was inhabited by a lawless Maiden,
set, whose depredations on the cloth-tenters might soon
stifle the efforts of infant industry. For the protection of
trade, and for the greater terror of offenders by speedy
execution, this custom seems to have been established, so
as at last to receive the force of law, which was, ‘ That if
a felon be taken within the liberty of the forest of Hard¬
wick, with goods stolen out or within the said precincts,
either hand habend, back-berand, or confession’d, to the
value of thirteen pence halfpenny, he shall, after three
market-days or meeting-days within the town of Halifax,
next after such his apprehension, and being condemned,
be taken to the gibbet, and there have his head cut from
his body.’ The offender had always a fair trial; for as
soon as he was taken, he was brought to the lord’s bailiff
at Halifax; he was then exposed on the three markets,
placed in a stocks, with the goods stolen on his back; or,
if the theft was of the cattle kind, they were placed by
him ; and this was done both to strike terror into others,
and to produce new informations against him. The bai¬
liff then summoned four freeholders of each town within
the forest to form a jury. The felon and prosecutors
were brought face to face; and the goods, the cow or
horse, or whatsoever was stolen, produced. If he was
found guilty, he was remanded to prison, had a week’s
time allowed for preparation, and then was conveyed to
this spot, where his head was struck off by this machine.
I should have premised, that if the criminal, either after
apprehension, or in the way to execution, should escape
out of the limits of the forest (part being close to the
town), the bailiff had no farther power over him ; but if
he should be caught within the precincts at any time
after, he was immediately executed on his former sen¬
tence. This privilege was very freely used during the
reign of Elizabeth: the records before that time were
lost. Twenty-five suffered in her reign, and at least
twelve from 1623 to 1650; after which, I believe, the pri¬
vilege was no more exerted. This machine of death is
now destroyed ; but I saw one of the same kind in a room
under the Parliament House at Edinburgh, where it was
introduced by the Regent Morton, who took a model of
it as he passed through Halifax, and at length suffered
by it himself. It is in the form of a painter’s easel, and
about ten feet high ; at four feet from the bottom is a
cross bar on which the felon lays his head, which is kept
down by another placed above. In the inner edges of
the frame are grooves; in these is placed a sharp axe,
with a vast weight of lead, supported at the very summit
with a peg; to that peg is fastened a cord, which the ex¬
ecutioner cutting, the axe falls, and does the affair effec¬
tually, without suffering the unhappy criminal to undergo
a repetition of strokes, as has been the case in the com¬
mon method. I must add, that if the sufferer is con¬
demned for stealing a horse or a cow, the string is tied to
the beast, which, on being whipped, pulls out this peg,
and becomes the executioner.” This apparatus is now in
possession of the Society of Scottish Antiquaries.
Maiden is also the name of a machine first used in
Yorkshire, and afterwards introduced into other places, for
washing linen. It consists of a tub nineteen inches high,
and twenty-seven in diameter at the top, in which the linen
is put, with hot water and soap, to which is adapted a co¬
ver, fitting it very closely, and fastened to the tub by two
wedges; through a hole in the middle of the cover passes
an upright piece of wood, kept at a proper height by a peg-
above, and furnished with two handles, by which it is
turned backward and forward ; and to the lower end of this
upright piece is fastened a round piece of wood, in which
are fixed several pieces, like cogs of a wheel. The opera¬
tion of this machine is to make the linen pass and repass
quickly through the water.
F
42
M A I
M A I
Maiden-
lients
MAiDEN-Rents, in our old writers, a noble paid by the
tenants of some manors on their marriage. This is said to
have been given to the lord for his omitting the custom
of marcheta, by which he was to have the first night’s
lodging with his tenant’s wife ; but it rather seems to have
been a fine for a license to marry a daughter.
MAIDENHEAD, a market-town of the county of
Berks and hundred of Cookham, twenty-six miles from
London. It is finely situated on the river Thames, over
which is a beautiful bridge. The town is not a parish, but
stands in two, viz. Bray and Cookham. It was incorporated
by James I., and wras governed by a mayor and ten aider-
men, who acted as justices of the peace ; but, by the mu¬
nicipal corporation reform law passed in 1835, these are
superseded by four aldermen and twelve councillors, with¬
out any justice of the peace. In the vicinity are many fine
seats of the nobility and gentry. There is a well-supplied
market on Wednesday. Being on the great western road,
there is much travelling through the town, and several
good inns. From being in two parishes and two hundreds,
the decennial returns do not indicate the population; but
the number of inhabitants may amount to about 3100.
MAIDEN-NEWTON, a pleasantly situated town in the
county of Dorset, 126 miles from London and seven from
Dorchester. It has a fine old church, with a tower sur¬
mounted with battlements. Being a good hunting country,
there are several hunting boxes in and around it. It stands
on the river Frome. The population amounted in 1801
to 428, in 1811 to 428, in 1821 to 520, and in 1831
to 538.
MAIDSTONE, a tovrn of the county of Kent, in the
hundred of that name and lathe of Aylesford, thirty-one
miles from London. It stands on the river Medway, in
a district of great fertility, but peculiarly eminent for the
production of hops. The river is navigable for small craft
to its junction with the sea at Sheerness. The town is well
built, consisting of four principal streets meeting at the
market-cross, and some others of less note. It is the coun¬
ty-town, where the assizes and sessions are held, as well
as the county elections. The prison is a large and appro¬
priate building. The parish church is a very handsome
and extensive pile, and the county courts are convenient¬
ly arranged. By the corporation reform bill of 1835 the
town was divided into three wards, and is governed by
six aldermen and twelve councillors, with justices of the
peace. It has returned two members to the House of
Commons ever since the reign of Edward VI., and will
continue to do so under the new law. The chief manu¬
facture is paper, which is of the finest writing kind, and
employs several mills turned by water, to the excellence
of which, in some measure, the whiteness of the paper is
to be ascribed. There is a weekly market held on Thurs¬
day, and a monthly one on the third Tuesday of each
month, at which business to a vast amount is transacted,
especially in hops. The inhabitants amounted in 1801
to 8027, in 1811 to 9443, in 1821 to 12,508, and in 1831
to 15,387.
MAII Inductio, an ancient custom, in obedience to
which the priest and people of country villages went in
procession to some adjoining wood on a May-day morning,
and then returned in a kind of triumph, with a May-pole,
boughs, flowers, garlands, and other tokens of the spring.
This May-game, or rejoicing at the coming of the spring,
was for a long time observed, and still is. so, in some parts
of England ; but there was thought to be so much hea¬
then vanity in it, that it was condemned and prohibited
within the diocese of Lincoln by the good old Bishop
Grostete or Greathead.
MAIL (maille), a term primarily applied to the meshes
or holes in network.
Coat of Mail, called also a habergeon, was a sort of
shirt composed of interlaced iron rings, and anciently worn
under the waistcoat, to serve as a defence against swords
and poniards. There were also gloves of mail.
Mail, or Mall, signifies a round ring of iron, and hence
the play of pall-mall, from palla, a ball, and maille, the
round ring through which it is to pass.
Mail, or Maille, in our old writers, a small kind of mo¬
ney. Silver halfpence were likewuse termed mailles (9
Henry V.). By indenture in the mint, a pound weight of
old sterling silver was to be coined into 360 sterlings or
pennies, or 720 mails or half pennies, or 1440 farthings;
and hence was derived the word mail, which is now vul¬
garly used in Scotland to signify an annual rent.
MAILCOTTA, a town of Hindustan, in the Mysore
rajah’s territories, situated upon a rocky elevation, com¬
manding a view of the valley watered by the Cavery. It
is one of the most celebrated places of Hindu worship,
ihe large temple is a square building of great dimensions,
entirely surrounded by a colonnade, though a mean piece
of architecture. There are about 400 houses in the town,
occupied by Brahmins.
MAILLA, Joseph-Anne-Marie de Moyriac de, a
learned Jesuit, was bom in the castle of Maillac, in Bu-
gey, on the borders of Savoy, and appointed a missionary
to China, whither he proceeded in 1703. At the age of
twenty-eight he had acquired such skill in the characters,
arts, sciences, mythology, and ancient books of the Chi¬
nese, as to astonish even the learned men of the celestial
empire. He was greatly beloved and esteemed by the
Emperor Kham-Hi, who died in 1722, and, together with
other missionaries, was employed by that prince to con¬
struct a map of China and Chinese Tartary, which was
engraved in France in the year 1732. He likewise made
separate maps of particular provinces of that vast empire ;
and the emperor was so pleased with these productions,
that he fixed the author at his court. The Great Annals
of China, as they are called, were also translated into
French by Father Mailla, and his manuscript was transmit¬
ted to France in the year 1737. This work was published in
thirteen volumes quarto, under the inspection of the Abbe
Grosier, and is the first complete history of that exten¬
sive empire. The style, which was heavy and bombas-
tical, has been revised by the editor; and the speeches,
which were long and tedious, have been omitted. Fa¬
ther Mailla, after having resided forty-five years in China,
died at Pekin on the 28th of June 1748, in the seventy-
ninth year of his age. He was a man of a lively and gen¬
tle character, capable of the most persevering labour and
the most unremitting activity.
MAILLEZAY, a town of France, in the department of
Vendee and arrondissement of Fontenay. It is situated
on an island formed by the rivers Autise and Sevre-
Niortaise, and is somewhat unhealthy, but contains 1450
inhabitants.
MAIM, Maihem, or Mayhem, in Law, a wound by
which a person loses the use of a member that might have
been a defence to him ; as when a bone is broken, a foot,
hand, or other member cut off, or an eye put out; though
the cutting off an ear or nose, or breaking the hinder
teeth, was formerly held to be no maim. It was enacted
by the statute 22 and 23 Car. II. that if any person, from
malice aforethought, should disable any limb or member of
any of the king’s subjects, with an intent to disfigure him,
the offender, with his aiders and abettors, should be guilty
of felony without benefit of clergy; but no such attainder
was to corrupt the blood, or to occasion forfeiture of lands.
By Lord Ellenborough’s act, cutting and maiming to the
danger of life or limb is made a capital felony.
MAIMONIDES, Moses, a celebrated rabbi, called by
the Jews the Eagle of the Doctors, was descended of an il¬
lustrious family at Cordova in Spain in 1131. The early
M A I
M A I
43
Maine, part of his education was undertaken by his father, who
afterwards placed him under the tuition of Rabbi Joseph,
the son of Megas, a person on whose profound learning
he has bestowed the highest praise; and, according to
Leo Africanus, he had also amongst his tutors the learned
Arabians Ibn Thophail and Averroes. He is commonly
named Moses JEgyptius, because he settled in Egypt,
where he spent his whole life in quality of physician to
the sultan. Here he opened a school, which was soon
filled with pupils from all parts, especially from Alexan¬
dria and Damascus, and their proficiency under his tuition
spread his fame all over the world. He was no less emi¬
nent in philosophy, mathematics, and divinity, than in me¬
dicine. Casaubon affirms of him, as Pliny said of Diodo¬
rus Siculus, that he was the first of his tribe who ceased
to be a trifler. It would be tedious to enumerate all the
works of Maimonides ; some of them were originally writ¬
ten in Arabic, but are now extant only in Hebrew transla¬
tions. Those who desire to learn the doctrine and the ca¬
non law contained in the Talmud, may read Maimonides’s
compendium of that collection, entitled Jad, written in
good Hebrew; and in which they will find great part of
the fables and absurdities in the Talmud entirely discarded.
But the More Nevochim is the most valued of all his works,
being designed to explain the obscure vrords, phrases, me¬
taphors, and allusions in Scripture, which, when literally
interpreted, have no meaning, or appear to have an absurd
one. Besides the Jad and the More Nevochhn, he wrote
Peruschim, or Commentaries on the Misna, and a great
many tracts upon theology, philosophy, logic, and medi¬
cine, some of them in Arabic, and others in Chaldaic or in
Greek.
MAINE, one of the United States of North Americans
situated between the parallels 43. 5. and 48. 3. north lati¬
tude, and extends from 66. 49. to 70. 55. west longitude.
It is bounded on the north by Lower Canada, on the east
by New Brunswick, on the south by the Atlantic Ocean,
and on the west by New Hampshire. It is 350 miles in
its greatest length, and ninety-two miles in mean breadth,
the area by the rhombs being 32,192 square miles. Three
fourths of the surface of this state are covered with a dark
and deep forest of birch, beech, and evergreens. A wide
belt along the sea-shore has been denuded of its timber,
but this clearing of the soil diminishes as we advance to¬
wards the north. The coast between Casco Bay and Pas-
samaquoddy is penetrated by innumerable arms of the sea,
and profusely studded with islands. This state has a greater
extent of sea-coast, and more good harbours, than any
other in the Union ; and the ocean breaks upon the shore
with a violence which reduces the ice to fragments, thus
preserving the harbours of Maine open, whilst those situ¬
ated several degrees to the southward are frozen up. A
tract commencing at the west side of the district, east of
the White Mountains, in New Hampshire, and holding a
north-east direction as far as the heads of the Aroostic,
about 160 miles in length by sixty in its greatest breadth,
is mountainous. Katahdin Mountain is the most ele¬
vated summit in this range. In the northern extremity
there is likewise a small mountainous tract. The rest of
the state generally may be considered as a moderately hilly
country. The principal rivers are, St Croix, Penobscot,
Kennebeck, Androscoggin, Saco, Piscataqua, and a number
of smaller streams. The chief bays are Casco, Penobscot,
Frenchman’s, and Passamaquoddy. Amongst the lakes,
which are so abundant, those called Umbagog and Moose-
head are the largest. In the interior there are a great
number of small sheets of water, which afford the finest
fresh-water fish. The numerous bays and inlets upon the
coast furnish immense supplies of sea-fish ; and the larger
streams are replete with salmon and shad.
The tract of country along the coast, from ten to twenty
miles in width, embraces all the varieties of sandy, gravelly,
clayey, and loamy soils. Although in • many places toler¬
ably fertile, it is seldom very rich, but rather the reverse.
The principal productions of this section are Indian corn,
rye, barley, and grass. North of this there is a tract which
extends fifty miles from the sea in the western, eighty in
the central, and ninety in the eastern part; and here the
same kinds of soil are found, but they are frequently less
diversified, and in general more fertile. The surface rises
into elevations, consisting of good soil; and between them,
on the margins of the streams, rich intervals are frequent.
In other places, only sandy or gravelly pine plains, or spruce
and cedar swamps, are met with. The productions of this
section are similar to those already mentioned, with the
addition of flax. The best land in the state is that which
lies between the rivers Kennebeck and Penobscot. It is
well adapted to the purposes of agriculture; and, as a
grazing country, it is one of the finest in New England. The
climate is severe, and there are five months of decided
winter; yet the serenity of the sky and the purity of the
air render the whole country very salubrious. Summer in
most parts is favourable to the growth of all the vegetable
productions of the northern states; and some of these are
of a class that could not have been expected from such a
temperature. In the interior, for instance, there are fine
orchards of apple and pear trees, particularly of the latter.
Amongst the fruits, wild or cultivated, are gooseberries,
currants, wild plums, cherries, grapes, and a great abun¬
dance of cranberries. Vast quantities of sea-weed are cast
ashore by the ocean, and this serves as an excellent manure
for the soil.
From the number and excellence of its harbours, this
state enjoys ample facilities for commerce. All the settled
parts of the country lie near a market, so that the farmer
can easily dispose of his goods for ready money. Timber
is the principal article of export, and vast quantities of it
in the shape of boards, shingles, clapboards^ masts, spars,
and the like, are transported to the neighbouring states, to
the West Indies, and to Europe. Dried fish and pickled
salmon are exported to a considerable extent. Beef, pork,
butter, pot and pearl ashes, and a little grain, may likewise
be enumerated amongst the articles of export. Limestone
and bog-iron ore abound in many places, and great quan¬
tities of lime are annually exported. The chief manufac¬
tures consist of cotton and woollen cloths, hats, shoes, boots,
leather, iron, nails, distilled spirits, and cordage.
The principal seminary of education belonging to this
state is Bowdoin College, in Brunswick, which was incor¬
porated in 1794. It has four professors, two tutors, about
one hundred and twenty students, a complete philosophi¬
cal apparatus, and a library of nearly 5000 volumes. The
college is endowed with five townships of land. The Maine
charity school at Bangor was incorporated in 1814. Its
design is to educate young men for the ministry in a short¬
er time than is usual at other seminaries. There is a lite¬
rary and theological institution, under the direction of the
Baptist denomination, at Waterville, and lyceums at Hal¬
lowed and Gardiner. Free schools are established in every
town, and, by a permanent law, each town is compelled to
raise for this object a sum equal to forty cents, for each in¬
dividual annually. The sum required to be annually raised
is 119,334 dollars; the annual expenditure is 137,878,57
dollars.
As happens throughout all the American states, the seve¬
ral religious denominations have emulated each other in at¬
tempts to gain an ascendancy over the community. The
Baptists have 210 churches, 136 ministers, 22 licentiates,
and 12,936 communicants; the Congregationalists have
156 churches, 107 pastors, and 9626 communicants; the
Methodists have fifty-six ministers, and 12,182 communi¬
cants ; the Free-will Baptists have about fifty congrega-
Maine.
44
M A I
M A I
Maine.
tions, the Friends about thirty societies, the Unitarians
twelve societies, the Episcopalians four ministers, the
Roman Catholics four churches, and the New Jerusalem
church three societies; and there are some Universalists.
Population of the Counties and County Towns.
Counties.
Population.
1820.
1830.
County Towns.
Population.
Distance
from
Augusta.
from
Washington.
Cumberland.
Hancock 
Kennebeck..
Lincoln.
Oxford 
Penobscot...
Somerset.....
Waldo 
Washington.
York 
49,445
17,856
40,150
46,843
27,104
13,870
21,787
22,253
12,744
46,283
60,113
24,347
52,491
57,181
35,217
31,530
35,788
29,790
21,295
51,710
Portland 
Castine. 
Augusta 
f Wiscasset...
Topsham....
(^Warren 
Paris 
Bangor 
Norridgewock.
Belfast 
Machias 
/York 
Alfred 
12,601
1,155
3,980
2,443
1,564
2,030
2,337
2,868
1,710
3,077
1,021
3,485
1,453
298,335
399,462
53
78
24
31
44
42
66
28
40
143
99
86
542
676
595
589
569
617
581
661
623
641
745
500
513
Portland, the largest town in the state ofMaine, is a neat
and handsomely-built place, situated on a peninsula which
projects into Casco Bay. It lies 110 miles north-east
from Boston, in latitude 43° 39' north, longitude 70° 20' 30"
west. It is well situated for commerce, having an exten¬
sive and thriving back country, and one of the finest har¬
bours on the continent, deep, safe, capacious, easy of ac¬
cess, and seldom frozen. On a head-land at the entrance
of the harbour there is a lighthouse seventy feet in height.
The town is well laid out, and built in a very convenient
and elegant style. It is defended by forts placed on op¬
posite sides of the ship channel, one mile and a half from
the lighthouse. The islands around the harbour are very
numerous and beautiful, and afford a protection to it against
the violence of the storms. The shipping belonging to this
port in 1831 amounted to 42,992 tons. The principal ar¬
ticles of export are lumber and fish. Much attention has
been paid to education, there being abundance of schools
of every description ; and various religious sects have
places of worship. There is a customhouse, an athenaeum
containing a library of 3000 volumes, six banks including
the branch of the United States, and a theatre. The Cum¬
berland and Oxford Canal extends from Portland to Seba-
go Pond.
Brunswick, a post-town, is situated twenty-six miles
north-east of Portland, on the south-west side of the An¬
droscoggin, in the vicinity of whose falls there are se¬
veral mills and manufactories. Bath is situated upon the
west side of Kennebeck River, twelve miles from the sea,
and thirty-five miles north-east from Portland. It pos¬
sesses great advantages for commerce, being at the head
of winter navigation, and owns more shipping than any
other town in the state, with the exception of Portland.
Ship-building is carried on to some extent, and the com¬
merce is considerable. Wiscasset is situated upon the
Sheepscot, eight miles north-east of Bath. The river is
navigable to this place for the largest vessels, and the
harbour is generally open throughout the winter. Wal-
doborough, situated twenty-two miles east of Wiscasset,
has a large amount of shipping, employed principally in
the coasting trade. Castine is situated on a promontory
on the east side of Penobscot Bay. It has a large, deep,
and excellent harbour, accessible at all seasons of the year.
It has great strength, from its natural situation ; and if
efficient batteries were erected, it might almost bid de¬
fiance to attack. These circumstances, combined with its
favourable situation for the entry of prizes, and, above all,
its geographical position, enabling it to communicate, by a
few days’ sail, with Halifax, and, by a short route up the
Penobscot, with Quebec, giving it a command of all the
intermediate country from the Penobscot to the St Croix,
render it of the highest consequence in a military point
of view. Bangor is a flourishing town, thirty-five miles
north of Castine, on the west side of the Penobscot. Be¬
ing at the head of the navigation on the largest river in
the state, it is admirably situated for commerce. Machias
lies near the south-east corner of the state, upon Machias
Bay, at the mouth of Machias River. This is a very
thriving town, and from it are exported large quantities
of boards, shingles, spars, and other kinds of prepared
timber. There are twenty-six saw-mills in the town,
which on an average cut upwards of 10,000,000 feet of
boards annually. Lubec or Eastport is a new and flou¬
rishing town, situated on a peninsula at the southern ex¬
tremity of Passamaquoddy Bay. York is an ancient town
on the coast, near the south-west extremity of the state.
Hallowell is a flourishing town on Kennebeck River, more
than forty miles from its mouth. Vessels of a hundred
and fifty tons ascend to this place. Augusta is situated
two miles above Hallowell, and fifty-six miles north-north¬
east of Portland. It is a pleasant and flourishing town,
and was by an act of the legislature constituted the politi¬
cal metropolis in 1832. Here is an elegant bridge across
the Kennebeck, consisting of two arches, each 180 feet in
span. The river is navigable to Augusta for vessels of a
hundred tons. The most flourishing towns on the Ken¬
nebeck above Augusta are Vassalborough, Waterville, and
Norridgewock.
There are 164 looms in this state, in which is invested
a capital of 765,000 dollars. The quantity of cloth ma¬
nufactured in 1831 was 1,750,000 yards. There are 16,057
looms for the manufacture of woollen stuffs, and the num¬
ber of yards produced during the same year was 2,645,755,
valued at 1,067,702 dollars. The number of registered
vessels belonging to Maine in 1830 was forty-five ships,
186 brigs, forty-seven schooners, and four sloops; the
number of enrolled and licensed vessels was nine ships,
sixty-six brigs, 1243 schooners, 119 sloops, and three
steam-boats; the number of licensed vessels under twen¬
ty tons was 245 schooners and six sloops; the total num-
MAI
Main-Sac ber of vessels being 1973, manned by 9069 seamen. The
d||l value of the imports into Maine for the year ending Sep-
Mainte- tetnber 1833 was as follows: Imported in American ves-
non- sels, 1,170,156; in foreign vessels, 210,150; total, 1,380,308
dollars. Value of the exports for the same year : Domes¬
tic produce in American vessels, 815,797; ditto in foreign
vessels, 173,390; total value of domestic produce exported,
989,187 dollars. Foreign produce exported in American
vessels, 29,653; in foreign vessels, 991; total value of fo¬
reign produce exported, 30,644 dollars. Total value of
domestic and foreign produce exported, 1,019,831 dollars.
The amount of postage received in Maine for the year
ending March 1832 was 31,223,63 dollars. The number of
banks in Maine in 1833 and at the commencement of 1834
was twenty, with a capital of 2,727,000 dollars. The num¬
ber of notes issued was 1,303,671; specie and specie
funds, 108,403 ; deposits, 662,804; discounts of notes, &c.
4,157,556 dollars. Since the beginning of 1834, charters
for three new state banks have been granted to Maine.
Some voyages of discovery were made by the English
to that part of the American continent since called Maine,
as early as 1602 and 1603 ; and it is described under the
name of Mavoosheen. It was visited by French naviga¬
tors, and, amongst others, by De Monts and Champlain,
a few years afterwards; but it was not till 1630 that
settlements were permanently established. The govern¬
ment was at first proprietary; but in 1652 the province
of Massachusetts Bay claimed this territory, as included
within the limits of their charter. In 1820, however, it
was separated from Massachusetts, and received into the
Union as an independent state. By the constitution, the
legislative power is vested in a senate and a house of re¬
presentatives, both elected annually; and these two bodies
are together styled the Legislature of Maine. The number
of representatives cannot be less than 100, nor more than
200. A town having 1500 inhabitants is entitled to send
one representative; having 3750, two; 6775, three; 10,500,
four; 15,000, five ; 20,250, six; 26,270, seven ; but no town
can ever send more than seven. The number of senators
cannot be less than twenty, nor more than thirty-one.
The legislature meets at Augusta annually, on the first
Wednesday in January. The executive power is vested in
a governor, who is elected annually by the people on the
second Monday in September, and his term of office com¬
mences on the first Wednesday in January. A council of
seven members is elected annually on the first Wednesday
in January, by joint ballot of the senators and represen¬
tatives, to advise the governor in the executive part of
government. The right of suffrage is granted to every male
citizen aged twenty-one years or upwards (excepting pau¬
pers, persons under guardianship, and Indians not taxed),
who has had his residence established in the state for the
term of three months immediately preceding an election.
The judicial power is vested in a supreme judicial court,
and such other courts as the legislature may from time to
time establish. All the judges are appointed by the go¬
vernor, with the advice and consent of the council; and
they hold their offices during good behaviour, but not be¬
yond the age of seventy. (r. r. r.)
MAIN-SAC, a market-town of France, in the depart¬
ment of Creuse and arrondissement of Aubusson, contain¬
ing 245 houses and 1540 inhabitants.
MAINTENON, Madame de, a French lady of extra¬
ordinary fortune, who from a very low condition was at last
raised to be the wife of Louis XIV. She was descended
from the ancient family of D’Aubigne, born in 1635, and
baptized trances d’Aubigne. Her parents by misfortunes
being unable to support her, she was intrusted to the care of
her mother’s relations ; and, to escape this state of depen¬
dence, she was induced, in 1651, to marry the Abbe Scar-
ron, who was deformed, infirm, and, as she insinuates in one
MAI 45
of her letters, impotent, with no other means of support than Main tenon
a small pension allowed him by the court. She lived with li
him many years, which Voltaire makes no scruple to call the Mairan.
happiest of her life ; but when he died in 1660, she found
herself as indigent as she had been before her marriage.
Her friends indeed endeavoured to get her husband’s pen¬
sion continued to her, and presented so many petitions
to the king about it, that he became quite weary of them,
and was heard to exclaim, “ Must I always be pestered
with the widow Scarron ?” At last, however, through the
recommendation of his mistress, he settled a much larger
pension on her than that which her husband had enjoyed,
with an apology for making her wait so long; and after¬
wards made choice of her to take charge of the educa¬
tion of the young Duke of Maine, his son by Madame
de Montespan. The letters she wrote on this occasion
charmed the king, and proved the occasion of her ad¬
vancement ; her personal merit effected all the rest. He
bought her the lands of Maintenon, the only estate she
ever had ; and, finding that she was pleased with the
acquisition, called her publicly Madame de Maintenon,
which was of great service to her in her good fortune,
by releasing her from the ridicule attending the name
of a buffoon. Her elevation was to her only a retreat;
the king came to her apartment every day after dinner,
and continued there till midnight, transacting business
with his ministers, whilst Madame de Maintenon, em¬
ployed in reading or needle-work, never evinced any de¬
sire to talk of state affairs, carefully avoided all appear¬
ance of cabal or intrigue, and did not even make use of
her power to advance her own relations. About the close
of the year 1685, Louis XIV., being then in his forty-eighth,
whilst she was in her fiftieth year, raised her from the con¬
dition of a mistress to that of a wife. By consummate art
and address, concealed under a mask of affected simplicity
and piety, she attained the grand object of her ambition ;
and, though not publicly acknowledged, became in reality
the second person in the state. She prevailed on Louis to
found a religious community at St Cyr, for the education
of three hundred young ladies of quality ; and thither she
frequently retired to indulge that melancholy of which she
complains so pathetically in one of her letters, and which
few ladies will suppose she could be subject to in so elevat¬
ed a situation. But, as Voltaire justly observes, if any thing
could show the vanity of ambition, it would certainly be
this letter. Madame de Maintenon could have no other
uneasiness than what arose from the uniformity of her man¬
ner of living with the king; and this made her once say to
the Count d’Aubigne, her brother, “ I can hold it no longer ;
I wish I was dead.” Louis, however, died before her, in
1715, upon which she retired to St Cyr, where she spent
the rest of her days in acts of devotion. It appears that
her husband left no fixed provision for her, contenting him¬
self with recommending her to the Duke of Orleans. She
accepted a pension of 80,000 livres, which was punctually
paid her till her death, which took place in 1719. A col¬
lection of her letters has been published, and translated into
English ; and from these familiar communications her cha¬
racter will be better ascertained than from any general de¬
scription.
Maintenon, a town of France, in the department of
the Eure and Loire, and arrondissement of Chartres. It
stands at the junction of the Boise with the Loire, and
contains 290 houses, with 1750 inhabitants.
MAIRAN, Jean Jacques d’Ortous de, descended
from a noble family at Beziers, was born in that city in
1678, and died at Paris on the 20th of February 1771, at
the age of ninety-three. He was one of the most illustri¬
ous members of the Academy of Sciences and of the French
Academy. Being early connected with the former, he, in
the year 1741, succeeded Fontenelle in the office of secre-
M A I
tary. This station he filled with distinguished success till
the year 1744, and, like his predecessor, possessed the fa¬
culty of placing the most abstract subjects in the clearest
light ;.a talent which is very rare, but which appears con¬
spicuous in all his works. These are, 1. Dissertation sur les
Variations du Barometre, 1715, in 12mo; 2. Dissertation
sur la Cause de la Lumiere des Phosphores et des Nocti-
luques, 1717, in 12mo ; 3. Dissertation sur la Glace, 1719,
in 12mo ; 4. Lettre a M. FAbbe Bignon sur la Nature des
Vaisseaux, 1728, in 4to ; 5. Traite Physique et Historique
de FAurore Boreale, 1733, in 4to; 6. Dissertation sur les
Forces Motrices des Corps, 1741, in 12mo; 7. Lettre a
Madame du Chatelet sur la question des Forces Vives,
1741, in 12mo ; 8. Eloges des Academiciens de FAcademie
des Sciences morts en 1741, 1743, et 1747, in 12mo; 9.
Lettre au Pere Parennin, contenant diverses Questions sur
la Chine, in 12mo. Mairan was much admired in society
as a lively and agreeable as well as an intelligent and in¬
structive companion.
MAIRE, Streights le, a passage to Cape Horn, situ¬
ated between Terra del Fuego and Staten Island, which,
being discovered by Le Maire, obtained his name. It is
now, however, less made use of than formerly, ships go¬
ing round Staten Island as well as Terra del Fuego.
MAISON-BLANCHE, a town of the department of the
Saone and Loire, and arrondissement of Macon, in France,
on the verge of the department of the Rhone, containing
2200 inhabitants.
MAISSY, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Ba-
hore and district of Battiah, fifty-four miles north from
Patna. Long. 85. 7. E. Lat. 26. 20. N.
MAISTRE, Louis Isaac le, better known by the
name of Sacy, formed from that oflsaac, was born at Paris
in 1613. After a course of study under the direction of the
Abbe de Saint Cyran, he was admitted to the priesthood
in 1648, and soon afterwards chosen director of the reli¬
gious house of Port Royal des Champs. But this esta¬
blishment being accused of Jansenism, its enemies were
furnished with a pretence for persecuting the inmates of
the house. In 1661 the director was obliged to conceal
himself, and in 1666 he was committed to the Bastille.
During his confinement he composed his book entitled
Figures de la Bible, in which, according to the Molinists,
allusions are made to the sufferings endured by the Jansen-
ists. To Sacy’s confinement the public are also indebted
for a French translation of the Bible. This work was
finished in 1668, the evening before the feast of All Saints;
on which day he recovered his liberty, after an imprison¬
ment of two years and a half. He was presented to the
king and the minister ; and all the favour he asked from
them was, that they would send several times a year to ex¬
amine the state of the prisoners in the Bastille. Le Maistre
continued in Paris till 1675, when he retired to Port Royal,
which he was obliged to leave in 1679. He then went to
settle at Pompone, where he died on the 4th of January
1684, at the age of seventy-one. His works are, 1. La
Traduction de la Bible, Paris, 1682; 2. Une Traduction
des Psaumes selon FHebreu et la Vulgate, in 12mo; 3.
Une version des Homelies de St Chrysostome sur St Mat-
thieu, in three vols. 8vo; 4. La Traduction de limitation
de Jesus Christ (sous le nom de Beuil, prieur de Saint-
Val), Paris, 1663, 8vo; 5. Celle de Phedre (sous le nom
de Saint-Aubin), 12mo; 6. De trois Comedies de Terence,
in 12mo; 7. Des Lettres de Bongars (sous le nom de
Brianville) ; 8. Du Poeme de St Prosper sur les Ingrates,
en verse et en prose, 12mo; 9. Les Enluminures de FA1-
manach des Jesuites, 1654, 12mo, reprinted in 1733; 10.
Heuresde Port-Royal, 12mo; 11. Lettres de Piete, Paris,
1690, 2 vols. 8vo.
MAITEU, a small island in the South Pacific Ocean,
supposed to have been first discovered by Quiros in 1606.
M A I
The island is in subjection to the sovereign of Otaheite. Malt ire
Long. 148. 12. W. Lat. 17. 53. S. " ' 
MAITTAIRE, Michael, an eminent classical editor, of
a foreign family, was born in 1668. He was educated at
\\ estminster school, where Dr Busby kept him to the study
of Greek and Latin some years longer than usual. He
then gained another powerful friend in Dr South, canon
of Christ Church, who made him a student of that house,
where he took the degree of master of arts early in 1696.
From 1695 till 1699, he was second master of Westminster
school, which-was afterwards indebted to him for Graecee
Linguae Dialecti, in usum Scholae Westmonasteriensis,
1706, 8vo, and also for the English Grammar, applied to,
and exemplified in, the English Tongue, 1712, 8vo. In
1711, he published Remarks on Whiston’s Account of the
proceedings of Convocation relative to himself, in a Letter to .
the Bishop of Bath and W ells, 8vo; and also an Essay against
Arianism, and some other Heresies, in reply to Whiston’s
historical Preface and Appendix to his Primitive Christi¬
anity Revived, 8vo. In 1709 he gave the first specimen of
his skill in typographical antiquities, by publishing Stepha-
norum Historia, vitas ipsorum ac libros complectens, 8vo.
Phis was followed in 1717 by Historia Typographorum
aliquot Parisiensium, vitas et libros complectens, 8vo; and
in 1719 appeared Annales Typographici ab artis invent®
origine ad annum m.d. 4to. The second volume, divided
into two parts, and continued to the year 1536, was pub¬
lished at the Hague in 1702, prefaced by a letter of Toland,
under the title ot Conjectura verisimilis de prima Typo-
graphi® Inventione; the third volume, in two parts, con¬
tinued to 1557, and (by an appendix) to 1664, issued from
the same press in 1725 ; and in 1733 was published at Am¬
sterdam what was usually considered as the fourth volume,
under the title of Annales Typographici ab artis invent®
origine, ad annum m.dclxiv. opera Mich. Maittaire, a.m.
editio nova, auctior et emendatior tomi primi pars posterior.
In 1741 the work was closed at London, by Annalium Ty-
pographicorum tomus quintus et ultimus, indicem in tomos
quatuor pr®euntes complectens, divided, like the two pre¬
ceding volumes, into two parts. In the intermediate years,
Mr Maittaire was diligently employed on various works of
importance. In 1713 he published by subscription Opera
et Fragmenta Veterum Poetarum, 1713, in two volumes in
folio ; but the title of some copies is dated 1721. In 1714,
he edited a Greek Testament, in two volumes. The Latin
writers, which he published separately, most of them with
good indexes, came out in the following order: In 1713,
Christus Patiens, Justin, Lucretius. Ph®drus, Sallust, Te¬
rence; in 1715, Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius, Cornelius Ne-
pos, Florus, Horace, Juvenal, Ovid in three vols., and Vir¬
gil; in 1711, C®sar’s Commentaries, Martial, and Quintus
Curtius; in 1718 and 1725, Velleius Paterculus; in 1719,
Lucan ; and in 1720, Bonefonii Carmina. In 1721, he pub¬
lished, Batrachomyomachia, Gr®ce, ad veterum exempla-
rium fidem recusa; glossa Gr®ca, variantibus lectionibus,
versionibus Latinis, commentariis et indicibus, illustrata,
8vo; and in 1722, Miscellanea Gr®corum aliquot Scripto-
rum Carmina, cum versione Latina et notis, in 4to. In 1724
he compiled, at the request ot Dr John Freind, an index to
the works of Aret®us, intended to accompany the folio edi¬
tion of that author published in 1723. In 1725 he published
an edition of Anacreon in 4to, of which only a hundred co¬
pies were printed, and the few errata in each copy corrected
by his own hand. In 1726 he published Petri Petiti Medici
Parisiensis in tres priores Aret®i Cappadocis Libros Com-
mentarii, nunc primum editi, in 4to. This learned commen¬
tary was found amongst the papers of Gr®vius. From 1728
to 1733 he was employed in publishing Marmorum Arun-
delianorum, Seldenianorum, aliorumque Academi® Oxoni-
ensi donatorum, una cum Commentariis et Indice, editio
secunda, folio, to which an appendix was printed in 1733 ;
M A J
Maixent and Epistola D. Mich. Maittaire ad D. P. des Maizeaux,
II in qua Indices in Annales Typographicos methodus expli-
Major. catufj printed in the Present State of the Republic of Let-
ters, for 1733 (p. 142). The life of Robert Stephens in
Latin, revised and corrected by the author, with a new and
complete list of his works, is prefixed to the improved edi¬
tion of Stephens’s Thesaurus, 4 vols. in folio, which appeared
in 1734. In 1736 was published Antiquselnscriptiones duae,
folio, being a commentary on two large copper tables dis¬
covered near Heraclea, in the bay of Tarentum. In the year
1738 were printed at the Hague, Grsecae Linguae Dialecti in
Schoke Regiae Westmonasteriensis usum recogniti, opera
Mich. Maittaire. In 1739 he addressed to the empress of
Russia a small Latin poem, under the title of Carmen Epi-
cinium Augustissimae Russorum Imperatrici sacrum. He
was also editor of Plutarch’s Apophthegmata, 1641, in 4to.
The last publication of Maittaire was a volume of poems
in 4to, 1742, under the title of Senilia, sive Poetica aliquot
in argumentis varii generis Tentamina. Mr Maittaire died
in 1747, aged seventy-nine. His valuable library, which
had been fifty years collecting, was sold by auction at the
close of the same year and the beginning of the following,
taking up in all forty-four nights. Mr Maittaire was pa¬
tronized by the first Earl of Oxford, both before and after
that gentleman’s elevation to the peerage, and he continued
to be a favourite with his son the second earl; he was also
Latin tutor to Mr Stanhope, the Earl of Chesterfield’s fa¬
vourite son.
MAIXENT, St, a city of France, of the department of
the Deux Sevres and arrondissement of Niort, situated on
the navigable river Sevre-Niortaise. Though it suffered
much in the Vendeean war, it has been re-established, and
contains 610 houses, with 4200 inhabitants, who are occu¬
pied in making serges, hats, and hosiery.
MAIZE, or Indian Corn. See Botany.
MAJESTY, a title given to kings, which frequently
serves as a term of distinction. The word seems compos¬
ed of the two Latin words, major, greater, and status, state.
The emperor is called Sacred Majesty, Imperial Majesty,
and Caesarean Majesty ; the king of Hungary is styled His
Apostolic Majesty; the king of Spain is termed His Most
Catholic Majesty; and the king of Portugal His Most Faith¬
ful Majesty. The king of France used to be called His
Most Christian Majesty; but he was afterwards called simply
King of the French, which style and title were revived
after the revolution of July 1830. Napoleon Bonaparte
assumed the title of Emperor and King of France. With
respect to other kings, they are described from their king¬
doms, as His Britannic Majesty, His Prussian Majesty,
and the like. Formerly princes were more sparing in giv¬
ing titles, and more modest in claiming them. Before the
reign of Charles V. the king of Spain had only the title of
Highness; and before that of Henry VIII. the kings of
England were only addressed by the titles of Grace and
Highness.
Under the Roman republic, the title of Majesty {majes-
tas) belonged to the whole body of the people, and to the
principal magistrates; so that to diminish or wound the
majesty of the commonwealth was to be wanting in respect
to the state or its ministers. But when the power after¬
wards passed into the hands of a single person, the appella¬
tion of majesty was transferred to the emperor and the im¬
perial family. Pliny compliments Trajan on his being con¬
tented with the title of Greatness, and speaks very invidi¬
ously of those who affected that of Majesty. Yet this
last appears to be the most modest title that can be attri¬
buted to sovereigns, since, taken strictly, it signifies no more
than the royalty or sovereign power.
MAJOR, in the art of war, the name of several officers
of different ranks and functions.
Major-General. See General.
M A J 47
Major of a Regiment of Foot, the officer next to the Major
lieutenant-colonel. His business is to take care that the
regiment be well exercised, to see that it marches in good
order, and to rally it in case of its being broken in action.
Major of a Regiment of Horse ought to be a man of
understanding, courage, activity, experience, and address.
He should be master of arithmetic, and keep a detail of the
regiment in every particular; he should be skilled in horse¬
manship, and ever attentive to his business; he should keep
an exact roster of the officers for duty; and he should
have a perfect knowledge of all the military evolutions,
as he is obliged by his post to instruct others.
Towu-Major is the third officer in order in a garrison,
and next to the deputy-governor. He should understand
fortification, and take a particular charge of the guards,
rounds, patroles, and sentinels.
Brigade-MAJOR is a particular officer appointed for that
purpose only in camp. His business is to go every day to
head-quarters to receive orders from the adjutant-general;
to write exactly what is dictated to him ; to give the orders,
at the place appointed for that purpose, to the different
majors or adjutants of the regiments which compose that
brigade, and regulate with them the number of officers and
men that each is to furnish for the duty of the army, and
to keep an exact roster, that one may not give more than
another, and that each march in their tour. In short,
the major of brigade is charged with the particular details
of his own brigade, in much the same way as the adjutant-
general is charged with the general detail of the duty of
the army. He has to send every morning to the adjutant-
general an exact return, by battalion and company, of the
men of his brigade missing at the retreat, or a report ex¬
pressing that none are absent; and he must also mention
the officers absent with or without leave. As all orders
pass through the hands of the majors of brigade, they have
infinite occasions of making known their talents and exact¬
ness.
Major of Artillery is also the next officer to the lieu¬
tenant-colonel. In the field he goes daily to receive orders
from the brigade-majoi’, and communicates them with the
parole to his superiors, and then dictates them to the ad¬
jutant. He should bea good mathematician, and well ac¬
quainted with everything belonging to the science of pro¬
jectiles and the train of artillery.
Major of Engineers should be very well skilled in mili¬
tary architecture, fortification, gunnery, and mining. He
should know how to fortify in the field, to attack and de¬
fend all sorts of posts, and to conduct the works in a siege.
Aid-Major is on different occasions appointed to act as
major, when he has a pre-eminence above others of the
same denomination.
Serjeant-MAJOR is a non-commissioned officer, subordi¬
nate to the adjutant, as the latter is to the major. See
Serjeant.
Drum-MAJOR is not only the first drummer in the regi¬
ment, but has the same authority over his drummers as the
corporal has over his squad. He instructs them in their
different beats, and is daily at orders with the serjeants, to
know the number of drummers for duty. He marches at
their head when they beat in a body; and in the day of
battle, or at exercise, he must be very attentive to the or¬
ders given him, that he may regulate his beats according
to the movements ordered.
Fife-Major is he who plays the best on that instrument,
and has the same authority over the fifers as the drum-
major has over the drummers.
Major, in Law, a person who is of an age to manage his
own affairs. By the civil law a man is not a major till the
age of twenty-five years ; but in England he is a major at
twenty-one.
Major, in Logic, is understood of the first proposition
48 M A J
Major of a regular Syllogism. It is called major because it has
II a more extensive sense than the minor proposition, as con-
Majorca. Gaining the principal term. See Logic.
’ Major and Minor, in Music, are applied to concords
which differ from each other by a semi-tone. See Music.
Major tone is the difference between the fifth and
fourth, and major semi-tone is the difference between the
major fourth and the third. The major tone surpasses the
minor by a comma.
MAJOR-Domo, an Italian term frequently used to signi¬
fy a steward or master of the household. The title of
major-domo was formerly given in the courts of princes to
three different kinds of officers ; first, to him who took care
of what related to the prince’s table ; secondly, to the stew¬
ard of the household; and, thirdly, to the chief minister,
or person to whom the prince deputed the administration
of his affairs, foreign and domestic.
Major or Mair, John, a scholastic divine and histo¬
rian, was born at Haddington, in the province of East Lo¬
thian, in Scotland. It appears, from some passages in his
writings, that he resided both at Oxford and Cambridge.
He went to Paris in 1493, and studied in the college of
St Barbe under the celebrated Boulac, after which he re¬
moved to that of Montacute, where he began to study di¬
vinity under Standouk. In the year 1498, he was entered
of the college of Navarre. In 1505, he was created doc¬
tor in divinity; in 1519, he returned to Scotland, and
taught theology during several years in the university of
St Andrews. But, becoming disgusted with the quarrels
of his countrymen, he went back to Paris, and resumed his
lectures in the college of Montacute, where he had seve¬
ral pupils who afterwards became men of great eminence.
About the year 1530, he once more returned to Scotland,
and was chosen professor of theology at St Andrews, of
which he afterwards became provost, and died there in
1547, aged seventy-eight. His logical treatises form one
immense folio, and his commentaries on Aristotle’s physics
another ; whilst his theological works amount to several vo¬
lumes of the same size. These masses of crude and use¬
less disquisition were the admiration of his contemporaries.
A work, less prized in his own age, namely, his book De
Gestis Scotorum, first published at Paris by Badius Ascen-
sius, in the year 1521, has alone made him known to pos¬
terity. He rejects in it some of the fictions of former his¬
torians, and his merit would have been greater if he had re¬
jected more of them. He intermingles the history of Eng¬
land with that of Scotland, and has incurred the censure of
some partial writers, for giving an authority to the authors
of the former nation, which he refuses to those of his own.
Bede, Caxton, and Froissart, were exceedingly useful to
him. The style in which he wrote does not deserve com¬
mendation. Bishop Spottiswood calls it “ Sorbonnic” and
“ barbarous.”
MAJORCA, or, as called by the Spaniards, Mallorca,
an island in the Mediterranean Sea, of the group ancient¬
ly distinguished by the name of the Baleares, on account
of the great reputation of the inhabitants as slingers. Ac¬
cording to D’Anville, these islands were first settled by a
colony of Phoenicians, who transferred them to the Cartha¬
ginians, and, after that republic had been conquered, they
were subdued by the Romans, under whose dominion they
continued till the dissolution of that empire. When the
Moors overran Spain, the island came into the possession of
that race under one of their chiefs, who assumed the title
of king ; but afterwards, upon the conquest of Granada by
Ferdinand, it formed a province of the kingdom of Spain.
Majorca, the largest island of the group, is situated in north
latitude between 39° 15'and 39° 57;, and in east longitude
between 2° 9' and 3° 20'. It is about 100 miles from the
nearest coast of Spain, and 130 from Algiers on the Afri¬
can shore. Its figure is an irregular rhomboid, and its area,
M A J
according to Toffino, is 1360 square miles. The island is Majorca,
in general lofty, with high ranges of mountains covering -y——
the whole from the middle to the northern coast, and so
closely connected as to leave only a number of deep valleys
and gullies between them, bordered by precipices. Of
these mountains the most westerly and most remarkable
is a high peak, called by the natives Puig de Galatzo,
2000 feet above the level of the sea, which stands in lati¬
tude 39° 36'. The highest mountains, however, are those
on the northern side, called the Silla de Torellas, and the
Puig Major, or Great Peak. There are several others,
but they are less elevated.
Fx-om the middle of the island to the south coast, the
surface is much lower than on the north; but it presents
several hills and agreeable prospects. The land is finely
variegated by corn fields, vineyards, olive woods, orchards,
and meadows. The soil on the hills and mountains is rich
and fertile, in the valleys moist and even marshy, and on
the shore are tracts of sand and of morasses. There are no
very extensive woods, but sufficient, consisting chiefly of
dwarf trees, to supply fuel. There are no considerable rivers,
but many small brooks, and a great abundance of springs;
so that there is no scarcity of good water. A large lake,
or rather a marsh, is formed by two small rivers, called Al-
bufera, on the north coast, near the Bay of Alcudia. It is
separated from the sea by a narrow tongue of land ; but in
summer the heat nearly exhales the water, when the envi¬
rons are thereby rendered very unhealthy. The climate
is mild, agreeable, and healthy in general. The heat of
summer is rarely excessive, being cooled by the sea breezes.
The winter is temperate, and not excessive in its variations.
The thermometer of Reaumur usually stands from 10° to
14°. Snow and ice are almost unknown.
The island has no other division than into communes or
parishes; but it contains one city, thirty-four towns, and
twenty-six villages, besides many hamlets. The inhabi¬
tants are 164,500, all rigidly adhering to the Roman Ca¬
tholic church, under a bishop, with a cathedral or palma, and
eighty churches in various parts of the island, and many
monasteries and nunneries. By the accounts of 1797, it
appears there were no less than 1326 regular clergy, 1002
members of monastic orders, and 529 females in nunneries;
but they are said to have diminished since that period.
The inhabitants resemble the Spaniards of Catalonia,
both in their complexion and features. In the towns the
Castilian language is generally spoken; but the common
people use a tongue which is a medley compounded of
Limosin, Greek, Latin, Spanish, and Arabic.
The chief, indeed almost the exclusive occupation, of the
inhabitants is agriculture. According to the statistics of
Arguiles, the condition of the population is given, viz. 513
nobles, 3826 labouring proprietors, 2223 tenants cultiva¬
tors, 14,738 agricultural labourers, 3175 artisans and poor
labourers, 155 merchants and traders, 413 officers of go¬
vernment, and 2270 domestic and other servants. The
value of the whole wealth of the island, by the same mi¬
nister, is stated to be L.1,664,636, distributed thus:
Value of the land and crops, L.1,375,600; of the animals,
L.180,844; of the product of those manufactures made of
vegetable substances, L.53,884 ; of those made of animal
substances, L.20,965 ; of those made of mineral substances,
L.28,340; and of the products of the arts and of commerce,
L.5000.
The produce of corn is barely sufficient for the food of
the inhabitants. The. average growth of wheat is about
100,000 quarters, of barley 356,000, of oats 25,000, and
of pulse 21,000; but neither rye nor maize is cultivated.
In wet seasons, the corn harvest sometimes nearly fails,
when the scarcity of grain is severely felt. The produce
of culinary vegetables is most abundant, consisting of
beans, peas, melons, pumpkins, onions, garlic, and the va-
Majori
II
Maka-
riew.
M A K
rious kinds of capsicums and tomatos. As much of hemp
and flax is grown as is required for the inhabitants. Wine
is one of the most abundant products. Both the red and
white are of excellent quality ; and the quantity yielded
beyond the domestic demand is converted, by distillation,
into good brandy. The olive trees cover the sides of
most of the hills. The olives are smaller than those of
the Continent, but they are more abundant in oil, and the
whole quantity annually made amounts to more than
650,000 gallons. The mulberry trees feed a sufficient
number of worms to yield about 40,000 pounds weight of
silk. The other articles obtained from the soil, and part
of which are exported, are oranges, lemons, citrons, al¬
monds, dates, figs, pistachio nuts, and capers.
The sea around the island swarms with fish, the taking
of which affords employment to many of the inhabitants,
and tends to form some of the best sailors in the Mediter¬
ranean. Bay salt is made on the south side of the island,
sufficient for domestic purposes, as well as for curing the
fish taken on the coasts. The stock of live cattle, accord¬
ing to Grasset St Sauveur, amounts to 2000 horses, 9000
asses, 6000 horned cattle, 61,500 sheep, 33,600 goats,
and 25,000 swine. These last animals are fattened to
the weight of from 450 to 500 pounds, and form the prin¬
cipal part of the animal food of the natives.
The seat of the government of the island is the city of
Palma, situated in a bay of the same name, formed by Cape
Gala Figuera on the west, and by Cape Blanco on the east.
The bay is capacious ; and the best anchorage is near to
the city, in a depth of water from six to nine fathoms.
The bay is protected by three strong castles, and the city is
surrounded by walls and ditches. It has a fine cathedral
and an episcopal palace, a government-house, and appro¬
priate courts of justice, with several monasteries. Be¬
sides the Bay of Palma, which is on the south-west of the
island, there are two others on the north-east part of it, viz.
Alcudia and Pollenza. In the former is good anchorage
for the largest ships, within the length of three or four
cables from the town, and in six fathoms water, with very
good holding ground. It is somewhat exposed to the
north-east winds, which bring in a heavy sea, but it is
nevertheless tolerably secure. The Bay of Pollenza ad¬
mits ships of war of the largest size ; but if many of them
were to resort to it at the same time, the greater number
would be exposed to the wind from east-north-east, and a
few only would be sheltered.
The principal places and their population are, Palma,
29,400; Falaniche, 6800; Manacor, 5963 ; Seller, 5600 ;
Leuchmajor, 5400; Pollenza, 4500 ; and Bonalbufar, 3740.
MAJORI, a sea-port town of the kingdom of Naples, in
the province Principato Citeriore, containing four churches
and five monasteries, with 2668 inhabitants. There is
much coarse paper made here, which gives employment to
fifteen mills.
MAKARIEW, a circle of the Russian province Kostro¬
ma. It extends from 58. 7. to 59. north latitude, and from
43. 10. to 44. 4. east longitude. It is a poor district, and
affords very little corn, but some flax and hemp. The ca¬
pital, of the same name, is situated on the river Unsha,
which is navigable but a few months in the year. It is
633 miles from St Petersburg, and contains three churches,
a monastery, 520 houses, and 2840 inhabitants. Long1. 45.
15. E. Lat. 57. 40. N.
Makariew, a circle of the Russian province of Nishe-
gorod, extending from 44. 43. to 45. 40. east longitude, and
li om 55. 30. to 56. 49. north latitude. It is a woody district,
but produces some good flax. The inhabitants amount to
82,500, of whom 25,000 are slaves. The capital, a city of
the same name, stands on the river Wolga, 840 miles from
St 1 etersburg. It was once a place of more importance than
at present, having declined, from losing a great fair held at
VOL. XIV.
M A L
49
Malabar.
it. It contains 260 houses, and 1450 inhabitants. Long. Make-
42. 35. E. Lat. 55. 33. 40. N. wara
MAKEWARA, a small town of Hindustan, in the pro¬
vince of Delhi and district of Sirhind, within four and a
half miles distance of the Sutleje river.
MAKHNOWKA, a circle of the Russian province of
Kiew, extending in north latitude from 49. 22. to 49. 56.
and in east longitude from 38. 20. to 39. 33. It has a most
excellent soil, with rich fattening meadow land. The ca¬
pital, a city of the same name, is situated on the river
Gnilopiat, 975 miles from St Petersburg. It contains 410
houses, with 2830 inhabitants, amongst whom are many
Jews. Long. 28. 35. E. Lat. 49. 33. N.
MAKO, a town of the circle of Esanod, in the province
of Farther Theiss, in Hungary. It is situated on the river
Maros, is the seat of the Bishop of Esanod, and contains
about 7000 inhabitants. It is the seat of the several boards
of provincial government, and the place of assembly of the
states. Long. 30. 21. 58. E. Lat. 46. 13. 12. N.
MALABAR. This tract of country extends along the
western coast of India, from Cape Comorin to the river
Chandragiri, in lat. 12. 30. north. The British province of
Malabar is a particular portion of this tract, which is situ¬
ated between the 10th and 13th degrees of north latitude.
1o the north it is bounded by the province of Canara, to
the south by the rajah of Cochin’s territories, to the west
by the ocean, and to the east by the chain of the Western
Ghauts, below which the country lies, extending about
200 miles along the sea-coast. The country may be di¬
vided into two portions, the first of which borders the sea-
coast, and consists of a poor sandy soil, seldom above three
miles wide, and in general not so much. Low branches
of hills extend from the Ghauts to a considerable distance
to the westward, and sometimes even to the sea. The
strip of country bordering upon the sea is well adapted
for the cultivation of rice; and it is remarkably intersect¬
ed by inlets of the sea, which often run for great lengths
parallel to the line of coast, receiving the various mountain-
streams, and communicating with the ocean by different
narrow and shallow openings. In other places, the fresh
water, as it descends from the mountains into the low lands
within the downs upon the sea-coast, in the rainy season,
totally overflows them, as the water has no issue, and must
consequently stagnate until it evaporates. By this natural
irrigation the lands are fitted for some particular qualities
of rice. There are a few mountain streams and rivers;
and the distance of the mountains from the sea is too in¬
considerable for the formation of any large river. By far
the most extensive portion of Malabar lies in the vicinity
of the Ghaut Mountains, and consists of low hills separat¬
ed by narrow valleys, which are in general extremely fer¬
tile, being the receptacles of the fine particles of mould
carried down from the hills, and which stop when they
can be carried no farther. The hills have mostly level
summits, which are bare in many parts, especially towards
the north, and expose to the view large surfaces of naked
rock, with remarkably steep sides ; but they are seldom
of any considerable height. They are in general very in¬
dustriously cultivated; their sides, which possess the best
soil, being formed into terraces. The valleys are in most
cases watered by rivulets which carry off the superfluous
water; and where there is no issue, it overflows the adja¬
cent lands. The upland is barren, and the cultivation
much neglected; and it is in the valleys and extensive
ravines, and upon the banks of the rivers, that the inhabit¬
ants chiefly reside. Dr Buchanan mentions that some parts
of the country which he passed through in this province
vyerethe most beautiful he had ever seen, being equal to the
finest parts of Bengal, but the trees were loftier, and the
palms more numerous. In many places the rice-grounds
are interspersed with high swells, that are crowded with
50 M A L
Malabar, houses ; whilst the view to the north is bounded by naked
——- rocky mountains, and to the south by the lofty forests of
the Travancore hills.1 The climate is moist; the low
country of Malabar, as well as the whole region which
lies under the Western Ghauts, becomes excessively hot
in the month of February; and the vapours and exhala¬
tions are so thick, that it is difficult to distinguish objects
at the distance even of five miles. These vapours may
be viewed from the mountains, where the cold is very se¬
vere. The moisture collected increases with the heat;
and in March and April a prodigious quantity is accumu¬
lated, and floats in the atmosphere, sometimes ascending
nearly to the tops of the mountains, where it is checked
or condensed by the cold; but, descending immediately
after, it is again rarefied by the heat of the lower atmo¬
sphere, into vapour, before it reaches the earth. At the set¬
ting in of the western monsoon, the whole is condensed
into rain, which falls verj' heavily, partly in the low coun¬
try, and partly in the mountains ; and a small portion es¬
capes and is blown across Mysore. These heavy rains
serve to bear away the soil, and leave nothing but loose
stones and sand upon the hills. The country abounds in
lofty forests, which are sometimes intermixed with corn¬
fields and plantations of fruit-trees. The teak is produced
in great abundance, mostly about Manarghaut; but it is
too remote from any navigable river to be transported
with a profit from the place of its growth. Sandal-wood
is also exported from Malabar, though it is not the pro¬
duce of the country ; at least such as is found within the
limits of Malabar is not of a good quality, being entirely
devoid of smell; but, growing as it does immediately to
the eastward of the Western Ghauts, all that is produ¬
ced towards the sources of the Cavery naturally comes
to Malabar, which affords the nearest ports that can be
found for its exportation. The palm is produced in the
greatest abundance about Palighaut, and with proper care
an excellent spirit might be extracted from it. These
forests, unlike those in India, are the private property of
the landholders, who have exercised the right of selling and
mortgaging the trees to Moplay merchants. This right is
interfered with in a manner equally oppressive and impo¬
litic by the surveyor of forests, an officer appointed with
a view to preserve them. Sir Thomas Munro, with his
usual enlightened views, remonstrated against his inter¬
ference with the proprietors of the forests, and pointed
out its prejudicial effects upon the interests of all parties
concerned, and the grievance was to a certain extent re¬
dressed. Cocoa-nut trees abound in the province. Black
pepper is produced abundantly in Malabar, and forms the
chief export by Europeans, who usually purchase about
five eighths of all that is produced, and carry it princi¬
pally to Europe directly, or to Bombay and China. The
remainder is chiefly exported by native traders to the Bay
of Bengal, Surat, Cutch, Sinde, and other countries in
the north-west of India ; and a considerable quantity finds
its way to the Arabian ports of Muscat, Mocha, Hodeida,
and Aden. They use scarcely any horses, asses, swine,
sheep, or goats, in Malabar; and such as are required for
the use of the inhabitants are imported from the east.
They have a small breed of cattle and buffaloes ; but even
these are but little used in the transportation of goods,
which are usually carried by porters. Poultry have been
introduced into the country by the Europeans; and com¬
mon fowl may be had in abundance. In many parts field
labour is performed by slaves, who are the absolute pro¬
perty of their lords, and may be sold at pleasure. But a
husband and wife cannot be separated, though parents
M A L
may be taken from their children. The country is distin- Malaba
guished by the neatness of its villages, which are superior
to any in India. They are built of mud, which is neatly
smoothed, and are either white-washed or painted ; and
are much embellished by the beauty and elegant dresses
of the Brahmin girls. The villages, as well as the bazars,
are the work of foreigners, the aboriginal natives of Ma¬
labar living in detached houses surrounded with gardens.
The higher ranks use little clothing, but are remarkably
clean in their persons; and all ranks are free from cutane¬
ous distempers, excepting the very lowest castes of slaves.
The country being intersected by many rivers, and
bounded by a high wall of mountains, was protected by
these natural obstacles against the torrent of Mahomme-
dan invasion which desolated other parts of India; and it
was not till 1766, when it was invaded by Hyder Ali, that
it was subjected to a foreign yoke. Hence the original
manners and peculiar customs of the Hindus have been
preserved here in much greater purity than in other parts
of India. Besides the Hindus, who form the great propor¬
tion of the inhabitants, the population consists of Mop-
lays or Mahommedans, Christians, and Jews. The Hin¬
dus are divided into the following castes; namely, Nam-
buries, or Brahmins ; the Nairs of various denominations ;
the Teers or Tiars, who are cultivators of the land, and
freemen; theMalears, who are musicians and conjurors, and
also freemen; and, lastly, the Patiars, who are slaves or
bondmen. Of these castes, the most remarkable are the
Nairs, the pure Sudras of Malabar, who all lay claim to be
born soldiers, though they are of various ranks and profes¬
sions. There are altogether eleven ranks of Nairs, who
form the militia of Malabar, under the Brahmins and ra¬
jahs. They are proud and arrogant to their inferiors; and,
in former times, a Nair was expected instantly to cut down
a cultivator or fisherman who presumed to defile him by
touching his person, or a Patiar who did not turn out of his
road as a Nair passed. It is a remarkable custom amongst
this class, that a Nair never cohabits with the person whom
he calls his wife. He gives her all proper allowances of
clothing and food ; but she remains in her mother’s or
brother’s house, and cohabits with any person or persons
she chooses, of equal rank ; so that no Nair knows his own
father; and the children all belong to the mother, whose
claim to them admits of no doubt. This state of manners
also prevails in the neighbouring countries of Travancore,
Bednore, and Canara.
As in Malabar, the ancient Hindu state of property
and manners prevails, almost the whole land, cultivated
and uncultivated, belongs to individuals, and is held by a
right which conveys a full and absolute property in the
soil. There are many traditions and conjectures respect¬
ing the origin of landed property in those countries ; and
upon this subject a very full detail will be found in Mr
Thackeray’s report on the land tenures and assessments
in Malabar,2 in which he, along with Colonel Munro and
others, strongly contends, that in the southern parts of
India, namely, in Malabar, Tanjore, Trichinopoly, &c. the
private right of property in the soil has been established
from time immemorial. “ The occupants of the land,”
says one of the collectors of the revenue in Southern In¬
dia, “ by whatever name distinguished, have the right of
selling, bestowing, devising, and bequeathing their lands,
in the manner which to them is most agreeable.”3 The
succession to property, in consequence of the extraordi¬
nary customs of the Nairs, depends on the mother, about
whom there can be no mistake, though the father is fre¬
quently uncertain.
1 See Journey from Madras, through Mys e, Canara, and Malabar, by F. Buchanan, M. I), vol. ii. p. 347*
2 See Fifth Report of the Select Committee on India Affairs, p. 799.
3 Ibid. p. 831. F.xtract from the Report of the principal Collector of Tanjore and Trichinopoly.
M A L
Malabar. Christianity appears at a very early period to have
■'T'"-''made considerable progress on the Malabar coast; and
there is a greater proportion of persons professing that re¬
ligion in this than in any other part of India. Three ec¬
clesiastical chiefs, two appointed by the Portuguese church
at Goa, and one by the see of Rome, ruled over this esta¬
blishment, besides the Babylonish bishops who preside
over the Nestorian community. Forty-four churches com¬
pose at present the Nestorian communion, which has been
reduced from 200,000 souls, its amount before the arrival
of Vasco de Gama, to about 40,000. The total number of
Christians on the Malabar coast, including the Syrians or
Nestorians, is computed to amount to 200,000, of whom
90,000 are settled in Travancore. The Jews are estimat¬
ed at 30,000.
It is supposed that Malabar was, at a very early period,
conquered by a king from above the Ghauts. The Nairs
may have been established at the same time by the con¬
queror, or called in by the Brahmins, as a military body, to
support the government. In process of time they obtain¬
ed settlements in the land; and the chiefs, taking every
opportunity to aggrandize themselves, became rajahs, and
from a remote period continued to govern Malabar like
independent princes, until Hyder’s invasion in 1760. Tra¬
dition, and the general opinion of the inhabitants, con¬
tradict the notion that any land-tax existed in Malabar
prior to that event. No conclusive evidence is supplied
on this subject by the doubtful analogies of the neigh¬
bouring states; in some of which, such as Travancore, no
land-tax was said to exist, whilst in Canara a regular land-
tax has been imposed for centuries. There does not seem
to have been any urgent necessity for the establishment
of a general land-tax, as there was no army besides the
militia, nor indeed any expensive establishments. Hyder
subdued the country in 1761, and expelled all the rajahs,
except such as conciliated him by immediate submission.
Disturbances were occasioned by these proceedings; but
he succeeded in establishing his authority, and in 1782
appointed a deputy, who made still further progress in
subduing and settling the country. In 1788 Tippoo, his
son, proposed to the Hindus to embrace the true faith,
and began by levying contributions on his infidel subjects,
and forcibly circumcising many of the Brahmins, Nairs,
and others. This produced a serious rebellion, which,
however, was soon quelled by his vigorous administra¬
tion ; and in the mean time the country was laid waste
by these tyrannical proceedings. On the breaking out of
the war between Tippoo and the British in 1790, the re¬
fractory rajahs and Nairs, who were leading a predatory
life in the jungles, were encouraged to join the Company’s
army. After the war, they were re-instated in their au¬
thority ; but they made such large claims to independ¬
ence, whilst they failed at the same time to fulfil their en¬
gagements for the payment of the revenue, and were also
so tyrannical in their proceedings, that they were finally
deprived of all authority, and allowed one fifth of their re¬
venues for the support of their dignity. Many of them, in
consequence, had recourse to rebellion ; but they were put
down by a military force, and some of them punished.
Since this period, under the management of the British
collectors of revenue, the country exhibits comparative
tranquillity, and is said to be advancing in prosperity;
though the heavy assessments imposed by the British tend
to obstruct its progress.
Under the name of Malabar is distinguished a large
tract of country extending along the western coast of In¬
dia, from Cape Comorin to the river Chandragiri, in lat.
12. 30. north; and the term is frequently erroneously ap¬
plied to the whole country from Bombay to the southern
extremity. The above account applies only to the British
province of that name.
M A L 51
Malabar Point, a. remarkable promontory of Hindus- Malabar
tan, on the island of Bombay, remarkable for a cleft rock, Point
in great repute for its sanctity amongst the numerous Hin- II
dus who resort thither for the purpose of being purified Malacca-
from their sins, which is effected by passing through the
aperture, which is ot considerable elevation, being situ¬
ated amongst rocks of difficult access, that, in the stormy
season, are incessantly washed by the billows. In the vi¬
cinity are the ruins of a temple, said to have been blown
up by the Portuguese; and a beautiful Brahmin village,
built round a fine tank of considerable extent, with broad
flights of steps down to the water.
MALACA, in Ancient Geography, surnamed Fcederato-
rum by Pliny, a maritime town of Baetica (a Carthagi¬
nian colony according to Strabo), so called from malach,
signifying salt; now Malaga, a port of Granada in Spain.
Long. 4. 45. W. Lat. 36. 40. N.
MALACCA, an extensive region of India beyond the
Ganges, consisting of a large peninsula, connected, by
the isthmus of Kraw, about ninety-seven miles in breadth,
with the province of Tenasserim to the north, whilst on all
other sides it is bounded by the Eastern Ocean, having
on the west the Indian Ocean and the Straits of Malacca,
which separate it from Sumatra, and on the east the Gulf of
Siam and the Sea of China. It extends from the eleventh
to the twelfth degrees of north latitude, and is 775
miles in length, by 125 in average breadth. The coun¬
try is a long, narrow strip of land, traversed by a chain of
lofty mountains, and covered with extensive forests and
marshes, so that it is very difficult to penetrate into the
interior. A range of extremely bleak mountains runs
through it from one extremity to the other; and they
give rise to innumerable streams, the courses of which,
from the proximity of the mountains to the sea, are short,
and they are obstructed at the mouths by bars and sand¬
banks, so that they cannot be ascended by vessels of any
size. At the southern extremity of the continent are the
islands of Bintang, Batang, and Sincapore, with many
others, so thickly clustered together, that they are only
separated from the continent by narrow straits, and seem
to be a prolongation of the land. On the west coast also
there are numerous islands, amongst which may be men¬
tioned Pulo Pinang, or Prince of Wales Island.
I he soil is not remarkable for its fertility, though, like
other Malay countries, the coast is well covered with
wood, and exhibits a great extent of verdure; but the
teak tree has never yet been discovered in these forests.
I he fruits are excellent and plentiful; but grain is not
produced in sufficient quantity, and is therefore imported
from Bengal and Sumatra. The jungles, from their den¬
sity and great luxuriance, are impervious to animals, and
game is in consequence scarce. From the rivers, as well
as the sea, the inhabitants derive a plentiful supply offish.
The political state of Malacca has been subject to many
revolutions, having been occasionally dependent on Siam,
when that monarchy was in the height of its power, and
when its supremacy was owned by the whole peninsula.
But since the Siamese have yielded to the increasing
power of the Burmans, all the southern portion of the
peninsula has shaken off the yoke ; and the northern states
pay only a moderate tribute. The whole of the sea-coast,
from that latitude to Point Romania, is still possessed by
the Malays, who are mixed in some places with the Bug-
gesses from Celebes, and who have still a small settle¬
ment at Salengore. The northern and inland parts of the
peninsula are inhabited by the Patany people, who appear
to be a mixture of Siamese and Malays, and who inhabit
independent villages. The negro race is found in the in¬
terior amongst the aboriginal natives. The great majority
of the inhabitants are, however, of the Malay race, who are
well known and widely diffused amongst all the eastern
52 M A L
Malacca, islands. The origin of this remarkable race is not very
distinctly known. They are understood, however, not to
be natives of this country, but to have come originally
from the district of Palembang, in the interior of Sumatra,
situated on the banks of the river Malaya. Having crossed
over about the end of the twelfth century to the opposite
continent, they, in 1252, founded the city of Malacca.
They are of a daring, restless, and intrepid disposition ;
their character forming in this respect a striking contrast
to that of the timid inhabitants of Hindustan. They are
brave in war, but ferocious and vindictive, merciless to
enemies and strangers, and capricious and passionate even
to friends. They are proud and irascible, carrying the
point of honour to excess, with a quick sensibility to the
slightest insult, which drives them to a degree of fury bor¬
dering on desperation ; and it is by a series of what they,
in their overwrought fancies, consider to be insults, that
they are excited to a state of frenzy which ends in that
act of wild atrocity known by the name of running amok,
from the word amok, signifying kill, kill. The Malay,when
he has resolved on this desperate step, proceeds still farther
to inflame his passions, by taking a dose of opium, when
he throws loose his black hair, and, drawing his deadly
crease, rushes into the streets, thirsting for vengeance, and,
crying “ kill, kill,” slays every one whom he meets in this
furious mood. But it has been found that these unruly
passions, which often broke out into violent excesses under
the tyrannies of their Dutch rulers, were greatly allayed by
kind treatment; and that the Malay, in these circumstances,
was transformed into an entirely different character, dis¬
playing gratitude, affection, fidelity, and higher sentiments
of honour than are found amongst any other class of na¬
tives in India. Those Europeans who have engaged them
as servants, and who have treated them well, inform us
that they found them faithful and attached domestics. The
free Malays are an intelligent, active, industrious body of
men, engaged, like the Chinese, in foreign trade. They
have always addicted themselves to seafaring pursuits, and
to piracy, which they follow as if it were a lawful trade ; and
hence they are the terror of the effeminate Asiatics. Their
prows are many of them fine vessels, and navigated with
skill; but the Malay, though in genei’al a bold and hardy
mariner, is apt to sink under a continuance of cold or bad
weather, even sooner than the feeble but more docile las-
car of Bengal. Though they have been much circumscrib¬
ed in their piracies by the maritime superiority of the Eu¬
ropeans in the Eastern Seas, and no longer retain those
daring habits which rendered them the scourge of the
peaceful trader, they still carry on petty depredations; and
trading vessels are sometimes cut off, and their crews mur¬
dered with every circumstance of atrocity.
The government of the Malays is a rude description of
monarchy, with a turbulent aristocracy, or something like
the principles of the feudal system. The head of the govern¬
ment is a rajah or sultan, a name assumed from the Ara¬
bians ; and under him a certain number of nobles, with their
train of vassals. But in practice there is no regular system
of subordination, the king trampling on the chiefs and the
people, and they again rebelling against his authority ; so
that there is little else amongst them but violence and dis¬
order, which contributes to nourish their ferocious habits.
The language of the Malays has obtained very general
currency in several states upon the continent, as well as
amongst the eastern islands, though it has gained no foot¬
ing in the interior of Hindustan. On the sea-coast, and at
the mouths and on the banks of navigable rivers, it is the
medium of commercial and foreign intercourse; and the cur¬
rency which it has acquired may be ascribed partly to the
commercial and enterprising character of the people, who,
by their mercantile habits, or the power of their arms, have
established themselves in every part of the archipelago,
M A L
and also to its own valuable qualities of simplicity in the Malacc
structure, and even of pronunciation. In writing it, they ||
use the Arabic character, with the addition of six other Malach
letters. The Malays have few books in their language, V ” v"
and these consist chiefly of transcripts and versions of the
Koran, commentaries on the Mahommedan law, and tales
in prose and verse, many of them translations of the po¬
pular tales current in Arabia, Persia, India, and the neigh¬
bouring island of Java. They have also some historical
compositions.
The Malayans profess the Mahommedan religion. Un¬
til the year 1276 they were pagans, or followed some cor¬
rupted form of Hindu idolatry. Sultan Mahommed Shah,
who ascended the throne in the thirteenth century, was
the first prince who, by the propagation of this faith, ac¬
quired great celebrity during his long reign of fifty-seven
years. His dominion extended over the neighbouring
islands of Lingen and Bintang, together with Johore, Pa-
tany, Quedah, and Pera, on the coasts of the peninsula,
besides several districts in Sumatra, all of which acquired
the appellation of Malaya. During part of the fifteenth
century, Malacca was under the Siamese sovereigns. In
1509, Sultan Mahmood repelled the aggression of the king
of Siam ; but in 1511 he was conquered by the Portuguese
under Albuquerque.
Malacca is the capital of the country of Malacca, and
is situated on the straits of the same name, near the south¬
ern extremity of the Malay peninsula. The town is large ;
many of the houses are built of stone ; and there are seve¬
ral spacious and handsome streets. But that part of it in¬
habited by the natives consists of bamboo and mat huts.
Since the formation of the British settlement at Pulo Pi-
nang, or Prince of Wales Island, its commercial impor¬
tance has declined. The surrounding country is fertile
and beautiful, being finely diversified for eight miles round
with hill and dale ; and beyond that distance it is rendered
impracticable by woods and morasses. There is a good
roadstead for large ships, about a mile and a half from
the place ; but the entrance to the river is rendered intri¬
cate by a bar, over which boats cannot pass before quar¬
ter flood, nor after last quarter ebb, without much difficul¬
ty. Under the lee of the island, near to the fort, there
is a harbour, where, in the south-west monsoon, vessels of
light burden may be secured. On the southern side of
the river is a fort, the walls of w hich are in a ruinous con¬
dition. The chief imports are grain, which is brought in
considerable quantities from Bengal, Java, and Sumatra,
opium, piece-goods, silks, and dollars. The exports are
chiefly tin, pepper, sago, canes, elephants’ teeth, biche de
mer, and some gold dust. Fruits and vegetables are abun¬
dant ; and there is also plenty of buffaloes, hogs, poultry,
and fish, at moderate prices, though sheep and bullocks
are scarce. Malacca was founded about the year 1252;
and in 1508 it was first visited by the Portuguese, who,
on a quarrel which broke out, were arrested by the king,
and being thrown into prison, several of them were put to
death. Albuquerque, the renowned Portuguese comman¬
der, immediately declared war against this eastern prince ;
and, after an obstinate contest, stormed the town of Ma¬
lacca, which became one of their principal settlements,
and the key of their trade with the seas beyond India.
In 1605 it was attacked by the Dutch, who destroyed a
Portuguese fleet in the roads, but failed to take the place.
In 1640, however, they reduced it, after an obstinate re¬
sistance, and retained it till the year 1795, when it was
subjected by a British force, but was restored at the peace
of Amiens. It was afterwards recaptured by the British,
in w’hose possession it still remains. Long. 102. 12. E.
Lat. 2.14. N.
MALACHI, or the prophecy of Malachi, a canonical
book of the Old Testament, and the last of the twelve lesser
M A L
M A L
53
Malaria prophets. Malachi prophesied about 300 years ^before
II Christ, reproving the Jews for their wickedness after their
Malaga. return from Babylon, charging them with rebellion, sacri-
lege, adultery, profaneness, and infidelity; condemning the
priests for being scandalously careless in their ministry;
and at the same time not forgetting to encourage the pious
few, who, in that corrupt age, had maintained their inte¬
grity. This prophet distinctly points at the Messiah, who
was suddenly to come to his temple, and to be introduced
by Elijah the prophet, that is, John the Baptist, who came
in the spirit and power of Elias or Elijah.
MALACIA, a languishing disorder incident to pregnant
women.
MALACOPTERYGEOUS, in Ichthyology, an appel¬
lation given to fishes having the rays of their fins bony at
the extremities, but not pointed like those of acanthop-
terygeous fishes.
MALACOSTOMOUS Fishes, those destitute of teeth
in the jaws, called in English leather-mouthed, as the tench,
carp, bream, and the like.
MALAGA, a city of Spain, in the kingdom of Granada,
and province of Andalusia. There are few spots more
beautiful, and few regions more fertile, than that in which
this place is situated. It is on the sea-coast, on a rich and
well-watered plain, sheltered by high mountains from the
northerly and easterly winds, and open to the genial in¬
fluence of the sun and the south and west winds, which
have created a climate nearly similar to that of some of the
tropical islands.
Although it is beautiful and fertile, it is far from being
healthy. It is subject to epidemic fevers, to which, at va¬
rious periods, numbers of its inhabitants have fallen vic¬
tims. In one of these visitations which, in the year 1804,
afflicted all the Mediterranean shores, this city was de¬
prived, within three months, of more than 21,000 of its
inhabitants.
As this portion of Spain grows the productions more pe¬
culiarly called tropical, they are deserving of some atten¬
tion. Sugar has been cultivated here from a very distant
period ; the canes were brought from the eastern regions,
as appears by authentic memorials, as early as the ninth
century, and were then made into sugar, with very little
difference in the process from that which is now practised.
It is probable that the canes, originally from Chaldaea or
Arabia, and long propagated near Malaga, were at length
transplanted to the Canary Islands, and from them ulti¬
mately to the warmest regions of America, where they have
been extended till they have supplied Europe with one of
the most delightful and salubrious substances that is used
for human aliment. The state of hostility in which Europe
was long involved, as it raised the expense of conveying
the sugar and other tropical productions from the place of
their growth to the place of consumption, gave great in¬
ducement to the cultivation of such articles where the ex¬
pense of war-freights, insurances, and risks, might be avoid¬
ed ; and during that period there was a constant increase
in the plantations of sugar, coffee, cotton, and similar pro¬
ductions in the vicinity of Malaga. The return of peace
will naturally affect those agricultural pursuits, and reduce
them within those confined limits which they will be en¬
abled to supply without coming into competition with the
cultivators at a distance, who, from conducting their ope¬
rations on a larger scale, are enabled to dispose of their
produce on much lower terms, as well as to bear the addi¬
tional expense of a longer conveyance.
The prosperity of the district round Malaga depends,
however, more upon what may be called its indigenous pro¬
ductions, than upon the cultivation of the rarer articles to
which we have adverted. The vine flourishes most luxu¬
riantly, and its fruit dries into different kinds of raisins,
according to the different periods of the year in which they
ripen, and, when dried, becomes an important source of Malaga
wealth to the cultivators. The wines which their vineyards II
yield are of various kinds, and mostly in very high request. Ma^a"
That which is usually called mountain wine is most in de- v m0CL'°'
mand for European markets ; but a considerable quantity of
a dry wine, like sherry, is made, the great consumption of
which is in the American dominions of Spain. Oranges,
lemons, figs, almonds, and nuts, are gathered in great quan¬
tities, and furnish a considerable portion of the exports of
this city. In Malaga there are some manufactures, and in
the country whose commodities find a vent through its port
there are more, which form articles of export to America.
Silk goods of various kinds, linens, sail-cloth, leather, and
cordage, are shipped to America, as well as some goods
brought for that purpose from Russia, Germany, England,
and France. Malaga may be considered as the third port
in Spain. Cadiz is by far the first; and Barcelona was
the next, but the long occupation of that port and its sur¬
rounding country by the French destroyed much of its
commerce, and renders it doubtful whether Malaga does
not now equal it.
There is, properly speaking, no harbour ; but a pier, ex¬
tending into the sea nearly 1500 yards, gives security to
shipping ; and the largest vessels may load or discharge
their cargoes close to the wharfs of the pier. The custom¬
house, near the pier, is a magnificent building, and of an
extent far beyond the present wants of the trade of the port.
Malaga is fortified, but its defences are of little avail,
as they are commanded by heights around them, the oc¬
cupation of which by artillery would insure the surrender
of the city. The most beautiful object in this city is the
Almeida or public wralk, bordered with trees, having splen¬
did houses on both sides, but at a competent distance, and
a very superb fountain of white marble, admirably adorned
with good sculpture. The cathedral church, though of a
mixed kind of architecture, is a very imposing mass of
building, with two lofty towers at the western entrance.
It is said to be of the same dimensions within as St
Paul’s in London; but, like all Catholic churches, the in¬
terior is far more exquisitely adorned and more beautifully
finished. The roof is supported by lofty pillars with arches,
and is divided into compartments, which are well painted, so
as to resemble the sky. The high altar and the pulpits are
of the most beautiful flesh-coloured marble. The choir is a
most curious specimen of carving in wood. There are about
fifty stalls, some of cedar, others of mahogany, and all rich¬
ly carved with figures of various saints ; which has induced
some Spanish artists to call it the eighth wonder of the
world. There are two fine organs in this church, which
add much to its internal beauty. The pipes project from
the instrument, and toward their termination are widened,
and the ends curved, so as to represent a row of trumpets.
The cathedral, as well as some other churches and con¬
vents, are rich in statues and valuable paintings by native
artists. The encouragement given to the fine arts has al¬
ways distinguished the inhabitants of Malaga; and there
is, of long standing, a society for the cultivation of science
and the study of antiquities. No place affords a better field
for the pursuits of the antiquary. The Carthaginians, the
Romans, the Goths, and the Moors, have each contributed
a portion of the buildings, the remains of which are pro¬
fusely scattered about, and afford high delight to diligent
investigators. The present number of its inhabitants does
not exceed 50,000, as it has not recovered the loss of
population which it suffered from the epidemic fever of
1804. The longitude of the mole of Malaga, by observa¬
tions made in 1817, is 4. 24. 15. west from London, and
the latitude 36. 43.30. north. Upon this mole a revolving
light has been recently constructed, which may be clearly
distinguished at the distance of about six leagues.
MALAMOCCO, a town of Italy, in the delegation of
54 M A L
Malatia Venice. It is situated on a tongue of barren land, but
II has a spacious and secure haven, defended by two forts.
Islands6 Near t0 this place Was formerly celebrated the ceremony
, J ^ / of the marriage of the Doge of Venice with the Adriatic
Sea. It contains 1140 inhabitants.
MALATIA, a town of Asia Minor, situated in a fine
plain, about fifteen miles west of the Euphrates. It stands
between that river and the Melas, on the site of the an¬
cient Melitene, now in ruins. The modern town is po¬
pulous. It is situated ninety miles west-north-west of
Diarbekir.
MALATIVOE, a town and fortress of Ceylon, advan¬
tageously situated on the bank of a small river. The in¬
habitants are chiefly fishers, or traders in cattle, sheep,
and poultry, which they dispose of to the garrison, and
Europeans settled at Trincomalee. Long. 81. 7. E. Lat.
9. 17. N.
MALAUCENE,a town of France, in the department of
Vaucluse and arrondissement of Orange, situated on the
river Grauze. It contains 520 houses, and 2680 inhabi¬
tants, who spin silk, extract much olive oil, and carry on
manufactures of cloth and leather.
MALAVILLY, a town, or rather a large mud fort, of
Hindustan, in the territory of Mysore, and separated into
two portions by a transverse wall. About two miles south¬
west is a reservoir, where Tippoo was defeated in an ac¬
tion with General Harris. He afterwards destroyed this
place, and only about 500 houses have been re-built. It
is thirty-five miles east from Seringapatam. Long. 77. 16.
E. Lat. 12. 23. N.
MALCHIN, a town of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, in the
province of Gustrow, on the river Peene. It is surround¬
ed with walls, and contains 424 houses, with 2640 inha¬
bitants, who are chiefly occupied in the manufacture of
linens.
MALDA, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Ben¬
gal and district of Rajemahal, situated on a river which
communicates with the Ganges. It is a place of great
trade, and produces much silk. It is fifty-six miles north
by west from Moorshedabad. Long. 88. 4. E. Lat. 25.
3. N.
MALDEGHEM, a town of the Netherlands, in the
province of East Flanders and arrondissement of Ecc-
loo. It is situated on the river Eede, and contains 4700
inhabitants.
MALDIVE Islands. This large chain of low islands
and rocks, formed from coral, in the Indian Ocean, extends
from the equinoctial line to the eighth degree of north la¬
titude, and is situated between the seventy-second and
seventy-fourth degrees of east longitude. The greatest
breadth of the range is said to be from twenty to twenty-
four leagues, and it is formed of large groups or clusters call¬
ed Attollons. Of these groups there are seventeen, which
are most of them round ; some, again, are of an oval form,
and are separated from one another by narrow channels,
which are unsafe for ships of burden, the bottom being coral,
and the anchorage near the rocky shore, on which the bil¬
lows of the ocean beat with incessant fury. The large
islands are inhabited, and produce cocoa-nuts; but a great
proportion of the chain consists of mere rocks, rocky shoals,
and sand-banks, which are flooded at spring-tide. The
houses of the natives are built of wood, and covered with
the leaves of the cocoa-nut tree, and are scattered about
very irregularly. The royal palace is of two stories in height,
and a handsome building; and near it are a good many can¬
non, and also a magazine. These islands carry on a con¬
siderable trade with each other, and also with the continent
of India; and each island has its respective tradesmen, the
brewers residing in one group, the goldsmiths in another,
and the locksmiths, mat-makers, turners, &c. reside each in
their respective group. This intercourse is carried on by
M A L
means of a peculiar kind of boats with a small deck, which Maldon
are occasionally absent a twelvemonth from their own II
island; and on these occasions their male children are taken Male-
with them, in order to accustom them to a seafaring life. v rant e-
These islands were formerly much frequented by trading
ships from India. But they now arrive in their own boats,
of thirty tons burden, at Balasore, in Orissa, with the south¬
west monsoon, loaded with coir, cocoa-nut oil, and all the
other produce of the cocoa-nut tree, their grand staple ;
also cowries, salt-fish, turtle-shell, &c. They sail during
the north-east monsoon in December, with their return car¬
goes, namely, rice from Bengal, sugar, hardware, broad
cloth, manufactured cotton and silk goods, cutlery, silk
stuffs, coarse cottons, tobacco, &c. This commerce has
tended greatly to civilize their manners, and to render them
hospitable to strangers. Dried shark-fins are exported to
the Chinese market, where they are esteemed by that na¬
tion as an excellent seasoning for soup. The poverty of
these islands has preserved them from invasion. The Por¬
tuguese erected a fort on one of them, but they were
quickly driven away; and their conquest was meditated by
Hyder Ali, but he was otherwise occupied by his wars
with the British and the Mahrattas. The climate is in¬
tensely hot, and too unhealthy for Europeans. The Maldi¬
vians profess the Mahommedan religion, though mixed with
other idolatrous superstitions. One of their superstitious
practices consists in loading a small vessel with perfumes,
gums, and odoriferous flowers, and turning it adrift at the
mercy of the winds and waves, as a peace-offering to the
spirit of the winds, or to the king of the sea. They are
described as a mild, hospitable, and inoffensive race. It
does not appear that they ever go to war with each other;
and the crew of a French vessel, wrecked on one of the
islands, was received in the kindest manner by the chief
and his subjects.
MALDON, a town of the hundred of Dengey, in the
county of Essex, thirty-seven miles from London. It stands
in a low but pleasant district, upon the river Blackwater, at
the spot where another river joins it, and where they form
a harbour for small vessels. In the former of these rivers
many oysters are taken and sent to the London markets.
It is an ancient corporate town, and, by the corporation
reform law of 1835, chooses four aldermen and twelve
councillors, and a justice of the peace. It returns two
members, and has about 740 electors. In this town the
custom known by the name of borough-english still ex¬
ists, the land descending to the youngest son. There is
a good market for corn on Saturdays. The population,
within the limits of the borough, amounted in 1801 to
2358, in 1811 to 2679, in 1821 to 3198, and in 1831 to
3831.
MALE, the principal of the Maidive Islands, in the In¬
dian Ocean, situated nearly in the centre of them, and
about four miles in circumference. It is the most fertile
of the whole, and contains a town, which is the residence
of the prince. Long. 73. 10. E. Lat. 6. 20. N.
Male, amongst zoologists, that sex of animals which
has the parts of generation situated externally. (See Phy¬
siology and Sex.) The term male has also, from some
similitude to that sex in animals, been applied to several
inanimate things; thus we say, a male flower, a male screw,
and the like.
MALEBRANCHE, Nicholas, an eminent French
metaphysician and philosopher, the son of Nicholas Male-
branche, secretary to the French king, and born at Paris
on the 6th of August 1638. He was first placed under a
domestic tutor, who taught him Greek and Latin ; he after¬
wards went through a course of philosophy in the college
of La Marche, and of theology in the Sorbonne ; and, last¬
ly, he was admitted into the congregation of the Oratory in
1660. He at first applied himself to the study of languages
M A L
Males- and ecclesiastical history ; but afterwards meeting with Des
herbes. Cartes’s Treatise of Man, he read it with great avidity, and
—' afterwards devoted himself entirely to the study of phi¬
losophy. In 1699 he was admitted an honorary member
of the Royal Academy of Sciences. Notwithstanding he
was originally of a delicate constitution, he enjoyed pretty
good health until his death, which happened in October
1715, at the age of seventy-seven. Father Malebranche
read little, but thought a great deal. He despised that
kind of learning which consists only in knowing the opi¬
nions of other men, since a person may know the history
of other men’s thoughts without thinking himself. He had
no taste for poetry ; and though possessed of a strong ima¬
gination, he could never read ten verses together without
disgust. He meditated with his windows shut, to keep out
the light, which he found a disturbance to him. His con¬
versation turned upon the same subjects as his books ; but
it was mixed with so much modesty and deference to the
judgment of others, that his society was universally court¬
ed. Few foreigners,' if men of learning, neglected to visit
him on their arrival in Paris ; and it is said that an English
officer who had been taken prisoner, consoled himself with
the reflection, that when brought to Paris he would see
Malebranche. His works are famous, particularly his Re¬
cherche de la Verite, or Search after Truth, first printed at
Paris in 1674, the design of which is to point out the er¬
rors into which we are daily led by our senses, imagination,
and passions, and to prescribe a method for discovering
the truth, which is done by starting the notion that we
see all things in God. Hence he is led to think and speak
meanly of human knowledge, either as it is found in writ¬
ten books, or in the volume of nature, compared with that
light which displays itself from the ideal world, and, by
attending to which, with pure and uncontaminated minds,
he supposes knowledge to be most easily obtained. These
sentiments, recommended by various beauties of style, led
many to admire his genius who could not understand or
accede to his principles ; and he has generally passed for a
visionary philosopher. Locke, in his examination of Male-
branche’s opinion that we see all things in God, styles him
“ an acute and ingenious author,’’ and tells us that there
are “ a great many very fine thoughts, judicious reasonings,
and uncommon reflections in his Recherche ” but in the
same piece he nevertheless endeavours to refute the leading
principles of his system. He wrote several works besides
that which we have mentioned, all tending to confirm the
system proposed in the Recherche, and to clear it from the
objections which were urged against it, or from the conse¬
quences which were deduced from it. These are, 1. Con¬
versations Chretiennes, 1677, written at the desire of the
Duke de Chevreuse ; 2. Traite de la Nature et de la Grace,
1680, occasioned by a conference with Arnauld on the
subject of divine grace; 3. Meditations Chretiennes et
Metaphysiques, published the same year, and intended as
a sort of supplement to the Treatise of Nature and Grace;
4. Traite de Morale, 1782 ; 5. Entretiens sur la Metaphy¬
sique et sur la Religion, 1687, in which he collected all he
had written against Arnauld, but divested it of a polemical
character ; 6. Traite de I’Amour de Dieu, 1697 ; 7. Entre¬
tiens d’un Philosophe Chretien et d’un Philosophe Chinois
sur 1’Existence de Dieu, 1708. Malebranche was also a
geometrician and natural philosopher, as well as a metaphy¬
sician ; and on this account he was received as an honorary
member of the Academy of Sciences in 1699. He justi¬
fied this choice by his Traite de la Communication du
Mouvement, in which he corrected what he had said in the
Recherche de la Verite, namely, that the same quantity of
motion is always preserved in nature ; and subjoined some
physical observations on the general system of the universe.
See First Preliminary Dissertation, p, 74, et seq.
MALESHERBES, Christun-William de Lamoig-
M A L 55
non de, minister and last counsel to Louis XVI., was de- Males,
scended of an illustrious family, which had occupied the herbes.
highest offices in the magistracy, being the grandson of^—^'~~^
the celebrated advocate-general Lamoignon (see Lamoig-
non), and born at Paris on the 6th of December 1721. He
was son of the chancellor of France, William de Lamoig¬
non, who was descended of an illustrious family. His early
education he received at the Jesuits’ College, and after¬
wards applied himself with great assiduity to the study of
the law, as well as of history and political economy. He
was chosen a counsellor of the parliament of Paris at the
age of twenty-four, and succeeded his father as president
of the court of aids in the year 1750. Alongst with the
presidentship of the court of aids, he received the super¬
intendence of the press, and in his hands it became the
means of promoting liberty to a degree beyond all former
example in that country. As he firmly believed that des¬
potism alone had reason to dread the liberty of the press,
he was anxious to give it every extension consistent with
sound policy and the state of public opinion. Through his
favour the Encyclopedie, the works of Rousseau, and many
other free speculations, issued from the press, in defiance
of the terrific anathemas of the Sorbonne. This had no
doubt its weight in paving the wray for the revolution,
which Malesherbes did not probably foresee ; yet it had
also the effect of freeing the minds of men from the fetters
of slavery and superstition, and of enlightening thfem re¬
specting their rights and duties in society. The superin¬
tendence of the press having been taken from him, and
conferred upon Maupeou, he was only the more intent on
fulfilling the duties of his presidentship, and opposing arbi¬
trary power. When the proceedings of the court of aids
were to be prohibited, on account of the spirited conduct
of Malesherbes in the case of Monnerat, who had been un¬
justly treated by the farmers of the revenue, he presented
a remonstrance to the king, containing a free protest against
the enormous abuses of lettres de cachet, by which every
man’s liberty was rendered precarious, and concluding with
these memorable words : “ No one is great enough to be
secure from the hatred of a minister, nor little enough not
to merit that of a clerk.” Soon after this he was banished
to his country-seat by a lettre de cachet, and the Duke de
Richelieu, at the head of an armed force, abolished the
tribunal. In this state of retirement he committed to pa¬
per a number of observations on the political and judicial
state of France, as well as on agriculture and natural his¬
tory, all which perished in the wreck of the revolution. On
the accession of Louis XVI. to the throne in 1774, he re¬
ceived an order to appear at the place where the court of
aids had sat, and to resume the presidentship of the tribunal
thus restored. Fie laid before the new sovereign an ample
detail of the calamitous state of the kingdom, with a free ex¬
posure of the faults by which it had been produced. His
sentiments so fully accorded w ith those of the young king,
that he was chosen minister of state in the year 1775. In
this elevated station he was only ambitious to extend the
sphere of his usefulness. His first care was to visit the
prisons, and to restore to liberty the innocent victims of the
former reign. His administration was also distinguished
by the encouragement of commerce and agriculture, being-
supported in his laudable endeavours by the able and vir¬
tuous Turgot, at that time comptroller-general of the re¬
venue. But having failed in his benevolent endeavours
to ameliorate the condition of Protestants respecting the
solemnization of marriage and the legitimation of their
children, he resigned his office in the month of May 1776.
Being fond of travelling, and resolved to mix freely with
people of every description, in order to acquire an accurate
knowledge of human nature, he assumed the humble title
of M. Guillaume, and commenced his journey in a simple,
frugal manner. He travelled through France, Switzerland,
56 M A L
Males- and Holland, frequently journeying on foot, and lodging in
herbes. villages, in order to have a nearer insight of the state of
^ Y ^ the country. He made memoranda of whatever he con¬
ceived to be worthy of observation respecting the produc¬
tions of nature and the operations of industry; and, after
an absence of some years, he returned to his favourite man¬
sion, fraught with such a stock of valuable knowledge as
his age and experience qualified him to appreciate. Find¬
ing on his return that his native country was far advanced
in philosophical principles, he drew up two elaborate me¬
moirs addressed to the king; one of them on the condition
of the Protestants, and the other on civil liberty and tolera¬
tion in general. The difficulties with which ministers now
found themselves surrounded induced the king to call him
to his councils, being a man who stood high in the esteem
of the whole nation ; but he received no appointment to
any particular office. In the critical state in which he
clearly saw that the king stood, he made an effort to open
his eyes, by means of two spirited and energetic memoirs,
on the calamities of France, and the means of repairing
them ; but, as the queen’s party carried everything be¬
fore it, he was not even permitted to read them, and was
also denied a private interview with the ill-fated monarch,
in consequence of which he took his final leave of the
court.
When, by a decree of the National Convention, Louis
was to be tried for his life, Malesherbes, nobly forgetting
the manner in which he had been banished from his coun¬
cils, generously offered to plead his cause. On the 13th of
December 1792, he wrote to the president of the Conven¬
tion, “ J’ai ete appele deux fois au conseil de celui qui
fut mon maitre, dans le temps ou cette fonction etait am-
bitionnee par tout le monde; je lui dois le meme service,
lorsque c’est une fonction que bien des gens trouvent
dangereuse.” He was the person who announced to the
unfortunate monarch his cruel fate, and one of the last
who took leave of him when taken out to suffer. After
this eventful period, he withdrew to his retreat with a
wounded heart, and refused to hear anything more of
what was passing on the bloody theatre of Paris.
Occupied with agriculture and the duties of charity, he
was vainly seeking to console himself for the evils of his
country, when, in the first days of December 1793, three
members of a revolutionary committee of Paris, followed
by a numerous escort, came to arrest his eldest daughter,
and his son-in-law M. de Rosambo. He remained alone
with his grandchildren, and for a moment it was believed
that his age and his virtues would be respected ; but next
day new emissaries appeared, and carried him off with his
children, notwithstanding the tears and protestations of
the inhabitants of Malesherbes, who all offered to guaran¬
tee his virtues and his innocence. He then requested to
be sent to the same prison with his family ; but even this
consolation was denied him, and he was incarcerated in the
Madelonettes with one of his grandsons, M. Louis de Ro¬
sambo, whilst his other children remained dispersed in
different prisons. When brought before the revolution¬
ary tribunal, he was asked if he had counsel; he replied
by a smile of contempt, and one Duchateau was appoint¬
ed ex officio his defender. This tribunal of blood would
scarcely deign to hear him who had been so long the oracle
of justice, and by whom so many victims had been saved
from death. He was, indeed, convinced of the uselessness
of any defence; and when they handed him the act of
accusation (or indictment), in which he was charged with
having conspired against “ the unity of the republic,” he
rejected it with disdain, saying, “ Encore si cela avait le
sens commun.” In the same charge were included thirty
persons of all ages and both sexes. Malesherbes heard
his sentence without emotion, and marched to death with
undisturbed serenity. At this terrible moment, that mild
M A L
yet lively gaiety which had formed the charm of his life Malherb
did not forsake him. Happening to strike his foot against
a stone, as he crossed the court-yard of the palace, with
his hands tied at his back, he observed to the person
next him. “ Voila qui est d’un facheux augure; a ma
place un Remain serait rentre.” Madame de Rosambo
was not less calm nor less resigned. When, on quitting
her prison, she embraced Mademoiselle de Sombreuil,
who had displayed so great courage during the massacres
of September, “ Mademoiselle,” said she, “ you have had
the honour to save your father ; I am going to have that
of dying with mine.” Malesherbes had the unspeakable
grief of seeing immolated before him that daughter whom
he loved so tenderly, and who herself witnessed the butch¬
ery of her children before she was called on to suffer. He
perished the last of all, at the age of seventy-two, on the
22d of April 1794.
Grave errors may be laid to the charge of Malesherbes,
but all of these had their source in that love of good which
in him was as much a passion as a principle; and, besides,
they were not only expiated by a glorious death, but con¬
fessed and bitterly deplored with that noble frankness
which belonged to his character. Besides the works already
alluded to, Malesherbes left a number of manuscripts, which
were dispersed by the vandalism of the revolution, particu¬
larly, 1. Observations sur le Meleze, sur le Bois de Sainte
Lucie, sur les Pins, sur les Orchis; 2. Memoire sur les
moyens d’accelerer les Progres de 1’Economie Rurale en
France; 3. Idees d’un Agriculteur, &c.; 4. Memoire pour
Louis XVI.; 5. Observations sur 1’Histoire Naturelle de
Buffbn et Daubenton; 6. Memoires sur la Librairie et la
Liberte de la Presse; 7. Introduction a la Botanique; 8.
Three Letters in the Journal des Savants on the geological
phenomena of the environs of Malesherbes. Under the
title of CEuvres Choisies have been printed (Paris, 1809)
extracts from his most celebrated remonstrances; and
we have also Pensees et Maximes de M. de Malesherbes,
suivies de Reflexions sur les Lettres de Cachet, 1802. in
12mo.
MALHERBE, Francois de, a celebrated French poet
of his time, was born at Caen about the year 1556, being
descended of a noble and ancient family. Fie quitted
Normandy at the age of seventeen, and went into Pro¬
vence, where he attached himself to the family of Henry
of Angouleme, the natural son of Henry II., and was in
the service of that prince till he was killed by Altoviti in
1586. At length Cardinal du Perron, being informed of
his merit and abilities, introduced him to Flenry IV. who
took him into his service. After the death of that mo¬
narch, Mary de’ Medicis settled a pension of five hundred
crowns upon our poet, who died at Paris in 1628. The
best and most complete edition of his poetical works is
that of 1666, with Menage’s remarks. Malherbe so far
excelled all the French poets who preceded him, that
Boileau considers him as the father of French poetry;
but he composed with great difficulty, and put his mind
on the rack in correcting what he wrote. He was a man
of singular humour, and somewhat blunt in his behaviour.
When the poor used to promise him that they would pray
to God for him, he answered them, that “ he did not be¬
lieve they could have any great interest in heaven, since
they were left in such a bad condition upon earth ; and
that he should be better pleased if the Duke de Luyne,
or some other favourite, had made him the same promise.”
During his last illness he was with great difficulty per¬
suaded to confess to a priest, for which he gave this rea¬
son, that “ he never used to confess but at Easter.” And
a few moments before his death, when he awaked from a
lethargy, he on a sudden reproved his landlady, who wait¬
ed on him, for using a word that was not good French ;
saying to his confessor, who reprimanded him for it, that
M A L
Malice “ lie could not help it, and he would defend the purity of
11 the French language to the last moment of his life.”
Mallet. MALICE, in Ethics and Law, is a deliberate precon-
ceived design of doing mischief to another; and hence it
differs from hatred. In murder it is malice that constitutes
the crime ; and if a man, having a malicious intent to kill
another, in the execution of his malice kills a person not in¬
tended, the malice will be connected to his person, and he
will be adjudged a murderer. /
MALICORNE, a market-town of France, in the de¬
partment of the Sarthe and arrondissement of La Fleche.
It is situated on the banks of the Sarthe, which is navi¬
gable as far as the town. The population amounts to 1250.
There is a manufactory of china ware carried on extensively.
MALICOY, an island in the Indian Ocean, between
the Laccadive and the Maidive Islands. It is small and
low, and the sea breaks with incessant fury on its coasts.
It was formerly dependent on one of the Malabar rajahs.
Long. 72. 45. E. Lat. 8. 20. N.
MALIGNANT, amongst physicians, a term applied to
diseases of a very dangerous nature, and generally infec¬
tious, such as dysentery, hospital fever, and the like.
MALIPOOTAS Isle, one of the Sooloo Islands. It
is low and woody, and has shoals all around extending
about two miles to the north-west.
MALIVAGUNGA River, a broad, rocky, and rapid
river of Ceylon, which, in its course, nearly surrounds the
hills where the city of Candy stands. It bends its course
to the north-east, and falls into Trincomalee Harbour.
MALLj Sea-mall, or Sea-mew. See Ornithology.
MALLARD. See Ornithology.
MALLEABLE, a property of metals, whereby they are
capable of being extended under the hammer.
MALLEOLI, in the ancient art of war, were bundles
of combustible materials, set on fire in order to give light
in the night, or to annoy the enemy. Pitch was always a
principal ingredient in the composition. The malleoli had
also the name o?pyroboli.
MALLET, or Malloch, David, a poet and miscella¬
neous writer, was born at Crieff, in Scotland, about 1700.
By the penury of his parents, he was compelled to act as
janitor of the High School at Edinburgh; but he surmount¬
ed the disadvantages of his birth and fortune ; and when
the Duke of Montrose applied to the College of Edinburgh
for a tutor to educate his sons, Malloch was recommend¬
ed. When his pupils went abroad, they were intrusted
to his care; and having conducted them through their
travels, he returned with them to London. Here he re¬
sided in their family, and thus gained access to persons of
high rank and character. His first production was the po¬
pular and pathetic ballad of William and Margaret, which
was printed in the Plain Dealer (No. 36, 1724); but in
the last edition of his works it appears considerably alter¬
ed. In 1733, he published a poem on Verbal Criticism, in
order to make his court to Pope. In 1740, he wrote a
Life of Lord Bacon, which was then prefixed to an edi¬
tion of that great man’s works; but when he afterwards
undertook the Life of Marlborough, some were apprehen¬
sive he would forget that Malborough was a general, as
he had forgotten that Bacon was a philosopher. The old
Duchess of Marlborough, in her will, assigned this task to
Glover and Mallet, with a reward of L.1000, and a prohi¬
bition to insert any verses. Glover is supposed to have
rejected the legacy with disdain, so that the work devolv¬
ed upon Mallet, who had also a pension from the Duke of
Marlborough to promote his industry ; and he was continu¬
ally talking of the discoveries he made, but when he died
he left no trace of his historical labours behind him. When
the Prince of Wales was driven from the palace, and kept
a separate court by way of opposition, his royal highness,
in order to increase his popularity by patronizing literature,
VOL. xiv.
M A L 57
made Mallet his under secretary, with a salary of L.200 Mallet
a year. Thomson likewise had a pension ; and they were II
associated in the composition of the masque of Alfred, Mjdhson s
which, in its original state, was played at Clifden, in the
year 1740. It was afterwards almost wholly changed by
Mallet, and brought upon the stage of Drury Lane in 1751,
but with no great success. He had before published two
tragedies ; Eurydice, acted at Drury Lane in 1731, and
Mustapha, acted at the same theatre in 1739. The latter
was dedicated to the prince his master, and was well re¬
ceived, but never revived. His next work was Amyn-
tor and Theodora, 1747, a long story in blank verse. In
1753, his masque of Britannia was acted at Drury Lane,
and his tragedy of Elvira in 1763, in which year he was
appointed keeper of the book of entries for ships in the
port of London. In the beginning of the war, which end¬
ed in 1763, when the nation was exasperated by ill suc¬
cess, he was employed to turn the public vengeance upon
Byng, and wrote a letter of accusation against that officer,
under the character of a Plain Man. The paper was cir¬
culated with great industry; and for this seasonable inter¬
vention he had a considerable pension bestowed upon him,
which he retained till his death. His connection with
Bolingbroke is well known, and almost equally disgraceful
to the characters of both. Towards the close of his life, he
went with his wife to France; but finding his health de¬
clining, he returned alone to England, where he died in
April 1765. He was twice married, and by his first wife
had several children. His stature was diminutive, but he
was regularly formed ; his appearance, till he grew corpu¬
lent, was agreeable, and he suffered it to want no recom¬
mendation that dress could bestow upon it.
Mallet, a large kind of hammer made of wood, and
much used by artificers who work with a chisel, as sculp¬
tors, masons, and stone-cutters, whose mallet is ordinarily
round; and by carpenters, joiners, and others, who use it
square. There are several sorts of mallets used for differ¬
ent purposes on ship-board.
MALLIA, a town and fortress of Hindustan, in the pro¬
vince of Gujerat, situated on the banks of the river Mu-
choo, which empties itself into the Runn, two miles and a
half below this place. It was formerly possessed by a band
of notorious plunderers, who preyed upon the surround¬
ing country. It 1809 it was stormed by a British force.
MALLICOLLO, or Manicola, one of the largest of
the New Hebrides Islands, in the South Pacific Ocean. It
is about eighteen leagues in length, and from five to seven
in breadth. It was discovered by Quiros in the year 1606.
Long, of the harbour on the north-east side, 167. 57. E.
Lat. 16. 25. S.
MALLING, distinguished by the name of Town-Mai¬
ling, or sometimes West Mailing, is a market-town in the
county of Kent, in the hundred of Larkfield and the lathe
of Aylesford. It is twenty-nine miles from London and
six from Maidstone, being situated on a small stream which
falls into the river Medway. In this place there was for¬
merly a Benedictine convent, the ruins of which remain.
It has a neat church, and an endowed free school. The
population amounted in 1801 to 1093, in 1811 to 1154,
in 1821 to 1205, and in 1831 to 1369. Within one mile
of Town-Mailing is East Mailing, a large village, which in
number of inhabitants somewhat exceeds that of the town,
having amounted in 1801 to 1302, in 1811 to 1256, in
1821 to 1403, and in 1831 to 1543. Both these places de¬
pend chiefly on the plantations of hops, which are very nu¬
merous and extensive.
MALLISON’S Island is situated on the north coast of
New Holland, near the entrance into the Gulf of Carpen¬
taria, on the west side. It is of considerable elevation.
Long, of the south-east head of the island, 136. 8. E. Lat.
12. 11. S.
H
58 M A L
Malloodoo MALLOODOO, a district of Borneo, in the south-
11 eastern extremity of the island. It is populous, and sup-
v ^ °‘ y plies ratans of an excellent quality, and from twenty to
thirty feet in length ; as also clove-bark. Numerous rivers
fall into the bay of Malloodoo. Long, of the bay, 117. 2.
E. Lat. 6. 45. N.
MALLONI, a town of the kingdom of Naples, in the
province of Principato Citeriore, with 2216 inhabitants.
MALMEDY, a city, the capital of a circle of that name,
in the Prussian government of Cologne. It is situated on
the river Warge, and contains 808 houses, with 3920 inhabi¬
tants. It is a manufacturing place of great celebrity, pro¬
ducing annually more than 100,000 hides for sole leather
from its tanneries, much cotton twist from its spinning
mills, some very good fine cloth and cassimeres, and also
some writing paper and pressing paper. Long. 5. 25. E.
Lat. 50. 28. N.
MALMO, a province of Sweden, in the south-western
part of the kingdom, which extends in east longitude from
12. 22. to 13. 54., and in north latitude from 55. 21. to 56.
18., having a superficies of 1804 square miles. It is gene¬
rally a level district, with a soil resembling that of the Da¬
nish province of Zealand, which is opposite to it. The cli¬
mate is the mildest of any portion of Sweden, and fruits
ripen there which succeed in no other part. It produces
more corn than it consumes. It contains eight cities or
towns, and 4458 small rural settlements, with 142,000 in¬
habitants. The capital is a city of the same name, on the
sound opposite to Copenhagen. It was once fortified, but
the walls have been demolished. It is in a circular form,
but irregularly built, and has a citadel which commands
it. It contains 650 houses, and 5400 inhabitants, who carry
on the trades of cloth weavers, glovers, hatters, sugar-re¬
finers, soap-boilers, and some others, but for the most part
upon a contracted scale. Long. 12. 33. 59. E. Lat. 55.
36. 37. N.
MALMSBURY, an ancient town of the county of Wilts,
in the hundred of its own name, ninety-five miles from
London. It is said to have had, as early as the year 600,
a monastic institution for females, which was afterwards con¬
verted into a stately abbey, and was richly endowed till the
suppression of the religious houses in the reign of Llenry
VIII. A part of the ancient abbey has been converted
into the parish church. The town is almost surrounded
by the river Avon, on which there was anciently a castle.
It formerly returned two members to parliament, but now
elects only one. It has given birth to two celebrated men,
William of Malmsbury the historian, and Hobbes the phi¬
losopher. There is a market, which is held on Saturday.
The population amounted in 1801 to 1571, in 1811 to 1746,
in 1821 to 2145, and in 1831 to 2293.
MALNORE, a town of Hindustan, in the Sikh territo¬
ries, and province of Delhi, 160 miles north-west by north
from the city of Delhi. Long. 75. 18. E. Lat. 30. 22. N.
MALO, St, a city of France, in the department of the
llle-et-Vilaine, the capital of an arrondissement, to which
it gives the name, containing 9981 communes or parishes,
with 120,560 inhabitants. The city is forty-six posts or
220 miles distant from Paris. It is a sea-port, having the
best harbour on this part of the coast of France ; but it is
difficult of access, from being surrounded by numerous islets
and rocks. The town itself stands upon a rocky island called
Aaron, connected with the continent by a tongue of land
at the bottom of the bay. To this place there are several
channels formed by the rocks, some of which extend three
miles from the shore. The river Ranee or Dinan enters
the sea at the town, and ships are there secure on the sand,
where at low water they are left dry. It is fortified both
upon the land and sea side, and is defended by powerful
forts, some of them on the rocks, the most formidable of
which arc called Vauban and Conche. The city contains
M A L
four churches, a marine hospital, a maritime court of law, Maio
an exchange, and a nautical college. The houses are 1600, ||
and thepopulation9930. It has someforeign trade with Eng-
land, Holland, and the Baltic; but one of its most lucra- W'Y’>
tive branches is the Newfoundland fishery, to which many
ships are annually despatched. The fishery on the shore
of France is also, as well as the coasting trade, a source of
employment. In time of war many privateers are fitted
out here. There are several slips for building ships, and
some manufactories of sail-cloth, cordage, and the other kinds
of materials for furnishing ships. It is in longitude 2. 1.
11. W. and in latitude 48. 39. 3. N.
Malo, a town of Italy, in the Austrian delegation of
Vicenza, and situated on the river Loverton. It stands
amongst the mountains, and contains 3940 inhabitants, who
are employed in collecting and refining saltpetre.
Malo, Maclou, or Mahout, St, the son of an English¬
man, and cousin to St Magloire, was educated in a monas¬
tery in Ireland, and w'as afterwards chosen bishop of Gui-
Castel, a dignity which his humility prevented him from
accepting. The people wishing to compel him, he went
to Bretagne, and put himself under the direction of an an¬
choret called Aaron, in the neighbourhood of Aleth. Some
time afterwards (about the year 541), he was chosen bishop
of that city, and there cultivated piety and religion wfith
great success. He afterwards retired to a solitude near
Xaintes, where he died on the 15th of November 565. From
him the city of St Malo derives its name.
MALOI-ARCHANGELSK, a circle of the Russian
province of Orel, extending in east longitude from 36.21. to
37. 23. and in north latitude from 52. 36. to 52. 47. The
chief town, of the same name, is situated on the river Ko-
limkeiska, and contains 229 houses, with 1680 inhabitants.
It is 758 miles from St Petersburg. Long. 36. 29. E. Lat.
52. 27. N.
MALOI-JAROSLAWETZ, a circle of Russia, in the
province of Kaluga, extending over 478 square miles, with
46,800 inhabitants. The chief town, of the same name,
is situated on the Luscha, 560 miles from St Petersburg.
It contains six churches, 280 houses, and 1940 inhabitants.
The French suffered a check here on the 12th of October
1812. Long. 37. 5. E. Lat. 54. 59. N.
MALOOR, a town of Plindustan, in the territories of
the Mysore rajah, twenty-seven miles east by north from
Bangalore. Long. 78. 9. E. Lat. 13. N.
MALPOORAH, a town of Hindustan, in the province
of Lahore, belonging to the Sikhs. Long. 75. 45. E. Lat.
31. 26. N.
MALPURBA, a river of the south of India, which falls
into the Krishna, and is considered, along with that river,
as the southern boundary of the Deccan.
MALPAS, a town of the county of Chester, in the
hundred of Broxton, 166 miles from London. It stands
on a hill overlooking the river Dee, is well built, consist¬
ing of three streets well paved, and had a castle belong¬
ing to the family of Cholmondeley, now gone to decay. It
has a market, which is held on Monday. The population
amounted in 1801 to 906, in 1811 to 938, in 1821 to 1127,
and in 1831 to 1004.
MALPLAQUET, a town in the department of the
North, and arrondissement of Avesnes, in France, not far
from Maubeuge, containing 1250 inhabitants. It is cele¬
brated for the victory gained near it, in 1709, by the allies
under the command of the Duke of Marlborough.
MALSCH, a market-town of the duchy of Baden, in
Germany, in the circle of the Neckar and bailiwick of
Wisloch. It contains 362 houses, and 1996 inhabitants,
who are occupied chiefly in the linen manufacture.
MALT. See Brewing and Distillation.
MALTA, an island in the Mediterranean Sea, forming
the chief of a group, now a portion of the dominions of
MALTA. 59
Malta. Great Britain. In ancient times it was known by the
—'name of Melite, and is by some supposed to be the island
upon which St Paul was shipwrecked. It afterwards bore
the name of Maltache, which name was changed by the
Arabs to that of Malta, which it has ever since borne.
According to Boisgelin, these islands were, in the four¬
teenth century before our era, possessed by a colony of
Tyrian Phoenicians, and by a few small societies of Ionic
Greeks. These, under an aristocratic constitution, main¬
tained their independence till the fourth century before
Christ, when they were assailed by the Carthaginians,
to whom, after a feeble resistance, they submitted. When
the Romans had conquered Sicily, they took possession
(216 b. c.) of these islands, and maintained their autho¬
rity till, upon the dissolution of the western Roman em¬
pire, they were expelled by the Goths, in whose power
they continued till the formidable forces of Arabia had
been concentrated under the banner of Mahommed, when,
in 828 A. d. their dominion was established. The success¬
ful invasion of Sicily by the Normans led to the occupa¬
tion of Malta by the troops of Roger the Norman, who
added it to his newly-acquired dominions in the year 1090.
It continued in this state till Naples and Sicily fell under
the power of Charles V., emperor of Germany, who grant¬
ed the islands, as a fief of his empire, to the knights-hos-
pitallers, who had been driven by the Saracens from Jeru¬
salem, and had taken refuge in the town of Acre. They had
gradually become a military body, and ably defended that
city against the Saracens in 1290; upon which the king
of Cyprus gave to them Lemisson in his dominions, where
they remained till the year 1310. Having then increased
their numbers and military skill, they seized upon the island
of Rhodes, and gallantly maintained it against the whole
power of the Mahommedans, upon which they assumed
the title of Knights of Rhodes. That island was, however,
wrested from them by the Turkish emperor Solyman in
1522, upon which they withdrew, first to Candia, and soon
afterwards to Malta. They were finally established in
that place as independent masters, and were only bound
to defend Sicily against the Turks, but voluntarily consti¬
tuted themselves the unceasing enemies of all infidels.
On taking possession of the spot thus conferred upon
them, the knights found the island with little or no cultiva¬
tion, and with a scanty population of various races, chiefly
subsisting on fish, the persons employed in taking which
were the occupants of the huts. There was indeed a
castle in which the grand master of the order established
himself with a few of the higher officers, but the remainder
were miserably lodged. It was not contemplated by the
knights to fix themselves permanently in Malta; but they
had resolved on attempting to take a strong port on the
continent, and to retain Malta as a place of refuge in case
of a repulse. In this view they began to fortify it in some
of the most assailable parts ; and when satisfied with the
security of their works, they despatched a force to take
possession of Modon, a town of the Morea, and in the
vicinity of their former establishment in the island of
Rhodes, to which they felt a strong attachment and an
eager desire to return. They accordingly sailed and ob¬
tained possession of Modon in the night; but the next
day, beginning to commit acts of violence and of plunder,
the inhabitants rose against them before the whole of the
gallies had arrived, and, though the Maltese fought with
desperate valour, they were compelled to retire, but not
until they had secured a part of their plunder, and had
seized upon 800 females, whom they carried with them
to their islands.
This disastrous adventure having convinced the knights
that their existence as a body was restricted to the islands,
and that their security depended on the fortifications with
which it was defended, they addressed their principal at¬
tention and efforts to the construction of works of such Malta,
strength as would defy all attacks which could be made
upon them by the Saracens.
More than ten years were incessantly occupied with
this labour. Though the crusades had terminated, the
spirit which had animated them still survived in the bosoms
of many chivalrous Catholics in every part of Europe, and
secured to the knights the aid of men, arms, ammunition,
stores, and money. Most of the Christian monarchs of
Europe were in some degree supporters of the order,
which at length was divided into eight langues or nations.
Each of these divisions had a chief, with a determinate
title. Thus the first was Provence, called the grand com-
mendator of religion; the second, Auvergne, was marshal
of the order; the third, France, was grand hospitaller;
the fourth, Italy, was chief admiral; the fifth, Aragon,
was grand conservator; the sixth, Germany, was grand
bailiff; the seventh, Castille, was grand chancellor ; and
the eighth, England, was grand commander of the cavalry.
Each of these dignitaries drew from his respective coun¬
try large revenues, which were for the most part derived
from lands ; and as those lands increased in monied value,
so the revenues of the chiefs of the several langues kept
pace with that increase, and enabled the knights to main¬
tain the most splendid appearance, and to indulge in the
most expensive luxuries.
The rules by which admission into the order was esta¬
blished, and by which its internal affairs were arranged,
had been settled soon after they became fixed in Malta,
and were continued with only slight alterations up to the
time of their final dissolution. None were admitted into
the order but such as could prove a nobility of birth of
four generations, both on the paternal and the mater¬
nal side, unless they were sons, either legitimate or ille¬
gitimate, of kings or of sovereign princes. The knights
were formed into two classes. The first w'ere called Grand
Crosses, and such only were eligible as candidates for
the dignity of grand master. All were equally bound by
vows of celibacy, and by oaths of obedience to their su¬
perior, of adherence to the Catholic church, and of un¬
ceasing hostility towards the infidels and all pirates.
These conditions might be dispensed with, either by the
power of the pope or by a chapter of the order ; and such
dispensations were allowed chiefly in cases where the no¬
bility of the candidate, or of his ancestors on the maternal
side, was deficient or doubtful, and in a very few cases
where, on the paternal side, the pedigree was not satis¬
factorily ascertained.
The admission into the order was under no restriction
as to the age of the candidate, as even infants were eli¬
gible ; but their admission was only allowed when they
had completed their sixteenth year. They then entered
upon their noviciate, which lasted until they had com¬
pleted their eighteenth year. Those under sixteen were
called the pages of the grand master, and, as such, were
prepared to enter upon their noviciate. The grand master
had sixteen of such pages, who served him as a kind of
honourable domestics.
The knights wore, on the left side of their cloaks or
their vests, a cross of white waxed cloth, with eight points,
that having been their distinguishing badge; but in some
cases, and at a later period, the cross was of gold. When
they made war upon the Turks, they were dressed in a red
cassock, on which, before and behind, was a large white
cross without points, as an emblem of their religion. The
customary dress of the grand master was a flowing gar¬
ment of tabby, fastened about the waist by a girdle, from
which was suspended a large purse, denoting the chari¬
table nature of the institution of the order. The govern¬
ment of the society was of a mixed description. The grand
master was a sort of sovereign. He coined money, par-
GO ^ MALT A.
Malta, doned criminals, and nominated to the offices and digni-
—V ' ties of the order; but he was assisted by the grand crosses,
who, with him as their president, determined on all the
more important concerns of the association.
The education of the noviciates was sedulously attended
to. Besides the strictest attention to the forms of their re¬
ligion, they were carefully taught whatever related to mi¬
litary tactics, both on sea and on land, and accustomed to
those severe exercises in arms which, whilst they tended
to render them expert and daring, strengthened their
limbs, and hardened their whole frame. The attention
which the construction of defensive works, and the train¬
ing of healthy, strong, and disciplined soldiers, required,
did not withdraw the knights from the formation of a naval
force. The islands supplied none of the elements of naval
warfare ; but the increase of the revenues extracted from
the Christian powers, who rivalled each other in what they
considered as a common cause, and the war with the in¬
fidels, supplied both the pecuniary means and the material
to equip, in a short time, what in that age may be viewed
as a powerful navy.
The fleet of Malta consisted chiefly of gallies, impelled
by oars, and manned with soldiers provided with fire-arms,
but chiefly dependent on the operation of boarding the
vessels of their enemies ; they had, besides, some brigan¬
tines, and one vessel called the Great Carrack, mounted
with cannon, and whose force was estimated to be equal
to that of a whole squadron. The naval power of Malta
was first employed in full force in the year 1532. It then
joined the confederated Christian fleet under the com¬
mand of Andrew Doria, the celebrated Genoese warrior.
The victories gained by that officer were in a great de¬
gree attributed to the valour of the Maltese knights, and
induced Doria to plan the capture of Modon ; but the bad
results of their former attempt on that part of the Morea
had so disheartened the Maltese soldiers, that they refus¬
ed to join in the expedition ; though they aided in another
against Coron, not far from Modon, which proved success¬
ful. In the midst of these events, the Maltese forces were
suddenly recalled by the grand master to defend their
own possessions, which were threatened with an attack
by the celebrated Turkish corsair Barbarossa, who had
obtained the superiority at sea, and maintained it with
a fleet of more than eighty large gallies. The invasion did
not, however, take place at that time ; and Barbarossa car¬
ried on successful operations upon the coast of Africa, where
he captured both Algiers and Tunis, and besieged Tripoli.
At the earnest entreaty of the new grand master, De
Ponte, who had succeeded to that dignity on the death of
Villers de ITsle Adam, who died in 1534-, and at the urgent
suggestions of Muley Hassan, the deposed king of Tunis,
the Emperor of Germany, Charles V., was induced to under¬
take an expedition into Africa upon a vast scale. The
forces of Malta joined the emperor, and though, as regard¬
ed him, the expedition was a complete failure, yet the cre¬
dit of the Maltese warriors was so raised by the part they
took in the storming of Goletta, which led to the capture
of Tunis, that the emperor, when he abandoned his pro¬
ject, conferred on the knights many valuable and extensive
privileges, accompanied with large grants to the society.
One that w'as afterwards found to be of the utmost value,
was the right of drawing corn and other provisions from
his dominions in Sicily without paying any impost.
After the death of De Ponte, his successor in the dig¬
nified office of grand master, Didier de Tolon de St Jalle,
made an excursion to the coast of Africa, with the view of
relieving Tripoli. Much bravery and skill was displayed
on that occasion ; the siege was for a time raised ; the army
of Hayradin, which carried it on, was completely defeated,
with the loss of all its stores and baggage; and the Mal¬
tese returned in triumph, which was increased by the cap¬
ture of a valuable Turkish galley when on their passage Malta,
homewards. Solyman, the Turkish emperor, continuing the'^^v^
war with the Christian powers, wras so successful in many
parts, that Ferdinand, then emperor of Germany, was in¬
duced, in 1562, to enter into a treaty of peace, or rather a
truce, for eight years ; but he dying soon afterwards, hosti¬
lities were again resumed between the empire and the Turks,
for the commencement of which, each party threw the
blame on the other. The Mahommedan forces advanced
into Styria in 1564; and, though they were successful in
taking Erden and some other towns, they were ultimately,
after a severe conflict, totally defeated by Charles, arch¬
duke of Austria. In some other parts of the frontier the
success of the two parties was continually varying, and
nothing decisive took place.
In this state of doubtful warfare, Solyman had his at¬
tention called to the island of Malta, by Kossum, the son
of Barbarossa, and by his great officer Dragut. They per¬
suaded him that he could never become master of the land
until he had gained command of the sea. This naturally
drew the views of Solyman and his council to the island of
Malta, and an expedition for its capture was resolved upon.
Piala was appointed commander of the fleet, which consist¬
ed of one hundred and forty-two gallies, seventeen galliots,
twenty-three ships of heavy burden, and several other
transports. On board this naval armament were embarked
thirty thousand of the best soldiers of the Turkish army,
commanded by Mustapha Pacha, an experienced officer
more than seventy-five years old. This vast force ap¬
proached the island, and the land troops were disem¬
barked in the latter end of May 1565, at Porto Majore, on
the north-western part of the island. The chief strength of
the territory consisted of the castles which defended the ca¬
pital, known then by the names of Saint Michael, Saint
Angelo, and Saint Elmo, the last of which was fixed on as
the first object of attack.
At that time the dignity of grand master was occupied
by the celebrated Valette. Having maintained such com¬
plete intercourse with Constantinople, that he had full in¬
formation of the designs of Solyman, and likewise of the
means available for their execution, he made such pre¬
parations as were within his power. He had but three
thousand good soldiers, and, besides, about five thousand
of the inhabitants, who had fled for refuge to the capital,
upon whom he could place but little reliance. The Turks
soon attacked St Elmo with great vigour, and were brave¬
ly repulsed in their first two efforts; but, in the third at¬
tempt, they were so far successful as to effect a lodgement,
by which they were encouraged to attempt a storm. By
the invincible courage of the knights and their followers,
the assailants were at length repelled, leaving behind them
two thousand of their men, with their gallant leader Dra¬
gut. Their vast quantity of artillery, and their powerful en¬
gines, encouraged the Turks to renewed exertion. The can¬
nonading was incessant, till the walls of St Elmo were bat¬
tered down quite to the rock on which they stood; many
of the garrison had been cut off, and the remainder, though
not dispirited, were nearly exhausted. The grand master
offered to withdraw them, and replace them by volun¬
teers, who had tendered their services for the purpose ; but
they all resolutely declined the offer, with the firm deter¬
mination to resist as long as any remained alive. They
prepared for the death that awaited them, by passing the
night in confession, prayer, and taking the sacraments, and
then, embracing each other, repaired to their respective
posts. The Turks, who knew the weakness of the garri¬
son, advanced as to certain victory; but their opponents,
though destitute of hope, were not deprived of courage,
and exhibited such proofs of it as amazed their enemies,
and dealt death in their ranks to numbers far exceeding
their own numerical force. The combat upon the platform,
MALT A. 61
Malta, which had been surrounded with walls, continued four
-—v'-""'''hours, till every knight and every soldier, except two, who
escaped by swimming, was left dead amongst the ruins,
when the Turkish colours were planted on the ramparts.
The capture of this castle had been attended with such
severe loss, that the Turkish commanders were compel¬
led to desist from further attacks ; and it was asked by the
commander, Mustapha, “ What will it cost us to take the
father (the city), when taking only the son has cost us such
a number of our best troops ?” The possession of St Elmo
gave to the Turks admission into the harbour; and though
they had lost great numbers of their men, they had inflict¬
ed on the defenders the loss of fifteen hundred men, in¬
cluding one hundred and thirty of the bravest knights.
Whilst Mustapha was waiting for his reinforcements,
the grand master made pressing applications to the Chris¬
tian princes for their assistance. Spain was the most inte¬
rested in the preservation of Malta, and messengers were
despatched to her viceroy in Sicily, requesting succours.
But no other was afforded than that of granting to the
knights, who were in that island, to repair to Malta with
a few gallies, and the inconsiderable number of soldiers
they could collect. This small force, however, found the
whole of the ports of Malta so closely blockaded by the
Mahommedans, that it was impossible to land, and they re¬
turned to Messina.
The Turks, as soon as the reinforcements, amounting
to more than 10,000 men, reached them, commenced the
siege of the castle of St Michael, and carried it on with all
the destructive effect which could be produced by artillery,
engines of every kind, mining, sapping, and unwearied in¬
trepidity. The defenders had the advantage of greater
coolness, and consequently more true courage ; and in pro¬
portion as the attacks of the Turks were more fierce, the
greater was their loss of men, for they were so effectually
repelled at every point, that Mustapha already began to
think ol abandoning the siege. The grand master had means
ot receiving some slight reinforcements; and Mustapha
had received, by means of deserters, accurate information
that the viceroy of Sicily, with a powerful fleet, was or¬
dered to sail for the relief of the island. By the same
means he had been informed that the castle of St Michael
was but slenderly garrisoned, and that it might probably
be carried by one other resolute attack. This determined
Mustapha, who had already begun to embark some of his
troops, to re-land them, and recommence the siege. He
attacked both the castle and the town with a fury akin
to madness, and they were defended with a courage that
did honour to the Christians. Every person in the forts
and the city, from the grand master to the youngest in¬
dividual of both sexes, ran to the walls, and used such im¬
plements as they could best manage; till at last, after
seven assaults with all their army and artillery, each one
being more desperate than the preceding, they were com¬
pletely beaten back with prodigious slaughter.
Hie attack on what was called the New Town was re¬
newed on the following day in a similar manner, and would
perhaps have succeeded, if the grand master himself had
not flown to its defence, and there forced the infidels to re¬
tire with the loss of two thousand of their best men. Mus¬
tapha then attempted the breaches of the castle of St Mi¬
chael, but courage prevailed over despair. The assailants
found new works run up in the night behind the breaches
they had made in the day; and though they repeated their
storming with increased fury, they were no’t only repulsed,
but suffered severely by sallies from the garrison.
By the various attacks and repulses, the physical powers
of both assailants and defenders became exhausted, and
the efforts of both were for a short time suspended. In
the interval Mustapha attempted to treat, but his attempts
were all rejected with contempt by the grand master; and
he, in consequence of numberless inhuman actions com- Malta,
mitted by the Turks, issued orders that in future no quarter
should be given to them. Mustapha was making prepara¬
tions for a general and dreadful assault, when he received
intelligence that the Spanish fleet, which had been long de¬
tained in Sicily by contrary winds, had arrived near the
island. He then in haste broke up the siege in confusion,
before the Spanish troops, which amounted to ten thousand
men, had been landed. When that had been accomplished,
the viceroy returned with the vessels to Sicily. Mustapha
was misled by false intelligence, which had stated that only
three thousand Spaniards had been landed. He therefore
landed seven thousand men to intercept them before they
could reach the capital. This body of men was attacked
and routed with the loss of two thousand of their men,
when the remainder were embarked on board the vessels,
and the whole force returned to their own ports. In this
memorable siege, which lasted four months, the Turks are
said to have lost twenty-four thousand of their best men,
and twenty-four pieces of ordnance. The loss of the Mal¬
tese had been two hundred and forty knights of the order,
and five thousand men.
After this spirited defence, the Turks, the only enemies
of the order, were so impressed with the impregnable
strength of Malta, that they neither made nor contemplat¬
ed any further attack on the island.
The only operations, therefore, which could occupy them
were of an inconsiderable kind, such as that of sending out
their gallies to protect the coasts of the Mediterranean
against the roving cruisers which issued from the ports on
the African shore. In this state of inactivity the knights
naturally became indolent and voluptuous. The strict rules
of their order were scarcely ever enforced, and many of
them spent their time in the gay pleasures of the conti¬
nental cities. Their military duties were slightly perform¬
ed, and their naval forces were so reduced that it amount¬
ed only to four gallies, three galliots, four ships of sixty
guns, badly appointed, a frigate of thirty-six guns, and a
number of quick-sailing small vessels, known by the name
of scampavivas. The fortifications of the island were not
neglected. One side of it is so completely fortified by na¬
ture, that no aid is required from art, the rock being of
great height, and quite perpendicular from the sea for se¬
veral, miles. The ancient defences thus grew up to be a
prodigious range of works with excavations, compared with
which, the boasted catacombs of Rome and of Naples ap¬
pear insignificant. The ditches, of vast size, were cut out
of the solid rock, and, extending for many miles, excite
surprise that a state so small should ever in two centuries
have been able to execute them. The government of the
grand master was, however, a simple despotism as soon as
he was elected, which was done by a committee of twenty-
one knights, nominated by the several Catholic powers
who had longues. He had the appointment of all officers,
civil and military, and presided in all the councils which
governed the island, as well as the knights of the order.
His court was splendid and expensive; and he had the
patronage of a great number of commanderies and priories
in the several states of Catholic Europe. Mr Brydone,
who visited Malta a few years before the dissolution of
its independence, remarks, “ that it was an epitome of all
Europe, and an assemblage of the younger brothers, who
are commonly the best of its families, whence it is pro¬
bably one of the best academies for politeness in this part
of the globe ; besides, where every one is entitled by law
as well as by custom to demand satisfaction for the least
breach of it, people are under the necessity of being very
exact and circumspect, both with regard to their words
and actions.’ It is difficult to conceive that society can
be in a very refined state from which females of good cha¬
racter are excluded, and where, as with the knights of
62 M A
Malta. Malta, though marriage was prohibited, concubinage was
undisguisedly practised.
Malta was continued as an independent state, and a
member of the great European family, till the year 1799. At
that time, Bonaparte, with his vast armament for the inva¬
sion of Egypt, appeared before the island, and, after a short
parley, it was delivered up to him. This hasty surrender
has been commonly attributed to treachery and bribery,
not being accounted for upon any other principle ; for as¬
suredly the knights could have made some defence, and
the French were in too much haste to avoid the fleet of
Nelson to have spent the requisite time in capturing it, if
any resistance had been made. In consequence of this
French occupation, the island was surrounded by a British
naval force, and a strict blockade was established. This
produced a degree of famine and distress to which the gar¬
rison was at length compelled to submit, and, after a year
and a half of suffering, it was given up to the English.
After the capture of Malta, and the expulsion of the French
from Egypt, a peace was concluded between England and
France ; and one of the conditions of that treaty was the
restoration of Malta to its former state of independence.
The grand master was to be nominated by the pope, and
the knights were to be restored to their former rank and
dignity, and the king of Naples was to be the guarantee for
the independence and neutrality of the island. France de¬
manded the surrender, and England declined to give it up.
The existence of independence in Malta could only arise
from the possession of the commanderies and priories in the
several Catholic countries, as it had no other revenues.
These had been seized upon by the governments of France,
Spain, and Bavaria, and thus diverted from their application
to the finances of Malta. It also became known to the Bri¬
tish government that a grand master had been nominated
at the instigation of France, who was a decided creature
of Bonaparte. It was thought that Naples was too weak
a power to be trusted to as a security against the design
which France had avowed of again occupying Egypt, in
which case Malta would have been an almost indispensable
possession. It is needless here to enter into the negocia-
tions which were carried on upon this subject, because they
were mixed up with the other objects which wrere then
causes of dispute, all of which led to a renewal of the wrar
in 1803, and to leaving Malta in the hands of the British.
It may, however, be observed, that the refusal of the Bri¬
tish government to restore Malta to the knights, gave a
great advantage to that of France in the discussions which
preceded the renewal of hostilities. The stipulation in
the treaty was so express that it could not, by any con¬
struction, be eluded; and accordingly the government of
France demanded its unconditional fulfilment. This threw
the British ministers upon the defensive. As far as regarded
the treaty, the obligation on the part of Great Britain to
restore the island to its former state of independence was
undeniable. In refusing compliance, therefore, the go¬
vernment of the latter had to justify an apparent breach
of compact, and consequently found itself reduced to a
situation which is at all times questionable and embarrass¬
ing, whatever be the nature of the grounds upon which
such a refusal is rested. The demands of France were
answered by criminations against the conduct of her ruler
in regard to other countries, particularly Switzerland; and,
as might have been foreseen, the war recommenced with
increased fury upon both sides.
At the general pacification Malta was formally ceded to
us by all the powers of Europe, and has continued under
our government to the present time. The group of islands,
comprehending Malta, Gozo, and Cumino, whose history
has been narrated, occupy an extent, from south-east by
east to north-w'est by west, of eight and a half marine
leagues; Cape St Demitri, the north-west end of Gozo,
L, T A.
being in east longitude 14. 10. and in latitude 36.3. north ; Malta
and Point Benhisa, the south-east end of Malta, being inv'—“N'-*
east longitude 14. 33. 30. and in north latitude 35. 49. 30.
Malta is irregular in figure, and its surface is composed
of small valleys, defiles, and hills. It has been conjec¬
tured that the three islands, Malta, Gozo, and Cumino,
are the remains of a large tract of land, which once ex¬
tended towards the south-west, and which resisted the
violence that caused the destruction of the country of
which they formed a part. To have a just idea of Malta,
we must figure to ourselves an inclined plane, extending
from south-west to north-east, in such a manner that the
calcareous strata of which it is composed rise towards the
south and south-east 200 fathoms above the sea, which
dashes against the bottom of these declivities ; at the same
time, on the opposite side, they are of considerable length,
and decline insensibly till they become level with the sea.
The broadest part of the island, though sufficiently ele¬
vated, is that to the east of the city of Yaletta ; this part is
consequently more densely peopled, and better cultivated,
although there, as in all other places, the rock is entirely
naked, except where the hand of industry has placed a
layer of earth to encourage cultivation. The principal de¬
files and valleys run from south-west to north-east, and all
of them seem as if formed out of the rock by the violent
currents of water rushing from the heights.
Malta contains two cities and twenty-two casals or vil¬
lages, the original capital being Citta Vecchia, the old or
notable city, though called by the inhabitants Medina. It
is the see of a bishop, and contains, besides the cathedral,
which is large and commodious, several other churches
and religious houses. The town is so elevated, that from
it may be seen the whole island, and sometimes the coasts
of Africa and Sicily, both about seventy miles distant.
The catacombs in this place are very extensive, and of
great celebrity. They contain streets in all directions,
which are formed with such regularity that they have
been called the subterraneous city. Near to Citta Vecchia,
on the south, is the grotto of St Paul, which is used as a
church. It is an extraordinary cave, divided into three
parts by iron gates. The sepulchral grottos of the Ben-
jemma Mountains, two miles west from the city, are rank¬
ed amongst the curiosities of Malta. In the craggy rocks
around Malta are many spacious caves or grottos, into
some of which, being on a level with the sea, the waves
dash in when in an agitated state, and resound most tre¬
mendously. The mouths of others are at different heights,
and the access to them difficult and dangerous, according
to their situation. One of the most considerable of these,
near Benhisa, the south-east point of Malta, extends more
than two hundred paces under ground. All these grottos
are full of stalactites and stalagmites, produced by the
water filtering through the calcareous rocks.
Malta is generally considered as divided into two un¬
equal parts, the one to the east and the other to the west of
Citta Vecchia. All the casals or villages are in the eastern
division, which is much larger than the western, the latter
containing only detached houses, amongst scenery which is
commonly picturesque, but, the air towards the coast be¬
ing very unwholesome, and there being a scarcity of land
capable of cultivation, farmers are not tempted to reside
in it. The whole of this part abounds in odoriferous plants,
and has in it some very considerable salt-works.
Gozo stands much higher than Malta, and is entirely
surrounded by perpendicular rocks, the highest of which
are to the west and south, where they are tremendously
steep. The country is not so uneven as that of Malta,
consequently it is more easily cultivated; and it appears
that the surface was originally nearly horizontal. The
pasture-land of Gozo is fine, and great numbers of cattle
are fed on it for the use of Malta, with which there is dai-
MALTA.
Malta. lv communication. The grapes of this island are peculi-
A^a'rlj fine, and so highly esteemed by the Maltese, that al¬
most the whole of them are bought up for their consump¬
tion. Cotton and corn are cultivated with success; the
air is particularly healthful, and the country presents many
agreeable prospects. It contains six casals or villages.
One castle stands upon the summit of the island, and an¬
other, Fort Chambray, on the south-east coast. The in¬
terior fortress is on a solitary rock, of not more than 300
yards in diameter. In the heart of a mountain on the
north-west, near Zabug, is a quarry of alabaster. There
are some salt-works near Port Miggiaro, on the south-east
side. At half a league from thence, towards the west, is
a shelf, celebrated for producing the Fungus Melitensis, or
Maltese mushrooms; and farther on is a coast formed of
caverns and vertical rocks, from 150 to 160 feet in height
above the water, which rocks are buried in the sea to a
very great depth, but are of so white a colour, and the
water so translucent, that they can be easily distinguished
at a great depth under the waves. Cliffs continue all round
the western coast, but they are not so high as those of the
south, and are broken in several places.
Cumino is a small island in the channel which separates
Malta from Gozo, and partakes mostly of the character of
the latter. The two channels which are formed by this
island have a depth of water from twelve to twenty fa¬
thoms, and consequently are safe for the largest vessels,
keeping the middle of the channel, in which, too, is good an¬
choring ground of fine sand. The greatest length is two
miles, and at the north-west end are three small caves of
the depth of from two to three fathoms. There is a tower
on a height at the south end, to the westward of which is
the islet of Cuminotto, and some rocks.
The great value of this group of islands, whether in a
military or a commercial view, depends on the excellence
of the numerous harbours to be found on its shores, in the
facility of entrance to them, and in the excellent anchorage
on almost every part of the surrounding coast, except in
the south-west part. The first to be noticed is the Marsa
Musceit, and the Porto Grande, or great port of Valetta,
separated by a rocky peninsula or tongue of land, on which
stands the city, with its suburb Floriana. At the extremi¬
ty is Fort St Elmo, which serves to defend the entrance
into both ports. On the south side of the great port are
two other peninsulas of rock, pointing towards Valetta, and
forming inlets which serve as excellent harbours. On the
first of these is the castle of St Angelo and the town of
Victorioso; on the second, the town oflsola or Sanglea; and
southward of both is that of Burmola, surrounded by the
fortification called the Cottonera. The inlet on the east¬
ern side of Victorioso is the Porto della Ilenella; that be¬
tween Victorioso and Sanglea, Porto della Galera; and
that on the west of Sanglea, Porto dell’ Isola Sanglea. The
promontory which forms the north side of Marsa Musceit,
as St Elmo and Valetta form the south side, is named Point
Dragut, and exhibits on its extremity Fort Tigne, which
defends the harbour. Over the south point of the entrance
to the Grand Port is the more extensive Fort Ricasoli.
The approach to the harbour of Valetta is exceedingly
picturesque and interesting; and the fortifications, close to
which every ship has to pass, seem sufficient to annihilate
the most powerful naval force that could be brought against
it. Without the harbour, the water is from sixty to eighty
fathoms in depth, but the bottom is good holding ground ;
and as the wind is commonly variable outside, and the en¬
trance rather too narrow to attempt to work in, the larger
ships of war commonly anchor there, and are warped in, for
which there are great conveniences. The entrance is not
more than 250 fathoms, but is safe and commodious, and
large enough to contain, in its several ports, the whole Bri¬
tish navy. Water for shipping may be had in any quanti-
63
ty. It is filled with a hose alongside the wharf, from pipes Malta.
laid down for that purpose. The houses are built with flats'-~-y '
roofs, plastered with pozzalana, with pipes conducting to
the cisterns, so that all the rain-water is preserved. There
are also many public cisterns, and likewise a fountain, the
source of which is in the southern part of the island, from
which the water is conducted by an aqueduct to fill the cis¬
terns when the winter rains do not furnish a sufficient supply.
There are other harbours, which our limits do not ad¬
mit of our describing, and without description their names
would be of small use to navigation ; they are scarcely used
for purposes of commerce, as nearly the whole trade is car¬
ried on in Valetta.
The Maltese islands are calcareous rocks, containing
some petrifactions and concretions. This rock is mostly of
a porous nature, and a great proportion of it is covered
with earth brought originally from Sicily and other parts.
The ground so formed is never suffered to rest, but is cul¬
tivated every year. The colour of the soil varies in differ¬
ent districts, and it is seldom more than a foot in depth on
the surface of the rock: in summer it is irrigated chiefly by
the night dew; but the rock being porous, retains the mois¬
ture, and keeps the earth constantly fresh. The earth is
always removed once in ten years, in order to clear the
rock of a thick crust which forms on it, and prevents the
moisture from penetrating sufficiently.
When the ground is properly prepared, it produces in
the first year water-melons and garden-plants; in the next
year, an excellent fruit, preserved through the winter, call¬
ed Malta melons ; and after that, barley, the straw of which
forms fodder for the cattle. The ground is ploughed in
the third year, and then planted with cotton; and in the
fourth, it is sowed with corn. The land afterwards bears
three different crops successively, but particular care is
taken to prepare the ground the year in which the cotton
tree is to come into bearing, when it is necessary to reduce
the earth to a kind of powder.
The greatest part of the land is planted with cotton, of
which three species are cultivated. One is natural to the
country, another was brought from Siam, and the third,
which is of a cinnamon colour, known by the name of atillas,
wras brought from the West Indies. Wheat is sown in No¬
vember, after three ploughings, and is cut in the beginning
of June. Barley is sown in the same month, and harvest¬
ed in May. A grain called tommon is grown in the poorer
soils, but most of it is mixed with wheat, sometimes with
rye, and the crop collectively is called meschiato. Every
field is enclosed with stone walls five or six feet in height,
in order to shelter the plants from the effects of wind, rain,
and storms, during the spring and the autumn.
The islands both of Malta and Gozo produce various
fruits of exquisite flavour, with excellent roots and very
fine flowers. The roses especially are described as smell¬
ing more sweetly than those of any other country. They
likewise yield cummin, aniseed, laricella, and lichen; the
last grows on the rocks exposed to the north, and is used
for dyeing the amaranthine colour. The gardens in Malta
are numerous, especially towards the east. They are ge¬
nerally ornamented with groves of orange and lemon trees.
The greatest attention is paid to them, and they are com¬
monly watered twice a day, the water being constantly
kept for their use in cisterns hewn out of the rock, with
trenches dug round them to collect the rain.
Bees are kept in great quantities in some parts, in hori¬
zontal hives. The honey is of the most delicious flavour,
and always remains in a liquid state. There are many asses
of a strong race on the islands. The sheep are very proli¬
fic, and in number about 12,500. There are about 6500
horned cattle, and 5570 horses of all kinds.
The appropriation of the land, and the crops produced
from it, in 1832, may be seen by the following statement:
MALTA.
64
Malta.
'—-y—'
Nature of Crop.
Number of
English
Acres.
Wheat 
Meschiato 
Barley 
Beans and other }
pulse j
Cotton 
Vegetables, f
fruit, &c t
Forage.
Sesamum 
Cummin seed.
Pasture 
8,499
10,275
8,110
4,484
11,236
6,163
8,445
159
474
3,550
61.395
Islands.
Malta...
Gozo....
Cumino.
45,612
15,717
66
Uncultivated Land.
Malta 
Gozo 
Cumino 
61,395
44,589
1,371
886
Whole extent of )
the islands... /
108,251
Quantity of Produce.
77,739 English bushels.
218,640 ditto.
157,672 ditto.
57,091 ditto.
3,445,211 lbs.
f 27,556,875 lbs. be-
-< sides 102,211 lbs.
( of green peas.
| 164,311 somas, or
loads of 10 bundles,
4,769 somas.
209,128 lbs.
Besides the food produced from the soil, there are in
the islands 285 boats employed in the fishery on the coast
for the daily supply of the markets, who take large quanti¬
ties, and, especially from August to October, catch a par¬
ticular kind of fish, something resembling the dolphin,
called at Malta the lampoiikeag.
The population, births, marriages, and deaths, in 1832,
were as follows:
f Natives 
British x’esidents
Foreigners 
King’s troops 
Wives of ditto...
- Children of ditto
Persons connect¬
ed with the
troops, not sol
diers  
w Children of ditto
§ j Natives 
^ ( British residents
Total.
47,991
737
1,060
2,223
297
22
22
52,352
8,234
8
60,594
51,963
453
431
280
285
53,441
8,220
8
61,669
3,238
6
19
3,263
476
3,739
597
2
606
94
700
2,445
11
13
2,469
284
2,753
The deaths thus appear to be one in 44|- of the whole
population, and the births one in 32|.
These islands may be considered as one of the most Malta,
densely peopled spots upon the globe, certainly the most ofv'-—v*-
any portion of Europe. The whole land, it will be seen,
does not exceed nine tenths of an acre to each human be¬
ing ; and reckoning only that part which is cultivated, and
all that is susceptible of being so, it is scarcely five eighths
of an acre to each.
The people of Malta, though subjugated from time to
time by different nations, retain the peculiarities of an ori¬
ginal character, and many countenances indicate an Afri¬
can origin. They are commonly strong, short, plump, with
curled hair, flat noses, turned-up lips, and the colour of
their skin is the same as that of the inhabitants of the coasts
of Barbary. Their language is a kind of Italian, mixed with
many Arabic words; but it is intelligible along the north¬
ern shore of Africa, to which quarter of the world Malta
wras often considered as belonging, till an act of parliament
caused it to be treated as a part of Europe. These people
are generally industrious, active, faithful, economical, and
courageous, and their temperance is exemplary; but, with
these good qualities, they are said to retain the defects at¬
tributed to the Africans, being mercenary, passionate, jea¬
lous, and vindictive. They are vehemently attached to the
Catholic church, and not a little superstitious and fantasti¬
cal in practising the several ceremonies which that system
of religion inculcates. They drink coffee and chocolate more
than wine or spirits, and their food consists chiefly of vege¬
tables and fish; but on festivals they eat much pork, and
consequently many pigs are kept. Though much of their
former character has been retained, yet, since they have
become British subjects, sources of profit have been deve¬
loped, which have increased amongst them industry and the
spirit of enterprise, and they are converted into the best
seamen of the Mediterranean.
Malta is, from its situation, remarkably salubrious; epi¬
demic affections rarely occur, but the same diseases return
every year with greater or less violence, according to the
nature of the season, and all partake, more or less, of a
bilious character. Genuine inflammatory disorders are sel¬
dom present, but during the spring bilious intermittent
fevers prevail.
The four seasons are regularly and well defined. The
spring is delightful, and accompanied with a sweet and tem¬
perate air. In June, the heat is considerable, and it conti¬
nues to inci'ease during the whole summer. The winds, which
are almost imperceptible, mostly blow from the east; the
sea is then calm, and no country can appear more delight¬
ful. In September, the sky begins to be obscured by clouds ;
towards evening the atmosphere is charged with electrici¬
ty, w'hich produces frequent lightning, often attended with
violent peals of thunder; and sometimes even violent shocks
of earthquakes are felt. From December to March the sky
is covered with clouds, and the rains are very abundant.
The sea is in a constant state of agitation; the winds are
cool, and blow from the north, from the north-west, or the
north-east, with great violence. The siroccos, or south
winds, never blow more than three days. They are fre¬
quently succeeded by a calm, during which the heat is very
great, but much less oppressive and suffocating, though
the thermometer frequently shows a much higher tempe¬
rature than on other occasions.
The commei'ce of the Maltese islands has greatly fluctu¬
ated since it has been in the possession of the British. Dur¬
ing the war, and especially after the issuing of the Berlin and
Milan decrees, they became the great depot for all the
commodities produced within the British dominions in the
several quarters of the globe. At that time, ships from the
ports of Turkey repaired in great numbers to Valetta, and
returned with valuable cargos of coffee, sugar, and other
tropical articles, as well as British manufactured goods.
These were landed in the ports of the Archipelago, and
MALTA.
65
Malta, thence conveyed, by contraband trade, to the towns in
Austrian, Prussian, and other German states, and at times
into France itself. That vast trade has ceased with the
return of general tranquillity, and the only commerce
now is that of the exchange of the productions of the
islands with those of other countries which are required
for consumption. The chief article imported is corn, as
the islands scarcely produce more than half of what is re¬
quired for that kind of food. It comes partly from Sicily,
and partly from the Russian ports of Odessa and Tagan-
rock in the Black Sea. It is made a principal source of
revenue, being charged with a duty varying from 12s. to Is.
the quarter, according as the price is lower or higher. In
the year 1834 the value of the imports was,
Goods from British colonies in North America... L.2,005
Other British colonies  27,260
United States of America  9,786
Great Britain  182,982
Foreign countries  369,633
L.591,666
The exports in the same year amounted to L.403,377.
These consisted of a great variety of small articles, the chief
of which was cotton yarn spun on the islands and sent to
Naples, Sicily, and Lombardy.
Vessels that cleared from the ports in the same year :
Ships. Tons.
British   16 2,730
British colonies  29 3,694
United States of America  4 464
Foreign states 1,459 174,143
Total 1,508 181,031
The civil government of Malta, since it became a de¬
pendency of Britain, has been such as to reconcile the in- Malta,
habitants generally to the dominion of a foreign power, and'-—v—
to excite no regret for the loss of a precarious, uncertain
independence. The religious establishment is supported as
before the conquest of the island, and as much indulgence
and even complaisance is exercised towards the habits of
the people in holidays and processions as they can possibly
desire. The system of municipal law has been but little
altered ; for though there is an English chief judge, the nu¬
merous inferior native judges remain in possession of their
offices, and decide causes as formerly, only subject to an
appeal to the supreme court. The education of all classes
is cared for. There is a university, with its due number of
professors; and in the year 1834 a lyceum or grammar
school was established in connection with the university.
The professors in both receive salaries from the govern¬
ment, as do also the tutors of the numerous local schools for
primary instruction. The hospitals, and other institutions
of a charitable nature, which cost annually from thirteen to
fourteen thousand pounds, are, upon the whole, well con¬
ducted, and prove highly beneficial to the objects of dis¬
tress.
Though the taxes are light, and the duties on all import¬
ed commodities are fixed at a low rate, the revenue more
than defrays the expenditure; for, excepting the salary of
the governor, which is L.5000 per annum, and those of the
secretary and chief justice, who have L.1500 each, the sa-
aries of the other offices, which are mostly filled by na¬
tives, are fixed at a low rate, commensurate with the cheap¬
ness of the means of subsistence. In this respect, Malta
presents an exception to most of our colonial establish¬
ments.
The following statement shows the revenue and expen¬
diture of Malta in the years 1833 and 1834.
Statement of the yearly Revenue of Malta in the Years 1833 and 1834.
Rent and dues of the ^
land of the crown j
Transfer duty on real )
property /
Miscellaneous dues 
Customs 
Excise on wine and spirits
Duties arising from the )
grain department J
Tonnage dues on shipping
Dues on gunpowder 
Quarantine dues 
Fees of the chief secre-1
tary’s office J
Printing-office and go-)
vernment Gazette J
Public registry of contracts
Auction duty 
Fees of the supreme)
council of justice J
Carry over.
1833.
L. s.
22,006 5
1,315 8
2,369 4
8,253 12
16,106 17
37,313 10
3,029 16
86 0
4,212 8
586 7
554 9
99 2
136 8
118 9
L.96,187 15
1834.
L. s.
23,230 12
790
2,377 1
9,699 19
16,750 10
37,897 12
3,624 7
42 18
3,717 18
519 10
514 9
95
173
139 19
L.99,573 4
Brought over...
Fees of the supreme
courts of law 
Fees and incidents of the
inferior courts and of
the police  
Dues of the charitable (
institutions J
Fines and forfeiture of \
every kind, deducting (
the share of the in- t
formers J
Arrears of the ceased noO
tarial duty on marine >
insurances )
Interest of money advan-1
ced to the government >
grain concern j
From small incidental (
resources J
1833.
L. s.
96,187 15
1,957 18
898 10
150 15
250 6
51 5
656 0
1,173 2
L.102,039 19
1834.
Z. «
99,573 4
2,068 10
856 3
132 7
196 5
1 17
1,415 2
L.105,079 10
vol. xrv.
I
66
Malta.
' 
M A L
M A L
Statement of Expenditure in the Years 1833 and 1834.
Salaries and charges of '
the governor’s esta¬
blishment ]
Chief secretary’s office...,
Post-office 
Printing-office 
Treasurer’s office 
Audit-office 
Customs 
Quarantine department...
Marine police 
Land revenue 
Public works and repairs...
Excise on wine and spirits
Judicial departments 
Markets 
Grain department 
Charitable institutions 
University, and lyceum 1
in 1834 /
Public library 
Government schooner  
Subsidy in aid of the Ita- )
lian opera J
Pensions and gratuities 
Burden on the crown)
property    /
Maintenance and passage ]
of distressed persons.../
Stationery of the offices j
in general. /
Military pensions..., 
Incidental expenditure 
Colonial agent in London
Interest of the govern- |
ment loan  f
1833.
L. ».
6,362 13
3,314
550
799
1,770
873
1,127
4,785
3,373
2,552
8,822
477
15,114
751
1,555
13,892
632 13
237 14
400 0
166 13
6,772 14
3,640 11
477 10
572 14
1,601 12
1,294 12
2,000 0
778 14
L.84,699 11
1834.
L. s.
6,352 10
3,315 15
493 0
787 16
1,782 2
858 7
1,137 14
4,727 14
3,500 3
2,503 8
8,371 3
444 13
15,246 16
751 10
1,540 0
14,767 13
1,006 5
239 7
400 0
6,630 3
3,679 14
298 15
494 15
1,435 19
271 12
2,500 0
540 1
L.84,076 14
Having thus shown the relation between the civil ex¬
penditure of Malta and the revenue which it produces,
it is now necessary to notice the military expenditure.
It is not easy to estimate on how much larger a scale our
military force requires to be fixed in consequence of our
possession of Malta. The troops, if not there, would pro¬
bably be maintained in some other port at an equal, if
not at a greater expense. We can only give the follow¬
ing, being a statement of the amount paid by Great Bri¬
tain for the military establishment of Malta for the year
ending the 31st March 1834, viz.
Regimental pay, clothing, contingencies, and hospital ex¬
penses, exclusive of stoppages for pro¬
visions    L.63,032 11 1
Pay of general and medical staff of gar¬
rison, officers, and chaplains  2,362 8 9
Pay and allowances of artillery and en¬
gineers    8,501 0 0
Pay and allowances of the civil depart¬
ment of the ordnance  2,602 0 0
Contingencies of the civil and military
branches of the ordnance  1,783 0 0
Ordnance stores  1,474 0 0
Military works  4,550 0 0
Constx-uction and repairs of barracks, and
military buildings  2,734 0 0
Carryforward L.87,038 19 10
Brought forward 
Barrack stores 
Commissariat pay and passage allow¬
ances 
Pay and allowances of barrack depart¬
ment  
Provisions, forage, and fuel, commis¬
sariat, incidents, stores, and freight of
specie 
Contingent expenses of military depart¬
ments, and special allowances and pay
of pioneers 
Transport of troops and stores 
Provisions and stores sent from England,
with surplus stores delivered from
transports..... 
rn \ ‘
Deductions for stoppages from ordnance
and officers’ servants, for rent of mili¬
tary lands and buildings, for premiums
on bills and payments from colonial
resources 
L.87,038 19 10 Make.
1,006 0 0 Brun.
1,660 1 3
718 0 0
20,352 0 0
511 10 7
2,119 15 5
2,475 5 8
L.115,581 12 9
15,081 6 0
Actual cost to Great Britain  L. 100,500 6 9
The accounts at Malta have been of late kept in English
money, abundance of silver having been introduced, though
Spanish dollars and Italian silver coins are still in circula¬
tion. There are no gold coins in circulation. The silver
currency is estimated to amount to L. 150,000, and there
are in the island two banks which issue notes, amounting
together to about L.20,000. (g.)
MALTE-BRUN, or rather, as he was called in his na¬
tive country, Malthe-Conrad Bruun, was born at Thister,
in the province of Jutland, in Denmark, on the 12th of
August 1775. Llis father, formerly a captain of dragoons,
was counsellor of justice and commissioner of domains.
The latter watched over the education of his son with
great care, and the excellent dispositions manifested by the
young Conrad in his studies, determined his father to edu¬
cate him for the church. At the university of Copenha¬
gen, where he took his degrees, he followed his theological
studies in submission to his father’s desire; but literature
was his chief delight. Endowed with a great facility of
learning languages, and apprehending the niceties of in¬
flexion, and the shades of delicacy by which they are dis¬
tinguished, he was soon enabled to write French with a
facility, an elegance, and vigour, which no other foreigner
ever acquired, and which placed him in the first rank of
French authors.
Though timid and reserved in conversation, he was bold
and passionate in his writings. He proved this in the first
pamphlet which he published, under the title of Wakeren,
or the Alarm Bell, the political sentiments of which drew
down a legal condemnation upon the author.
The reputation which he had acquired determined him
to abandon the ecclesiastical order for that of the bar.
The study of the law developed his independence of opi¬
nion and his enthusiasm for liberty. In 1795 and 1796, he
edited a periodical which he entitled The Aristocrat’s Ca¬
techism, in which the public authorities found ground for
commencing a process against him, which obliged him to
fly to the island of Hvn, belonging to Sweden. During
his retirement, he composed several poetical pieces of great
merit. After a short sojourn in the land of his exile, he
obtained leave to return to Copenhagen. His first care
was to publish his poetical essays. This collection had all
the success which he could wish; but as he never ceased
to assert his country’s right to that freedom which, under
the administration of Bernstorff, she seemed on the point
of obtaining, the party in power, interested in opposing re-
*
M A L
Make- form, characterised the young poet as a discontented and
Brun. revolutionary spirit. The hostility of his enemies again
—v—' menaced him in 1799, on the appearance of a bitter politi¬
cal satire entitled Triajuncta inuno. He therefore hasti¬
ly sought an asylum in Sweden, where his reputation se¬
cured him protection, and his talents won him respect;
and when the sentence of the Danish tribunals had con¬
demned him to exile, he resolved to adopt France as his
country.
He had been little more than three years in France
when he commenced, along with Mentelle, a work entitled
Geographic Mathematique, Physique, et Politique, in six¬
teen volumes. It was the first work of its class which
combined force of expression and elegance of style with
variety of description and minuteness of detail. Before
its appearance, the geographical works of France were
mere compilations, destitute alike of judgment and of taste,
uninteresting in narrative, and repulsive in detail. The pub¬
lic understood, that although Malte-Brun contributed only
a third part to the compilation of the new geography, its
success was mainly to be attributed to his talents ; and the
proprietors of the Journal des Dehats, from the celebrity he
had acquired by this publication, earnestly solicited him to
become one of its editors. His contributions to the Jour¬
nal des Debats, on voyages, geography, history, languages,
antiquities, physical science, morals, and literature, com¬
pose a miscellany at once interesting and voluminous.
At the period when France was preparing to establish
in Poland a barrier to secure Western Europe against the
preponderating power of Russia, Malte-Brun conceived
the design of bringing this country into notice ; a country
which had twice fallen a sacrifice to iniquitous power, and
which, divided between twro of its natural allies, no longer
possessed a geographical existence. The interest which
the Poles excited secured a favourable reception for the
Tableau de la Pologne; a work which, although it cost the
learned geographer only six months’ labour, contains a ra¬
pid sketch of the geography, history, manners, and re¬
sources of the ancient territory of Poland.
It was in the course of the year 1808 that Malte-Brun
executed the plan which he had conceived, for contribut¬
ing to diffuse a taste for geography in France, by the pub¬
lication of a periodical especially devoted to this import¬
ant branch of human knowledge. He then published, in
concert with M. Eyries, the Annales des Voyages, de la
Geographic, et de VHistoire ; and the success of this at¬
tempt led to the publication of other periodical works on
geographical science.
The publication of these annals, and his co-operation in
the editorship of the Journal des Debats, did not prevent
Malte-Brun from finding time to erect that monument to
geography which he proposed to leave as his most durable
title to scientific and literary reputation ; we allude to the
Precis de la Geographic Universelle. The first volume of
this work appeared in 1810, and the sixth in 1825. He
had only prepared the first five or six leaves of the seventh
volume, when he ceased for ever from his labours, leaving
the last two volumes, containing Western Europe, to be
completed by others. An English translation of Malte-
Brun’s Geography has been published at Edinburgh, in
nine volumes 8vo.
Great, indeed, must have been the erudition which en¬
abled him to compose the first six volumes of this work.
The plan is no doubt too vast for one man to execute,
without leaving some parts weak ; still these are compara¬
tively few in number, and no part of what he left unfinish¬
ed has been better done to this day.
The constant and harassing fatigue attending his labo¬
rious employment at length exhausted his strength. For
three days he had determined on confining himself to his
room; but, absorbed by his passion for science, and the in-
MAI. 67
tensity of his desire to be useful, he sketched, two hours Malthas,
before his death, the analysis of a scientific work for the v-——v—■*"/
Journal des Debats; and, on the 14th of December 1826,
an attack of apoplexy suddenly carried him off.
MALTHUS, Thomas Robert, was born in 1766, at
the Rookery, in the county of Surrey, a small but beauti¬
ful estate, at that time in the possession of his family. His
father, Daniel Malthus, was a gentleman of good family
and independent fortune, attached to a country life, and
much occupied in classical and philosophical pursuits, with
a strong bias towards foreign literature. He was the friend
and correspondent of Rousseau, and ultimately one of his
executors; his habits and manners were retired, and his
character singularly unostentatious; and he was the author
of several works which appear to have succeeded in their
day, though he never could be persuaded to acknowledge
them. Robert Malthus was the second son of this gentle¬
man ; and in early life he gave so good promise, in re¬
spect both of character and abilities, that his father under¬
took the conduct of his education, directed his youthful
studies, and, in order to form his habits and dispositions,
entered into all the details of his pleasures and amuse¬
ments. At what school his earlier years were passed does
not appear; but, whether from accidental circumstances,
or from the peculiar opinions entertained by his father on
the subject of education, he was never sent to any public
seminary; and hence he is one amongst many remarkable
instances, of men who have risen into eminence under the
disadvantage of an irregular and desultory education.
From the age of nine or ten, until the time of his admis¬
sion at Cambridge, with the exception of a short period
which he spent at Warrington, he remained under private
tuition, and was sometimes a solitary pupil in the house of
his tutor. But it must be allowed that his instructors
were men of no common stamp; for, besides his father,
whose watchful vigilance never relaxed, one of them was
Richard Graves, author of the Spiritual Quixote; and
the other, Gilbert Wakefield, a scholar, politician, and
divine, the editor of several ancient works, and the classi¬
cal correspondent of Mr Fox, but a man wild, restless,
and paradoxical in many of his opinions, a prompt and
hardy disputant, and, unhappily for himself, deeply in¬
volved in several of those fierce controversies to which
the French Revolution had given birth.
That a youth like Robert Malthus, naturally sensitive
and intelligent, could not be brought into frequent contact
with men of such qualities and attainments, without de¬
riving great advantages, and incurring some danger, from
intercourse with them, may be easily believed. But whilst
he reaped the former, his natural good sense and early
habits of observation happily protected him from the lat¬
ter. He was not of a temper or disposition readily to
mould his own character or opinions upon those of the
first person into whose society he might be accidentally
thrown. From an early period of life he began to judge
for himself, even in matters relating to his education, and
in this respect, as well as in others, showed in how short
a time a fund of useful experience may be laid up by an
intelligent and discerning mind, thrown upon its own re¬
sources, and confident of its own energies. In looking back
to this period of his life, it is instructive to observe the
singular discretion with which he appears to have steered
his cfturse amidst the critical circumstances which sur¬
rounded him ; how much in the formation of his character
was due to influences which were never taken into account;
and how few marks and signs it bore, when grown to matu¬
rity, of the scenes amidst which his early days bad been
passed. More than one instance occurred in which the
advice of the father was successfully combated by the su¬
perior discretion of the son. Nor was the moral influence
of his instructors in any respect more decisive. He left
M A L T H U S.
68
Malthus. the house of Mr Graves, indeed, before any lasting im-
v—^pressions were likely to have been made on his mind; but
although he remained with Mr Gilbert Wakefield until his
admission at college, and always upon the kindest terms,
there seems to have been no great community of senti¬
ment or opinion between the master and pupil; their cha¬
racters were altogether different, nor was there anything
in the truly catholic spirit of Mr Malthus which could be
traced to his training in that sectarian school. At the
same time, it would be unjust to the memory of his father
to deny that he was more indebted to this excellent parent
than to any other instructor, not so much for any know¬
ledge directly conveyed, as for the opportunities which
their intimacy afforded, of stimulating the faculties of his
mind, encouraging him to think for himself, and implant¬
ing in him that love of truth and independence of spirit
which were ever afterwards the distinguishing attributes
of his character. Specimens of this happy intercourse of
mutual good feeling, and of amicable and frank discus¬
sion, may be found in the correspondence between the
father and the son, contained in the memoir of the latter,
prefixed to the collected edition of his works.
In 1784, young Malthus was removed from Mr Wake¬
field’s house to Jesus College, Cambridge, where he was
admitted on the recommendation of that gentleman, for¬
merly a fellow of the society. At this period he was dis¬
tinguished for gentlemanly deportment, polished manners,
and a degree of temperance and prudence which he car¬
ried even into his academical pursuits ; and he was always
more remarkable for the steadiness than for the ardour of
his application, preferring to exercise his mind equably in
the various departments of literature cultivated in the col¬
lege, rather than to devote it exclusively to any one in par¬
ticular, and actuated more by the love of excellence than
by the ambition of excelling. But notwithstanding this
moderation, there was nothing that he attempted in
which he did not arrive at some distinction. He obtained
prizes for declamations both in Latin and in English. He
was considered as amongst the foremost in the classical
lecture-room, and on taking his degree in 1788, his name
appeared in the Tripos as the ninth wrangler. He also
found time for the cultivation of history and general litera¬
ture, particularly poetry, of which he was always a warm
admirer and a discerning judge. In 1797 he took his mas¬
ter’s degree, and was made fellow of his college ; and hav¬
ing about the same time entered into holy orders, he under¬
took the cure of a small parish in Surrey, near to his father’s
house; but he occasionally resided in Cambridge on his
fellowship, for the purpose of pursuing with more advantage
the course of study to which he was attached.
His first attempt as a writer was a pamphlet entitled The
Crisis, which he left in manuscript, having at his father’s re¬
quest judiciously refrained from printing it. It was written
about the year 1797, and the chief object of the writer was to
impugn the measures and general government of Mr Pitt.
In 1798 appeared his first printed work, being an Essay
on the Principle of Population as it affects the Future Im¬
provement of Society, with Remarks on the Speculations of
Mr Godwin, M. Condorcet, and other writers, in one vo¬
lume octavo. In this production, the general principle of
population which Wallace, Hume, and others, had very
distinctly enunciated before him, though without foreseeing
the consequences which might be deduced from it, was clearly
expounded, and some of the important conclusions to which
it leads, in regard to the probable improvement of society,
were likewise stated and explained; but his documents and
illustrations were still imperfect, and he himself was yet
scarcely aware of the whole extent and bearings of the sub¬
ject. The book, however, was received with some surprise,
and excited considerable attention, as an attempt to over¬
turn the theory of political optimism, and to refute, upon
philosophical principles, the speculations then so much in Malth
vogue as to the indefinite perfectibility of human institu¬
tions. But whilst the minds of the generality were in a
state of suspense between these conflicting doctrines, the
author left the country in search of materials to complete
the exposition of his great and fundamental principle.
In 1799, he sailed for Hamburg, along with three other
members of his college, of whom Ur Edward Daniel Clarke
was one. The party separated in Sweden, and Dr Clarke,
accompanied by Mr Cripps, proceeded rapidly to the north,
whilst Mr Malthus and Mr Otter continued leisurely their
tour through Sweden, Norway, Finland, and part of Rus¬
sia, the only countries at that time open to English travel¬
lers. Of this tour he has left other memorials besides those
embodied in his own work, and amongst these may be
mentioned the valuable notes which have since served to
enrich the last volume of Dr Clarke’s Travels. During the
short peace of Amiens, he again left England, and, along
with some of his relations, visited France and Switzerland ;
exploring all that was most interesting in these countries,
and continuing, wherever he went, to collect facts and do¬
cuments for the illustration of the principle he had an¬
nounced, and the completion of his work. In 1805, he
married Harriet, eldest daughter of Mr Eckersall of Bath,
and was soon afterwards appointed to the professorship of
modern history and political economy at Haileybury, a si¬
tuation in which he remained until his death. In 1825, he
had the misfortune to lose a beloved and affectionate daugh¬
ter, who was carried off in the bloom of youth by a rapid
decline; he bore this affliction, however, with his usual re¬
signation, but, for the sake of Mrs Malthus, who felt her
loss most acutely, he made a short tour on the Continent,
whence he returned in autumn to resume his ordinary func¬
tions at Haileybury.
It has sometimes been insinuated, with a view to depre¬
ciate the merits of Mr Malthus as an original writer, that
he was indebted to his father for those new views of popu¬
lation which first appeared in the essay already noticed, and
which subsequently attracted so much attention. For this
surmise, however, there appears to have been no foundation
whatever. That the mind of Mr Malthus was set to work
upon the subject of population in consequence of frequent
discussions betw een his father and himself^ he has fully ad¬
mitted ; but no two individuals ever entertained opinions
more opposite, or differed more completely, respecting the
very principle which the one is alleged to have suggest¬
ed to the other. Daniel Malthus, a man of romantic and
somewhat sanguine temper, had warmly espoused the doc¬
trines of Condorcet and Godwin concerning the perfecti¬
bility of man, to which the sound, practical sense of his son was
always opposed; and when the question had often been the
subject of animated discussion between them, and the lat¬
ter had rested his cause principally upon the obstacles which
the tendency of population to increase faster than the means
of subsistence would always throw in the way, he was de¬
sired by his father to put down in writing, for more mature
consideration, the substance of his argument. He com¬
plied with this request, and the consequence was the Essay
on Population, which his father, impressed with the im¬
portance of the view's, and the ingenuity of the arguments,
recommended him to submit to the public. Such is the
substance of Mr Malthus’s own statement, which appears
to be completely borne out by circumstances of real evi¬
dence. In the octavo volume, the main object being the
refutation of Condorcet and Godwin, it is against them that
his arguments are throughout chiefly directed ; whilst the
chapter on the poor laws occupies a very subordinate por¬
tion of the work, and forms a branch of the subject into
which he appears to have been involuntarily led, without
any intention of pursuing it. But finding that the field in¬
to which he had thus entered was of infinitely greater in-
M A L T H U S.
Malthus. terest than that in which he had at first expatiated, he
''-""'v'"'"-*' wisely continued his researches ; and as the subject grew
upon him, both in extent and importance, as he advanced,
he insensibly gave to it the ascendency which it deserved.
Hence, in the quarto volume which he published upon his
return from the Continent, the order as well as the relative
proportions of the matter is reversed ; the state and pros¬
pects of the poor become the prominent feature, and oc¬
cupy the principal portion of the book, whilst Mr Godwin
ancUthe perfectibility of man are treated as matters of less
moment, and restricted to much smaller dimensions. These
facts furnish a key to many passages in the work, as well as
to the form and the order in which they now appeal’; they
show how one thought germinated out of another,1 until
the whole grew into the maturity of a goodly system; and
they illustrate a profound observation of Dr Butler, who,
speaking of Christianity, describes it as a scheme not yet
entirely understood, but likely to be further developed as
the knowledge of nature is extended. “ For this is the
way,” says he, “ that all improvements are made, by thought¬
ful men tracing out obscure hints as it w ere dropped us by
nature accidentally, or which seemed to come into our
minds by chance. For all the same phenomena, and the
same faculties of investigation, from which such great dis¬
coveries in natural knowledge have been made in the pre¬
sent and last age, were equally in the possession of man¬
kind several thousand years before.”
The latter years of Mr Malthus’s life were passed in the
society of his family, in the exercise of his ministerial and
official duties at the college, and in the cultivation of the
studies more immediately connected with them. In pro¬
portion as the principle of population became better known,
his reputation increased. Most of the statesmen of his
time, and all the eminent political economists, embraced
his opinions, and, in their several departments, paved the
way for that practical application of his principles, in re¬
gard to the poor laws, which has since taken place. Nor
was this just appreciation of his labours confined to Great
Britain. In fact, the principle he had established found
in other countries fewer prejudices to encounter than in
this, principally because the situation of the poor was al¬
most everywhere else less critical. Hence he was honour¬
ed with distinctions from several sovereigns of Europe, and
elected a member of the most eminent literary and scien¬
tific societies, particularly the National Institute of France,
and the Royal Academy of Sciences at Berlin. In his own
country, he was one of the founders of the Political Eco¬
nomy Club, and also of the more recent institution called
the Statistical Society; and he not only attended regularly
the meetings of both, but took a prominent share in their
discussions. He maintained a frequent correspondence
with the most eminent political economists of the day, both
at home and abroad; and he neglected no opportunity
which offered to contribute towards the advancement of
that science which he had so successfully cultivated. But,
whilst engaged in these useful and honourable pursuits,
his career was unexpectedly terminated by death. He
had just entered his seventieth year when he was attack¬
ed by the disorder which proved fatal to him. A few
days before his death he left London for Bath, on a visit
to his father-in-law, being in good spirits, and apparently
in vigorous health, anticipating a cheerful Christmas with
his children, and other members of his family, who had
been invited to meet him. But Providence had ordered it
otherwise. Soon after his arrival he was seized with an
affection of the heart, which in a few days hurried him to
the grave. His death was totally unexpected by his
friends, perhaps also by himself, but he retained the full Malthus.
possession of his faculties to the last.
On the character of Mr Malthus as an author, in which,
of course, he stands most prominent, it is not necessary
for us to enlarge here. His principal work has been long
known, not only in this country, but in almost every other;
and the judgment generally pronounced upon it by intel¬
ligent and unprejudiced men has been such as to satisfy
his warmest friends. We are perfectly aware of the dif¬
ferent opinions which have been formed of this Essay, and
of the calumnies with which the author was assailed. We
know that coldness, harshness, and even cruelty, have fre¬
quently been imputed to him, and that a deliberate de¬
sign ot degrading the poor has been charged against the
author of a work whose sole motive and object was to in¬
crease their comforts, and raise their moral and intellec¬
tual condition. But, on the other hand, the most reflect¬
ing and cultivated minds in this, as well as in other coun¬
tries, have adopted and approved both the principles and
the reasoning of this work, whilst its opponents have, with
few exceptions, been persons who had either not read it
at all, or who had grossly misconceived its object and
tendency; and, what is of still more importance, its doc¬
trines are now being put to the test of a great legislative
experiment, with every prospect of the happiest success.
That the view which Mr Malthus took of the principle of
population is a gloomy one, need not be disputed ; and
that his illustrations of this principle, when considered by
themselves, ai’e perhaps too exclusively physical, may also
be admitted; but, to form an accurate judgment of the
work, the different portions of it must be interpreted in
connection with one another, and also with a special re¬
ference to the circumstances of the times, the condition
of society, and the opinions which have obtained amongst
philosophers and political economists. In writing on a
new and difficult subject, Mr Malthus took the phenome¬
na as he found them j and in endeavouring to discover a ge¬
neral principle by which they might be connected and ex¬
plained, with reference to practical results, he never once
thought that he was encroaching on the province of the
moralist and the divine, far less bringing into question the
superintending agency of that Providence by which all
things are ultimately made to work together for good.
In consequence of his professional engagement at the
East India College, the studies of Mr Malthus were, du¬
ring many of his later years, chiefly directed to political
economy, and, in accordance with the turn which the sub¬
ject had taken, to the discussion of certain subtile and
controverted points of the science, in which an unavoid¬
able ambiguity of language has added to the natural ob¬
scurity of the subject, and thus increased the difficulty of
arriving at a clear understanding of the questions in dis¬
pute. Amongst these may be mentioned the controver¬
sies as to the measure of value, the excess of commodities,
the true theory of rent, and some others, 6n all which his
opinions and views are entitled to the most careful consi¬
deration. In this field, indeed, embracing as it does the
transcendental and esoteric doctrines of the science, Mr
Malthus deserves to be classed with the most distinguish¬
ed of his fellow-labourers; and it is proper to add, that
his Theory of Rent, which was always spoken of in the
highest terms by the late Mr Ricardo, displays a degree of
refined ingenuity which has never perhaps been surpass¬
ed, and evolves a discovery, the importance of which can
only be duly estimated by those who are fully aware of
the uncertainty in which the subject was previously in¬
volved, as well as of the revolution which it may be said
1 Qual ramicel a ramo,
Tal da pensier pensiero
In lui germogliava.
70
M A L
M A L
Malton to have effected in the whole science of political econo-
II my. But, after all, it is not upon his success in this de-
Malus^ partment, in which he must be content to divide with
others the honour of discovery, but upon his Essay on
the Principle of Population, that his reputation, as a bold
and original thinker, must finally rest. The latter work
forms the solid pedestal of his renown, and, notwithstand¬
ing all that his adversaries have alleged, we are satisfied
that it is too firmly fixed ever to be shaken, far less de¬
stroyed.
The following is a list of his works in the order in
which they were published, viz. 1. An Essay on the Prin¬
ciple of Population, as it affects the Future Improvement
of Society, with Remarks on the Speculations of Mr God¬
win, M. Condorcet, and other writers, 1798; 2. An In¬
vestigation of the cause of the present High Price of
Provisions, containing an Illustration of the Nature and
Limits of Fair Price in time of Scarcity, and its Applica¬
tion to the particular circumstances of this Country, 3d
edit. 1800; 3. An Essay on the Principle of Population,
or a View of its past and present Effects on Human Hap¬
piness, with an Inquiry into our prospects concerning the
future removal or mitigation of the evils which it occa¬
sions (a new edition, very much enlarged), 1803; 4. A
Letter to Samuel Whitbread on his Proposed Bill for the
Amendment of the Poor Laws, 1807 ; 5. A Letter to Lord
Grenville, occasioned by some Observations of his Lord-
ship on the East India Company’s Establishment for the
Education of their Civil Servants, 1813; 6. Observations
on the Effects of the Corn Laws, and of a Rise or Fall in
the Price of Corn on the Agriculture and General Wealth
of the Country, 1814, 3d edit. 1815; 7. The Grounds of
an Opinion on the Policy of restricting the Importation of
Foreign Corn, intended as an Appendix to the Observations
on the-Corn Laws, 1815 ; 8. An Inquiry into the Nature
and Progress of Rent, and the Principles by which it is re¬
gulated, 1815; 9. Statements respecting the East India
College, with an Appeal to Facts in Refutation of the
Charges lately brought against it in the Court of Proprie¬
tors, 1817 ; 10. Principles of Political Economy consider¬
ed, with a view to their practical Application, 1820, 2d
edit. 1836; 11. Measure of Value stated and illustrated,
with an Application of it to the Alteration in the Value of
the English Currency since 1790, 1823 ; 12. Definitions
in Political Economy, preceded by an Inquiry into the
Rules which ought to guide Political Economists in the
Definition and Use of their Terms, 1827; 13. A View of
the Principle of Population, written for the Supplement
to the fourth, fifth, and sixth editions of this work, (a.)
MALTON, a town of the north riding of Yorkshire, in
the wapentake of Rydall, 214 miles from London. It is
situated on the navigable river Derwent, is well built, and
contains three parish churches. At this place are some
remains of an ancient castle, with its chapel. There is a
house of correction ; and the sessions are held here. There
are good markets on Tuesday and Saturday. It formerly
returned two members to the House of Commons, and the
number has not been diminished by the new law. The
country around is celebrated for breeding good horses.
The population amounted in 1801 to 3047, in 1811 to
3713, in 1821 to 4005, and in 1831 to 4173.
MALUS, Stephen Louis, the discoverer of the laws
of the polarisation of light, born at Paris on the 23d of
June 1775, was the son of Anne Louis Malus du Mitry,
and of Louisa Charlotte Desboves, his wife.
His father had a place in the Treasury of France, and
gave him at home an excellent education in mathematics
and in the fine arts, as well as in classical literature, with
which he rendered himself so familiar as to retain many
passages of the Iliad in his memory throughout life. At
seventeen he was admitted, after a severe examination, as
a pupil of the School of Military Engineers ; and about the
same time he amused himself with writing a regular trage¬
dy in verse on the death of Cato. He soon distinguished
himself in his military studies, and he was about to obtain
a commission as an officer, when an order of the minister
Bouchotte imputed to him the offence of being a suspect¬
ed person, probably on account of the situation held by his
father, and he was dismissed from the school. He was
then obliged to enter the army as a private soldier in the
fifth battalion of Paris, and he was employed in this capa¬
city upon the fortifications of Dunkirk. Here he was soon
distinguished by Mr Lepere, the director of the works, as
superior to his accidental situation ; and he was selected as
one of the young men who were to constitute the members
of the Ecow Poly technique, then to be established upon
the recommendation and under the direction of Monge,
who immediately chose him, from a previous knowledge of
his merit, as one of the twenty who were to be made in¬
structors of the rest. This body constituted, at that mo¬
ment, the only refuge of the sciences in France, and the
enthusiasm of its members was proportionate to the ad¬
vantages which they enjoyed, and to the importance of the
trust committed to them. In the three years which he
passed in this institution, he was much employed, amongst
other applications of the higher geometry, in pursuing the
mathematical theory of optics, a department of science in
which he was afterwards so eminently to distinguish him¬
self by experimental discoveries. He was then, however,
obliged to abandon for a time the pursuit of scientific in¬
vestigations, and he was admitted into the corps of engi¬
neers, with the seniority of his former rank in the school.
He served in the army of the Sambre and Meuse; he
was present at the passage of the Rhine in 1797, and at
the affairs of Ukratz and Altenkirch. Whilst he was in
Germany, he formed an engagement with Miss Koch, the
daughter of the chancellor of the University of Giessen;
and he was on the point of marrying her, when he was
obliged to join the Egyptian expedition. He was present
in that campaign at the battles of Chebreis and of the Py¬
ramids ; he was also present at the affair of Sabish, at the
siege of El Arish, and at that of Jaffa. After the sur¬
render of that place, he was employed in the repairs of the
fortifications, and in the establishment of military hospitals.
Here he was attacked by the plague, and fortunately re¬
covered from it without any medical assistance. He was
then sent to fortify Damietta; he was afterwards at the
battle of Heliopolis, at the affair of Ceraim, and at the siege
of Cairo. After the capitulation with the English, he em¬
barked on board of the transport Castor, and arrived in
France on the 26th of October 1801. His health was ex¬
hausted and his spirits were broken by fatigue and anxiety ;
but his attachment to his betrothed bride was undiminished,
and he hastened to Germany to fulfil his engagement. His
fidelity was rewarded, during the eleven years that he sur¬
vived, by the most constant and affectionate attention on
the part of his wife ; and she died a year or two after him,
a victim to the same disease which had been fatal to her
husband.
He had, however, enough of strength and vigour of con¬
stitution remaining to enable him, besides the official su¬
perintendence of the works carrying on at Antwerp and at
Strasburg, to pursue the study of his favourite sciences ;
and upon occasion of a prize question proposed by the In
stitute, he undertook the investigation of the extraordinary
refraction of Iceland crystal, which the experiments of Dr
Wollaston had previously shown to agree very accurately
with the laws laid down by Huygens ; and besides complete¬
ly confirming all Dr Wollaston’s results, he had the good for¬
tune greatly to extend the Huygenian discovery of the pe¬
culiar modification of light produced by the action of such
crystals, which Newton had distinguished by the name po-
Malus.
M A L
Malus. larity, and which Malus now found to be produced in a va-
ricty of circunastances, independently of the action of crys¬
tallized bodies. It seems natural to suppose that the in¬
vestigation of the laws of the internal reflection of light, at
the second surface of the crystals, must have led him to the
discovery of the effects of oblique reflection in other cir¬
cumstances ; but, according to Biot, there was more of ac¬
cident in his actual progress ; for he informs us that Malus
had been looking through a piece of crystal, at the image
of the sun, reflected from the windows of the Luxembourg,
to the house in the Rue d’Infer, where he lived, and that
he was much surprised to find one of the double images
disappear in a certain position of the crystal; although the
next day, at a different hour, he could no longer observe
the phenomenon, from the alteration of the angle of inci¬
dence.
The merit of his discovery was soon acknowledged by
his election as a member of the Institute, as well as by the
adjudication of a biennial medal from the Royal Society
of London, on the foundation of Count Rumford. It has
been thought creditable to the Royal Society to have con¬
ferred this distinction in the time of a war between the two
countries; but if any credit were due for only doing justice
conscientiously, it would attach, on this occasion, to those
members of the council, who saw their own optical specu¬
lations in great danger from the new mass of evidence
which appeared likely to overthrow them, at least in the
public opinion, and who were still the most active in offer¬
ing this tribute of applause to the more fortunate labours
of a rival.
Nor was the remuneration of Malus confined to empty
honours only ; from the liberality of the French govern¬
ment, he obtained promotion in his own profession as a mi¬
litary man ; and this not for services performed in the field,
nor even in a difficult and dangerous expedition to unknown
regions, but for experiments made with safety and tranquil¬
lity in his own closet. That government had not carried
the refined principle of the division of labour so far as to
resolve that all public encouragement should be limited
to the precise department in which a public service had
been performed; and hence a mark of distinction, which a
gentleman could accept without degradation, was not deem¬
ed an incommensurate remuneration for a discovery in ab¬
stract science. Such a refinement, which has been prac¬
tically introduced into our own country, might appear, to
a man who had a heart, something worse than sordid ; he
might fancy that a great nation, as well as a great indivi¬
dual, should treat its dependents, “ not according to their
deserts, but after its own honour and dignity.” If, how¬
ever, a person in office happened to have any thing like a
heart about him, the outcry of an indiscriminating opposi¬
tion would soon teach him to silence its dictates.
1. Mr Malus’s first publication appears to have been a
paper On an unknown Branch of the Nile, in the first vo¬
lume of the Decade Egyptienne. 2. He presented to the
Institute a mathematical Traite d’Optique, before the com¬
pletion of his experiments on double refraction ; it was pub¬
lished in the Memoires presentes d VInstitute vol. ii. Paris,
1810. 3. His more important discoveries were first made
known in the second volume of the Memoires d'Arcueil, Pa¬
ris, 1809, 8yo ; and again, 4. in the Theory of Double Re¬
fraction, Mem. pres, d I’lnst. vol. ii., a paper which obtained
a prize on the 2d of January 1810. 5. In a short Essay on the
Measurement of the Refractive Force of Opaque Bodies,
contained in the same volume, he employs the method,
before made known by Dr Wollaston, for conducting the
experiment, and computes the forces concerned upon the
Newtonian hypothesis, applied, however, in a manner
somewhat arbitrary to the circumstances of the problem.
6. Remarks on some New Optical Phenomena, Mem. Inst.
oc. 1810, p. 105, Paris, 1814, read 11th March 1811. This
M A L Vi
paper is principally intended to prove that two portions of Malvoism.
light are always polarised together in opposite directions,
and that no part of the light concerned is destroyed, “ as Dr
Young had been inclined to suspect.” The author found
that light transmitted obliquely through a number of paral¬
lel glasses at a proper angle, becomes at last completely po¬
larised. M. Arago had discovered a case which appeared
to be an exception to the general law of the polarisation of
transmitted light, but it was afterwards readily explained
from the theory of the production of colours by interfe¬
rence, as applied to transmitted light. A letter contain¬
ing the substance of this paper was published in Thom¬
son’s Annals, iii. 257, April 1814, on occasion of some dis¬
coveries of Sir David Brewster, which had been supposed to
be wholly new. 7. On Phenomena accompanying Refraction
and Reflection, p. 112, read 27th May, showing the univer¬
sality of polarisation at a proper angle, and examining the
effect of a metallic surface. 8. On the Axis of Refraction
of Crystals, p. 142; describing an apparatus for finding the
properties of bodies with respect to polarised light, applied
to the determination of the axis of crystals, and to the exa¬
mination of the structure of organized bodies, which ap¬
pear in general to have certain axes of polarisation, as well
as those which are manifestly crystallized.
The zeal and energy of Malus supported him to the
last, not only in the continuance of these interesting in¬
vestigations, but also in his duties as an examiner at the
Ecole Poly technique. He died on the 24th of February
1812, universally regretted by the lovers of science in all
countries, and deeply lamented by his colleagues, who said
of him, as Newton did of Cotes, that if his life had been
prolonged, we should at last “ have known something” of
the laws of nature.
Delambre, M. Inst. 1816, p. xxvii.; Biot, in Biographic
Universelle, xxvi. Paris, 1820.
MALVERN, a parish in the county of Worcester and
hundred or Pershore. It is situated on the range of hills
of that name, which contains mineral springs, owing to
which, together with the purity of the air and the beauty
of the prospects, it is much visited. There are in the two
parts excellent accommodations, both in private and in pub¬
lic houses. The church of an ancient and magnificent mo¬
nastery still remains, and is used for parochial worship.
The population amounted in 1801 to 819, in 1811 to 1205,
in 1821 to 1568, and in 1831 to 2010.
MALVOISIN, William de, some time chancellor
of Scotland, was bred in France, and has been thought
by some to have been a native Frenchman. Soon after
his coming to this country, he was made one of the cleri-
ci regis, and archdeacon of St Andrews, in which latter
capacity we find him present at the christening of the
young prince, afterwards King Alexander II. He was
constituted chancellor of Scotland on the death of Hugh,
bishop of Glasgow, 6th September 1199, about which time
also he was elected into the see of Glasgow, and was
consecrated the following year by a special precept from
Pope Innocent III. In 1202 he was'translated to St An¬
drews, when he seems to have resigned the chancellor¬
ship. In September 1208 he dedicated the new cemetery
at the monastery of Dryburgh (Chalmers’s Caledonia, ii.
339). In 1211 we find him, and Walter, bishop of Glas¬
gow, possessed of legatine powers from Rome, and assem¬
bling at Perth a great council of the clergy and people,
to press upon them the pope’s will and command that
an expedition be undertaken to the Holy Land. In
1214 he attended the coronation of King Alexander II.
and is said to have set the crown on the head of that mo¬
narch. The following year he went with the bishops of
Glasgow and Moray, and Henry abbot of Kelso, to the
fourth Lateran council, where he remained till 1218; and
in the ninth year of King Alexander II. he made a mortifi-
72 M A L
Malwab. cation for the soul of King William. He brought into this
v—“v—country from the Continent some orders of monks and
mendicants, till then unknown here, and had convents
of Dominican friars erected at Aberdeen, Ayr, Berwick,
Edinburgh, Elgin, Inverness, Montrose, Perth, and Stir¬
ling, and monasteries for the monks of Valliscaulium at
Pluscardine in Moray, Beaulieu in Ross, and Ardchattan
in Argyle. He wrote lives of the popish saints Ninian and
Kentigern ; and it was to him and in his time that Pope
Innocent III. sent the decretal letters which appear in
the Corpus Juris Canonici (Decret. Greg. b. iii. tit. 49, c.
6), to the king of Scots ; and (b. iii. tit. 24, c. 9; b. iv. tit.
20, c. 6; and b. v. tit. 39, c. 28), to the bishop, archdea¬
con, and abbot of St Andrews respectively. The zeal of
this bishop for holy church is evident; but it was not his
only passion, for on one occasion we find that he deprived
the abbey of Dunfermline of the presentation to two
churches, because the monks had failed to provide him
wine for supper. Fordun says the monks had indeed sup¬
plied wine, but the bishop’s attendants had drunk it all up.
In a composition regarding tithes, anno 1277 (Connel,
Tif/i. ii. 413), there is reference to an ordinance, “ W7il-
lielmi dicti Mawvoisin, Episcopi Sancti Andreas.’’ Mal-
voisin continued Bishop of St Andrews till his death,
which happened on the 9th of July 1238. (Fordun; Keith’s
Bishops ; Chalmers’s Caledonia, vol. iii. p. 616.)
MALWAH, an extensive province of Hindustan, situ¬
ated principally between the 22d and 23d degrees of N.
lat. On the north it is bounded by the provinces of Aj-
meer and Agra, on the east by Allahabad and Gund-
waneh, on the south by Khandesh and Berar, and on
the west by Ajmeer and Gujerat, being in length about
220 miles, and in average breadth 150. Malwah is a cen¬
tral and mountainous region, but with a regular descent
from the Yindhya Mountains, which extend along the
north side of the Nerbuddah. From these mountains nu¬
merous streams descend in every direction, whence they
flow nearly due north until they join the Chumbul, and
ultimately the Jumna and Ganges. The principal of these
are the Nerbuddah, the Chumbul, Betwa, Sinde, Sopra,
and Cane ; also the Mahy, which has its source in the Vind-
hyan Hills, and flows in the opposite direction from the
other rivers, namely, to the south-west, and loses itself in
the Gulf of Cambay. The land, notwithstanding its eleva¬
tion, is extremely fertile, the soil being in general a fine
black mould, which produces cotton, opium, sugar, indigo,
tobacco, and grain, in large quantities, besides furnishing
pasture for numerous herds of cattle. The tobacco, par¬
ticularly that of the district of Bilsah, is highly esteemed,
and carried to all parts of the country. The opium is also
much esteemed, and is cultivated to a great extent. Bar¬
ley is not cultivated, owing to the unfavourable soil; and
rice only in a few detached spots, which lie convenient for
water. The chief towns are, Oojain, Indore, Bopal, Bilsah,
Seronge, Mundessor, Burseah, and Mundoo. The rivers
are not navigable ; and being an inland province, the com¬
merce is carried on by means of land-carriage. The chief
articles of export are cottons, coarse-stained and printed
cloths, which are sent in large quantities to Gujerat, and
to Mirzapoor on the Ganges, and thence forwarded to
Calcutta; the root of the morinda citrofolia, and opium,
which last drug is exported to the adjacent provinces, es¬
pecially to Gujerat and Cattywar, whence it is smuggled
eastward. The province of Malwah was rendered tribu¬
tary to the Patan sovereigns of Delhi in the thirteenth
century. During the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries it
was governed by independent sovereigns of the Patan or
Afghan race. Malwah was subdued, and continued to form
MAM
a province of the Mogul empire until the death of Aurung- Mambrun
zebe in 1707, when it was invaded and overrun by the II
Mahrattas, and separated from the Mogul dominions, about ^amer8-
the year 1732. The ancient landholders, however, still re- ^ "" v'*"'
tained some forts, which they defended against their invad¬
ers, until they conceded to them a portion of the rents of
the neighbouring villages. These people are called Gras-
sias; and one of them retained a mud fort within ten
miles of Oojain in 1790. There were other petty chiefs,
who held hereditary possession of certain parts of the coun¬
try, and who possessed each one or more strongholds, which
were frequently defended with obstinacy against the rulers
of the province. In the southern division of Malwah the
Bheels or savage tribe are found in considerable numbers,
especially amongst the mountains contiguous to the Ner¬
buddah and Tuptee Rivers. Malwah was the seat of the
Pindarrie power, whence they issued in predatory bands to
pillage and destroy the country. In 1818, after the war
against them had been brought to a successful conclusion,
they took refuge in Malwah, their ancient haunt, and still
meditated new insurrections. But they were pursued with
such activity by the British troops under the orders of Sir
John Malcolm, that they were driven to the hills; and be¬
ing pursued to their fortresses, they were in the end entire¬
ly routed and dispersed. The great object of the British
in penetrating into these remote parts was to put down en¬
tirely the spirit of disorder and rapine by which all ranks
appeared to be animated, having been long inured to the
most unbounded license; and to restore peace in those
regions of Central India, which had long been the scene of
anarchy. For this purpose, having subdued the leaders of
the Patan mercenaries and the Pindarries, he distributed
his troops over the country in such convenient positions as
to awe the disturbers of the public peace into submission,
and to preclude all attempts at violence by the disorderly
bands who were still lingering in the country, and ready
for any violence. By a judicious combination of concilia¬
tion with firmness, Sir John Malcolm succeeded in restor¬
ing order in the distracted country. The result of his ar¬
rangements was the expulsion of the disorderly bands by
which the public peace was disturbed, the restoration to
power and security of the rulers of the different petty
states, and the return to their homes of peaceable and in¬
dustrious classes, who during the reign of terror and anar¬
chy were forced to hide their heads in obscurity. The
same talents and statesman-like policy were displayed by
Sir John Malcolm in his transactions with the Grassia,
Rajpoot, and Bheel freebooters, who were reclaimed from
their wild habits, and converted into trustworthy soldiers
and industrious cultivators.
MAMALUKES. See Egypt.
MAMBRUN, Peter, an ingenious and learned French
Jesuit, born in the diocese of Clermont, in the year 1581.
He was one of the most perfect imitators of Virgil in Latin
poetry, and his poems are of the same species with those
of the Mantuan bards. Thus he w rote Eclogues, Georgies,
or four books on the culture of the soul and the under¬
standing ; together with a heroic poem, entitled Constan¬
tine, or Idolatry Overthrown. He showed also great cri¬
tical ability in a Latin Dissertation on Epic Poetry. He
died in 1661.
MAMERS, an arrondissement of the department of the
Sarthe, in France, extending over 654 square miles. It is
divided into ten cantons and 145 communes, which contain
120,500 inhabitants. The capital is the city of the same
name situated on the river Dive, and has within it 800
houses, and 5550 inhabitants, who make hempen and flaxen
cloth. Long. 0. 16. E. Lat. 48. 20. N.
'i1
*
73
MAMMALIA.
History. Mammalia (from Mamma, breast) is a term in natural
—history applied to those animals which give suck to their
young; and it consequently includes not only all quadru¬
peds, commonly so called, but also the cetaceous tribes, or
whales. The Mammalia form the first class of the Animal
Kingdom, and may be defined as follows : They produce
their young alive, and nourish them by means of milk ;
they possess a heart with two ventricles,—lungs,—warm
blood,—a voluminous brain, with a corpus callosum,—com¬
plete senses,—a muscular diaphragm between the chest and
abdomen, and seven cervical vertebrae.1
The natural history of quadrupeds certainly forms one of
the most interesting and important departments of zoology.
The class itself exhibiting a vast range in size and struc¬
ture, from the delicate harvest mouse to the enormous whale,
presents us with so many species of the highest economical
value to the human race, that selfishness alone, or at least
the desire of immediate personal advantage, would suffice to
induce their attentive study, independent of any more phi¬
losophical consideration. The study of the organization of
quadrupeds has also been of great advantage in throwing
a clear and steady light on several points which would other¬
wise have long continued extremely obscure in the physio¬
logy of man. We need scarcely say to any one who has
witnessed even their external aspect, that the quadrumanous
tribes, or monkeys, are nearly allied in conformation to the
human race ; and that the lord of the creation, in spite of
his spiritual attributes, his intellectual nature, and immor¬
tal destiny, holds many things in common with the brutes
that perish. He is himself a mammiferous animal, and
closely allied, in organization and many physical qualities,
to the other orders of his class ; nor can it be expected that
experience, derived from the practical observation of the
other three great classes of the vertebrated animals, to-wit,
birds, reptiles, and fishes, will ever avail to the physiologist
in a way so full and satisfactory as that deduced from the
careful study and observance of the mammiferous tribes.
At least the latter furnish by far the most immediate and
logical affinities to the human race. In regard to the eco¬
nomical uses of quadrupeds, it is scarcely necessary to say,
that they supply us with the most truly precious of our
earthly gifts. What in themselves are the ingots of pure
gold, or the most dazzling lustre of barbaric gems, compared
in value with the ample covering of our fleecy flocks ? With¬
out the horse, the ox, the sheep, and the dog, how different
would be the social, commercial, and political conditions of
the most civilized tribes of the human race! Without his
rein-deer how would the forlorn Laplander support either
his “ sleepless summer of long light,” or the desolate gloom
of a snow-enshrouded winter ? Without the enduring camel
the desert sands of Africa, if not lifeless solitudes, would at History,
least be nearly impassable to the human race, and as useless v—
for all commercial purposes as an ocean without ships.
It is true, indeed, that every being in nature, the most appa¬
rently insignificant production of a Divine Creator, is neces-
sarily deserving of the most studious attention, on the partnot
only of the philosophical naturalist, but of every intelligent
and instructed mind ; yet it must be readily admitted, that
the creatures with which the great mass of mankind have the
most immediate connection, and in the history of which we
are most interested, either from the advantages they yield, or
the injuries they inflict, are those which may naturally claim
om chief attention. Indeed all branches of natural history
aie in themselves so interesting, independent of any econo¬
mical result,, that each in its turn, when steadily regarded,
seems to claim the precedence ; and we fear that certain of
the treatises on the subject which have already appeared in
this work, may have been deemed as somewhat too extended
by those who had not previously considered the beauty and
excellence of such topics. Indeed we doubt not that many
may still regard an insect chiefly as a thing to be trampled on,
and a reptile as one to be more carefully avoided; and it
probably results from this wide spread persuasion, that even
modern authors not seldom commence their entomological
or other expositions of the so-called inferior tribes, with
something like an apology for discussing the attributes of
such lowly creatures. To us it seems to be enough to
know that they have been created—that they consequent¬
ly form parts of that magnificent circle of organic life of
those wonders “ manifold” which we are desired to magnify,
and the least obtrusive of which are well worthy of the
most delibeiate study by the deepest mind. We scarcely
think, then, that an “ apology” is necessary between man
and man for any degree of devotion to the works of God;
and this, so far as concerns the mammiferous tribes with
which we are now about to be engaged, will probably, from
the undeniable importance of the subject, be at once ad¬
mitted. Few are so sceptical as to doubt the merits of beef
and mutton, and every one may feel kindly disposed to¬
wards a study which numbers, in its subject-matter, so many
mateiials that feed, clothe, and enrich the human race.
We do not propose to enter into any lengthened historical
exposition of this branch of science from remote periods to
the present times. Such investigations may be met with in
many accessible works, and would here occupy too much
of that space within which we must endeavour to illustrate
the more important features of the actual subject. A few
brief notices, however, may not be misbestowed on the
principal epochs which characterize the investigations of
the human mind in this important department.
tT i 1 thv Al’ °r K'dactylm, Linn., is the only known quadruped hitherto supposed to present an
nnrpnt tL 1 ^ ch^afer lastal)ove named ; and it appears from recent investigations, that even this solitary exception is more an
parent than real. An isolated exception to a rule so general, and obtaining in cases of such diversified forms as^hose to wliirt/r
have alluded presents itself to the mind of every one accustomed to look at the general harmony of the established laws offorma
tion, as a violation of that unity of design which constitutes one of the most interesting objects of our investigation esp^Llv tThe'
exceptmn itself is abrupt and sudden, and without any of those intermediate gradations of structure by which the mTndTs nrenared
^ C0"Sldcra ) e diversities of form, and which so generally soften the transitions which the different offices of the same’
error l f nec"ssar^ It. ^ this consideration rather than as merely correcting a generally receTv“d
^npi.v,??’ fflmgS °f.n0 °/dlnar-y satisfaction, that in truth this numerical law is not departed fromln the nresent in
ftan^’.andfthat the an™al in question forms no such exception to the general rule as had been asserted • theXo vertebrm whirh
lave hitherto been considered as the eighth and ninth cervical, being in fact the first and second dorsal, each ofthem bearntT natof
rudimentary ribs, moveably articulated to their transverse processes by a true articular surface This fnrt T bearing a pair of
examination of two skeletons in my possession, one of which is an adult an Us SSallv nrHnnlattS i Ih 6 ascertained b/ the
VOL. XIV. ^
K
MAMMALIA,
Although among very ancient authors some valuable dis¬
tinctive principles were pointed out which remained long
unattended to, and have been recognised and acknowledg¬
ed in their due importance only in comparatively recent
times ; and although the fact of our thus, with all our ad¬
ditional appliances and stores of knowledge, merely as it
were retracing what had been ascertained and recorded by
those whose mortal remains have now for so many ages
mouldered in the dust, cannot but prove the value of an¬
cient discoveries and observation ; yet, upon the whole, it
cannot be said that any work of a remote antiquity presents
an accurate picture of the truth of nature. Fact and fable are
in most instances so intermingled, and a distinct apprecia¬
tion and lucid description of individual features so frequent¬
ly blended with unreal or fantastic characteristics, that to
derive advantage from such lucubrations, the reader would
require to be as learned as his author. At least a constant
watchfulness must be kept up, lest the fictions of imagina¬
tion be received as the records of truth.
Although in Herodotus, the “ Father of History,” we find
a few casual indications regarding quadrupeds, and a greater
number in the later labours of Columella, Varro, Seneca,
Athenaeus, and Oppian, yet the ancient authors who have
treated most amply of their history and attributes, are
Aristotle, Pliny, and Ailian. If the ancient annalist first
named deserved the title above alluded to, so with equal
propriety has Aristotle been named “ the Father of Na¬
tural History.” His descriptions, though often incomplete,
are almost always exact. The general results with which
we are now familiar in the works of our great physiological
naturalists must not indeed be looked for; nor can it be
denied that the merest tyro in anatomy would now be asto¬
nished at his doctrines relating to the structure and functions
of the brain, which he regarded as a cold spongy mass,
adapted for collecting and exhaling the superfluous mois¬
ture, and intended for aiding the lungs and trachea in re¬
gulating the heat of the body. He looked upon the heart
as the seat of vital fire, and not only the fountain of the
blood, but the organ of motion, sensation, nutrition, the
seat of the passions, and the origin of the veins and nerves.
He deemed that the blood was confined to the veins, while
the arteries contained an aerial spirit; and by nerves he
signified not only what are now so called, but also tendons
and arteries, that is, any extended string-\\\ie portion which
the name of viv^ov literally implies. The heart, he alleged,
had three cavities, and that in the larger animals it either
communicated with the windpipe, or the ramifications of
the pulmonary artery received the breath in the lungs and
carried it to the heart, w'hile respiration was effected by
the expansion of air in the lungs, by means of internal fire,
and the consequent irruption of the external air to prevent
a vacuum. Digestion is a species of concoction or boiling,
performed in the stomach, aided by the warmth of the
neighbouring viscera! “ It is perhaps impossible at the
present day, when the investigation of Nature is so much
facilitated by the accumulated knowledge of ages in every
department of physical science, by the commercial rela¬
tions existing between countries in all parts of the globe,
by a tried method of observation, experiment and induc¬
tion, and finally, by the possession of the most ingenious
instruments, to form any adequate idea of the numerous
difficulties under which the ancient naturalist laboured.
On the other hand, he had this great advantage, that al¬
most every thing was new; that the most simple observa¬
tions correctly recorded, the most trivial phenomenon truly
interpreted, became as it were his inalienable property, and
was handed down to succeeding ages as a proof of his ta¬
lents, a circumstance which must have supplied a great mo¬
tive to exertion. The History of Animals is undoubtedly Histor
one of the most remarkable performances of wffiic’h physical
science can boast. It must not, however, be imagined,
that it is a work which, replete with truth, and exhibiting
the well-arranged results of accurate observation and la¬
borious investigation, is calculated to afford material aid to
the modern student. To him more recent productions are
the only safe guides; nor is it until he has studied them,
and interrogated nature for himself, that he can derive be¬
nefit from the perusal of the treatise which we now pro¬
ceed to explain.”1 We shall here avail ourselves in part
of the brief abstract of the writer just quoted.
The first book of Aristotle’s History of Animals contains
a short description of the parts of which their bodies are
composed, and of the differences in the mode of life of
living creatures. He asserts that man alone is capable of
design, for although many other animals are endowed with
memory and docility, none possesses the faculty of reflec¬
tion but the human race. The sense of touch, he states,
is common to all animals, and every living creature has a
humour, blood, or sanies, the loss of which produces death.
Every species that has wings has also two feet, and we know
of no animal which flies only, as fishes swim, for such as
have membranous wings likewise walk, and bats have feet,
as have seals, although of an imperfect structure. In this
chapter he divides animals into such as have blood, and
such as have it not. Of the former (that is, the red-blood¬
ed), some want feet, others have two of these organs, others
four. Of the latter (the white-blooded), many have more
than four feet. Of the swimming animals, which are des¬
titute of feet, some have fins, which are two or four, others
none. Of the cartilaginous class, those which are flat have
no fins, as the skate. Some of them have feet as the mol-
lusca. Those that have a hard leathery covering swim with
their tail. In regard to the mode of production, some ani¬
mals are viviparous, others produce eggs, some worms.
Man, the horse, the seal, and other land animals, bring
forth their young entire; as do likewise cetacea and sharks.
Those which have blow-holes have no gills, as the dolphin
and whale. Of the flying animals, some, as the eagle and
hawk, have wings; others, in place of wings, have mem¬
branes, as the bee and the beetle; while others are fur¬
nished with a leathery expansion, as the bat. Such as
have feathered or leathery wings have blood (that is, red
blood) ; but those provided with membranous wings, as in¬
sects are wfithout blood (i. e. are white-blooded). Although
he had previously stated that every winged species has also
feet, he now propones that such as fly with wings or leathery
expansions, either have two feet or none; for, says he, it
is reported that there are serpents of this kind in Ethiopia.
Of flying bloodless animals, some have their wings covered
by a sheath, as beetles, while others have no covering, and
of these some have two, others four wings. Those which
are of large size, or bear a sting behind, have four, but the
smaller or stingless have two wings only. Those which
have sheaths to their wings, have no sting ; but those which
have two wings are furnished with a sting in their forepart,
as the gnat. Animals are also distinguished from each
other, so as to form kinds or families. These, according
to Aristotle, are quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and cetacea—all
of which have (red) blood. Then there is another kind,
covered with a shell, such as the oyster; and another, pro¬
tected by a softer shell, such as the crab. Another kind is
that of the mollusca, such as the cuttle-fish; and finally,
the family of insects. All these latter kinds are destitute
of (red) blood. Here, then, we have a general classifica¬
tion of animals, which it is important should be borne in
mind by whoever follows historically the stream of zoology
Macgillivray’s Lives of Zoologists, in Edinburgh Cabinet Library, vol. xvi. p. 57-
MAMMALIA.
History, to later times, a stream which, resembling that of certain
actual waters, will be found in its downward course not
only occasionally to diminish, but sometimes altogether to
disappear.
It has been well observed that these, and numerous other
general aphorisms which we have omitted, are by no means
so simple or so easily attained, as one might imagine after
cursory perusal; and this will be the most readily admit¬
ted by him who possesses the most comprehensive view of
the great series of animated life. This system of Aristotle,
then, may be exhibited in its general features by the fol¬
lowing form:—
Red-Blooded Animals.
Quadrupeds, Serpents, Birds, Fishes, Cetacea.
White-Blooded Animals.
Testacea, Crustacea, Mollusca, Insects.
It must not, however, be understood that Aristotle pro¬
poses any formal distribution of animals, for his ideas re¬
specting families, groups, and genera, were extremely vague,
and bear little or no relation to the views entertained in
modern times. His Quadrupeds (and it is with them that
we are at present mainly concerned), include both the mo¬
dern Mammalia and the quadrupedal Reptiles. He divides
them into those which are viviparous, and those which are
oviparous; the former covered with hair, the latter with
scales. Serpents are also scaly, and, excepting the viper,
oviparous. Yet all viviparous animals are not hairy, for,
he observes, some fishes likewise bring forth their young
alive. In the great family of viviparous quadrupeds there
are also many species (or genera), such as man, the lion,
the stag, and the dog, and he mentions as an example of
a natural genus those animals which possess a mane, as the
horse, the ass, the mule, and the wild ass of Syria, which
are several distinct species, but together constitute a genus
or family.1
In his second book Aristotle enters more into minute de¬
tails, many of which are curiously accurate, while others are
as singularly erroneous. An instance of the latter we meet
with at the commencement, when he asserts that the neck
of the lion has no vertebrae, but consists of a single bone.
In speaking of members, he takes occasion to describe the
proboscis of the elephant, and to enter generally into the
history of that gigantic quadruped. He describes the buf¬
falo and the camel, and in regard to the latter, he mentions
both the Arabian and the Bactrian kinds. He next dis¬
cusses the subject of claws, hoofs, and horns, and states
that some quadrupeds have many toes, as the lion, while
others have the foot divided into two, as the sheep, or com¬
posed of a single toe or hoof, as the horse. His general
aphorisms on the subject of horns are wonderfully accurate.
He states that most (he might have said all) animals fur¬
nished with them have cloven hoofs, and that no single-
hoofed animal has two horns. He might have added, “ nor
even one.” He next treats of teeth, which, he says, are
possessed by all viviparous quadrupeds. Some have them
in both jaws, others not; for horned animals have teeth in
the lower jaw only, the front ones being wanting in the up¬
per. Yet all animals which have no teeth above are not
horned—the camel, for example. Some have projecting
teeth, as the boar; others not. In some the teeth are
jagged, as in the lion, panther, dog; in others even, as in
the horse and cow. No animal has horns and protruded
teeth ; nor is there any having jagged teeth that has either
75
horns or projecting teeth; but the seal has them all jagged, History,
because it partakes of the nature of fishes, which possess
that peculiarity. His remarks on the shedding of teeth
are, however, erroneous, and his account of the hippopota¬
mus is inaccurate in almost every particular. But in treat¬
ing of monkeys he notices their great resemblance to the
human race, the peculiar formation of their hind feet,
and their perfect fitness to be used as hands. He then
gives a general account of oviparous quadrupeds, and next
proceeds to that of birds and fishes ; but with none of these
departments are we at present concerned.
Aristotle’s third book is chiefly what may be called phy¬
siological. His fourth treats of those animals which he re¬
gards as destitute of blood; but even here we find inter¬
spersed various interesting and accurate observations on
the higher classes. Thus he enumerates the organs of
sensation, stating that man, and all the red-blooded and vi¬
viparous animals, possess five senses, although in the mole
vision is defective. Yet he pretty correctly describes the
eye of that subterranean dweller, shewing that although it
is covered by a thickish skin (it is not of course so covered,
though the aperture is small), it presents a conformation si¬
milar to that of other animals, and is furnished with a nerve
from the brain. Fie says that all viviparous quadrupeds
not only sleep but dream ; but that it is uncertain whether
the oviparous ones indulge in dreams, although they sleep.
Hie fifth, sixth, and seventh books are occupied by the
subjects of generation and parturition, and the eighth re¬
lates to the food, actions, migrations, and other circum¬
stances in the history of animals. The ninth contains a
multitude of topics not apparently at all related to each
other, but which have in some way successively suggested
themselves to the mind of the author. It is indeed be¬
lieved that whatever remains to us of Aristotle’s History of
Animals may be looked upon as fragmentary; but in what¬
ever light it may be viewed, it cannot be otherwise regard¬
ed than as entirely deficient in method. We continually
meet with the most abrupt transitions, the subject more
immediately at first in view being seemingly lost sight of
for the sake of indulging in digressions foreign to its nature,
and we frequently find a circumstance repeated. “ This
work resembles the rude notes which an author makes
previous to the final arrangement of his book ; and such it
may possibly have been. Of descriptions properly so called
there are few, those of the elephant, camel, bonasus, cro¬
codile, chameleon, cuckoo, cuttle-fish, and a few others, be¬
ing all that we find.”2 It cannot, however, be denied, that
notwithstanding his numerous imperfections, he did much
both for anatomy and natural history, “ and more, per¬
haps,” says Dr Barclay, “ than any other of the human
species, excepting such as a Flaller or Linnaeus, could have
accomplished in similar circumstances.”3 The great import¬
ance justly attached to his writings as the founder of na¬
tural history, has induced us to present a more extended
sketch of his views and doctrines than we can afford to other
ancients. In our remaining notices we shall therefore be
extremely brief.
Nearly three centuries and a half elapsed between the
death of Aristotle and the birth of Pliny, who came into
the world during the reign of Tiberius, and in the twentieth
year of the Christian era. He was a voluminous compiler
of all that was known during his own time, and although of
less accurate observation, and of more defective judgment
than his great predecessor, his works are extremely curi¬
ous, and of considerable value in their way. Flis Natural
History was his latest work, and unfortunately it is the only
1 IMd. pp. 53-62. 2 Loc. cit. p. 72.
5 On Life and Orff animation. The best edition of the Hs^i Z*a> ‘Wueta, is that of Schneider, himself a great Grecian, and an accom¬
plished naturalist. 4 vols. 8vo, Leipsic, 1811.
76 ' MAMMALIA.
History, one which has descended to the present times. It was
—^ composed, according to his own statement, of extracts from
more than 2000 volumes, written by authors of all kinds,
and is in truth not so much a treatise on what we now term
Natural History, as a relation of all that was known (and of
not a little that was imagined) concerning animals, vege¬
tables, the mineral kingdom, the “great globe itself,”agricul¬
ture, commerce, medicine, and the arts. It is divided into
thirty-seven books, the eighth of which consists of notices
not only regarding our mammalia proper, such as elephants,
lions, tigers, panthers, camels, cameleopards, rhinoceroses,
and others, but also touches on the history of dragons, ser¬
pents, and reptiles. As an exposition of natural history,
strictly so called, the work is in truth of little real interest,
and of no utility, and we need scarcely say that every prin¬
ciple of natural arrangement is utterly unknown, or disre¬
garded.
The only other ancient naturalists whom we shall here
name are /Elian and Oppian. The former, surnamed by
reason of the sweetness of his style the honey-tongued,
flourished in the latter part of the second century, and
wrote a history of animals in Greek, which abounds in
foolish fables; the latter was a poet, of the early part of
the third century, who is said to have received from
Caracalla a golden crown for every line. Besides his works
on fishing and falconry (the latter lost), he composed cer¬
tain books on hunting (Cynogeticon), which, with the
others, are probably still consulted by the curious, although
we cannot pledge ourselves to their in any way advancing
the student’s knowledge of the mammiferous tribes.
When the darkest ages began to pass away, that is, wdien
a lengthened period was concluding, during which, so far
as can now be ascertained, the European mind does not
seem to have been successfully exercised either in science
or literature (excepting chiefly what was gained in the one
from the Arabian writers, in the other from the legends
of the Provencal Troubadours), we begin again to perceive
the emanation of a feeble light. The expression, perhaps,
should be qualified by considering the disadvantages of
early writers,—their ignorance of anatomy,—and, for aught
we know, the non-existence of museums. Albertus Mag¬
nus flourished during the greater period of the thirteenth
century, and composed, among innumerable other works, a
History of Animals. It is a remarkable production for its
time. The author lived long at Cologne, where he is said
to have miraculously raised flowers in winter, to please
William Count of Holland. Another of his wonderful feats
was the construction of a speaking automaton, which, how¬
ever, was one day knocked on the head by Thomas Aqui¬
nas, the angelical doctor, who deemed it an agent of the
devil. From these facts we ought probably to infer, that
he possessed no mean skill in horticulture, and was an
adept in mechanical philosophy. He is said, by some, to
have derived his latinized name of Magnus, not so much
from the greatness of his learning and celebrity, as because
his family name in Dutch was Groot. Yet none of the
Counts of Bollstadt, to whom he was akin, seem ever to
have borne such name. In the greater proportion of his
works, he appears either as a commentator on Aristotle
(he is alleged to have been no great Grecian, and to have
studied the Stagyrite chiefly through the medium of a Latin
translation), or as a compiler from the Arabian writers.
His history of animals is mairfly composed from Aristotle,
Pliny, and ^Eliar\, “ He was a man,” says Sir Thomas
Browne, 4< who much advanced their opinions by the au-
thoritie of his name, and delivered most conceits, with
strickt enquirie into few.”
Passing over about two hundred years, we have next to
name some celebrated writers of the sixteenth century.
Old Conrad Gesner, as we are accustomed to call him, died
in the prime of life of a pestilential disease, in the year
1565. Hew’asa native of Zurich, in Switzerland, and a Historr.
very voluminous author. His only work which falls wnthin
our present cognisance is his History of Animals, which
consists of five books, forming several folio volumes, the
last of which was published posthumously, more than twen¬
ty years after his decease. They are adorned with nume¬
rous wooden cuts, which, as may be supposed, are more
curious than accurate. This extraordinary compilation
contains a critical review of whatever had been previously
effected in zoology, but is itself principally composed of
extracts from ancient wn-iters. A portion of it was trans¬
lated into English by Topsell, under the title of a “ His¬
tory of Four-footed Beasts and Serpents.” Gesner’s writ¬
ings wrere long held in the highest estimation. Haller
called him Monstrum, Eruditionis, and his works on Natural
History certainly contain a sufficiency of learning, and not
a few monstrosities. He is said to have been the earliest
individual who, being short-sighted, used the artificial ad¬
vantage of concave glasses.
During the same century flourished (to use an accus¬
tomed term, although we regret to say, that, in regard to
naturalists, it admits of a varied, and sometimes very doubt¬
ful interpretation) four other naturalists, all, in their way,
entitled to the name of great; we allude to Pierre Belon,
Hippolito Salviani, Guillaume Rondelet, and Ulysses Al-
drovandi. The first three devoted themselves chiefly to
fishes, and were, in fact, the founders of modern Ichthyo¬
logy ; the last named was more excursive and extended in
his range. Bayle indeed has remarked, that antiquity does
not furnish us with an instance of a design so extensive, and
requiring such an amount of labour, as that of Aldrovandus.
He truly far surpasses Pliny, both in length and verbosity.
His works amount to thirteen volumes folio, only four of
which (those on birds and insects) seem to have been pub¬
lished during his own life. The volume on “ Quadrupeds
which divide the hoof,” was first digested by Cornelius
Uterverius, and afterwards by Thomas Dempster, a Scotch¬
man, professor at Bologna, and published in 1621. That
on “ Quadrupeds wdiich do not divide the hoof,” was like¬
wise digested by Uterverius, and made its appearance in
1613. The volume on “ Quadrupeds with toes or claws,”
as well as that on Monsters, was compiled from the manu¬
scripts by Ambrosinus. The whole were afterwards re¬
printed at Frankfort, although it is now difficult to obtain
a uniform edition. “ Aldrovandus,” says the Abbe Gallois,
“ is not the author of several books published under his
name ; but it has happened to the collection of natural his¬
tory, of which those books are part, as it does to those
great rivers which retain, during their whole course, the
name they bore at their first rise, though, in the end, the
greatest part of the water which they carry into the sea
does not belong to them, but to other rivers which they re¬
ceive ; for, as the first six volumes of this great work were
by Aldrovandus, although the others were composed since
his death by different authors, they have still been attri¬
buted to him, either because they were a continuance of
his design, or because the writers of them used his me¬
moirs, or because his method was followed, or, perhaps,
that these last volumes might be the better received under
so celebrated a name.” Aldrovandus is usually regarded as
an enormous and insatiable compiler, without much taste
or genius (the latter attribute, fortunately for encyclopae¬
dists, being not altogether essential to such an occupation),
and seems to have borrowed largely, both as regards plan
and materials, from his predecessor Gesner. Buffbn says
with great truth, that, if all that is useless or unnecessary
were expunged from his works, they might be reduced to
a tenth of their bulk ; but we fear it may be added, with
equal truth, that, if the same operation were performed on
every author, not a few would be found to yield not even
that priestly proportion. It is certain, however, that when
MAMMALIA.
History. Aldrovandus treats of cocks or oxen, he does in no measure
restrain himself to their natural history properly so called,
but he tells us of all that the ancients have thought of
them, of all that has been imagined of their virtues or
their vices, their courage or character, all the miracles
with which they have been connected, all the supersti¬
tions of which they have been the subject, all the com¬
parisons which they have furnished to poets, all the attri¬
butes with which various nations have endowed them, as
well as the hieroglyphics, or armorial bearings, in which
they are represented; in short, of every thing that can be
found or fancied in the history of cocks or oxen. It must
be added, however, that, notwithstanding (possibly in con¬
sequence of) his endless redundancy, he is often extreme¬
ly exact in many important particulars; and, although
Baron Cuvier calls his compilation a troublesome and indi¬
gested mass, yet we know of more than one who has found
it both curious and instructive. Aldrovandus, although of
noble birth, and originally of prosperous fortunes, is said
to have died blind in an hospital in Bologna. It was this
melancholy recollection which, coming across our mind at
tlie commencement of the present paragraph, induced us
to qualify the meaning of the term flourished.
Notwithstanding the voluminous labours of the authors
hitherto alluded to, little or no advance had been made in
systematic zoology. It is indeed surprising, that, endowed
with so much learning, and of course with energy and per¬
severance as its sources, none of these observers should
have seen natural objects in the light in which they at pre¬
sent appear, even to the uninstructed; for the most igno¬
rant amongst us would scarcely now arrange all mammi-
ferous land animals and lizards in the same natural group,
simply because they are characterized in common by the
possession of four legs. But great advances were made in
the course of the ensuing or seventeenth century. One
of the earliest, and, we fear, also one of the least success¬
ful zoologists of this period, was John Johnston, descended
no doubt originally from a Scottish family, but born near
Lissa, a city of the district of Posen in Poland, in the year
1603. That portion of his “ Historia Animalium” which
treats of quadrupeds, was published at Frankfort-on-the-
Maine in 1652. The plates, engraved by Matthew Me-
rian, exhibit some improvement on those of Gesner and
Aldrovandus, but the letter-press must share with theirs in
the character of being in a great manner an uncritical com¬
pilation. We here pass unwillingly the great names of
Redi and Swammerdam, neither of whom wrote on qua¬
drupeds, although the physiological observations of the one,
and the surprising and hitherto unrivalled researches in in¬
sect anatomy of the other, have rendered their names im¬
mortal, and, by the philosophical and inductive spirit by
which they were respectively conducted, no doubt mate¬
rially contributed to inspire a better and more original ha¬
bit of observation than had hitherto prevailed.
The British naturalist justly regards with pride the high
station occupied, towards the conclusion of the century, by
the illustrious John Ray. His “ Synopsis Methodica Ani¬
malium Quadrupedum, et Serpentini Generis,” was pub¬
lished in 1693, and besides containing a systematic classi¬
fication of these creatures, it describes their external forms
and internal structure, and illustrates their instinctive ha-
hits by many important and interesting observations. In¬
deed, there are few departments of natural history which
did not receive improvements tVom his pen. He is termed
by Baron Cuvier “ le premier veritable methodiste pour le
regne animal, guide principal de Linnaeus dans cette par-
tie.” The great Swedish naturalist was indeed deeply in¬
debted to Ray, and a careful and comparative perusal of
77
the Synopsis Quadrupedum and of the early editions of the History.
Systerna Nature, certainly inspires a wish that the obliga- '
tion had been more warmly acknowledged. The era in
which Ray flourished has been justly described as the dawn¬
ing of our golden age in natural history. “ The peculiar
character of his works,” says Cuvier, “ consists in clearer
and stricter methods than those employed by any of his
predecessors, and applied with more constancy and preci¬
sion. The divisions which he has introduced into the classes
of quadrupeds and birds have been followed by the English
naturalists almost to our own day; and we find very evi¬
dent traces of his system of birds in Linnaeus, Brisson, Buf-
fon, and in all the authors who have treated of that class of
animals.” We have already alluded, in our brief notice of
preceding writers, to the singular absence of all effort to
illustrate even the most familiar phenomena by any ap¬
proach to actual observation; and this, we think, consti¬
tutes one of the great merits of Ray, that, with sufficient
learning to appreciate and report the recorded studies of his
predecessors, he yet looked abroad on nature with an eye of
admiration and of love, from whence resulted a freshness and
originality, for which we look in vain in many bulkier vo¬
lumes, both of prior and of later times. “ His varied and
useful labours,” observes the author of a recent memoir,
“ have justly caused him to be regarded as the father of
natural history in this country; and his character is, in
every respect, such as we should wish to belong to the in¬
dividual enjoying that high distinction. His claims to the
regard of posterity are not more founded on his intellectual
capacity, than on his moral excellence. He maintained a
steady and uncompromising adherence to his principles, at
a time when vacillation and change were so common as al¬
most to escape unnoticed and uncensured. From some
conscientious scruples, which he shared in common with
many of the wisest and most pious men of his time, he did
not hesitate to sacrifice his views of preferment in the church,
although his talents and learning, joined to the powerful
influence of his numerous friends, might have justified him
in aspiring to a considerable station. The benevolence of
his disposition continually appears in the generosity of his
praise, the tenderness of his censure, and solicitude to pro¬
mote the welfare of others. His modesty and self-abase¬
ment were so great, that they transpire insensibly on all
occasions; and his affectionate and grateful feelings led
him, as has been remarked, to fulfil the sacred duties of
friendship even to his own prejudice, and to adorn the bust
of his friend with wreathes which he himself might have
justly assumed. All these qualities were refined and exalt¬
ed by the purest Christian feeling, and the union of the
whole constitutes a character which procured the admira¬
tion of contemporaries, and well deserves to be recommend¬
ed to the imitation of posterity.”1 Ray was born at Black
Notley, in Essex, in 1628, and died at the same place in
1705.
The greatest naturalist who was, as it were, intermediate
betw een Ray and Linnaeus, or at least whose life embraced
the death and old age of the one, and the birth and man¬
hood of the other, was the celebrated French entomologist
Reaumur. He was born at Rochelle in 1683, and died in
1/57. His well-known Memoires on insects, are among
the most valuable contributions which have ever been made
to that department of science; but, as he did not write on
mammiferous animals, we should not have introduced his
name in this place, had he not been among the first in
Franee to form an extensive museum, containing both qua¬
drupeds and birds, and which is known to have afforded
materials for the formation of M. Brisson’s works.
We now arrive at the memorable epoch of Linnaeus, that
1 Memoir of Ray, in Naturalist's Library, Entomology, vol. ii. p. 69
MAMMALIA.
78
History, immortal and unrivalled naturalist, whose life and labours
are now so well known, and so universally appreciated, that
we deem it needless to indulge in any observations on the
subject. He was born at Rashult, in the province of Sma-
land, in Sweden, on the 23d of May 1707} and, after re¬
constructing the whole arrangement of nature, inventing an
unthought-of nomenclature, and bestowing, upon both the
organic kingdoms a lucid order which, but for him, they cer¬
tainly would not have yet possessed, he died at Upsal on
the 10th of January 1778. We shall merely add his cu¬
rious and characteristic description of himself, substituting
the pronoun “ I” for the “ He” of the original. “ My
head was prominent behind, and transversely depressed at
the lambdoid suture. My hair was white in infancy, then
brown, in old age somewhat grey. My eyes were of a ha¬
zel hue, vivacious and penetrating, with a remarkable power
of vision. My forehead became wrinkled in after life. I
had an obliterated wart on my right cheek, and another on
the same side of my nose. My teeth were ineffective, hav¬
ing become unsound in early life from hereditary toothach.
My mind was quick, easily moved to anger, joy, or sadness,
quickly appeased; in youth hilarious, not torpid in age;
in business extremely prompt. My gait was light and ac¬
tive. I committed all household cares to my wife, being
myself concerned solely with the productions of nature. I
brought to a conclusion whatever I commenced, and during
a journey I never looked backwards.” The writings of
Linnaeus were extremely numerous, but we have here to
do only with his arrangement of the mammiferous tribes,
which introduced so many clear and precise elements into
what had before been little else than a chaos of darkness
and uncertainty, that but few and trifling amendments have
since been effected in that branch of zoology up to the pre¬
sent day. The first edition of his great work the “ Syste-
ma Naturae,” was printed at Leyden in 1735, and consisted
of only a few folio pages. Numerous editions were called
for during the lifetime of the author. That usually called
the twelfth (it is believed to be in reality the fifteenth) is
the best, and the last which received Linnaeus’s own im¬
provements. It was published at Stockholm in 1766, and
from it we have made up the following abstract of his ar¬
rangement of the class Mammalia.1
Order I Primates.
Homo, Man : two species!
Simia, Baboons and monkeys : thirty-three species.
Lemur, Macauco : five species.
Vespertilio, Bats : six species.
Order II Bruta.
Elephus, Elephant: one species.
Trichechus, Walrus: two species.
Bradypus, Sloth: two species.
Myrmecophaga, Ant-eater : four species.
Manis, Manis : two species.
Dasypvs, Armadillo : six species.
Order III—Fer/e.
Phoca, Seal: three species.
Canis, Dog, wolf, fox, &c.: nine species.
Fells, Lion, tiger, cat, &c.: seven species.
Viverra, Civet: seven species.
Mustela, Marten, polecat, &c.: eleven species.
Ursus, Bear : four species.
Didelphis, Opossum : five species. History
Talpa, Mole : two species.
Sorex, Shrew: five species.
Erinaceus, Hedgehog : three species.
Order IV.—Glires.
Hystrix, Porcupine : four species.
Lepus, Hare : four species.
Castor, Beaver : three species.
Mus, Rats and mice: twenty-one species.
Sciurus, Squirrel: eleven species.
Noctilio, A kind of bat: one species.
Order V—Pecora.
Camelus, Camel, dromedary, &c.: four species.
Moschus, Musk deer : three species.
Cervus, Deer: seven species.
Capra, Goat: twelve species.
Ovis, Sheep : three species.
Bos, Oxen : six species.
Order VI Bellua:.
Equus, Horse, ass, zebra: three species.
Hippopotamus: one species.
Sus, Hog : five species.
Rhinoceros : one species.
Order VII.—Cete.
Monodon, Narwhal: one species.
Balcena, Whale : four species.
Physeter, Cachalot: four species.
Delphinus, Dolphin : three species.
The principal objection which has been found to the
preceding system is derived from the alleged unnatural se¬
paration of the Orders Bruta, Pecora, and Bellua:,
which are chiefly detached portions of the great Order
Ungulata of Ray, and which even Aristotle had placed
in juxtaposition. They have, therefore, after the ejection
of certain genera into other orders, been again brought
together by Baron Cuvier, in his sixth and seventh pri¬
mary divisions. Yet we cannot but wonder, that with a
knowledge of the nature or existence of not more than
about 230 mammiferous animals (probably about a fifth
part of those with which we have now some acquaintance)
Linnaeus should have been able to construct such a system;
for it is admitted that his genera are for the most part na¬
tural, in as far as they contain assemblages of species
which in the majority of cases have been preserved in more
recent systems, although under higher denominations, and
split into minor divisions. It is also admitted that, with
certain exceptions (which chiefly concern the Order Bru¬
ta), the internal contents of the orders themselves are na¬
tural groups.2 At all events, the influence exercised by the
Linnaean system was immense and immediate, and has
proved continuous and abiding. Indeed, we have already
had occasion elsewhere to remark,3 that, with the excep¬
tion of the purely artificial classification of Klein, and the
multiplied orders of Brisson and Vicq-d’Azyr, all the sys¬
tems which have appeared since the middle of the last cen¬
tury are indebted more or less to the labours of the immor¬
tal Swede, and may be valued almost exactly in proportion
to their share in the lucidus ordo of the Linnaean System.
Of this no one need doubt who inclines to compare with
1 A greatly enlarged but inaccurate edition, known as the thirteenth, was compiled by Gmelin, and published at Leipsic in 1788.
Dr Turton’s English edition, London 1806, is a translation of that of Leipsic.
* Swainson On the Geography and Classification of Animals, p. 145.
3 See Animal Kingdom of this Work, voL iii. p. 169.
MAMMALIA.
79
listorv. the Systema Natures of 1766, the Systema Regni Anima-
—W/s of Erxleben (1777), the Prodromus Methodi Anima-
liuni of Storr (1780), or the Elenchus Animalium of Bo-
daert (1787)* Nor can it have escaped the notice of the
critical observer, that after thirty years of profound and
philosophical research into the mysteries of the animal
kingdom, the most accomplished zoologist and anatomist of
the age should have finally reverted to a closer approxima¬
tion to the Linnaean system, than had characterized his
views at any former period of his brilliant career. When
Baron Cuvier first made known, conjunctly with M. Geof-
froy (in 1797), his newr classification of mammiferous ani¬
mals, his numerous genera were contained under no less
than fourteen different orders. Just thirty years after¬
wards (in 1817), he published his Rcgne Animal, with
many improvements in the composition and arrangement
of the minor divisions, and with the addition of the Order
of which he is himself so bright an ornament, but compo¬
sed, so far as the Mammalia are concerned, of primary di¬
visions exactly the same in number, and nearly the same
in nature, as those divulged and established by Linnaeus
himself at least sixty years before. That this is the ad¬
mitted opinion of many of Cuvier’s own countrymen and
most devoted admirers, may be inferred from the following
passage, which relates to Linnaeus:—“ Aussi toutes ses
coupes ont-elles ete generalement adoptees. Tous ses or-
dres sont encore admis aujourd’hui par la plupart des natu-
ralistes modernes, et particulierement par Cuvier, qui seule-
ment a substitue aux noms de Linne presque tous pen
susceptibles d’etre traduits en francais, ceux de Quadru-
manes, Edentes, de Carnassiers, de Rongeurs, de Rumi-
nans, de Pachydermes, et de Cetaccs. Enfin parmi ces
genres (those of Linnaeus) ceux meme qu’on a ete oblige
de subdiviser, se retrouvent encore conserves dans les clas¬
sifications les plus recentes, oil elles formes des families na-
turelles. C’est ainsi, par exemple, que 1’ordre des Onadru-
manes comprend deux grandes families, les Singes et les
Lemuriens, qui correspond exactement au genre Simla et
au genre Leenur de 1’illustre legislateur de la Zoologie.”1
We have entered into these details (which many may
deem unnecessary), in consequence of what we sometimes
perceive of a spirit adverse to the philosophical character
of the great Swedish naturalist. Delighting as we do to
witness whatever of talent and ingenuity is being exercised
in the development of the so-called Natural System (and
that every age will furnish fresh materials towards the more
satisfactory solution of that great and mysterious problem we
cannot doubt), we yet desire it should be borne in mind
how vast are the benefits which Linnaeus has conferred on
natural history, and how, but for him, we should, in all
likelihood, have been still straying infinitely farther from the
truth,
“ And found no end in wandering mazes lost.’’
All who are in any way conversant in the science, know
how admirable was his tact in the discovery of the minor
natural groups, though he may have frequently failed in
their combination. But whatever view we may take of
methods and systems, it can scarcely be doubted that no
one has contributed such valuable materials for the various
and not seldom discordant theorists to work upon. Let
those who find these materials in any great measure in¬
tractable, bethink themselves occasionally of a homely
Scotch proverb, that “ a bad reaper never had a good
hook.” b
Although Buffon cannot be regarded as a systematic au¬
thor, yet his writings have exercised so strong and benefi- History,
cial an influence on natural history, that we cannot pass'
his name unnoticed in our cursory sketch. “ II restera
toujours,” says Baron Cuvier, “ I’auteur fondimental pour
1’histoire des quadrupedesand we doubt not that the
splendour of his style was among the earliest and most for¬
cible of those exciting causes which led to a general inte¬
rest in this delightful study. By bringing into play a finer
combination of literary and scientific attainments, a more
discursive and imaginative style, and perhaps a greater
power of actual intellect than had previously fallen to the
lot of (at least the modern) naturalist, he relieved the
science of zoology from the undeserved opprobrium of
being regarded as the pursuit of inferior capacities ; and
by embodying his thoughts in language as attractive as had
ever been employed to give expression to the workings of
the human mind, even in the higher departments of litera¬
ture, he gained many proselytes among those who had hi¬
therto viewed the subject, and all its barren technicalities,
with coldness if not disgust. He has no doubt exposed
himself to the reproach of having utterly disregarded the
necessity, in so complex and multifarious a study, of a ri¬
gorous nomenclature, and a methodised arrangement, as
well as of having introduced many grave errors, not the
less dangerous and deceptive that they bear the impress of
genius. Many of his descriptive sketches must be regard¬
ed rather as vivid representations drawn from an exuberant
and irrepressible imagination, than as accurate portraitures
deduced from the observance of nature. It cannot be de¬
nied, however, that many of his general observations are
extremely important, and he was among the first to call at¬
tention to the interesting subject of zoological geography,
by his comparative remarks on the quadrupeds of the old
world and those of America.
As it is not our intention to exhibit in detail the features
of any but the more important and influential systems, we
shall here briefly illustrate the progress of the science by
enumerating the amount of species described by certain
well-known authors, who were either contemporaneous with,
or the immediate successors of Linnaeus. Brisson describes
275 ;2 Erxleben, 345 ;3 Pennant, 412 ;4 Boddaert, 344 ;5
Bulfon, 333 (including his supplements, and the Cetacea
of La Cepede) ;G Gmelin, 440 ;7 and Vicq. d’Azyr, 363.8
Among these authors, as M. Desmarest has observed,9 such
as have indicated the highest amount of species, have been
the least critical and distinctive in their enunciation of their
characters. The observation applies particularly to Pen¬
nant, Gmelin, Boddaert, and Vicq. d’Azyr, who, whatever
may have been their other merits (and those of our coun¬
tryman were of the highest order), were in no way distin¬
guished for a severe revisal of the facts on which they
founded. It has been calculated, that, notwithstanding the
additional zeal with which the natural history of quadrupeds
has been of late pursued, about an eighth part of the spe¬
cies described by these authors remain undetermined even
at the present day.
The system of Illiger departs considerably from that of
Linnaeus. The Berlin Professor, of whose capacity and
accomplishments no one doubts, has been reproached, and
not unjustly, for a needless disregard of the nomenclature
of his predecessors and contemporaries, and for a love of
change, which induced a French critic to accuse him,—
“ d’avoir invente beaucoup plus de mots qu’il n’a fait de
travaux utiles.” Nevertheless, his system, which contain¬
ed, at the time of its appearance (in 1811), the indication
of several new and judicious genera, has been sufficiently
2 Isidore GeofFroy St Hilaire, in Dictionnaire Classique d'Histoire Naturelle, t. x. p. G6.
Rcgne Animal, I’JbG. 3 Systema Mammalium, 1777. 4 Synopsis of Quadrupeds, 1771.
7 tenchus Ammahum, 1785. « Histoire Generate et Particuliere des Animaux, 17G9-85 ; Cttaces, 1806.
zysterna Naturat, 13th Ed. 1789. 8 Systeme Anatomique des Animaux, t. ii. 1792. 3 Mammalogie (Avertissement), p. 7.
»0 MAMMALIA.
History, influential to induce us to present it to our readers. He
v v V ' divides the entire mammiferous class into fourteen orders,
containing thirty-nine families, and a hundred and twenty-
five genera, as follows. We add the name of a well-known
species of each genus, with a view to illustrate the nature
of the group.
Illiger defines Mammalia as vertebrated animals, breath¬
ing by means of lungs, with warm red blood, a heart with
two ventricles and two auricles, a diaphragm, mammae, a
skin either hairy or bald, viviparous, giving milk.
Synopsis of Illiger’s Orders, Families, and Genera.
Order I. Erecta.
Family 1. Erecta.
1. Genus Homo H. sapiens, L.
Order II. Pollicata.
Family 2. Quadruma.
2. Simla, Cuv. Orang. . S. Troglodytes.
3. Hylobates (vM/Sutyis, per
sylvas gradiens). Gib¬
bon S. Ear, L.
4. Lasiopyga (Asme?, villo-
sus, TrvyYi, anus). . S. nemea, L.
5. Cercopithecus. Guenon
or Monkey. . . . S. nasica.
fi. Cynocephalus. Ape, ba¬
boon S. silenus, L.
7. Colobus (koRoQos, muti-
latusj S. ferruginea.
8. A teles S. paniscus, L.
9. Mycetes (yvKyrnt, mu-
giens) S. Belzebub, L.
10. Pithecia S. pithecia, L.
11. Aotus S. trivirgata.
12. Callithrix S. capucina, L.
13. Hapale mollis). S. rosalia, L.
Family 3. Prosimii.
14. Lichanotus (A^otva?, digi¬
tus, index). Indri. . Lemur indri, L.
15. Lemur . Maki. . . L. mongoz, L.
16. Stenops (o-rsvaj, angustus,
oculus). Lori. . L. tardigradus, L.
Family 4. Macrotarsi.
17. Tarsius. Tarsier. . . Didelphis macrotar-
sius, L.
18. Otolicnus (aiToAncue?, au-
riculis magnis). Ga¬
lago Lemur Galago.
Family 5. Leptodactyla.
19. Chiromys. Aye aye. . Sciurus madagasca-
riensis, L.
Family 6. Marsupialia.
20. Didelphis. Opossum. Didelphis marsupia-
lis, L.
21. Chironectes manus,
natator). . . Lutra minima.
22. Thylacis (Ava«|, saccus,
marsupium). Perameles. Didelphis obesula.
23. Dasyurus D. viverrina.
24. Amblotis (a^/SAwtr;?, abor¬
tus). Wombat. . . Wombatus fossor.
25. Balantia (fictXurrtov, mar¬
supium). Phalangista. C. Didelphis orien tails,L.
26. Genus Phalangista. . . . Didelphis petaurus. Hlstorj
27. Phascolomys. . . . Phase, fusca.
Order HI. Salientia.
Family 7. Salientia.
28. Hypsiprymnus (ufiTr^vp-
vog, parte postica ele-
vata). Potoroo. . . Did. potoru.
29. Halmaturus sal-
tus, cauda). Kan¬
garoo Didelphis gigantea, L.
Order IV. Prensiculentia.
Family 8. Macropoda.
30. Dipus. Gerboa. . . Dipus sagitta, L.
31. PedetesfVvi^T/jjjSaltator). D. cafer, L.
32. Meriones (^s?, femur). D. tamaricinus, L.
Family 9. Agilia.
33. Myoxus. Dormouse. Myoxus glis, L.
34. Tamias (rccpioii, promus,
condus) Sciurus striatus, L.
35. Sciurus. Squirrel. . . Sc. vulgaris.
36. Pteromys. Flying squirrel. Sc. volans.
Family 10. Marina.
37- Arctomys. Marmot. . Arct. marmota, L.
38. Cricetus. Hamster. . Mus cricetus, L.
39. Mus. Hat, mouse. . M. decumanus, L.
40. Spalax M. typhlus, L.
41. Bathyergus (/3aAysgy£<v,
terram profunde labo-
rare) M. maritimus, L.
Family 11. Cunicularia.
42. Georichus (ysaigtueo?, qui
terram fodit). Mole rat. M. capensis, L.
43. Hypudaeus sub-
terraneus). Field-mouse. M. arvalis, L.
44. Fiber. Musk beaver. . M. zibethicus, L.
Family 12. Palmipeda.
45. Hydromys M. coypus, L.
46. Castor. Beaver. . . Castor fiber, L.
Family 13. Aculeata.
47. Hystrix. Porcupine. . Hystrix cristata, L.
48. Loncheres (A«y^>)g»s, qui
lanceam fert). . . Lonch. paleacea.
Family 14. Duplicidentata.
49- Lepus. Hare. . . . Lepus timidus, L.
50. Lagomys. Pica. . . L. pusiila, L.
Family 15. Subungulata.
51. Ccelogenys Cavia paca.
52. Dasyprocta hirsu-
tus, anus).
Agouti C. agouti, L.
53. Cavia. Guinea-pig, or
Cavy C. aperea, L.
54. Hydrochmrus. Capybara.C. capibara.
Order V. Multungula.
Family 16. Lamnunguia.
55. Lipura(Ae<wewgo$,cui cau¬
da deest) Hyrax Hudsonius.
56. Hyrax. Daman. . . H. capensis.
MAMMALIA.
listory.
Family 17- Proboscidea.
57. Genus Elephas. Elephant. . E. indicus.
Family 18. Nasicornia.
58. Rhinoceros. . . . Rh. bicornis.
Family 19- Obesa.
59. Hippopotamus. . . * Hip. amphibius, L.
Family 20. Nasuta.
60. Tapirus. Tapir. . . T. Americanus.
Family 21. Setigera.
61. Sus. Hog Sus scrofa, L.
Order YI. Solidungula.
Family 22. Solidungula.
62. Equus. Horse, &c. . E. caballus, L.
Order YII. Bisulca.
Family 23. Tylopoda.
63. Camelus. Camel. . . C. dromedarius, L.
64. Auchenia(osw^;nv, collum), C. llacma, L.
Family 24. Devexa.
65. Camelopardalis. Giraffe. C. giraffa.
Family 25. CapreolL
66. Cervus. Deer. . . C. alces, L.
67. Moschus. Musk. . . M. moschiferus, L.
Family 26. Cavicornia.
68. Antilope Antilope gnu, L.
69. Capra. Goat, sheep. . C. ibex, L.
70. Bos. Ox B. urus, L.
Order YIII. Tardigrada.
Family 27. Tardigrada.
71. Bradypus. Sloth. . . B. tridactylus, L.
72. Chaelepus pe-
de claudus). . . . B. torquatus.
73. Prochilus (yrgo^Aaj, la-
brosus) B. ursinus.
Order IX. Effodentia.
Family 28. Cingulata.
74. Tolypeutes (johvmvw,
conglomerare). . . Dasypus tricinctus, L.
75. Dasypus. Armadillo. . D. sexcinctus, L.
Family 29. Vermilinguia.
76. Orycteropus. . . . Myrmecophaga capen-
sis, L.
77. Myrmecophaga. Ant-
eater M. jubata, L.
78. ... Manis. Pangolin. . . M. tetradactyla, L.
Order X. Reptantia.
Family 30. Reptantia.
79. Tachyglossus ve-
lox, yXuo-o-cc, lingua). E-
:llidna Myrm. aculeata, Shaw
Echidna setosa, Cuv.
80. Ornithorhynchus. . Orn. paradoxus.
Order XI. Volitantia.
Family 31. Dermoptera.
81* Galeopithecus. Colugo. Lem. volans. L.
VOL. XIV.
Family 32. Chiroptera.
82. Genus Pteropus. Ternate bat. Vesp. vampyrus, L.
Harpyia(avis foeda vultu
humano mythologiae). Yesp. cephalotes, L.
81
History.
83
84.
85.
86.
87.
88.
89.
90.
91.
92.
93.
94.
95.
96.
97.
98.
99.
100.
101.
101.
103.
104.
105.
106.
107.
108.
109.
110.
111.
112.
113.
114.
115.
116.
117.
118
119.
Vespertilio. Bat
Nycteris.
Rhinolophus,
Phyllostomus,
Noctilio,
Vesp. murinus, L.
Vesp. hispidus, L.
V esp. ferrum equum, L.
Yesp. spasma, L.
Vesp. leporinus, L.
Saccopteryx(<r1*xxe;, sac-
cus, wngyf, ala). . Vesp. lepturus, L.
Dysopes Qva-umu, horri-
bili specie perterreo). Vesp. molosSus, L.
Order XII. Falculata.
Family 33. Subterranea.
Erinaceus. Hedgehog. E. europaeus, L.
Centetes (xsm«, pungo).
Tenrec E. ecaudatus, L.
Sorex. Shrew. . . . S. araneus, L.
Mygale. Desman. . S. moschatus, L.
Condylura (xav^yAo?, no¬
dus, cauda). . S. cristatus, L.
Chrysochloris, . . . S. auratus, L.
Scalops S. aquaticus, L.
Talpa. Mole. . . . T. europaeus, L.
Family 24. Plantigrada.
Cercoleptes (xsgjtaj, cau¬
da, capiens)
Potos
Nasica. Coati.
Procyon. Racoon.
Gulo. Glutton. .
Meles. Badger. .
Ursus. Bear. . .
Viverra caudivolva, L.
V. narica, L.
Ursus lotor, L.
U. gulo, L.
U. meles, L.
U. arctos, L.
Family 35. Sanguinaria.
Megalotis (uiyag, mag-
nus, ovg, auris). Fen-
nec Canis cerda, L.
Canis. Dog, Wolf. . C. lupus, L.
Hyaena. . . . . C. hyaena, L.
Felis. Cat. . . . F. leo, L.
Viverra. Civet. . . V. zibetha, L.
Ryzaena (gt^v, hirrire
ut canis). ... V. tetradactyla, L.
Family 36. Gracilia.
Herpestes rep-
tans). Ichneumon. V. ichneumon, L.
Mephitis V. putorius, L.
Mustek. Weasel, Mar¬
tin. . . , . . Mustek martes, L.
Lutra. Otter. . • L. vulgaris, L.
Order XIII. Pinnipedia.
Family 37. Pinnipedia.
Phoca. Seal. . . . Ph. jubata, L.
Trichechus. Morse. Tr. rosmarus, L.
Order XIV. Natantia.
Family 38. Sirenia.
Manatus Trich. manatus aus¬
tralis, L.
Halicore (x\tog, marinus,'
*«£*>, puelk). Dugong. Trich. dugong, L.
Rytina (gvnj, ruga). Trich. manatus borea¬
lis, L-
82
MAMMALIA.
Family 3% Cete.
120. Genus Balsena. Whale. . . B. mysticetus, L.
Ceratodon. Narwhal Monodonmonoceros,L.
Ancylodon (acyxyAes, in-
curvus, e&>yj, dens).
Anarnak, . . . Mon. spurius.
Physeter. Cachalot. Ph. macrocephalus, L.
Delphinus. Dolphin. D. albicans, L.
Uranodon (cv^xni, pal-
matum, o^oyj, dens). D. butzkopf, L.
The student will not fail to perceive that many of these
generic groups, indicated for the first time by Illiger, now
form component parts of all our recent arrangements of the
animal kingdom.
Although M. Desmarest’s work on the Mammalia is
one of great value to the student, his system of arrange¬
ment so closely resembles that of Baron Cuvier (which,
with some modifications, we intend to follow in the present
treatise), that its detailed exhibition would be here unne¬
cessary. It bears the date of 1820—22, and certainly presents
the most complete and accurate summary of the mammife-
rous tribes up to that period.1 It may therefore be assumed
as marking an epoch in the science, and as affording a use¬
ful point of comparison with preceding times. We have
already mentioned that Linnseus was acquainted with not
more than about 230 mammiferous animals, and have like¬
wise exhibited the totals of his immediate successors. The
entire number described by Desmarest is 849, partitioned
as follows: Bimana, 1; Quadrumana, 141 ; Carnivora, 320
(subdivided into Cheiroptera, 97> Insectivora, 29, the true
Carnivora, 147, and Marsupialia, 47); Glires, 149; Eden¬
tata, 24; Pachyderma, 55; Ruminantia, 97; Cetae, 62.
But of these 849 species, he marks about 145 with an aste¬
risk, as being too obscurely known to be admitted with cer¬
tainty to a distinct specific rank. There is also to be de¬
ducted 42 fossil species, which leaves 662 as the totality of
living mammiferous animals of which we have a distinct
knowledge, according to M. Desmarest. In regard to the
general distribution of animals over the earth, our author
gives the following numerical summary. South America,
181 species; North America, 54; common to Asia and
America, 10; Northern Asia, 41; Europe, 88; Africa, 107;
Madagascar and Mascareigne, 29 ; Southern Asia and Cey¬
lon, 78; Indian Archipelago, 51 ; New Holland and Van
Diemen’s Land, 33. About 30 cetacea and seals inhabit
the northern seas, 14 those of the south, and about 28 the
waters of the intermediate regions. The number of ter¬
restrial species subjected to the service of the human race
is 13, and out of that limited amount above 112 varieties
have been produced by the effects of domestication. We
may here remark, that from the time of Daubenton (1782)2
to that of Desmarest (1822), exactly forty years elapsed,
and that during that period the amount of known mammi¬
ferous animals has at least been doubled. During the sub¬
sequent fourteen years, we doubt not that the zeal of our
other living naturalists has effected a proportional increase.
M. Temminck is chiefly known as a distinguished orni¬
thologist. To an excellent work on certain mammiferous
tribes,3 he has, however, prefixed a 11 Tableau Methodique”
of the orders, genera, and sectional divisions, of the class
Mammalia, with an (approximate) enumeration of the spe¬
cies contained in each. He asserts with confidence that
these (in 1827) amount to 860 distinct and clearly ascer¬
tained kinds. We think it due to a naturalist to whom or¬
nithology, especially that of Europe, stands so highly in¬
debted, to present a view of the system of arrangement in
1^1*
122.
123.
124.
125.
accordance with which he has classed the quadrupeds in Historv
the National Museum of the Low Countries (Leyden). ^ ^
Order I. Bimana.
1. Genus Homo, Linn.
Order II. Quadrumana.
First Tribe. Ancient Continent.
1 • Simia, Linn. Two species, and a third doubtful.
2. Hylobates, Illig. Four species distinctly known,
and a fifth doubtful.
3. Colobus, Geoff. Two species.
4. Semnopithecus, F. Cuvier. Twelve species.
5. Cercojnthecus, Briss. Composed of two sec¬
tions, Cercopithecus proper (of which about
20 species), and Macacus (of which 10 spe¬
cies).
6. Innuus, Geoff. One species.
7- Cynocephalus, Briss. Nine species.
Second Tribe. New Continent.
8. Mycetes, Illig. Six distinct species, and one
doubtful.
9. Ateles, Geoff.
10. Cebus, Erxleb. Amount difficult to determine,
from confusion in synonymes, and variation
in age and sex.
11. Pithecia, Geoff. Six or seven species.
12. Lagothrix, Geoff. Two species.
13. Callithrix, C'uv. Eight species.
14. Hapale, Illig. Fifteen or sixteen species.
15. Nocthora, F. Cuv. Three species.
Third Tribe. Lemuridce.
16. Otohcnus, Illig. Three species ascertained.
17. Tarsius, Storr. One species.
18. Stenops, Illig. Five species.
19. Lichanotes, Illig. One species.
20. Lemur. Twelve species.
21. Galeopiihecus. Two species.
Order III. Cheiroptera.
1. Dysopes, Illig. Eleven species known, and eight
others indicated, besides a European species
still obscure.
2. Pteropus, Briss. Seventeen species, of which
one is probably nominal.
3. Cephalotes, Geoff. Two species.
4. Stenoderma, Geoff. One species.
5. Mormoops, Leach. One species.
6. Noctilio, Geoff. One species.
7- Phyllostoma, Geoff. Eleven or twelve species.
8. Vampirus, Geoff. Two or three species, of
which only one is well determined.
9* Glossophaga, Geoff. Six species.
10. Megaderma, Geoff. Three species.
11* Phinolophus, Geoff. Fourteen known and two
doubtful species.
12. Nycteris, Geoff. Three species, of which one
is rather doubtful.
13. Phinopoma, Geoff. One species.
14. Taphozous, Geoff. Seven species.
15. Emballonura, Kuhl. Two species, and a third
doubtful.
16. Nycticejus, Rafinesque. Eight species.
17. Vespertilio, Linn. Probably forty species, or
upwards.
Mammalogie, ou description des especes de Mammiferes.
Monographies de Mammalogie.
2 Dictionnaire des Quadrupedes de VEncyclopedic.
*
MAMMALIA.
83
lislory.
Order IY. Carnivora. 3. Genus
First Tribe. Imectivora.
1. GenwS;Erinaceus, Linn. Two well known species, 5.
and a third doubtful. 6.
2. Sorex, Linn. Fourteen or fifteen species. 7*
3. Hylogale, Temm. Three species. 8.
4. My gale, Cuv. Two species, and a third doubt 9.
ful. 10.
5. Scalops, Cuv. One or two species.
6. Chrysochloris, Cuv. One well known species. 11.
7- Condylura, Illig. One or two species.
8. Talpa, Linn. Three species.
9. Centetes, Illig. Three species.
Second Tribe. Carnivora proper. 13,
10. Linn. Ten or eleven probably distinct 14.
species. 15.
11. Procyora, Storr. Two species.
12. Nasua, Storr. Two species. 16.
13. Cercoleptes, Illig. One species.
14. Taxus, Linn. Two species. 17.
15. Mydaus, F. Cuv. Two species. . 18.
16. Gulo, Retsi. Five or more species, some of
which but ill determined. 19*
17. Arctictis, Temm. One species. 20.
18. Paradoxurus, F. Cuv. Six species.
19- Mustela, Linn. Twenty species ascertained,
and others indicated. 21.
20. Lutra, Briss. Six species. 22.
21. Mephitis, Linn. Two species. 23.
22. Herpestes, Illig. Eleven species.
23. Pyzcena, Illig. One species. 24.
24. Viverra, Linn. Nine species known, and two
more indicated. 25.
25. Canis, Linn. Thirty species known, and seve- 26.
ral others indicated. 27.
26. Proteles, J. Geoff. One species. 28.
27. Hyaina, Briss. Two well known species, and 29.
a third indicated. 30.
28. Felis, Linn. About thirty species known, be¬
sides several others not yet distinctly con¬
stituted.
‘ Third Tribe. Amphibia. 2.
29. Phoca, Linn. Fourteen or fifteen species q
known, besides a few which are doubtful.
30. Otaria, Peron. Six species, one of which is
doubtful.
31. Trichechus, Linn. One species.
Hypudceus, Illig. Amount doubtful.
Lemmus, Cuv. Probably eight species, three. _1S or^
doubtful.
Spalax, Gulden. Probably three species.
Echimys, Geoff. Eight species.
Myoxus, Gmel. Six species.
Myopotamus, Commers. One species.
Hydromys, Geoff. Two species.
Capromys, Desmar. One species ascertained,
another doubtful.
Mus, Linn. A numerous, badly arranged, and
obscurely detei-mined genus, of which the
amount may be stated approximately at
about forty species.
Ascomys, Lichten. One species.
Eathiergus, Illig. Two species.
Pedetes, Illig. One species.
Dipus, Gmel. Seven species, of which proba¬
bly a few are merely nominal.
Meriones, Illig. Five or six species, besides
those indicated by M. Rafinesque.
Aulacodus, Swind. One species.
Arctomys, Linn. Four well known species,
and a like number doubtful.
Spermophilus, F. Cuv. Five species.
Sciurus, Linn. About thirty established spe¬
cies, and from eight to ten of doubtful indi¬
cation.
Pteromys, Cuv. Eight well known species.
Cheiromys, Cuv. One species.
Hystrix, Briss. Four established species, and
one doubtful.
Sincetherus, F. Cuv. Two well determined
species, and a third probable.
Lepus, Linn. Twelve species.
Lagomys, Geoff. Three species.
Hydrociuerus, Briss. One species.
Cavia, Erxleb. Three species.
Dasyprocta, Illig. Four or five species.
Ccelogenus, F. Cuv. Two species.
Order VII. Edentata.
Bradypus, Linn. Three species.
Dasypus, Linn. Eight species, of which two
are more or less doubtful.
Orycteropus, Geoff. One species.
Myrmecophaga, Linn. Four species, and two
others of which the existence is probable.
Manis, Linn. Three species.
Order V. Marsupialia.,
1. Didelphis, Linn. Twelve well known species,
and three doubtful.
2. Cheironectes, Illig. One species.
3. PhcLScogale, Temm. Two species.
4. Thylacinus, Temm. One species.
5. Dasyurus, Geoff. Four species.
6- Perameles, Geoff. Two species.
7. Phalangista, Geoff. Eight species.
8. Petaurus, Shaw. Five species.
9. Hypsiprymnus, Illig. Two or three species.
0. Halmaturus, Illig. Eight species.
1 • Phascolarctos, Blainv. One species.
2. Phascolomys, Geoff. One species.
Order VI. Glires.
E Castor, Linn. Twn species.
2. Fiber, Cuv. One species.
Order VIII. Pachydermata.
1. Elephas, Linn. _Two species.
2. Hippopotamus, Linn. One species.
3. Phascochceres, F. Cuv. Probably two species.
4. Sus, Linn. About six species.
5. Dicotyles, Cuv. Two species.
6. Rhinoceros, Linn. Four or five species.
7. Hyrax, Herman. One species.
8. Tapyrus, Briss. Two species, and a third ob¬
scurely known.
9. Equus, Linn. Seven species.
Order IX. Ruminantia.
First Tribe. Without Homs.
1. Camelus, Linn. Two species.
2. Auchenia, Illig. Three species.
3. Moschus, Linn. Five species, one of which is
doubtful.
MAMMALIA.
84
History. Second Tribe. The Males Horned.
^ 4. Genus Cervus, Linn. About twenty-four species
known, besides a few others which are doubt¬
ful.
Third Tribe. Horns encased.
5. Camelopardalis. One species.
6. Antilope, Pallas. Between forty and fifty spe¬
cies are distinctly known, and there are
indications of five or six other species.
7. Catoblepas, iElien. Two species.
8. Capra, Linn. Five or six typical species, with
numerous varieties.
9- Ovis, Linn. Six or seven distinct species, with
numerous domestic races.
10. Bos, Linn. Nine distinct species, and many
domestic varieties.
Ordek X. Cetacea.
First Tribe. Herbivora.
1. Manatus, Linn. Two species, and a third
doubtful.
2. Halicore, Illig. One species.
3. Stellerus, Cuv. One species.
Second Tribe. Piscivora.
4. Dclphinus, Linn. Fifteen or sixteen species
are pretty accurately known, and about four¬
teen others are indicated, many of which are
no doubt purely nominal.
5. Monodon, Linn. One well known species,
and two or three others obscurely, and pro¬
bably inaccurately indicated.
6. Physeter, Linn. Two species, better known
than five or six others of which we have only
vague indications.
7. Balcena, Linn. Only four or five species have
been tolerably described, and even of these
some are doubtful. Many others have been
named, of the majority of which, however,
the existence is as yet conjectural.
Order XL Monotrema.
1. Echidna, Cuv. One species.
2. Ornithorhynchus, Blumenb. Two species.
The student will bear in mind that the preceding me¬
thodical abstract bears the date of 1827, and that several
important additions, and a few corrections, have been made
by various naturalists since that period. It presents, how¬
ever, upon the whole, an accurate and ample view.1
In the article Animal Kingdom of the present wrork,2
we have endeavoured to sketch the general attributes and Gene:
co-relations of the great primary divisions of the subjects characi
of zoological science, and we shall not here repeat our state- lstic:
ments. The class Mammalia on which we are now about ‘
to enter, stands at the head of that first great division of the
animal kingdom, which, by reason of the brain and conti¬
nuous lengthened mass of the nervous system being con¬
tained within the bony envelope of the cranium and verte¬
brae, is named the vertebrated division, and of course com¬
prises all the higher classes, or animalia vertebrata. These
are,—Mammalia, birds, reptiles, and fishes, the last of which
alone, under the term Ichthyology, have as yet been il¬
lustrated in our present work.
The Mammalia in the system of Baron Cuvier, and in¬
deed of all the other systematic writers (although Lamarck,
guided by peculiar views regarding the progressive develop¬
ment of species, follow's an inverse order), are placed at the
head of the animal kingdom,—not only because they form
the class to which we ourselves belong, but because they
are endowed wfith the highest combination of faculties, the
most delicate sensations, and the most varied movements.
There certainly results from the totality of their physical
qualities, an intelligence more perfect, and fertile in re¬
sources, less enslaved to the blind impulses of instinct, and
consequently more capable of amelioration and improve¬
ment, than that of the other vertebrated tribes.
As their power or amount of respiration is moderate
compared to that of birds, the great majority are formed
for walking on the surface of the earth, or for certain mo¬
tions dependent for support on bodies connected with that
surface. The articulations of their bones have consequent¬
ly precise forms which determine their movements, and
even circumscribe them with rigour. Certain species, how¬
ever, possess the power of raising themselves into the air
by means of prolonged and extended membranes, with
which their limbs are furnished; while others have those
limbs so shortened and concealed beneath the teguments,
as to render them incapable of progressive movement ex¬
cept in water; but, nevertheless, though fish-like in their
forms, they in no way lose the characteristics of their class,
and the unweildy whale is as truly a w'arm-blooded mam-
miferous animal as the most active of monkeys.
In all Mammalia the upper jaw is fixed to the cranium,
and the under one, composed of only two portions, articu¬
lates by means of a projecting condyle to a fixed temporal
bone. The cervical vertebrae, as already mentioned, are
seven in number. The anterior ribs are attached forwards
by cartilaginous pieces to a sternum, formed of a certain
number of vertical portions. The anterior extremities com¬
mence from a shoulder-blade, not articulated, but merely
suspended in the flesh, and often supported on the sternum
by an intermediate bone, named the clavicle. These ex¬
tremities are further composed of an arm {humerus), a fore¬
arm {radius and cubitus3), and a hand,—the last named
1 We do not here enter into the vexed question of the quinary or other circular systems of arrangement, as these are as yet some¬
what too much connected with critical asperities, and have scarcely in themselves subsided into a lucid or tranquil element of science.
We do not think our readers would have benefitted by our adopting any of the so-called natural systems as the basis of the present
article. We should not, however, hold ourselves excused were we not to advert with respect and gratitude to those who are now,
w'ith various degrees of success, endeavouring to establish that system. In relation more particularlv to our present subject, we had
with some care prepared an abstract of Mr Swainson s views of the natural classification of Mammalia, but we now think that more
justice will be done the enlightened author (and assuredly more advantage will accrue to the attentive reader) by his arrangement
being taken rather in connection with the many interesting and valuable observations by -which it is explained and supported, than
in such disjoined and compendious form as would suit our present limits. It is indeed one of the disadvantages of such svstems, that
their merits cannot be fairly exhibited linearly, nor done justice to in any ordinary form of tabular expositiom We therefore earnest¬
ly advise the student to a very careful perusal of Mr Swainson’s volumes on natural history, now in the course of publication in Dr
Lardner s Cyclopcedia. I hey ought to be in the hands (and heads) of every naturalist, and their unassuming form and moderate price
fortunately render them accessible to all classes of the community.
2 Vol. iii. p. 155.
These two bones of the fore arm are sometimes distinct, and capable of a certain oblique rotation on each other (as in man and
monkeys); or they aie fixed by their exti emities (as among the majority of the T'era: and liodentia). Sometimes the radius becomes the
principal bone, and the cubitus, reduced to a rudimentary state, forms only a simple apophysis. This is the case amono- ruminating
animals, and the genus Equus or horse tribe. ‘ ° °
MAMMALIA. 85
General being itself’constituted by two ranges of small bones named
'haracter- metacarpus, and of fingers ox phalanges. The extremities of
istics. these last bear the nails or hoofs. With the exception of
r'~“' lhe Cetacea, all the species have the first portion of the
posterior extremities attached to the spine, and forming a
girdle or pelvis, which in early age, is divisible into three
pairs of bones, the ilium, which is attached to the spine;
the pubis, which forms the anterior girdle; and the ischium,
which forms the posterior. At the point of the union of
these three bones is the cavity which contains the articu¬
lation of the thigh {ox femur), to which is attached the leg,
itself composed of two bones, the tibia or shin bone, and
the fibula} The leg is terminated by the foot, a com¬
pound organ, composed of parts analogous to those of the
hand, and named the tarsus, the metatarsus, and the toes.
The head in the Mammalia is always articulated by two
condyles on the atlas or first vertebral joint. The brain is
always composed of two hemispheres united by a medullary
lamina called the corpus callosum, containing two ventri¬
cles, and enclosing four pair of tubercles called the corpora
striata, the optic thalami, the nates, and testes. Between
the optic thalami there is a third ventricle, which commu¬
nicates with a fourth placed beneath the cerebellum. The
crura of the cerebellum always form beneath the medulla
oblongata a transverse prominence called the pons Varolii.
The eye, lodged within its orbit, is protected by two
eyelids, and the vestige of a third. Its crystalline humour
is fixed by the ciliary processes, and the sclerotic coat is
simply cellular.
In the ear of the Mammalia there always exists a cavity
called the drum (cavitas tympani), which communicates with
the pharynx, by means of a canal called the eustachian
tube, and is closed externally by the membrana tympani.
This cavity contains four small bones known as the incus
or anvil, the malleus or hammer, the stapes or stirrup, and
the os orbiculare or spheroid bone. The ear is further
composed of the vestibule, at the entrance of which is placed
the stapes, and which communicates with three semicircular
canals, and of the volute or cochlea, which terminates by
one of its scaise in tne tympanum, by the other in the ves¬
tibule.
The cranium may be said to be composed of three com¬
partments :—the anterior formed by the two frontal bones
and the ethmoid, the intermediate by the parietal bones,
and the sphenoid, and the posterior by the occipital. Be¬
tween the occipital bones, the parietals, and the sphenoid,
are inserted the temporal bones, a portion of which belong,
properly speaking, to the face. In the foetal condition these
bones exhibit various subdivisions, still more numerous in
the embryo state, and become more and more compact and
simple in the adult animal.
The face is formed essentially of the two maxillary bones,
between which passes the nasal canal; these bones have
in front the twro intermaxillaries (wdiich bear the incisive
teeth), and behind them the two palatines, while between
them descends the single lamina of the ethmoid named
the vomer. On the openings of the nasal canal are the
proper bones of the nose. The jugal or cheek bone unites
on each side the maxillary to the temporal, and often to
the frontal bone; and finally, the lachrymal occupies the
internal angle of the orbit, and sometimes a part of the
cheek.
The tongue is always fleshy, and attached to a bone call¬
ed the hyoid, suspended by ligaments to the cranium.
The lungs, two in number, are subdivided into lobes
composed of an infinity of little cells, and are always en¬
closed without adhesion in a cavity formed by the ribs and General
diaphragm, and lined by the pleura. The organ of the character-
voice is always at the upper extremity of the tracheal ar- istics-
tery or windpipe, and a fleshy prolongation called the ve- '
lumpalatiox soft palate, establishes a direct communication
between the larynx and back of the nostrils.2
Dwelling habitually on the surface of the earth, mammi-
ferous animals are less exposed than certain other classes
to extreme alternations of heat and cold, their covering or
hair, is of moderate thickness, and is usually of a slighter
texture in the species of warmer climes. Linnaeus, the
nature of whose genius led him to seek for the establish¬
ment of a kind of distinctive opposition in the characters
of animals, maintained, among other generalised dicta, that
Mammalia were furnished with hairs, birds with feathers,
and fishes with scales. This is true in a general sense, al¬
though the Cetacea, which dwell exclusively in the water,
are destitute of any hairy covering, and the pangolins and
other species seem covered with scales. Blainville, indeed,
is of opinion that the usual hairy coating exists, though
under another aspect, equally among whales as in ordinary
quadrupeds, and the distinction presented by the scaly spe¬
cies of land animals is more apparent than real. Yet as
many birds are also partially covered by what does not
essentially differ from hair, we do not think that the name ot
Piliferes, by which M. de Blainville desires to designate
all mammiferous animals, is in any way preferable to that
derived from their functions of maternity. Quadrupeds
have usually two kinds of covering intermingled,—the
hairy, which is of a more or less stiff or consistent tex¬
ture (varying as it were from silk to bristle), and from its
greater length is the more apparent and external,—and the
woolly, which is extremely soft and fine, and is usually con¬
cealed beneath the other. The domestic races of the sheep,
however, form a remarkable and highly beneficial excep¬
tion to the contrary, in the great length and abundance of
the woolly portion, and the almost total disappearance of the
silken or hairy. There is also an approach to this charac¬
ter in most animals belonging to cold countries, while in
those of tropical regions, the silky coat becomes much de¬
veloped, and the woolly diminishes or disappears. The
quantity or proportional abundance of wool is usually in an
inverse ratio, that of silk in a direct ratio, to the tempera¬
ture. The silky coat or hair, is of great length on parti¬
cular portions of several species, such as the mane of the
lion and the horse, and the tail of the latter; and a species
of Indian bear ( Ursus labiatus) is remarkable for the length
of its hair, which measures from seven to nine inches over
the general surface, and on particular spots is nearly a foot
long.
In some species the covering is partially or even entirely
composed of spiny projections, varying in form and aspect;
such as those of the hedgehog, tanrec, echimys, porcupine,
and others. All these spines are usually pointed and cylin¬
drical, and bear the form of a gigantic hair. But in the
common porcupine {Hystrix cristata) the tail is garnished
with cylindrical tunnels, which are open transversely at
their extremity, thus resembling quills which have been cut
across at the commencement of their opaque portion. In
all the spiny species naturalists have remarked that there
is a great development of those muscles which act upon the
skin, a condition, in truth, indispensable in rendering the
spines effective as weapons of defence.
The colours of mammiferous animals are in general
much less brilliant than those of several other classes, and
are almost entirely destitute of that metallic splendour
These two last-named bones offer the same variations in their relation to each other, as do those of the fore-arm just noted.
Regne Animal, t. i. pp. GO-63. For details of internal structure, the general reader is referred to the article Comparative
Anatomy ot this Encyclopaedia, voh iii p. 1., or to the Sketch prefixed by M. Desmarests to his Mammalogie. The professional
student will seek the more laboured systems of Cuvier, Meckel, De Blainville, Carus, or the excellent Outlines by Dr Grant.
86 MAMMALIA.
General which so enriches the livery of the feathered tribes. In
character- this particular the Chrysochlore, a small insectivorous ani-
istics. mai f’rom Africa, allied to the mole, forms almost the sole
~~ " exception. Another general characteristic of the coat of
the Mammalia consists in the colours being much paler over
the lower surface than on the flanks or dorsal regions.
This observation applies not only to the ordinary quadru¬
pedal form, in which the under surface is less exposed to
view, but to the kangaroos and other leaping kinds, in which
from the almost vertical position of the body, the abdomen
and the back are equally open to the influence of light and
air. The exceptions are of two kinds, 1 st, of animals like
the polar bear, which are of one uniform colour through¬
out ; and, 2dly, of certain other species like the glutton,
ratel, and badger, which are lighter above than below. Of
this one of the most remarkable examples is furnished by
an Indian animal called Panda (Ailurus refulgens), which
is of a beautiful cinnamon red colour above, with the ab¬
domen of the deepest black.
The colours of quadrupeds are sometimes mottled or
closely intermingled,—an effect produced by each hair
being composed of rings of different hues, as in most of the
squirrels ; sometimes these colours are more broadly varied,
or in stronger contrast, as among the larger spotted cats or
feline animals ; but in the majority of quadrupeds the co¬
lours of each species are rather uniform than varied, al¬
though the Makis and others exhibit some strongly con¬
trasted markings. The sexual distinctions, as derived from
the external covering, are much less remarkable than among
the feathered tribes, the female being for the most part
only somewhat less vivid than the male. Neither does the
progressive advancement to age from adolescence manifest
changes so singular and extensive as those of birds, although
among several species, such as stags, lions, and others, the
colours in early life are differently disposed from what they
are in the adult condition. The young fawn is spotted
with white, an aspect which is permanent in that species of
deer called axis, while young lions are variously marked
with dark brown or black, thus resembling the matured
condition of many of their congeners. This remarkable
relation between the colouring of young individuals of one
species, and that of other species of the same genus in the
adult state, is likewise observable in birds, but with this
difference, that the early plumage, usually resembling that
of the female, is always more dingy and obscure than that
of the adult, whereas, as already hinted, the covering of the
young Mammalia is frequently more elegantly varied than
that of their parents. The varieties of colour among do¬
mesticated animals are too numerous to be here detailed,
and indeed too familiar to require illustration. Even among
unreclaimed species frequent varieties occur, and moles and
many other animals are found of a white or cream-colour.
These changes have been observed to be extremely un¬
common among the cheiropterous species, or bats. The
term albinism is applied to the condition of the white va¬
rieties, that of melanism to that of the black ones ; the for¬
mer being more frequent in cold countries, the latter in
warm ones. But melanism is much rarer than albinism, and
has hitherto been observed chiefly among feline animals,
deer, and rats. The water-rat, commonly so called (Ar-
vicola amphibia'), frequently occurs exclusively of a black
colour, over a whole district of country. It has not yet
been demonstrated as a distinct species, though by some
regarded as such.
Besides the diseased or accidental condition of albinism,
several species, such as hares, ermines, and foxes, become
annually white in northern countries, during the winter
season. Black seems the colour most persistent in these
animals throughout the year ; thus the ermine always pre¬
serves the black extremity of the tail, and the points of the
ears are at all times of that colour in the Alpine hare. The
same fact is exemplified among birds of the ptarmigan General
tribe. It is difficult, however, to determine distinctly character,
whether these and other analogous changes are the direct isbcs.
result of cold, as the immediate cause, or belong to some v-'*'
other chain of providential facts by which the well-being of
these creatures is sedulously guarded amid those inclement
countries in which they have been doomed to dwell. At
least we know that among birds we have numerous species
with plumage of the purest white inhabiting the most sul¬
try of the tropica] regions, while the ominous raven, with
a covering as usual of the deepest black, is one of the few
species which braves the intensity of a polar winter, and is
seen, or rather heard, throughout that long-enduring night,
croaking among the desolate cliffs, or gliding like the spirit
of evil along the barren ice-bound shores.
Although the subject has not been investigated in de¬
tail, we know in a general way that albinism is produced
by debilitating causes, and results from the absence of the
colouring matter of the skin ; and if, ou the other hand, it
could be demonstrated that melanism is rather the result of
fortifying causes, and of a superabundance of the colouring
material, we should then more clearly perceive how it hap¬
pens that all species, whatever may be their natural hue,
are liable to exhibit one or other of the phenomena in ques¬
tion.
Prehension, or the seizing and handling of their food, or
other substances, is executed among carnivorous and gnaw¬
ing animals (Ferae and Roden tia) by means of the toes, which
are usually very distinct, and terminated by nails or claws
more or less pointed. In some species, such as the squirrels
among the Ilodentia, and the racoons among the carnivor¬
ous kinds, the food is held by a kind of pressure between
the two anterior paws, and carried upwards to the mouth.
The hand of man is a much admired instrument, and more
perfect in its way, although of the same general structure,
than that of monkeys and other quadrumana ; which, howv-
ever (with the exception of the genus Ateles), possess an
advantage over us in the opposable nature of the great toe,
by which they are rendered equally expert with either ex¬
tremity. They are, in truth, as the name imports, four-
handed, and are consequently the most accomplished of
climbers, as we may easily conceive, by imagining with
wrhat activity, in spite of his comparatively heavy form, a
sailor would ascend the shrouds, or reef the sails, if his feet
were so constructed as to grasp as firmly as his hands.
The toes in quadrupeds never exceed five in number,
and have never more than three articulations: there are
sometimes only two articulations, and the number of toes
frequently differs on the anterior and posterior extremities.
These parts have furnished excellent characters for classi¬
fication, when not assumed as the sole and exclusive basis
of arrangement. Thus Klein, the Konigsberg naturalist,
divided animals into orders and sections according to the
form and number of the toes, thereby bringing into juxta¬
position many species entirely dissimilar to each other, and
at the same time separating others between which there
existed the strongest natural alliance ; while Linnaeus, with
his wonted sagacity, deduced from the toes only generic
characters, subordinate to the more important parts of the
organization, and thereby rendered them available in syste¬
matic arrangement. In many species, especially the feline,
the toes are furnished with sharp, curved, retractile talons,
which become very formidable weapons of defence or at¬
tack. In man, and the different species of monkeys, they
are possessed of great discrimination in the sense of touch,
and a false or at least exaggerated view of the subject has
led Helvetius and others to attach an extraordinary degree
of importance to the hand, as the medium of intellectual
superiority in the human race. In bats the anterior toes as¬
sume a singular form, become greatly extended, and having
their interstices filled up by membranes, act in the capacity
MAMMALIA.
General of wings ; while in seals, walruses, and cetaceous animals,
iaracter- such as whales, they pass by different gradations into the
istics. form of fins.
The prehensile power of the Mammalia is not, however,
confined to their feet and hands. Many of the American
monkeys make use of their tails, both in locomotion and for
the seizure of their food ; and the kinkajou is said to insert
the tip of that portion of its body into holes in which Crus¬
tacea he concealed, and which seizing upon and pertina¬
ciously adhering to the intruding organ, are speedily drag¬
ged from their concealment and devoured. But the pro¬
boscis of the elephant, terminated by a strong opposable
appendage, is one of the most perfect prehensile instru¬
ments to be found within the range of the animal kingdom.
The same mode of seizure, but with a more restricted ac¬
tion, is practised by the great tribes of ruminating quadru¬
peds, which, using their limbs only as organs of support and
locomotion, collect their food by means of the mouth alone,
that is, by a combined action of the lips, teeth, and tongue.
We need scarcely observe, that all mammiferous animals
are viviparous, that is, produce their young alive, and, con¬
sequently, as their name implies, nourish them by means of
the secretion named milk. This brings us round to the
definition with which we started, and we shall now proceed
to a short exposition of the orders of the class Mammalia,
as established and defined by Baron Cuvier.
The variable characters which establish the most essen¬
tial differences among mammiferous animals are derived
from the organs of touch, on which depend their greater or
less degree of ability and address, and from the organs of
manducation, which determine the nature of their aliments,
and regulate not only all that relates to the digestive func¬
tions, but also a cloud of other characteristics intimately
connected with their habitual instincts. The perfection of
the organs of touch may usually be estimated according to
the number and mobility of the toes (using the word in
its more enlarged acceptation as including the terminal
portions of both the fore and hind extremities), and the
mode and degree in which these parts are enveloped within
the claws or hoofs. A hoof which entirely encompasses
all that portion of the toes which touches the ground, of
course not only blunts its feeling, but renders it incapable
of grasping. The opposite extreme consists in a simple
flattened nail, which covers only a limited terminal portion
of the toes, and leaves tire remainder in a state of delicate
perception.
The habit of life in regard to food or regimen may be
accurately inferred from the cheek-teeth, with the form of
which the articulation of the jaws is always found to cor¬
respond. For the purpose of cutting flesh, these cheek¬
teeth (commonly called grinders in the herbivorous ani¬
mals) are in the carnivorous kinds trenchant like a saw or
scissars, and the jaws are so restricted in their movements
as to be incapable of lateral or horizontal motion, and meet
each other vertically, with a firm but circumscribed action.
On the other hand, animals destined to live by the masti¬
cation of grain or herbs have flat-crowned cheek-teeth,
placed in jaws capable of horizontal motion ; and as it is de¬
sirable that the upper surface of such teeth should preserve
a certain inequality, like that of a mill-stone, they are found
to be composed of portions of unequal hardness, one of
which wears quicker than the other. All hoofed animals
are of necessity herbivorous, and provided with flat-crown¬
ed grinders, because their feet are incapable of seizing a
living prey. But unguiculated animals exhibit a greater
variety of form and diet, and differ greatly among them¬
selves, not or ly in tire structure of their teeth, but also in
tlie mobility and perceptive powers of their toes. One
special character in this respect, which has prodigious in¬
fluence on the general address of animals, by multiplying
their means of prehensile action, is the faculty before allu-
87
ded to of opposing the thumb to the other fingers, so as to Characters
constitute a hand fitted for the secure and delicate seiz- of the
ure of the smallest objects. These various combinations, Orders.
which in truth determine with great rigour the nature of' ^  
the mammiferous tribes, have occasioned the establishment
of the following orders:—
Among the unguiculated animals, commonly so called,
the first is man, a privileged being, wdio enjoys a multipli¬
city of advantages over all other sublunary creatures, but
who, in the technical language of zoology, is characteriz¬
ed by his erect position, and the possession of hands to
his anterior extremities only. These, of course, are the
accidents, not the essentials of his nature, and are inade¬
quate to the description of a being who bears within him
the germ of an immortal life. It is indeed the usual prac¬
tice of naturalists to begin their systematic exposition of
the animal kingdom with a “ Nosce teipsum,” followed by
a sketch of the physical attributes of the human race, as if
that race were undistinguished by a lofty and spiritual ex¬
istence, by an independent and superior perception, entire¬
ly different in its essence and action from the nature of
the external senses. We have previously reclaimed against
this preposterous classification of Man, of him who was
created “ but a little lower than the angels,” with the brutes
that perish, and wre shall not here depart from our accus¬
tomed rule, further than to mention that in Baron Cuvier’s
system, by which in other points wTe shall be mainly guid¬
ed, the human race is regarded as the first order, and is
named Bimana, from the peculiarity above alluded to.
The next order (and it is that with which we shall com¬
mence our systematic exposition), is distinguished by what
are regarded as hands on both the fore and hind extremi¬
ties, and is hence named Quadrumana.
Then follows a great group which possess no free or op¬
posable thumb on either the fore or hind extremities:
these are the carnivorous animals, or order Feral
In all the preceding orders we find three different kinds
of teeth, viz. the molar or grinding-teeth, which are better
named cheek-teeth, seeing that their function in carnivo¬
rous animals is rather to cut than to grind; the canine
teeth ; and the incisive teeth.
The groups which compose Cuvier’s fourth order do not
differ essentially in the nature of their extremities from the
ferine order, but they want the canine teeth, and have in-
cisives in front of the mouth, so disposed as to fit them ad¬
mirably for that kind of manducation called gnawing.
Hence they constitute the Rongeurs of the French natu¬
ralists—the order Glires or Kodentia.
Following these we have certain kinds of which the toes
are straitened and sunk within great claws, usually curved,
and which moreover want the incisive teeth. In some even
the canine teeth are absent, wdiile a few are entirely de¬
prived of those organs. They are. all comprehended under
the order Edentata.
The preceding orders are all unguiculated, that is, pro¬
vided with nailed toes, capable of distinct and articulate
movement. These, though still existent, become con¬
strained and encrusted within a callous skin in the ensuino-
order, and decrease in number till in the solipedal family’
corresponding to the genus Equus of Linn, (the horse
tribe), there is only one apparent toe, covered by a single
undivided hoof, on each foot. These groups constitute the
order Pachyderma, so named from the usual thickness of
their skins.
The other hoofed genera compose a very distinct group,
distinguished by their cloven feet, the absence of true in-
cisives in the upper jaw, and their quadruple stomachs.
From certain peculiar functions of the last named organs
they are named ruminating animals,—order Pecora.
Finally, there are several aquatic Mammalia, of which
the posterior extremities assume the form and functions of
88 . MAMMALIA.
Quadru- a tail, while the anterior members act as fins. These are
mana. the gigantic whales and rolling porpoises, which, with others
not necessary to be here named, constitute the great con¬
cluding order called Cetacea.
Probably the most objectionable part of the preceding
system consists in placing all the pouched or marsupial
animals (kangaroos, &c.) as the terminal portion of the car¬
nivorous order. These creatures consist, in truth, of vari¬
ous groups, possessed of few characters in common, and
ought no doubt to be distributed through several different
orders, instead of being brought together (merely in conse¬
quence of each being characterized by the possession of a
marsupium or pouch) as a ferine family, under the name
of Marsupialia. Their creation into a distinct order, as by
some proposed, is for the same reasons equally objection¬
able.
Although in the present treatise we follow the system of
Baron Cuvier’s “ Regne Animal,” rather than that of any
more modern, or, it may be, amended classification, we
shall yet be careful to introduce from time to time such
observations of contemporary naturalists as may seem to us
to be in any way truly corrective of that system. We think,
indeed, that there may possibly be some misconception on
the part of many modern writers, who, deriving almost all
of what they essentially know from the labours of the great
French anatomist, and obviously and almost confessedly
hanging their own restricted and superficial observations on
the gigantic trunk which he had already raised (and which
centuries will fail to undermine), suppose that because a
few glittering leaves or even “ bright consummate flowers'
of their own imagining may sometimes meet the view, that
they have created a system ! Now, the actual truth may
rather be, that had not the system itself been previously
prepared for them, and so much transparent light called
forth from such a depth of darkness, they might as easily
have found their way in absence of the sun through tangled
woods or pathless deserts, as have by actual observation
or any intellectual effort of their own, ascertained the ex¬
istence of a single great principle in natural history. But
be this as it may ; we have already presented the reader
with tabular views of the prevailing modern systems, and
these he may study and compare together, and with that
which follows, and draw his own conclusions. This pro¬
cess will assuredly be to his, if not to their advantage.
Ordek I.—QUADRUMANA.
QUADRUMANOUS, OR FOUR-HANDED ANIMALS.
Teeth of three sorts—incisive, canine, and molar. Each
of the four extremities furnished with a thumb, free in its
movements, and capable of being opposed to the other
fingers or toes, which a^re long and flexible, and bear a
strong resemblance to the fingers of the human hand. The
eyes are directed forwards. The mammae, which are pec¬
toral, vary in number from two to four. A bony partition
separates the temporal cavities from the orbits; but the
nasal bone does not exhibit the suture observable in that
of man. The stomach is simple and membranous, and the
intestines are short, and greatly resemble those of the hu¬
man race.
The animals of this varied and extensive order, familiar¬
ly known under the names of orang, ape, monkey, &c. in¬
habit the warmer regions of Asia, Africa, and America. A
single species remains as a European representative on the
rock of Gibraltar, either by descent as an indigenous ani¬
mal, or by accidental importation from the opposing coast
of Barbary, where it is extremely frequent. The quadru-
manous order dwells almost exclusively in woods, feeding Quadru.
in general on fruits, roots, grain, and other vegetable pro- mana.”
duce. A passage, however, occurs in Ogilby’s Translation
of Niewhoff’s China, which, probably more remarkable for
graphic effect than accuracy, assigns a very different dis¬
position to some large species of the order. “ The pro¬
vince of Fokien hath an animal perfectly resembling man,
but longer armed, and hairy all over, called Fese, most
swift and greedy after human flesh; which, that he may
the better take his prey, he feigneth a laughter, and sud¬
denly, while the person stands listening, seizeth upon
him.”1 The propensity of several of the smaller species to
feed on eggs and insects is better ascertained.
The most remarkable characteristic of their external
form is the extraordinary resemblance which many of them
bear to the human race ; and their internal structure offers
equally striking analogies. Their distinctive character, how¬
ever, is by no means difficult to seize ;—their posterior ex¬
tremities, naturally unfit for the assumption of an erect po¬
sition, are admirably adapted for prehension, and the spe¬
cies are consequently the most active in their arboreal
habits of all the larger animals. The opposable thumb on
all the four extremities, although a leading character in the
great majority of the order, and the one from which the
ordinal name is itself derived, cannot strictly be said to
occur in all the genera. In truth, it is ever thus with any
single character, however influential, which naturalists may
choose to select as the basis of any great natural group. A
combination with other features is usually required, other¬
wise the organ selected will be found to undergo so many
modifications, as not seldom to evade or contradict the de¬
finition. Thus in the monkey tribe the genera Ateles and
Colobus want the thumb to the anterior hands, and in se¬
veral of the Semnopitheci it is merely rudimentary. These
therefore can scarcely be called quadrumanous, if we take
the. term in its strictest etymological acceptation. It has
been remarked as a fact worthy of attention, that the ano¬
malies by which many quadrumanous animals depart, as it
were, from their characteristic type of form, affect the an¬
terior rather than the posterior members. In man, the an¬
terior extremities alone have a free and opposable thumb.
Among the Ciuadrumana, on the contrary, the so called
thumb exists constantly on the posterior members, in a well
developed state, but is frequently absent or rudimentary on
the anterior extremities. Even among marsupial species
we frequently find a free thumb on the hind feet, but never
on the anterior, and the like structure is observable in a
peculiar animal, usually ranged near the squirrels, the
Cheiromys Madagascariensis. Thus it appears that vari¬
ous animals possess a true, that is, opposable thumb, on the
hind feet, which do not possess it on the fore ones, and
that the inverse character occurs only in a single creature,
of which the reader and writer of the present article afford
examples.
The quadrumanous order of animals certainly holds a
high rank in the animal kingdom; but, though apes and
monkeys often astonish us by their apparent power of imi¬
tating the actions of men, we agree with Buffon in think¬
ing that they are not in a corresponding degree superior
to other brute animals which do not possess that power.
The talent, in fact, does exist in many species, but is ne¬
cessarily (from their structure) confined to the imitation of
their own kind ; but the ape, though he does not belong to
the human race, copies many of our actions (and unavoid¬
ably) through the resemblance of his organization. Thus
what most have ascribed to superior intelligence, is nothing
but the result of a gross affinity of form and figure.
In accordance with the modern arrangements, our pre-
1 Second edition, p. 413.
MAMMALIA.
iuadru- sent order is divisible into two extensive families, the Si-
mana. MiADiE and Lemurid.*, groups corresponding in a great
—measure to the old genera Simia and Lemur of Linn.
FAMILY I—SIMIADAD, Apes in general.
These, in their ordinary form and aspect, more or less
resemble man. They have four straight incisive teeth in
each jaw, and all their nails are flat. Their molar or cheek
teeth, like those of man, are bluntly tuberculated, and in
their habits of life they are essentially frugivorous, although
their appetites, like our own, seem very accommodating.
Their canine teeth, however, exceed the others in length,
and often require for their points a corresponding lodgement
in the opposing jaw. The family is further divisible into
two minor groups.
1st Sub-Family.—Simile Catarrhini, or Apes of the
Old World.
4
Of these the cutting or incisive teeth are -, the canine
——-, the cheek teeth or grinders   ; total 32. The
nostrils, as the name implies, are separated only by a nar¬
row membrane. The tail, frequently wanting, is never
prehensile. *
Genus Troglodytes, Geoffroy. Pithecus, Cuv. Ca¬
nine teeth very slightly elongated, and placed close to the
incisors and molars, as in man ; head rounded; muzzle
short; facial angle, 50° ;1 superciliary ridges strongly mark¬
ed ; no cheek pouches, tail, or callosities ; no apparent in¬
termaxillary bone ; ears resembling those of man, but large
and projecting ; arms of moderate length.
The only known species of this genus is the Chimpanzee,
or black orang of Africa (Simia troglodytes, Linn.), the
Troglodytes niger of the modern system.1 2 See plate
CCCXXVIII. fig. 2. The colour of the fur is brownish
black. The form of the body and limbs more nearly ap¬
proaches the human than that of any other animal. The
head is middle-sized, somewhat flattened in the crown, and
scarcely rising above the level of the superciliary ridges.
The chest is broad, the arms robust, and the anterior
thumb is placed lower on the wrist, and seems more ser¬
viceable than that of the Asiatic species.
Although we feel desirous to render the present treatise
not only useful to the scientific student, but in some mea¬
sure interesting to the general reader, by the occasional
introduction of what is called popular matter, we would
rather at present hold ourselves excused from the repetition
of the various anecdotes which might be brought forward
without much effort, to illustrate the history of this and the
other orang.3 Many of these are apocryphal, and, though
amusing, tend to mislead rather than instruct. Two species
of African orang-outang seem to have been described by
ancient writers, but as from all later researches we cannot
infer the existence of more than the one above indicated,
it is probable that the mistake originated from the young
and old of the same species having been seen apart at dif¬
ferent times. “ The greatest of these two monsters,” says
Battell, “is called Pongo, and the less Engeco. This
Pongo is exactly proportioned like a man; but he is more
80
like a giant in stature, for he is very tall, and hath a man’s Quadru-
face, hollow-eyed, with long hair upon his brows. His face Inana-
and ears are without hair, and his hands also. His body is^
full of hair, but not very thick, and it is of a dunnish colour.
Lie differeth not from a man but in his legs, for they have
no calf. He goeth alway upon his legs, and carrieth his
hands clasped on the nape of his neck when he goeth upon
the ground. They sleep in the trees, and build shelters
from the rain. They feed upon fruits that they find in the
wmods, and upon nuts; for they eat no kind of flesh. They
cannot speak, and appear to have no more understanding
than a beast. The people in the country, when they travel
in the woods, make fires where they sleep in the night;
and in the morning, when they are gone, the pongos will
come and sit about the fire till it goeth out; for they have
no understanding to lay the wood together, or any means
to light it. They go many together, and often kill the
negroes that travel in the woods. Many times they fall
upon the elephants which come to feed where they be, and
so beat them with their clubbed fists, and with pieces of
wood, that they wall run roaring away from them. Those
pongos are seldom or never taken alive, because they are
so strong that ten men cannot hold one of them; but yet
they take many of their young ones with poisoned arrows.
The young pongo hangeth on his mother’s belly, with his
hands fast clasped about her, so that when the country peo¬
ple kill any of the females, they take the one which hang¬
eth fast upon its mother, and, being thus domesticated and
trained up from their infant state, become extremely fa¬
miliar and tame, and are found useful in many employments
about the house.”
Purchas states, on the authority of a personal conversa¬
tion with Battell, that an African orang once carried off
a young negro, who lived during an entire season in the
society of these animals, and on his return reported that
they had never injured him, but, on the contrary, seemed
greatly delighted with his company ; and that the females
especially (this was natural) shewed a great predilection
for him, and not only brought him great abundance of nuts
and wild fruits, but carefully and courageously defended
him from the attacks of serpents and beasts of prey. Ac¬
cording to Pyrard, the great Ape of Sierra Leone called
Parris (undoubtedly the adult black orang) is so remark¬
able both for strength and industry, that when properly fed
and instructed, it serves as a very useful domestic. It
usually walks upright (so it is alleged, we doubt not most
erroneously), will pound any thing in a mortar, or fetch
water from the river in a little pitcher, which, however,
must be immediately taken from it on its return, else it
will allow it to tumble to the ground. Passing by the im¬
postures of Gamelli Careri, it may be asserted that the
equally amusing, and scarcely more authentic, narrations
which Buffon and others have compiled from the writings of
Father Jarrie, Guat, and Froger must be consulted with cri¬
tical caution by whoever seeks to ascertain the actual history
of this extraordinary creature. With the exception of such
information as has been drawn from the observance of one
or two young individuals sent alive to Europe, our know¬
ledge of its nature has in no way increased. Naturalists
have become aware of the inaccuracy and exaggeration of
previous portraitures, but have not themselves succeeded
1 In accordance with the usual custom of naturalists, we here occasionally indicate the facial angle, although we are satisfied
that that character admits of too wide a range of variation to be relied upon as a specific indication. An examination of an extensive
series of skulls in the Museum of the College of Surgeons (Edinburgh), had long ago convinced us that remarkable changes take place
in the form and proportions of the cranium in the same species, according to the age of different individuals. For example, in the
dog, badger, common pig, and especially in the Sus Babyroussa, these differences are very remarkable.
2 Homo sylvestris, Tyson ; Man of the Woods, Edwards ; Great Ape, Pennant; Jocko, Buffon ; Pongo of Audebert, and of the Sup¬
plement to Buff. tom. 7.; but quite distinct from the Pongo of Wurmb.
3r.^Ye be£ to refer d16 curious to a very accessible little work, “ The Natural History of Monkeys,” which forms a volume of
Sir '\V illiam Jardine’s interesting and economical Naturalist's Library, at present in course of publication. A book entitled Anecdotes
of Monkeys was previously before the public.
VOL. XIV.
M
90
MAMMALIA.
Quadru- in the completion of the picture. It is indeed most singu-
mana. ]ar that when the history of animals inhabiting New Hol-
'*"’~v"~'“iand, or the most distant islands of the Indian Ocean, are
annually receiving some new or corrected illustration, the
most remarkable species of the brute creation, inhabiting
a comparatively neighbouring country, should have re¬
mained for about two thousand years under the uncertain
shadow of an almost fabulous name. The African orang
appears to be a gregarious animal, an inhabitant of the
forests, of an intelligent disposition, and capable of a con¬
siderable degree of education, though probably fierce and
irreclaimable in the adult state. It is believed that the full
grown animal has never yet been examined by any natu¬
ralist. In that uncouth condition it is probably the “great
wild man of the woods,” of whose existence we do not
doubt, but of which (setting aside the obviously fabulous
narrations) only vague indications have been given by some
African travellers.
Of the natural dimensions of the black orang, we can say
nothing. The young brought to Europe have seldom much
exceeded two feet in height. It is native to no other country
than Africa, but we are as yet unacquainted with the ex¬
tent of territory which it occupies in that continent. An¬
gola, the banks of the river Congo, and all the districts
which border the gulf of Guinea, are the localities in which
it has as yet most frequently occurred.
Genus Pithecus, Cuv. Geoff. Canine teeth somewhat
exceeding the others in length, but not separated from
them by any interspace, and slightly crossing each other at
their points; molar teeth more square than those of man,
and more strongly tuberculated ; head rounded ; facial an¬
gle 65 degrees ; no superciliary ridges p no cheek pouches,
tail, or callosities; sutures of the intermaxillary bone ap¬
parent ; ears rounded, resembling those of man, and appli¬
ed close to the sides of the head ; arms very long.
This genus likewise consists of only one clearly ascer¬
tained species, commonly called the red or Asiatic orang¬
outang {Simla satyrus, Linn.), Pithecus satyrus of the mo¬
dern systems.1 2 See plate CCCXX VIII. fig. 1. Like the pre¬
ceding it is not distinctly known in the adult state. The spe¬
cimen described by Dr Clarke Abel,3 was brought from Ban-
jarmassing on the south coast of Borneo. Its height, or
rather length, from the heel to the crown of the head was
two feet seven inches. The hair was of a brownish red
colour, and covered the back, arms, legs, and outside of the
hands and feet. On the back it was in some places six
inches long, and five upon the arms, but very short and
thinly scattered on the back of the hands and feet. It was
directed downwards on the back, upper arms and legs, but
upwards on the fore-arms. The face had no hair except on
the sides, somewhat in the manner of whiskers, and a very
thin beard. The palms of the hands and feet were quite
naked. The arms were long in proportion to the height
of the animal, their span measuring full four feet seven
inches and a half. The legs were short compared with
the arms. The hands were long compared with their
width, and with the human hand. The fingers were small
and tapering, the thumb very short, scarcely reaching to the
first joint of the fore-finger. All the fingers had perfect
nails of a blackish colour, and oval form, and terminating
exactly with the extremities of the fingers. The feet were
long, and as usual resembled hands in the palms and finger-
formed toes, but they were likewise provided with good
heels. The great toes were very short, attached at right
angles to the feet close to the heel, and were entirely with¬
out nails.
This animal was utterly incapable of walking in a per- Quadni.
fectly erect position, and never wilfully attempted so to do. mana.
His progressive motion on a flat surface was accomplished
by placing his bent fists upon the ground, and drawing his
body between his arms, moving in the manner of a decre¬
pit person supported on stilts. It is thus probable that in
a state of nature he scarcely travels on the ground at all,
his whole external form and structure proving his fitness
for climbing trees and clinging to their branches. While
in Java, he lodged in a large tamarind tree near Dr Abel’s
dwelling, and formed a bed by intertwining the smaller
branches and covering them with leaves. He exhibited
few of the grimaces of the monkey tribe, and was in no way
prone to mischief. His aspect was grave, mild, almost
melancholy. His chief amusement consisted in swinging
himself from bough to bough; and, when on board of ship,
he made use of the various tackling for the same purpose.
On only two occasions was he seen violently agitated.
When the vessel in which he sailed was off the island of
Ascension, eight large turtle were brought on board, when
he instantly mounted to a higher part of the ship than he
had ever reached before, and, looking down upon the rep¬
tiles, projected his long lips into the form of a hog’s snout,
uttering at the same time a most peculiar cry. He enact¬
ed the same part on another occasion, on seeing some men
in a state of nature splashing in the sea. Perhaps he took
them for Mr Swainson’s desired natatorial type of the qua-
drumanous order. We regret to add, that he died in the
course of his second year’s residence in this country. Our
climate, in spite of coal fires and pipes of steam, is too cold,
moist, and variable for these dwellers in the tropic woods,
and a complaint analogous to consumption speedily puts a
period to their shivering existence.
It is the opinion of Baron Cuvier,4 that an obscurely
known and almost gigantic animal, described by Wurmb3
under the name of the Pongo of Borneo, ought to be re¬
garded as the adult condition of the Asiatic orang-outang.
The reasons assigned for this alleged identity, so far as we
can collect them, from a notice on the subject by M. de
Blainville,6 are chiefly these :—As no orang-outang has
ever been seen in Europe, or described by any European
naturalist which exceeded the age of two or at most three
years, it has consequently never been observed at all in the
adult state. Observation has demonstrated, that the muz«
zles of apes in the menagerie of the Jardin du Roi prolong
considerably with age ; and it is known that the facial angle,
both in men and monkeys, decreases as the individuals ad¬
vance in years. The compression of the cranium has also
been observed to take place from natural causes in after
life. In the year 1818, Baron Cuvier received from India
the head of an orang-outang, which resembled the ordinary
species (the red orang) in most respects, but was remark¬
able for the prolongation of the muzzle, and the develop¬
ment of the superciliary ridges. Its characters were, in
short, intermediate between those of the Asiatic orang¬
outang and the pongo of Borneo, from which it is conclud¬
ed, that the former, in the state in which we have hitherto
known it, is the young of the latter, the specimen adduced
by Cuvier being regarded as an adult example of the same
species, which had not, however, attained the maximum of
its development. That the skeleton of the pongo in the
Paris Museum was of great age, is proved by the general
condition of its ossification, the state of its teeth, and the
great development of the osseous crests of the cranium;
the same characters being observed in old baboons, the
young of which, without exhibiting so marked a disparity
1 This character, we doubt not, applies only to the young animal. The ridges will probably be found strongly developed in
the adult.
2 Homo sylvestris, Edwards ; Jocko of Audebert and of Buff. Supplem. t. 7, fig. 1.
3 Narrative of a Journey into the Interior of China, p. 319. 4 Hegne Animal, t. 1.
5 Mem. de la hoc. de Batav., t. 2, p. 245. 6 Note Stir l’Orang-outang, Jour, de Phys. t. 1, p. 311.
|i
uadru- as that which exists between the red orang-outang and the
raana- pongo, nevertheless differ greatly from their parents. Last-
jy? t}ie relative dimensions of the red orang-outang, of the
intermediate specimen described by Cuvier, and of the
adult pongo, are graduated in exact proportion to the de ¬
velopment of the characters drawn from the crests of the
cranium, and the prolongation of the facial bones.
The preceding observations, if not conclusive, are at least
logical. But we cannot help bearing in mind that Sir
Stamford Raffles,1 in mentioning the occurrence of the
orang-outang in Sumatra, states that it is there called by
the natives orang Pandak, or the pigmy. Now, vernacu¬
lar names are generally bestowed with some perception of
natural character and attributes, and it is by no means usual
for a people, however unobservant, to bestow, as the gene¬
ral appellation of a species, a title which applies to it only
in a state of youthful imbecility ; and if the creature in
question attained in its adult state to the enormous stature
of the pongo or great orang, we conceive it could scarcely
do so without being occasionally observed of such a size as
to render the name of pandak inapplicable. Nor do we see
for what reason the great pongo, an animal of the most
wary disposition, and of such extreme rarity, that not more
than two or three examples of its occurrence are yet known
to naturalists, should bring up its offspring so frequently
within the range of human visitation. That it should be
itself all the while unknown and invisible within the circle
of its own domestic haunts (admitting it to be the parent
of the red orang), is a circumstance still more difficult of
explanation.
"Whether these species, then, are identical or otherwise,
is certainly still an undecided point. Another of equal in¬
terest and importance regards the specific nature of that
gigantic animal killed some years ago on the north coast of
Sumatra by Captain Cornfoot or his crew, and likewise de¬
scribed by Dr Clarke Abel.2 It was upwards of seven feet
in height when placed in a standing posture, and measured
eight feet when suspended by the neck for the purpose of
being skinned. On the spot where he was killed there
were several tall trees, which greatly prolonged the attack;
for such was his strength and agility, that his pursuers were
unable to take a determinate aim, until they had felled all
the trees but one. He received numerous balls before he
was brought down, and then he lay upon the ground, as
dead, exhausted by many wounds, with his head resting on
his folded arm. It was at this time that an officer attempt¬
ed to give him the coup de grace, by thrusting a spear
through his body, but he instantly sprang upon his feet,
wrested the weapon from his antagonist, and shivered it in
pieces. This was his last effort, yet he lived some time
aflerwards, and drank, it is said, great quantities of water.
He appeared to have travelled from some distance to the
place of this “ untoward event,” for his legs were caked wfith
mud up to the knees. On the reception of each deadly
wound, he placed his hand over the injured portion, and
distressed even his relentless pursuers by the human-like
agony of his countenance. Indeed, his piteous actions, and
great tenacity of life, are said to have rendered the scene
altogether highly affecting. At the same time, it seems
odd that so much sentimental perception should have been
vouchsafed to those who committed the onslaught, and who
were under no absolute necessity of bringing the business
to so tragical a close.3 *
91
Genus Hylobates, Illiger. Muzzle short. Canine Quadru-
teeth lengthened. Facial angle 60 degrees. No tail nor mana.
cheek pouches. The posteriors furnished with callosities.
Arms extremely long.
This genus contains the species commonly called Gib¬
bons or long-armed apes, none of which are as yet knowm
to attain the formidable dimensions of the great orangs. In
their habits they are gregarious, and extremely shy in a
state of nature, although their haunts are often betrayed by
their singular bowlings. In aid of these peculiar cries some
of the species possess guttural sacks, resembling those of
the howling monkeys of South America. Their distribu¬
tion is confined to India and the Asiatic islands, where, like
all their congeners, they inhabit forests, from which they
seldom stray, and out of which they are easily captured,
from the extreme awkwardness and difficulty with which
they advance on terra firma, owing to the disproportionate
length of their fore-arms.
Of the species, which are numerous, the most ancient,
if not the best known, is the common gibbon, Hylobates
Lar (Simla Lar, Linn.). The fur is entirely black, the
face surrounded by grey hairs, the nose flat, and the ears
not unlike the human. The disposition of this animal is
mild and gentle. In a state of domestication, it receives
its food without manifesting any greedy impatience, and
exhibits a strong attachment to those with whom it has be¬
come acquainted. It is a native of the coast of Coroman¬
del, and occurs also in the Peninsula of Malacca and the
Molucca islands. It was probably one of this species wdiich
Father le Compte had an opportunity of examining, and
which he says walked on two feet, and had “ a face like a
Hottentot.” The white-handed gibbon from Sumatra, for¬
merly regarded as a variety of the preceding, is now de¬
scribed as distinct, under the specific name of albimana.*
We have, moreover, the little gibbon, H. variegatus, from
Malacca, the active gibbon, H. agilis, from Sumatra, Har¬
lan’s gibbon, H. Hoolock, from the Garrow Hills, the Mo¬
loch gibbon, H. leuciscus,5 from Malacca and the isles of
Sunda, and the Siamang, //. syndactyla, from Sumatra.
The last named, which we owe to the valuable researches
of Sir T. S. Raffles, is distinguished by this peculiarity
(from which it derives its specific name), that the first
and second fingers of the hinder hands are united together
as far as the middle of the second phalanx. It is entirely
black, the face without hair, and the canine teeth long. It
usually occurs in large troops, conducted, it is said, by a
chief, whom the Malays believe to be invulnerable. Let
them try a rifle. These assemblages remain quiet during
the day, but at sunrise and in the evening twilight, they
cause the forests to resound with the most dreadful cries,
sufficient to deprive an unaccustomed traveller of his senses.
Genus Cercopithecus, Erxleben. Cuv. Desm. Ca¬
nine teeth projecting, with interdentary spaces for their re¬
ception when the jaws are closed. Posterior molars with
only four tubercles. Head rounded. Muzzle moderately
projecting. Facial angle various. Ears of medium size,
sometimes rounded, sometimes slightly angular above and
posteriorly. Hinder limbs greatly developed. Cheek
pouches and callosities. A long tail, not prehensile.
This great generic group is composed of animals named
Guenons by the French naturalists, and is by far the most
numerous and varied of the monkey tribes. It is almost
exclusively African in the localities of the species. These
MAMMALIA.
1 £*«»• Trans., vol. xiii, p. 241. 2 Asiatic Researches, vol. xv.
3 We have figured the hands and feet of this extraordinary orang, of the size of life (from beautiful models transmitted to the
It oval Society of Edinburgh from Calcutta, by George Swinton, Esq.). See Wilson’s Illustratiwm of Zoology, vol. i. plates 33
and 34. * r ■>
* Zoological Jour., No. xiii. p. 107.
5 This is the Wou-wou of Camper, but not the species so named by Fred. Cuvier, which is the true II. agilis. Wou-wou seems
to be a native name of some extent of application, and therefore not specifically distinctive.
MAMMALIA.
92
Quadra- live in troops, and commit great devastation in gardens and
mana- cultivated fields. They are easily tamed. The genus has
' Y-*1' been greatly subdivided in recent times, but we cannot here
enter into any detailed exposition of the minor groups. We
shall briefly describe and characterise a few of the principal
species.
The golden guenon ( Cere, auratus, Geoff. Ann. Mus.,
t. 19, 93) has the fur of a golden-yellow colour, and of con¬
siderable length upon the ears, cheeks, and forehead. There
is a black spot upon the knee. Native of the Moluccas.
The Talapoin monkey of Shaw and Pennant {Cere, ta-
lapoin, Geoff, ibid.), is a doubtful species, by some regard¬
ed as the young of the Malbrouk. Its locality is uncertain.
The varied monkey of English authors ( Cere, mona, Geof.
ibid. p. 95) is distinguished by its flesh-coloured lips and
nose. The upper part of the head is a brilliant golden-
green ; the back and sides of a lively chesnut colour, speck¬
led with black; the upper parts of the legs, thighs, and
tail are of deep slaty grey, passing into black; and there
are two white spots on each buttock. This is an African
species, regarded by Buffon as the Kebos of the ancients.
It is remarkable for its graceful motion, its elegance of
form, and gentle docility of disposition.
The red monkey (Cere, ruber, Geoff*, ibid. p. 96), has
the face flesh-coloured, the ears black; a black band passing
over the eyebrows, and two black lines above the lips, give
the appearance of moustachios. The upper parts of the
face are of a bright reddish fawn colour, passing beneath
into ash colour. From Senegal.
The Palatine monkey ( Cere. Diana, Geoff, ibid.), is of a
deep chesnut colour on the back, with grey flanks, a pale
oblique line upon the thighs, the chin and throat white, and
a white crescent on the forehead,—from whence the my¬
thological specific name. Congo and the coast of Guinea.
Genus Cercocebus, Geoff. Teeth as in preceding ge¬
nus. Muzzle rather long. Head triangular. Facial angle
about 45 degrees. Superior margin of the orbits paired,
and notched interiorly. Nose flat and high. Anterior
hands with slender thumbs, approximate to the fingers;
posterior hands with broader thumbs, placed more apart.
Callosities strongly developed. Tail longer than the body.
Here we place the Callithrix or green monkey {Cere,
sabceus), a well-known species from the African coasts and
the Cape de Verd Islands, frequently imported alive in¬
to this country. Its colour is greenish-yellow above, some¬
what grizzled on the sides of the body and outsides of the
limbs, which become gradually darker towards the hands.
The face, cars, and hairless portions of the hands are quite
black. The neck and chest are white; the under parts
have a tinge of yellow, and the insides of the limbs are
grey. An account of the shooting of this species is given
by M. Adanson. “ But what struck me most, was the
shooting of monkeys, which I enjoyed within six leagues
this side of Podor, on the lands to the south of Donai, other¬
wise called Coq ; and I do not think there ever was better
sport. The vessel being obliged to stay there one morn¬
ing, I went on shore, to divert myself with my gun. The
place was very woody, and full of green monkeys, which I
did not perceive but by their breaking the boughs on the
tops of the trees, from whence they tumbled down upon
me; for in other respects they were so silent and nimble
in their tricks, that it would have been difficult to hear
them. Here I stopped, and killed two or three of them,
before the others seemed to be much frightened; how¬
ever, when they found themselves wounded, they began to
look for shelter, some by hiding themselves among the
large boughs, others by coming down upon the ground;
others, in fine, and these were the greatest number, by
jumping from one tree to another. Nothing could be more Quadru
entertaining, when several of them jumped together on the niana.
same bough, than to see it bend under them, and the hither-
most to drop down to the ground, while the rest got further
on, and others were still suspended in the air. As this
game was going on, I continued still to shoot at them ; and
though I killed no less than three-and-twenty in less than
an hour, and within the space of twenty fathoms, yet not
one of them screeched the whole time, notwithstanding
that they united in companies, knit their brows, gnashed
their teeth, and seemed as if they intended to attack me.”1
Another well-known species is the Malbrouc of Buffbn,
the dog-tailed baboon of Shaw {Cere, cynosurus, Geoff.).
It is of an olive-brown above, whitish beneath, with a pale
band above the eyes. This species is one of the largest
of the guenon group, measuring about a foot and a half
from muzzle to tail. It possesses remarkable dexterity
in the use of its hands, and although when aloft it is one
of the most agile of all the wood-haunting animals, its
motions on the ground are extremely awkward from the
disproportionate length of the hinder limbs. We find, ac¬
cordingly, that the malbroucs rarely descend to the earth.
“ Assembled in troops, they dwell for the most part in
those capacious canopies of verdant foliage which cover the
rich forests of Southern Asia, fellow-citizens with the birds,
exposed to no danger but from the larger of the serpent
tribe, or the more insatiable rapacity of man. In these
lofty retreats they are found in such numbers, as to annoy
the traveller, as well by the' petulance of their motions, as
the incessant iteration of their cries.”2 The Malbrouc in
confinement is an unsociable creature, being either petu¬
lant and irritable, or morose and melancholy. He is mis¬
chievous when indulged, and sulky when kept in order. He
inhabits Bengal. Numerous other species pertain to the
generic group named Cercocebus.
Genus Semnopithecus, F. Cuv. Canine teeth much
longer than the incisors. The posterior molars of the
lower jaw with a fifth tubercle. Tail and members long in
proportion to the size of the body. Anterior thumb very
short. Muzzle not greatly projecting. Cheek pouches
and callosities.
The negro monkey of Pennant (Sem. Maurus, Geoff.)
is entirely of a black colour, with the exception of a white
spot beneath, at the base of the tail. It is said to be of a
fawn colour when growing, and inhabits the island of Java.
The only other species we shall mention of our present sub¬
division, is the Entellus Monkey of M. Dufresne {Sem. En-
tellus, Cuv.), which is of a pale yellowish-grey colour, with
black hair on the eyebrows and sides of the head, directed
forwards. Although systematically described only during
recent years, it has long been well known in Bengal, and
is one of the species venerated in the religion of the Brah¬
mins. Its motions are slower than those of most monkeys,
and the expression of its countenance betokens unalterable
apathy. The height of the specimen in the London Zoolo¬
gical gardens exceeded two feet when in a sitting posture.
The tail, which was rarely unfurled, measured nearly three
feet. According to Mr Bennet, it is identical with the
Ceylonese species described by Thunberg and Wolf. It
is said to be frequently found in a domestic state in Ceylon,
and is held in such respect by the natives, that whatever
ravages it may commit, the latter dare not venture to destroy
it, but merely frighten it away by cries, if possible, more dis¬
cordant than its own. “ Emboldened by this impunity, these
monkeys come down from the woods in large herds, and
take possession of the produce of the husbandman’s toil with
as little ceremony as though it had been collected for their
use.”3
1 Voyage to Senegal. 9 Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. i. p. 267*
* The Cardens and Menageries of the Zoological Society delineated, vol. L p, c!6.
MAMMALIA
luadra- Genus Macacus. Lacep. Posterior molars furnished,
nian;i. as in the preceding, with a fifth tubercle, but the limbs are
' proportionally stouter and shorter. The tail is likewise
shorter, and the superciliary ridges are distinct.
The only example we shall here name is the Wanderou
(31. Silenus), a large black species, of which the sides of
the head and chin are surrounded by a broad beard or
ruff, of a dingy white, or pale-grey colour. The tail is ter¬
minated by a tuft of hair, on which account it appears to
have been named by some the lion-tailed monkey. “ The
princes and great lords,” says Father Vincent Marie, “ hold
him in much estimation, because he is endowed above every
other with gravity, capacity, and the appearance of wisdom.
He is easily trained to the performance of a variety of cere¬
monies, grimaces, and affected courtesies, all which he ac¬
complishes in so serious a manner, and to such perfection,
that it is a most wonderful thing to see them acted with so
much exactness by an irrational animal.” We were never
acquainted with more than one living individual of this
species, and the only piece of “ affected courtesy” it ever
exhibited, consisted in nearly biting off the calf of a negro’s
leg. The Wanderou is a native of Ceylon.
Genus Innuus, Cuv. Characters similar to those of the
preceding genus, except that the tail is so short as to seem
tubercular.
The well-known Magot or Barbary Ape (Innuus syl-
vanus, Cuv., Simia innuus, Linn.), remarkable as the only
species of the quadrumanous Order found in Europe, may
be adduced as a characteristic example of the present ge¬
nus. See Plate CCCXXVIII. fig. 4. It inhabits the rock
of Gibraltar, and the nearly opposing point of Africa called
Apes Mountain. It does not, however, occur in desert
countries, commonly so called; the open sandy plains of
Africa being altogether unadapted to the dwellings of this
pigmy people. Indeed apes of all kinds are a sylvan race.
Their structure being such as to render them unfit for the
exercise of rapid movement, either on all-fours, or in an
upright position, the intwined and densely intermingled
branches of trees are their favourite places of resort. Their
feet in climbing being equally useful as their hands, great
additional power and activity are thus derived. Among
the shady and otherwise unpeopled arbours which skirt the
banks of the yet mysterious rivers of Africa, they dwell in
single pairs, or in congregated groups, according to the in¬
stinct of each particular kind; and seated on the tops of
ancient trees, or swinging from pendant boughs, they play
their fantastic tricks, secure alike from the wily serpent
during the day, and the panther which prowls by night.1
The species in question, which also inhabits Egypt, is sup¬
posed to be the Pithecus of ancient writers.
Genus Cynocephalus, Cuv. Canine teeth very strong.
Superciliary and occipital ridges very distinct. Head and
muzzle lengthened, the latter truncated at the point; nos¬
trils terminal. Face furrowed by longitudinal striae. Cheek
pouches and callosities.
The species which compose this genus, notwithstanding
their resemblance in some respects to the human face and
figure, are among the most disgusting and degraded of the
brute creation. Iheir colouring is occasionally brilliant,
and their fur long and ornamental; yet there is an expres¬
sion of moral deformity in . their aspect, at which we cannot
help revolting. Their habits in a state of nature are said
to be extremely ferocious, and in confinement their pro¬
pensities seem all of the most odious kind. Their strength,
in comparison with their apparent size, is enormous. By
muscular energy alone, and without the assistance of their
huge tusks, they will in a few minutes tear the strongest
dog to pieces. Fortunately with all their fierceness, they
93
are not carnivorous, otherwise the most dreadful of the Quadm.
feline races would prove less formidable foes. In the wild mana-
state they subsist principally on roots and fruits, although
eggs and young birds are believed to form a portion of
their occasional sustenance. The species are almost ex¬
clusively African, and are subdivided into the two following
groups.
a. Tail Long. Baboons.
The Guinea baboon (Cyn. Papio, Desm.), has the fur
of a yellowish-brown colour; the face entirely black. The
cartilage of the nose exceeds the jaws at its upper extre¬
mity. The upper eyelids are white. It occurs on the
coast of Guinea.
The pig-faced baboon (Cyn. porcarius, Desm.), has the
fur of a greenish-black above ; the face of a violet black,
paler around the eyes ; the upper eyelids white. The tail
is long and tufted, and, in the adult state, there is a kind
of mane upon the neck. It inhabits the Cape of Good
Hope. See Plate CCCXXVIII. fig. 3. and 3 a.
b. Tail Short. Mandrills.
The variegated or ribbed-nosed baboon of English wri¬
ters (Cyn. mormon, Desm., Simia maimon and mormon,
Linn.), is of a greyish olive-brown above, beneath white,
with a yellow beard, and blue face ; and (in the adult male)
a red nose. It is scarcely possible to conceive a more ex¬
traordinary looking animal. It possesses great strength,
and is said to be much dreaded by the negroes. The well-
known “ Happy Jerry” of Exeter Change belonged to this
species. He was too much addicted to gin and water.
We have figured as an illustration of this division, the
species commonly called the Drill, C. leucophcms, Desm.
It is of African origin. See Plate CCCXXVIII. fig. 5.
We here terminate our sketch of the first sub-family,
or Simile Catarrhini, composed of all the animals of the
Ape kind peculiar to the ancient world, and shall now pro¬
ceed to the
2d Sub-Family.—Simi^: platyrrhini, or Apes of the
New Continent.
Six molar teeth on both sides of each jaw, bluntly tuber¬
cular, or only five, with acute tubercles.2 Nostrils open¬
ing on the sides of the nose, and separated by a broad par¬
tition. Tail always long, and frequently prehensile, that
is, endowed with the power of grasping. No cheek pouches,
nor posterior callosities. Head usually of a roundish form.
1st Division. Tail long and prehensile. The Sapajous.
Genus Ateles, Geoff. Molar teeth 24 in all, with blunt
crowns. Facial angle about 60 degrees. Head round;
members slender; thumb wanting, or nearly so, on the an¬
terior hands. Tail extremely long and very prehensile,
with a bare space beneath at the extremity.
The species of this genus seem to be of a mild, timid,
melancholy character, and more indolent in their move¬
ments than most of the monkey tribe. A beholder is apt
to believe them sick, or in a state of sufferance. It is known,
however that, when necessary for their own safety they
can exhibit great alacrity. They dwell in troops amid the
lofty branches of forest trees, and feed chiefly on fruits;
but they are alleged to eat also insects and small fishes, and
to have been seen picking up oysters and other testaceous
mollusca when the tide was low, and bruizing them between
two stones. So at least says Dampier. D’Acosta adds as
another trait of their great natural intelligence, that when
they wish to pass from one tree to another without descend-
ing, they form a lengthened chain by hanging to each
1 Edinburgh Cabinet Library, vol ii. p. 444, 2d edition,
except the Ouistitis (Hapale, llliger), in which the amount is the same
2 None of the American monkeys have fewer than 24 molars,
as in the species of the Old World, i. e. 20.
94
MAMMALIA.
■Quadra- other’s tails, and swing with a pendulous motion, till one of
man a. them catches hold of an opposing branch. The genus is
spread over a great extent of South America, and contains
a considerable amount of species, some of which (forming
the genus Eriodes of Is. St Hilaire), in the thin partition
of the nostrils, and their downward instead of lateral open¬
ing, seem intermediate between the monkeys of the old
world, and those of the new.
a. A very small, or rudimentary anterior thumb.
The Miriki monkey {Ateles hypoxanthus, Kuhl) is a
species discovered in Brazil by Prince Maximilian of Neu-
wied. The fur is of a yellowish-grey colour, the face flesh
colour, with grey spots. In some specimens the anal re¬
gion and origin of the tail are rusty red. The miriki great¬
ly resembles the spider monkey (A. arachnoides, Geoff1.),
but the latter wants the rudimentary thumb. The only
other species of this subdivision is the Ateles subpenta-
daetylus of Desm., the Chamek of Buffon.1 It has no nail
upon the rudimentary thumb.
b. No rudimentary anterior thumb.
The Marimonda monkey of Humboldt (Ateles Beelzebub,
Geoff.) is one of the most noted species of this subdivision.
The fur is brownish-black above, of a dingy or yellowish-
white on the abdomen. It is one of the most common spe¬
cies in Spanish Guiana, and occurs in immense numbers
along the wooded banks of the Oronooko, where they are
seen hanging as it were in festoons, suspended from the
branches, and holding by each other’s hands or tails. They
are also sometimes observed for hours at a time, sitting
with heads upraised, and folded arms, exposing themselves
to the scorching rays of the noon-day sun. The prehen¬
sile power of the tail is remarkable in this species, and pro¬
bably makes amends (in accordance with that providential
arrangement which the French naturalists designate as la
loi du balancement des organes) for the somewhat defective
structure of the anterior hands. The marimonda is fre¬
quently used as food in South America, and would be
speedily relished even by strangers, but for the child-like
aspect of the heads, which, when turning round in a tureen
of soup, give rise to most extraordinary and unpleasant
associations. There are about ten species of Ateles de¬
scribed by naturalists, including those which constitute the
genus Eriodes of M. Isid. St Hilaire.
Genus La.gothrix, Geoff., Humb. Amount of molar
teeth as in Ateles. Facial angle about 50 degrees. Muz¬
zle projecting, head round. Thumbs on all the extremi¬
ties. Hair soft and frizzly.
Of this genus there are not more than three species
known, and one of these is doubtful. Little has been as¬
certained of their natural economy. They are gentle in
their dispositions, of gregarious habits, and are usually
seen sitting on their hind legs.
Genus Mycetes, Illiger. Teeth the same in number
as in the preceding genera, but the canines are more deve¬
loped. Facial angle scarcely more than 30 degrees. Head
pyramidal, visage oblique. Hyoid bone much enlarged,
cavernous, and producing externally an inflation of the
throat. Nails short and convex.
The species of this genus known under the name of
Alouattes, or howling monkeys, are the largest and fiercest
of the quadrumanous tribes of South America. Their pow¬
ers of voice are extraordinary, and result, we doubt not
(though no detailed demonstration of the fact has yet been
afforded) from the peculiar construction of the hyoid bone,
and the parietes of the larynx.2 “ Though the animals of
the American continent differ in many material points from
those of the old world, yet is there almost always a general
analogy between them, an analogy sometimes also observable
even between the minor subdivisions. We might be justified,''
for example, in calling the Alouattes, or howling monkeys,
the baboons of the new -world. They approximate to them
in size and fierceness, and are perhaps still less susceptible
of culture, and still less amenable to the discipline of man.
They are in truth distinguished for wildness and ferocity,
and the bony structure in their throats, which gives to the
voice such tremendous force and volume, adds in no small
degree to the terror which they are otherwise calculated to
inspire. They wander in large troops, chiefly in the night,
and make the vast forests resound with their dreadful yell-
ings. What heightens the effect is, that they howl in con¬
cert ; the entire herd joining in one deafening cry the in¬
stant they discover the approach of an intruder.”3
Some of the species of our present genus are so nume¬
rous, that Humboldt has counted forty on a single tree, and
his calculation is, that in certain districts more than 2000
exist in one square league. We receive various and some¬
what contradictory statements of their history and habits
from different travellers. All agree that a practised marks¬
man is required, whether with bow and arrow or les armes
a Jeu, to bring them to the ground, because, unless shot at
once through the brain, their prehensile tail immediately
entwines itself around a branch, and keeps its owner sus¬
pended even after death, unless that event is almost instan¬
taneous. The females appear to produce only a single
young one at a time. According to Azzara, the mother
when alarmed is apt to abandon her offspring, and various
other voyagers report that the instinct of maternal love is
less pervading in our present tribe than among the majori¬
ty of monkeys. The traveller Spix, however, relates that
he mortally wounded a female, who continued to carry her
offspring on her back, till she was about to expire from loss
of blood, when, by a last effort, she threw her precious bur¬
then among the neighbouring branches, and fell exhausted
to the ground. Oexmelin, the author of “ 1’Histoire des
Aventuriers,” also alleges that the female howlers are re¬
markable for their attachment to their young; that they
succour and assist each other under various difficulties; and
that when one is wounded, the rest assemble around him
full of compassionate sympathy, and even attempt to stop
the flowing of the life-blood from the perforation of the
deadly bullet. “ I have witnessed this,” says the author,
“ many times with admiration.” It is certainly one of the
advantages of travelling into “ far countries,” that one is
thereby enabled to see many wonderful sights, of a nature
seldom seen at home. Spix states that the howlers are
monogamous. Azzara is of a contrary opinion. It is ad¬
mitted that they spring with great agility from branch to
branch, confiding in the powers off their prehensile tail,
should their quadrumanal efforts prove fallacious. They
live on fruits and insects, and seem to delight more than
others of their kind in the vicinity of streams and marshes.
Hence they roam either along the banks of rivers, or among
those wooded islands of the moist savannahs, which are sub¬
ject to frequent inundations. They even inhabit, accord¬
ing to Legentil, the marine He Saint George, two leagues
from the main land. The howlers are rarely reared in
captivity, their dispositions being unamiable, their voices
unendurable, and their natural instinct little susceptible of
amelioration by the human race. It is probably tor these
reasons that we scarcely ever find them brought alive to
Europe, notwithstanding our constant commercial inter¬
course with the countries which they inhabit. Naturalists
do not seem to be well acquainted with more than seven
Quadru.
mana.
1 A curious anomaly has been observed in a specimen of Chamek, viz. the existence of seven grinders on the right side of each jaw.
* See Humboldt in Observations Zooloyiqnes, and the Diction. Class. d'Hist. Nat. t. xv. p. 131.
3 Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vqL i. p. 301.
MAMMALIA.
species of howlers. For their detailed descriptions we must
refer the reader to the writings of Maregraaff, Azzara,
'Geoffrey, Humboldt, Kuhl, Desmarest, and Spix.1
Genus Cebus, Erxleben. Teeth the same in number
as in the preceding genera, but the upper incisors are
broader than the under. The head is round, the muzzle
short, the forehead slightly prominent, the occiput project¬
ing backwards. Facial angle about 60 degrees. Ears
rounded. Hyoid bone not inflated. Anterior thumb elon¬
gated. Tail prehensile, but furred throughout its entire
extent.
In this genus, which includes the Sapajous properly so
called, the members are strong and lengthened, especially
the hinder extremities. They consequently leap about
with great activity. Like their congeners they are grega¬
rious, and live in trees. Their disposition is lively, but less
petulant than that of the guenons of the Old World. Their
cranial development is large, and their intelligence propor¬
tional. They are easily tamed, and very tractable. Our know¬
ledge of their natural history is very slight, most of the facts
by which we could illustrate their habits having been drawn
from the observance of their captive state. The younger
St Hilaire informs us that they indulge in abstract ideas,
his proof being that he once observed a Sapajou, which had
met with a nut somewhat harder than usual, descend from
the top of a wooden cage, and crack the said nut by bruis¬
ing it against an iron bar. “ Cette observation,” he re¬
marks, “ nous parait digne d’etre citee; car elle prouve d’une
maniere incontestable que notresajou abandonne a lui-meme
et sans avoir jamais rec/u aucune education, avait su re-
connaitre que la durete du fer 1’emporte sur celle du bois,
et par consequent, s’etait eleve a un rapport, d une idee ab~
straite? It is delightful to find metaphysics thus combined
with natural history. I he Sapajous are rather omnivorous
in their propensities, for although they feed chiefly on fruits,
they are also avidous of insects, worms, and mollusca. The
species occur principally in Brazil and Guiana, and are
sometimes known under the name of musk-apes, from a pe¬
culiar odour which they emit during the rutting season.
I hey have also been denominated weepers, from their occa¬
sional utterance of a certain plaintive and disconsolate cry.
The sapajous of our present genus, as M. Desmarest has
well observed, are extremely difficult to characterize.
Their size and general form and aspect exhibit a great
similarity, and authors differ considerably as to the amount
of species. Brisson describes three, Linnaeus four, Gmelin
six, Buffon two, and recent authors (Kuhl, Humboldt, Des¬
marest) above a dozen. We must here, however, con¬
tent ourselves with the preceding generalities, and a slight
indication of one or two species.
The most familiarly known in this country in the living
state, is that called the weeper monkey {Cebus apella,
Desm. ) ; see plate CCCXXVIII. fig. 6. The fur is of a
brown colour, deeper above than below. The face is brown,
encircled by darker brown hairs. The top of the head,
tail, and feet are blackish-brown. This species inhabits
Guiana, and is of a hardy, playful, and contented disposi¬
tion. It sometimes breeds in confinement.
The white fronted sapajou {Cebus albifrons, Desm.) has
the fur of a grayer colour than that of the preceding. The
top of the head is black, the front and orbits white, the ex¬
tremities of a brownish-yellow. This species, the ouava-
pavi of Humboldt, is found in troops near the cataracts of
the Oronooko. It is a great favourite among the natives,
on account of its gentle docility, and the pleasing and ele¬
gant alacrity of its movements. A tame one observed by
95
man a.
Humboldt at Maypures, seemed to have acquired indolence Quadru-
by domestication* It was in the habit of catching a pig
every morning, and continued sitting on its back through-'
out the day, while it fed in the neighbouring savannahs.
2d Division. Tail long, but not prehensile.
Sagouins.
The
The Sagouins, in general, are distinguished from all the
preceding genera of American monkeys, by their tails be¬
ing destitute of the prehensile or grasping power ; and
this deficiency, trifling though it seems, brings with it a
considerable change of character. Being unable to sus¬
pend themselves from the far branches of forest trees, they
more frequently seek protection in the denser brush-wood,
or among the escarpments of rocky banks. The structure
of their eyes seems well adapted for nocturnal vision.
Genus Saguinus, Cace^Callithrix,2 Geoff. Cuv. Desm.
Canine teeth of medium size, lower incisors vertical, and
contiguous to the canine. Head small and rounded; muz¬
zle short. Facial angle 60°. Partition of the nostrils not
so broad as the range of the superior incisors. Ears very
large.
We have acquired as yet a very limited knowledge of
the natural habits of this genus. It is ascertained that the
species exhibit great intelligence (which might almost be
infen ed from the large development of the cranium), feed
on fruits and insects, and dwell gregariously among the equa¬
torial forests of the New World.
The type of this genus is the beautiful Saimiri of Buffon,
the squirrel monkey of our English authors {Saguinus sci-
ureus). It is a small and elegant species, of an olive-gray
colour, the muzzle black, the legs and arms bright red. It
is remaikable for its rounded head, and the flatness of its
visage. Its physiognomy is extremely like that of a hu¬
man infant, but much more pleasing than that of many.
It has the same expression of innocence, mingled occa¬
sionally with something more malign, and in its expression
there is the same frequent and rapid alternation from joy
to sorrow. When chagrined, its little eyes are seen to fill
with tears. It inhabits Brazil and Cayenne, and is common
to the south of the cataracts of the Oronooko, and along
the wooded shores of the Rio-Guaviare. The natives hold
it in great request, on account of its beauty, its docile man¬
ners, and the general sweetness of its disposition. It is
among the most restless of living creatures, but its every
movement is full of grace. It is extremely fond of spiders
and other insects, and Humboldt observed it exhibit an
amusing though mistaken sagacity, in singling out some
engravings of these tribes, and endeavouring to pick them
off the paper with its paws.3 It exhibits remarkable adroit¬
ness in the capture of living insects, and, under proper cul¬
ture and control, might possibly be made a very useful aide-
du-camp to an entomological collector. The young re¬
fuse to abandon the dead body of their bleeding mother,
and it is only through the strength of this beautiful instinct
that they can be captured alive. The affection, according
to Geoff. St Hilaire, corresponds with the large develop¬
ment of the posterior lobes of the brain. The individuals
appear to vary considerably with age or other circumstances.
A much rarer species of the genus is the widow monkey
{Saguinus lugens), of which the colour is blackish, the throat
and fore-hands white. The fur of this creature is very
soft and lustrous, the character melancholic, the habit so
litary; It dwells in the forests of the Cassiquiare and the
Rio-Guaviare, and is also found among the granitic moun¬
tains of the right bank of the Oronooko, behind the mission
* See also the article Sapajous, in Diction. Class. d’HisL Nat. t. xv. p. 131.
We adopt the generic title of Saguinus long since proposed by M. Lacenede. both on account of itQ -4. u •
ta* —pmu name than CWMm ancieM //<J,AppeUaLn)7or IT" ' ,>n0r Cta"' ““ “S ^ *
3 Rccueil cl Observ. Zool. p. 322. s “E*
MAMMALIA.
96
Quadra- of Santa Barbata. Several other species are well known
mana. to naturalists.
"V—Passing over the genus Nocthores of F. Cuvier (Aotus1
of Illiger), which contains the curious nocturnal monkey
called Douroucouli by the natives of the Oronooko, we
come to the more extensive
Genus Pithecia, Desm. Incisive teeth approached,
the superior oblique and broad, the inferior long and nar¬
row, converging towards their points, and separate from
the canines. Canines strong. Partition of the nostrils
broad. Head round, muzzle short. Facial angle about
60 degrees. Ears of medium size, margined, and in form
resembling those of the human race. Tail clothed with
long hair. Nails short and curved.
The species of this genus are known under the various
names of Sakis, fox-tailed monkeys, night-monkeys, &c.
They are not strictly nocturnal, but move about chiefly
during the evening twilight and the early morn. They
inhabit the forests of'Brazil, Guiana, and Cayenne, and live
on fruits and insects. Their habits are but slightly known,
probably in consequence of their seldom stirring much
abroad throughout the day. They are said to dwell in
small groups of seven or eight individuals, and search with
avidity for the nests of wild bees. See Plate CCCXXIX, fig. 1.
Naturalists are acquainted with eight or nine species of
Saki. The only one we shall here allude to is the hand¬
drinking saki (Pithecia chiropotes, Humb.), so called from
its peculiar mode of imbibition. It lifts the water in the
hollow of its hand, and, leaning its head to one side, con¬
veys the liquor to its mouth. It becomes almost furious
when its beard is wetted, an aversion which has probably
induced it to adopt the peculiar habit just mentioned, but
from what principle this aversion springs, we are not pre¬
pared to say. The fur of this singular creature is of a
chesnut-red colour. It has a long tufted beard, and a
thick bush of hair, separated in the middle, and hanging
down on each side of the head. In Humboldt’s opinion,
it more nearly resembles the human race than any other
monkey of America. Its eyes, according to that author,
, have an expression of melancholy mixed with ferocity. It
is, moreover, robust, active, untameable, and, when irrita¬
ted, will raise itself upon its hinder extremities-, grind its
teeth, stroke down its beard as if it were a Turk, and fly
at the offending person with a fury quite unbecoming the
semblance of South American humanity. Yet it is habi¬
tually melancholy, and, in the captive state, is never excited
to gaiety, unless it may be for a few brief and hungry mo¬
ments at the sight of some favourite food. Why, indeed,
should it be gay, pent up in some wretched crib, a collared
slave, far from its “ friends and brothers,” and destined
never more to swing from lofty and umbrageous boughs,
nor listen from the depths of darkened forests to the roar¬
ing cataracts of the Oronooko, where all its “ young barba¬
rians are at play ?”
4
Genus Jacchus, Geoff. Desm. Incisive teeth ca-
nines | 1, molars ^  (sharply tuberculated) ; rz 32.
Thumb of the anterior hands not opposable to the fingers.
Nails long, compressed, and pointed, except upon the hin¬
der thumbs.
The beautiful and graceful creatures which constitute our
present genus (of which the striated monkey of Pennant,
Jacchus vulgaris, Geoff., Plate CCCXXIX. fig. 2. may serve
as a familiar example), differ in the number of their molar
teeth from all the preceding genera of American Quadruma- Quadru.
na.2 Their habits are equally arboreal, although in climbing mana.
trees, they are supposed to make use of their pointed nails, '""’"V'*'
somewhat after the manner of squirrels, a tribe of animals
to which, in several other respects, they bear resemblance.
Their natural history, properly so called, is little known, most
of the facts narrated in books being drawn from the obser¬
vation of individuals in the domestic state, to which they
are frequently reduced, on account of their small size and
great beauty. M. Audouin of Paris has had a pair of
ouistitis (for so these creatures are often called) for some
time in his possession, and has made several curious obser¬
vations on their faculties and dispositions. They not only
recognise themselves and each other in a glass (a percep¬
tion denied to the sagacious dog), but can detect the na¬
ture of various animals as represented in paintings. Thus,
the representation of a cat alarms them exceedingly; and
although they are so exceedingly fond of insects as to dart
greedily at crickets and cock-chafers, yet the likeness of a
wasp made them suddenly withdraw their little paws. On
a recent occasion, one of them, while sucking some grapes,
happened to squirt a little of the juice into its eye, since
which occurrence it has never eaten of that fruit without
carefully closing the organs of vision, thereby exemplifying
the association of ideas. These ouistitis capture and de¬
vour all kinds of flies with the most inconceivable dexteri¬
ty, but exhibit a strong instinctive fear of wasps,—the
French species being at the same time quite different from
any they could have ever seen among the foliage of their
native forests. They are extremely fond of sugar, eggs,
and roasted apples ; but they refuse all kinds of almonds,
acidulated fruits, and such kinds of leaves as are usually
eaten as salads. Neither are they fond of flesh ; yet if a
small living bird is placed within their reach, they imme¬
diately capture it, put it to death, and scoop out its brains.
The species are numerous, and are usually divided into
two groups,—the Ouistitis properly so called (Jacchus,
Geoff.), and the Tamarins (genus Midas of the French
author.) To the former belongs the species above alluded
to,—to the latter (besides the silky monkey of Shaw), the
small and beautiful leonine monkey described by Hum¬
boldt.3 We deem the line of demarcation somewhat doubt¬
ful. The distinctive characters are taken chiefly from the
incisive teeth.
Family II LEMURIDAk
The second family of the Quadrumanous Order exhibits
a nearer approach to the ordinary quadrupedal form than
the preceding. Their incisive teeth (never more than
eight in the Simiad;e), vary in number in different ge¬
nera. The nostrils are situate at the extremity of the
muzzle. The posterior extremities exceed the anterior
in length. All the thumbs are well developed, and capable
of being opposed in seizure to the fingers, and the fore
finger of the hinder hands is furnished with a lengthened
claw-like nail. All the other nails all flat. The mammae,
which are pectoral, range from two to four. Tail never
prehensile—sometimes wanting. This family is composed
chiefly of the genus Lemur of Linnaeus, and may be said
to bear the same relation to that genus, as Simia of the
same author does to the preceding family,—thus affording
another of the numerous proofs which might be adduced of
his surprising tact in the formation of natural groups, and
1 The name of Aotus was bestowed in consequence of the erroneous supposition that the animal in question had no external
ears.
2 This highly important distinctive character seems to have been entirely overlooked by the majority of systematic writers.
z liecueil (TObserv. Zool. p. 14. pi. 5. See also, in addition to the diflerent authors named above, Mikan’s Delectus Flora: et
Fawice Braziliensis, and the Diction. Class. d'Hist. Nat. t. xii. p. 512.
MAMMALIA.
idru- of the manner (not seldom unacknowledged) in which he
aia. has prepared the great landmarks for posterity.
v'—'' Genus Indris, Lacep. Lichanotus, Illiger. Incisive
^ J   1 ^   £
teeth canine p—-y, molar    ; — 32. Two pectoral
mammae. Head long, and triangular. Fur woolly.
This genus consists of only two species, both natives of
Madagascar, where they were discovered by M. Sonnerat.
The best known is the Indris brevicaudatus {Lemur Indri,
Linn.), so called on account of the shortness of its tail.
(See Plate CCCXXIX, figs. 3. and 3, «.) It is an ani¬
mal of about three feet long, the general colour of the fur
blackish, the face and abdomen grey, the tail, and a spot at its
base, dingy white. Its natural habits are little known, al¬
though in a state of captivity it is gentle and intelligent,
and, when taken young, susceptible of being trained to
various useful purposes. If Sonnerat is correct in stating that
it is used by the natives of Madagascar, instead of a dog,
in the sports of the field, it certainly affords one of the
most remarkable examples of the subduing influence of the
human race. It is itself a frugivorous creature, an inhabi¬
tant of the forest, and a habitual dweller in the tops of
trees,—yet under the guidance of man it is induced to as¬
sume the nature and propensities of a carnivorous species,
and to pursue and capture other living animals. However,
we rather doubt the fact. Its voice is said to resemble
that of a weeping infant. The other species, distinguished
by its lengthened tail, and the yellow colour of its fur, is
the flocky lemur of Shaw (Z. laniger, Gmelin.).
Genus Lemur, Lin. Cuv. Incisive teeth ^, canine
0
i — 1 , 6 — 6 ,
molar ^ = 36. •
Ihe peculiarities observable in the dentition of this and
certain allied genera, may, in the opinion of some natural¬
ists, be thus explained. The six incisor teeth of the lower
jaw are long, slender, and almost horizontal, the outer one
on each side being, however, larger than the others, and of
a somewhat different form. These may therefore possibly
represent the canine teeth,—the more especially as the
pair usually so considered do not meet those of the upper
jaw, but are farther back, and bear much of the character
of false molars. If they were to be so regarded, then
the dentition of the lemurs would resemble that of the ge¬
nerality of American Quadrumana, which possess an addi¬
tional molar, but the same number of incisors with those of
the ancient continent.
The singular animals known under the name of Lemurs,
inhabit the island of Madagascar, where they seem to oc¬
cupy the place of monkeys, the latter being there unknown.
I hey likewise occur in the not distant island of Anjouan,
one of the group of the Comora Archipelago. The ring¬
tailed species (Z. catta, Linn.), is one of the most elegant
of the genus,—its motions being characterised by a great
degree of lightness, its manners mild, its nature very harm¬
less. In size it equals a large cat; the hair is extremely
soft and fine, and the tail, which is about twice the length
of the body, is marked by numerous alternate rings of white
and black. It is gregarious in the wild state, travelling in
small troops of thirty or forty. It is easily tamed when
taken young, delights in sunshine, but within doors prefers
a good place at the fireside to any other quarter. It is fre¬
quently brought alive to Europe ; and an individual, whose
97
acquaintance we happened to make in France, had lived Quadru-
there for nineteen years. It sometimes sat so near the mana.
fire in winter as to singe its whiskers. The white-fronted s-—-v—
lemur (Z. albifrons), has been known to breed in Europe.
The ruffed lemur (Z. macaco, Linn.), is another well known
species, remarkable for the extraordinary strength of its
voice, which is said to strike with fear and astonishment
those who hear it for the first time. It may be likened to
that of the Araguata, one of the howling monkeys of Ame¬
rica, which fills the lonesome woods of Guiana with its wild
and dreadful cries. We have figured Z. ruber of Peron.
See Plate CCCXXIX, figs. 6, and 6, a.
We have few generalities to state regarding the Lemur
tribe, for they have been very sparingly observed in their
native haunts. They live on trees, feed on fruits, and re¬
semble squirrels in their attitudes. In a domestic state
they are gentle, and attached to their friends, but shy of
the society of strangers. This shews their good sense.
Genus Loris, Geoff. Stenops, YWiger. Teeth as in the
preceding, but the molars are provided with sharper points.
Eyes large and approximate. Tongue rough. Ears short and
furred. Tail wanting, or very short. Four pectoral mammae.
This genus, as now constituted, contains only two spe¬
cies {Lem. gracilis and tardigradus, Linn)., both natives
of the East Indies.2 In these animals we perceive an ob¬
vious tendency towards carnivorous habits, and a departure
from the character of the preceding tribes. They are said
to prey very much on insects and birds, and even on the
smaller quadrupeds. Their motions are extremely slow,
and their mode of life nocturnal. We have represented
the species last named on Plate CCCXXIX, fig. 4.
Genus Galago, Geoff. Otolicnus, Illiger. Incisive
, 4 or 2
teeth —, canines and molars as in the preceding. Ears
large, and naked. Hind legs extremely long. Tail also
long. Two pectoral mammae.
The galagos inhabit Africa and Madagascar. We know-
little of their natural habits. They live in trees, and are
said to feed on insects. The Senegal galago (G. Sene-
galensis, Plate CCCXXIX, fig. 7), is called the gum animal
by the Moors, probably on account of its occurring so fre¬
quently in the forests of gum trees which border the Sa¬
hara. It is alleged, however, to eat the gum freely, al¬
though there is no doubt of its insectivorous propensities.
It is a small animal of the dimensions of a rat, with a very
long tail. The species are as yet but ill defined, and Geoff¬
rey has greatly erred in placing the Fennec of Bruce among
the galagos.
Genus Tarsius. Storr. Cuv. Incisive teeth canine
j p molar ^; =r 34. Head round, almost spheroidal.
Eyes excessively large, and contiguous. Ears long, naked,
membranous. Tarsus three times the length of the meta¬
tarsus. Nails subulate on both the second and third fingers
of the hind feet.
Of the three species which compose this genus, two
(Tarsius Bancanus, Horsfield, and T. spectrum, Geoff.),
inhabit the Moluccas, the other {T. fuscomanus, Fischer),
is a native of Madagascar. Their habits are nocturnal and
insectivorous.3 For their external aspect and teeth see
Plate CCCXXIX, figs. 5 and 5, a.
„ i16 ‘lunit,er °f ni°lar teeth in this genus is variously stated by different authors. Baron Cuvier gives “ six molaires de chaqu
./..h lau,V Slx en has-”—Animal, t. i. p. 107. His brother M. Fred, gives only five for each side on the lower law Den
k am™fe7'es, p. 24. M. Desmarest assigns five on each side for the upper jaw, but only four on each side for the under. W
have Mated the number which most coincides with our own observations.
in his geniw^iLlw1111311'6 ^ MUS‘ ^ XiX’ P‘ includes the slow lemur of English authors (L. tardigradus above named;
is nlnrprM^r™111^ 0^' ‘l,,'e/I peculiar nature, described as a squirrel by Gmelin, and now forming the Genus Cheiromys of naturalists
ini ‘r■-V on?e ln thet Qhadnimanous Order. It has, however, only two incisive teeth in each jaw; and we therefore prefer treat
mg ot n in a subsequent part of this article, as a member of the Order Rodentia.*
VOL. XIV.
N
Order II.—FERiE.
MAMMALIA.
98
Ferae.
This order, as now constituted (and corresponding to the
Carnassiers of Baron Cuvier), contains all the Fera:,
and several of the Primates, of the Linna^an system. The
species of which it is composed are characterized by pos¬
sessing, in common with the Quadrumanous Order, three
kinds of teeth, viz. incisors or cutting teeth, canine teeth
or tusks, and molar teeth or grinders; but they are distin¬
guished from that order by the different form of their
claws, and by never having a flexible thumb opposable to the
fingers or toes of either extremity.
The most general attributes of the organic form of the
ferine animals are the following : \st, The shortening of
the intestinal canal; 2d, The increased size and sharpness
of the canine teeth, and the cutting or frequently pointed
form of the molars; 3d, The shortness of the lower jaw,
and its peculiar articulation, which (combined with the
locking of the teeth when closed), is such as to admit only
of vertical motion. The term molar or grinding, there¬
fore, cannot with accuracy be applied to the lateral or
posterior teeth of strictly carnivorous animals, which mas¬
ticate their food by biting it in pieces, but cannot triturate
or grind it like the purely herbivorous kinds.1 \ih, The
double convexity of the zygomatic arch of the temporal
bone, and the depression of the parietal towards the axis
of the head, to afford space for the insertion of the tempo¬
ral-maxillary muscles, of which the bulk increases with
what may be called the carnivority. Characters deduced
from the size or even form of the claws are of less avail,—■
seeing that both the power and dimensions of these parts
are increased in most of the Edentata, among which the
organization of the teeth and jaws follows an inverse pro¬
portion. In the cat-kind, however, the shape of the claws
is extremely characteristic.
The degree of each of the four anatomical characters
above alluded to, and their combination, more or less com¬
plete, determine the degree of carnivority,—with which
that of ferocity usually corresponds. We must not, how¬
ever, attach to the word ferocity the idea of any fatal or
irresistible necessity to murder,—for the instinct to de¬
stroy is only the sensation of hunger in animals having a
propensity to flesh, and provided with the means of obtain¬
ing it. It requires, indeed, a little more determination and
activity, with, it may be, more malignity of movement, for
one animal to seize upon and devour its neighbour, than
for another animal to masticate a turnip,—but each is act¬
ing in obedience to its natural instincts, and neither is fol¬
lowing the dictates of a depraved appetite.
As in all other great groups, we have here various mo¬
difications of the typical character. Several bats are fru-
givorous, though in their general structure too closely al¬
lied to their congeners to be removed from the ferine or¬
der ; while various bears and badgers are extremely ac¬
commodating in their dispositions, and will eat freely
enough of vegetable substances rather than starve. The
general form and aspect of this order are also highly va« Fer$
ried. Some are organised for flight, as the Cheiroptera; Cheiroj.
others for swimming and diving, as the seals and morses ; tera.
while several are subterranean, as the moles. We do not
find such a diversity in the sphere of existence among the
pachydermatous and ruminating tribes. The geographical
distribution of the order is unlimited, so that we cannot con¬
nect flesh-eating propensities in any way with climate. If
the lion and the tiger haunt habitually the torrid zone, the
polar bear,
“ With dangling ice all horrid, stalks forlorn”
along the frost-bound shores of Greenland. Thus heat
and cold have no more influence over the nutritive appe¬
tite, than over the warmth of the instinct of love,—which
rules supreme alike amid perennial snows, and beneath the
unmitigated glare of equatorial suns.
We arrange the genera of the Ferine Order under four
principal divisions, viz. Cheiroptera, Insectivora, Car¬
nivora, and Marsupialia.
DIVISION I.—CHEIROPTERA.
The most remarkable and striking peculiarity of this
group consists in the membranous expansion which pervades
the sides of the body, connecting the anterior and posterior
extremities, and, in many cases, the latter, with the tail.
This structure enables almost all the species to fly like
birds, although with less activity and power ; and the ex¬
ercise of such a function of course requires a modification
of other parts, such as great strength of clavicle and breadth
of shoulder-blade, for the production of the requisite soli¬
dity. It is, however, incompatible with the rotation of the
fore-arm, which -would have enfeebled the force of the fly¬
ing action.
The Cheiropterous division is composed of two families,
the Vespertilionidje and the Galeopithecida:.
Family Ist.—VESPERTILIONIDA:, or BATS.
In this family the fore-arms and fingers are excessively
elongated, and the interstices of the latter being filled up
by the membrane already alluded to, which also extends
backwards to the hind feet, genuine wings are thus pro¬
vided, more expansive even than those of birds. The pec
toral muscles are extremely thick, and the sternum has a
central ridge for their attachment, resembling that of birds.
The thumb is short, and armed with a hooked nail, by
means of which the species climb or suspend themselves.
Their hind feet are rather feeble, furnished with five toes, al¬
most always of nearly equal size, and armed with pointed and
sharp-edged nails. The eyes are proportionally very small,
but the external ear is usually very large, partaking, as
it were, of the expansive nature of the lateral membrane,
and in common with it is naked, or nearly hairless. This
membrane, whether in the form of auricle or wing, is sup-
1 There seems to be no very satisfactory or explicit nomenclature of the teeth of ferine animals. I alse molars, carnivorous
cheek-teeth, and tubercular grinders, are probably the most precise and applicable terms which can be employed to discriminate the
different kinds of molar teeth, commonly so called, which distinguish the family Carnivora; and these terms have the additional ad¬
vantage of corresponding closely with the nomenclature proposed by M. Fred. Cuvier, and adopted by his illustrious brother in the
Regne Animal. In the Genus Felis, for example, there are four molar teeth in the upper, and three in the under jaw. Of these the
two anterior, both above and below, are the most cutting, and are called the false molars (fausses molaires of Cuvier). They are fol¬
lowed by a very large tooth, which, in the upper jaw, is furnished with three points or lobes, in the under with only two. This
is the carnivorous cheek-tooth {carnassiere'). Behind it, in the upper jaw, is a small flattish tooth [la tuberculeuse), which may be
named the tubercular grinder. In animals of the cat kind there is no corresponding separate tooth of the last description in the
lower jaw ; but its function is performed by the inner projecting lobe of the under carnivorous cheek-tooth, the rounded point ot
which, when the jaws are closed, is applied to the flat surface of the upper tubercular grinder. In the canine race, however, there
are two tubercular teeth on both sides of either jaw, and it is with these that they chew the grass which they so frequently s wal¬
low. In the tribe of bears the false molars, instead of being more or less compressed and cutting, are entirely tuberculated ; and, in
perfect accordance with this structure, they are known to be the least carnivorous of the family to which they belong : indeed, the
disposition and habits of an animal may be correctly deduced from the greater or less prevalence of the cutting or tuberculated cha¬
racter of the molar teeth.
MAMMALIA.
99
It®, posed to be endowed with a very exquisite perceptive
Cljirop- power—sufficient to guide the flying creature through la-
ra' byrinths of subterranean darkness, and even, according to
Spallanzani, to wing its intervening way through various ob¬
stacles, after it has been totally deprived of sight. This
power is presumed to result from the perception, by the
nerves of the cutaneous system, of the refluxes of air from
near opposing bodies.
Bats are nocturnal, or at least twilight loving animals,
which in northern countries pass the winter in a state of
lethargic repose. From this state of hybernation, however,
they are easily roused, and it is no uncommon thing to see
our smaller species flitting about in a winter afternoon,
during the occurrence of a milder day than usual. How¬
ever, the then almost total absence of moths and flies must
render such occasional excursions on the whole enfeebling,
by exciting the digestive and other functions (previously
at rest), without, at the same time, affording the means of
sustentation. During the day they hang suspended from
the roofs of barns and other buildings, or in crevices of
ruined castles, or find shelter beneath the murky canopy of
caves, or the overhanging gloom of shaded rocks. Neither
do they despise the secure concealment afforded by the
hollow chambers of ancient forest trees, whether rent by
the “ red lightning’s glare,” or yielding imperceptibly to
slow decay. They usually produce two young at a birth,
which adhere tenaciously to their mother, and are fre¬
quently borne about by her during her twilight flights.
The species (including the various genera, of which our
narrow limits will enable us to give but a brief account),
are extremely numerous,—above 130 different kinds being
known to naturalists. The majority inhabit the regions
within the tropics, and none occur in the countries of the
extreme north; neither are we aware that any have yet
been observed in New Holland. When the “ knell of
parting day” announces the approach of the long continuing
twilight of our temperate regions, we see our own diminu¬
tive species flitting about on leathern wings, or dimpling
the surface of the still waters, in search of insects or other
natural prey; but these give us but a feeble idea of the
monstrous forms which inhabit equatorial countries. Many
of the genera are extremely circumscribed in their geogra¬
phical distribution, either owing to their nocturnal habits,
or their powers of flight being unequal to a long sustained
migration. We may add, that all bats possess four well de¬
veloped canine teeth, but that the incisors differ in number
in the various genera. Of a few of these we shall endea¬
vour to exhibit the principal characteristics.1
Genus Pteropus, Brisson, Cuv. Incisive teeth i, ca-
4
I   1 5 5
nine -—molar    ; zz 36. Form of the incisors coni-
I — I b — 6
cal; canines rather large ; molars with the crown obliquely
truncated, and marked by a longitudinal groove. Head long
and conical. Ears short, simple, and without any tragus.2
No peculiar appendages upon the nose. Tail short or
wanting. Interfemoral membrane deeply incised. The in¬
dex finger, with three phalanges and a rudimentary nail. The
tongue papillose. See Plate CCCXXX, figs. 4. and 6.
The species of this genus, called Roussettes by the French,
are of a tfugivorous regimen, feeding on pulpy fruits, espe¬
cially bananas. They are confined to the ancient world,—
occurring chiefly in the islands of the Indian Archipelago,
Bengal, Madagascar, the Isle of France, and several parts
of Africa. They are the largest of all the bat tribe, and con¬
tain species measuring between five and six feet from tip Ferae,
to tip of the extended wings. Cheirop-
The eatable roussette (Ft. edulis) is of a blackish co- tera‘
lour, deeper on the breast than back. It is a large spe- ''“■“v-'-'
cies, measuring about five feet in extent;—the body six¬
teen inches long. Its flesh is white and delicate, and is
held in great esteem as an article of food by the natives of
the Island of Timor. It seems to vary in its external cha¬
racter with age, and has been accordingly described under
different names. Thus the Kalong of the Javanese (Ft.
Javanicus, Horsfield) is regarded as identical. It is a gre¬
garious species, very abundant in the lower parts of Java.
“ Numerous individuals,” says Dr Horsfield, “ select a large
tree for their resort, and suspending themselves with the
claws of their posterior extremities to the naked branches,
often in companies of several hundreds, afford to the stranger
a very singular spectacle. A species of ficus, in habit re¬
sembling the Ficus religiosa of India, which is often found
near the villages of the natives, affords them a very favou¬
rite retreat, and the extended branches of one of these are
sometimes covered by them. They pass the greater por¬
tion of the day in sleep, hanging motionless: ranged in suc¬
cession, with the head downwards, the membrane contract¬
ed about the body, and often in close contact, they have
little resemblance to living beings, and by a person not
accustomed to their economy, are readily mistaken for a
part of the tree, or for a fruit of uncommon size suspended
from its branches. In general these societies preserve a
perfect silence through the day ; but if they are disturbed,
or if a contention arises among them, they emit sharp
piercing shrieks, and their awkward attempts to extricate
themselves, when oppressed by the light of the sun, exhi¬
bit a ludicrous spectacle. In consequence of the sharpness
of their claws, their attachment is so strong that they can¬
not readily leave their hold, without the assistance of the
expanded membrane ; and if suddenly killed in the natural
attitude during the day, they continue suspended after
death. It is necessary, therefore, to oblige them to take
wing by alarming them, if it be desired to obtain them
during the day. Soon after sunset they gradually quit
their hold, and pursue their nocturnal flights in quest of
food. They direct their course, by an unerring instinct,
to the forests, villages, and plantations, occasioning incal¬
culable mischief, attacking and devouring indiscriminately
every kind of fruit, from the abundant and useful cocoa-
nut, which surrounds every dwelling of the meanest pea¬
santry, to the rare and most delicate productions, which are
cultivated with care by princes and chiefs of distinction.
By the latter, as well as by the European colonists, various
methods are employed to protect the orchards and gardens.
Delicate fruits, such as mangos, jambus, lansas, &c., as
they approach to maturity, are ingeniously secured by
means of a loose net or basket, skilfully constructed of
split bamboo. Without this precaution, little valuable fruit
would escape the ravages of the kalong.
“ There are few situations in the lower parts of Java in
which this night wanderer is not constantly observed. As
soon as the light of the sun has retired, one animal is
seen to follow the other at a small but irregular distance,
and this succession continues uninterrupted till darkness
obstructs the view. The flight of the kalong is slow and
steady, pursued in a straight line, and capable of long con •
tinuance. The chase of the kalong forms occasionally an
amusement to the colonists and inhabitants during the
moonlight nights, which, in the latitude of Java, are un-
^ The student who desires a detailed acquaintance with the Cheiropterous tribes, will study with advantage the systematic ex¬
position given by M. Desmarest, in his Mammalogie, and M. Geoffroy St Hilaire’s papers in the Annates du Mus. The English
reader is referred to Mr Griffith’s Translation of the “ Animal Kingdom,” (particularly the Supplementary Essay, vol. ii. p. 84, and
Synopsis, vol. v. p. 54).
. 2 We apply the term tragus to that secondary leaf-like expansion, which in many bats covers or protects the auricular opening.
It is the part named oreillon by the French writers.
100
MAMMALIA.
Ferae, commonly serene. He is watched in his descent to the
Cheirop- fruit-trees, and a discharge of small shot brings him readily
tera. ^ j.0 groUnd. By this means I frequently obtained four
v or five individuals in the course of an hour, and by my ob¬
servations I am led to believe that there are two varieties
which belong to one species, as they appear all to live in
one society, and are obtained promiscuously.” 1
A roussette (we know not the exact species) brought
alive to France about the beginning of the present century,
was observed to remain constantly calm and motionless
throughout the day, suspended by one of its hind feet.
Yet Q.uoy and Gaimard report that they saw these great
bats flying during the day in the Carolina Islands, and
Messrs Lesson and Garnot have made the same remark as
to their diurnal powers. These notices are the more in¬
teresting, as they confirm the statements of the earlier
voyagers.
The vampire bat, commonly so called, ( Vespertilio vam-
pnjrus, Linn.,) belongs to the genus Pteropus. Having al¬
ready alluded to the frugivorous habits of the species, we
need scarcely add, that the specific name is greatly misap¬
plied. A vampire is an imaginary monster, the chief
amusement of which was supposed to consist in sucking
the blood of sleeping persons, and the superstition, however
absurd, must have been sufficiently fearful to those who
gave it credit, as many did in Poland and Hungary about
a hundred years ago. Some vague allegations having been
made regarding the blood-sucking propensities of certain
bats, Linnaeus bestowed the name of vampyrus on a large
species found in Madagascar. This was unfortunate, as the
actual blood-sucking bats inhabit South America, and be¬
long to another group, which now forms the genus Phyllos-
toma.
The other frugivorous genera allied to Pteropus in their
habits are Pachysoma, Macroglossus, Cephalotes, and
Hypoderma.
Genus Molossus, Geoff., Cuv., Desm. Incisive teeth
2 4 4
canine as usual, molar     ; 26. The upper in-
Z 5 —— 5
cisives are of medium size, bifid, convergent, and slightly
separate from the canine; the lower very small, as if press¬
ed together in advance of the canines, and each ter¬
minated by two minute points. The upper canines are
large ; the under touch each other at the base, their points
projecting outwards. The molars are large, and their
crowns furnished with several sharp points. The head is
large, the muzzle broad, the nostrils slightly projecting,
opening forward, and provided with a little pad. The ears
are large and united, and provided with a small tragus.
No appendages to the nose. Tongue smooth. Interfemo-
ral membrane narrow, and terminating rectangularly. Tail
long, usually half enveloped at the base, the point free.
The species of this genus, of which about a dozen are
known to naturalists, occur both in the Old World and the
New. The majority, however, are natives of South Ame¬
rica. We have no detailed information regarding their
habits of life. In these, however, they are supposed to
coincide with the bats of Europe. We suspect that even
the characters of the teeth are imperfectly described. A
pair of incisors in each jaw is rather an anomalous cha¬
racter for an insect-eating genus, and M. Temminck has
stated his belief that several species have at first six in the
lower jaw, of which four are successively dropped.
We shall merely in this place name the genera Nyctono-
mus of Geoffrey, of which, though one occurs in Brazil,2
the species are characteristic of the Old World, and Dyn-
ops of Signor Savi, of which the typical species was some
time ago discovered in the neighbourhood of Pisa.3
Genus Noctilio, Linn., Cuv. Incisives t, canines
2 I aeirop.
as usual, molars —-q = 26. The central upper inci-^!”^
sives are the largest; the inferior are placed in advance of
the canines; the canines are very strong. The crowns of the
molars are furnished with sharp tubercles. See Plate
CCCXXX, fig. 3. The muzzle is short, inflated, cleft, and
covered with warts or fleshy prominences. The nose is con¬
founded with the lips. The ears are small, lateral, isolated;
the tragus internal. The interfemoral membrane is very large
and salient. The tail is of medium size, or rather short, and
partly enveloped, partly free, and placed above the membrane.
The claws of the hinder extremities are extremely strong.
The species are but few in number, and, as far as yet
known, are natives of South America. They are some¬
times denominated hare-lipped bats. The Peruvian bat of
Pennant (N. leporinus) may be named as an example. See
its cranium as above referred to.
Genus Phyllostoma, Cuv., Geoff. Incisive teeth —,
• 4
canine -f—, molar or = 32 or 34. The in-
1 — 1 o   5 u D
cisors have often the appearance of being closely pressed
between the canine, the lateral being very small; the ca¬
nines are frequently very large at their base. The head is
large, and somewhat uniformly conic; the gape deeply cleft.
The nose supports two membranous crests, the one leaf¬
like, the other in the form of a horse-shoe. The ears are
large, naked, disunited. The tragus is internal, dentated,
and growing from the margin of the auricular cavity. The
eyes are very small and lateral. The tongue, capable of
considerable extension, is beset at its extremity by cor¬
neous papillae. The middle anterior toe has an additional
phalanx. The tail varies in size, and is wanting in certain
species. The interfemoral membrane likewise varies in its
degree of development.
The singular creatures which constitute our present ge¬
nus are believed to be peculiar to South America, where,
however, they are distributed over a considerable extent of
territory, from the Isthmus of Darien to Paraguay. The
incisive teeth vary in number even in the same species,
some of those in the lower jaw being frequently pushed out
by the growth of the canines, and in different species the
amount of molar teeth is dissimilar. The papillae of the
tongue above alluded to, in connection with tubercles sym¬
metrically arranged around the mouth, bestow on several
species a strong power of suction, which they frequently
exercise to the disadvantage of their neighbours, by with¬
drawing the life-blood from man and beast. These are
the famous vampires, of which various voyagers have given
us such redoubtable accounts, and which are known to have
almost entirely destroyed the first establishment of Euro¬
peans in the New World. Although they extirpated the
cattle at Borgia, and elsewhere, they also feed on insects,
after the manner of other bats, and according to Azzara do
not venture to attack the cattle, unless when driven to ex¬
treme hunger by a deficiency of other food. The structure
of the tongue is remarkable. It is about six times longer
than broad, flattish above, rounded beneath, the surface
slightly shagreened, and close to the extremity there is a
peculiar cavity, the centre of which is marked by a raised
point, and the circumference by eight warts. .
The molar teeth of the spectre bat, or true vampire
(Vesp. spectrum, Linn.), are of the most carnivorous cha¬
racter, the first being short and almost plain, the others
sharp and cutting, and terminating in three or four points;
but it does not appear that it makes use of them while at-
Zooloyxcal Researches.
2 Annates des Sciences Nat., Avril 1824.
3 Giornale dei Letterati, No. 21, p. 230.
?erae. tacking the larger kinds of prey, trusting rather to its subtle
0 drop- and insidious tongue, for by no other means could it perfo-
era* rate the skin of a sleeping animal, without causing so much
cpain as to speedily arouse it from its slumbers. Now we
know that the sleep of the victim is scarcely ever inter¬
rupted, though we cannot vouch for the fact that this is
effected, as some of the older voyagers allege, by the fan¬
ning motion of the wings of the bat producing a delicious
coolness, which renders repose the deeper, “ till the suf¬
ferer awakens in eternity.” There is no doubt, however,
that the accounts given by Pietro Martyro, Ulloa, and Con-
damine, though perhaps stated with some circumstances of
exaggeration, are substantially correct. They have been
confirmed by Azzara, an accurate and discriminating natu¬
ralist of modern times. “ The species,” says that observer,
alluding to the Phyllostomata, “ with a leaf upon the nose,
differ from the other bats, in being able to turn, when on
the ground, nearly as fast as a rat, and in their fondness
for sucking the blood of animals. Sometimes they will bite
the crests and beards of the fowls while asleep, and suck
the blood. The fowls generally die in consequence of this,
as a gangrene is engendered in the wound. They bite
also horses, mules, asses, and horned cattle, usually on the
buttocks, shoulders, or neck, as they are better enabled to
arrive at these parts from the facilities afforded by the mane
or tail. Nor is man himself secure from their attacks. On
this point, indeed, I am enabled to give a very faithful tes¬
timony, since I have had the ends of my toes bitten by
them four times, while I was sleeping in cottages in the
open country. The wounds which they inflicted, without
my feeling them at the time, were circular, and rather el¬
liptical ; their diameter was trifling, and their depth so su¬
perficial as scarcely to penetrate the cutis. It was easy,
also, on examination, to perceive that these wounds were
made by suction, and not by puncture, as might be sup¬
posed. The blood that is drawn, in cases of this descrip¬
tion, does not come from the veins, or from the arteries,
because the wound does not extend so far, but from the
capillary vessels of the skin, extracted thence, without
doubt, by these bats, by the action of sucking or licking it.1 *”
The species are numerous, and have been formed into
sectional groups or subgenera by some recent writers,—
chiefly in accordance with the presence or absence of the
tail.
We must here pass over, without any special notice, the
genus Glossophaga, Geoff., which contains species allied
in their habits to those last named, but distinguished by a
longer, more extensile tongue, and other characters. 0
Genus Megaderma, Geoff. Cuv. Incisive teeth —,
4 4 4
canine as usual, molar    ; rr 26. Ears very large and
united. Tragus also much developed. Nose furnished
with three appendages,—one erect, one horizontal or folia-
ceous, and a third like a horse-shoe. Tail wanting. In-
terfemoral membrane square. Third finger without the
first phalanx. Tongue smooth and short.
The species of this genus, though few in number, are
spread over a considerable extent of territory,—being found
in Java, the island of Ternate, and along the coast of Sene¬
gal. We are not aware that naturalists have acquired any
precise knowledge of their habits, except by induction from
those of their congeners. They dwell in forests, and are
remarkable for the great extent of their membranous ex¬
pansions. One of their most singular organic characters
consists in the absence, or at least rudimentary state of the
intermaxillary bone, which of course entails with it the
non-existence of the incisive teeth. It may be inferred,
however, rather that the bone is small, inconspicuous, and Ferce.
suspended in the cartilage, than entirely wanting. „ Cheirop-
Genus Rhinolophus, Geoff. Cuv. Incisive teeth -, tera-
canines as usual, molars = 30. The upper inci¬
sors are very small, separate, and frequently fall out; the
lower are bilobed. The canines are of medium size,—the
crowns of the molars jagged with extremely sharp points.
The ears are of moderate size, lateral, and isolated. The
expansion called the tragus is non-existent, or rather is re¬
placed by an exterior lobe of the ear. The interfemoral
membrane is large, and entirely envelopes the tail, which
is long.
This genus includes some European species which we
distinguish by the name of horse-shoe bats, in reference to
the form of the appendage on the muzzle. They hang sus¬
pended during the day from the roof of caverns, and fly
about in the evening twilight, preying on moths and other
insects. We shall here name only the largest of the Bri¬
tish species, R.ferrum equinum, which is well known in the
south of England. See Plate CCCXXX, fig. 1. It is of
a pale rufous brown colour, and its wings extend nearly fif¬
teen inches.
Genus Nvcteris, Cuv. Geoff Incisive teeth —, ca-
. 4 4 6
nines as usual, molars ; = 30. The upper inci¬
sors are bilobed, and contiguous ; the under trilobed.
There is a deep longitudinal furrow down the muzzle, ap¬
parent even on the cranium, and margined, and partly-
covered, by a fold of the skin.
The species occur in Africa and Java, and are remark¬
able for the following peculiarities of structure. The nos¬
trils are habitually closed, and require an act of volition to
be put in communication with the external air, and the spe¬
cies, it is supposed, are thus enabled to establish themselves
in subterranean chambers or other places, where their con¬
geners would be destroyed by pestilential vapours. The
skin forms as it were a sack around the body, with which
it has scarcely any adherence, except at certain points,
where there are some cellular attachments. At the bottom
of each of the cheek pouches there is a small aperture com¬
municating with this pervading sack, and by means of which
the latter is filled and inflated with air, so that the creature
becomes immersed in air, or surrounded as it were by a
muff of that elastic fluid. The tail is terminated by a car¬
tilaginous bifurcation, resembling the form of the letter T.3
Passing unwillingly over the genera Rhinopoma, Ta-
phozous, and Myopteris of Geoff. St Hilaire, we reach the
Genus Vespertilio of modern authors. Incisive teeth
4 .1 — 1 _ 4 — 4 5 — 5
-, canine j—; molar g—g or g——g; = 32 or 36.
The upper incisors, pointed and cylindrical, are disposed
in pairs; the under close together, inclined or projecting
forwards, their edges bilobed. The' canines are of mode¬
rate size, and do not touch each other at their base. The
anterior molars are simply conical; the posterior have broad
crowns beset with points ; the lower ones are grooved on
their sides ; the upper, which are twice as broad, have
crowns with an oblique edge. The nose has no membran¬
ous appendages; it is neither grooved nor furrowed, and
the nostrils are destitute of opercles. The under lip is sim¬
ple ; the tongue smooth, not protractile. The ears, more
or less extended, possess a tragus. The wings are of great
proportional extent. The index finger has only one pha¬
lanx, the middle three, the annular and little finger only
two. The interfemoral membrane is very large, and en¬
tirely includes the tail. The fur is soft and thick.
1 Essai sur I'Hist. N’nt. dn Paraguay, T. ii. p. 273.
bee the Memoires de l Institut d Egypte^ Hist, A cit>, t. li. Mem. sur les Clieiropt?ves»
102
MAMMALIA.
Ferae. This extensive genus includes between thirty and forty
Cheirop- species, some of which occur in every quarter of the globe,
tera. although they may be stated as rather characteristic of tern-
perate regions. Most of the European Cheiroptera pertain
to the restricted genus Vespertilio, such as the V. murinus
of naturalists, recognisable by its oblong ears equalling the
head in length, with their tragus semicordate. The great
bat or noctule ( V. noctula), of which the ears are shorter
than the head, and triangular, and the nostrils bilobate, in¬
habits England (see Plate CCCXXX, fig. 2.), as do like¬
wise the pipistrelle and several others not yet discovered in
the northern quarters of the island. The eared bat (V.
auritus, Linn.), is a much more common species. It be¬
longs to the genus Plecotiis, Geoff, distinguished by the
large ears which unite with each other at the base, above
the cranium (see Plate CCCXXX, fig. 7). Altogether we
have about thirteen different kinds of bat in Britain. We
shall here terminate our brief view of the Yespertilionidae ;
—“ Et nous devons faire observer ici,” we may add, in the
words of Baron Cuvier, “ qu’il n’est point de famille qui
ait besoin plus que celle des chauves-souris d’une revue faite
sur nature et non par voie de compilation.” 1
Family 2d.—GALEOPITHECID^.
The position of the genus Galeopithecus is, in truth, as pe
yet but ill determined in our systems. It seems, however, InsJcti
improper to remove it far from the vicinity of the bats and vora.'
lemurs. Some authors, indeed, combine it with the latter,
as a family of the quadrumanous order ; while others ex¬
tend that order, so as to include within its range the whole
of the cheiropterous tribes.
DIVISION II.—INSECTIVORA.
The animals comprising this division, though dissimilar
to the preceding in their general form and aspect, resem¬
ble them in several particulars, especially in the conical
points of the molar teeth. They are also for the most part
nocturnal, and of darkling habits, and exhibit an additional
analogy in their tendency to hybernation during the colder
months. They are furnished with clavicles, but do not
possess the extended lateral membrane of the cheiropter¬
ous genera. Their legs may be characterized as short, and
their locomotive powers as somewhat defective. The mam¬
ma;, instead of being pectoral, as in the preceding tribes,
are placed beneath the abdomen. The teeth vary so
greatly in the different groups, that no generalities can be
deduced regarding them.
Fore arms and fingers not attenuated and extended as
in bats, but furnished with curved claws. Lateral mem¬
brane not bare, as in the animals last named, but covered
on both surfaces by close-set hair.
Genus Galeopithecus, Pallas. Incisive teeth ca-
nine molar ^^; — 36. Upper incisives very
small, the lateral lengthened, compressed, cutting, with a
small tubercle on each side at the base. Lower incisives
inclined, and divided like the teeth of a comb; the inter¬
mediate being composed of eight laminm, the second on
each side of nine, the outermost of three or four (see
Plate CCCXXX, fig. 8). The upper canines are very small,
compressed, sharp-pointed, broad at the base; the lower
are of larger size. The upper anterior molars resemble
the canines, the posterior have their crowns beset with
points. The muzzle is pointed. The ears are small and
rounded; the fingers short, with a broad palm, and fur¬
nished with strong curved claws.
The animal known under the name of flying lemur (Le¬
mur volans, Linn.), may be named as an example of our
present genus. It is the Galeopithecus rufus of modern
systems (see Plate CCCXXX, fig. 5). This species mea¬
sures about a foot in length, and is of a greyish-red colour, va¬
rying with age. It inhabits the Moluccas and the isles of Sun-
da, and seems to be the only species distinctly known, though
two others are named in systematic works. These animals
are nocturnal, living on fruits and insects, and suspending
themselves by their hind legs, after the manner of bats. Yet
they differ greatly from all the latter in the form of the
fore paws, and the presence of claws on all the fingers.
Although an ample membrane extends from the sides of
the neck to those of the tail, it is useful rather as a para¬
chute, by enabling them to spring or descend from branch
to branch, than for the purposes of a sustained or continu¬
ous flight. The hind feet are equally palmated with the
anterior, and in each the claws alone are free. The mem¬
brane, moreover, differs from that of bats, in being clothed
on both sides with short dense hair. The species above
named is called olek by the natives of the Pellew islands,
who hold it in great esteem as food, notwithstanding that
it smells extremely like a fox. It is capable of running
on the ground, and is said to climb trees like a cat.
Tribe 1st.
Two long incisives in front, followed by other incisives,
and small canines, shorter than the molar teeth.
Genus Erinaceus, Linn. Incisive teeth -, canine
6
1 — 1 . 5 — 5
i _ y molar 4 ^ ; = 34. Upper intermediate inci¬
sives very long, separate, cylindrical, directed forwards;
the inferior inclined. Canines smaller than the molars.
Body covered laterally and above with prickles, beneath
with stiffish hairs.
The species of this genus commonly called hedgehogs,
are few in number, and confined to the ancient continent.
We need not describe the well known British species (£.
europceus, see Plate CCCXXX, fig. 9), a timid nocturnal
creature, which feeds on snails, earth-worms, and insects.
It has also been accused of injuring eggs and poultry. It is
easily tamed, and is nearly omnivorous in confinement.
According to Pallas, it devours the cantharis or blistering
beetle with impunity. It has also been known to resist
large doses of prussic acid. The female, about the begin¬
ning of summer, brings forth from three to five young,
which are at first blind, almost white, and nearly naked,
although the germs of the prickles are observable. Both
young and old pass the winter in a state of profound le¬
thargy. The hedgehog occurs over the whole of Europe,
except the extreme north.
2
Genus Sorex, Linn. Central incisive teeth o, false
canines or lateral incisives
3 — 3 4 — 4
2UT2’ or true moIars
^5 28 or 30.
The central upper incisives are hooked
and dentated at the base ; the lower are elongated and pro¬
jecting. The false canines, especially the upper, are much
less than the central incisives. The molars have broad
crowns beset with points, the upper being the largest, their
cutting edge oblique. The head is very long, the nose
lengthened and moveable. The ears are short and round¬
ed. The eyes small but perceptible. The body is cover¬
ed by fine short hair.
This genus consists of the small subterranean creatures
called Shrews. The nomenclature of their teeth is a dis¬
puted point among naturalists. They are remarkable for
1 Regne Animal, t. i. p. 122.
MAMMALIA.
Perce, certain odoriferous glands along their flanks, and, accord-
nsecti- ing to Geoifroy St Hilaire, for the non-existence of the
vora. optic nerve; yet nobody doubts that they can see. Shrews
^ viewed generically, may be said to be cosmopolites, in so
far as they are distributed over almost all the earth; and it
is even said, that certain species occur both in Europe and
America. They vary in their habits of life, some attaching
themselves to dry situations, while others prefer moist mea¬
dows, and the margins of springs and quiet streams. They
prey chiefly on insects, and are themselves often killed, but
seldom eaten, by cats. However, owls make amends for
this omission by swallowing them greedily. It is believed
that even the European species are still but incompletely
known, their extremely minute size enabling them to avoid
the notice of naturalists. They are probably the smallest
of all quadrupeds, at least we are inclined to presume so
from the recorded dimensions of some of those recently de¬
scribed by Lichtenstein and Savi.
The most abundant species with us is the Sorex araneus,
or common shrew. It measures about 21 inches in length,
without the tail, which is a third shorter than the body,
and of a square form. The teeth are white, the ears naked
and exposed. It is subject to a frequent epidemic in the
autumn season, and presents one of the few instances we
meet with, of an animal in a state of nature being found
dead, without any apparent injury. The water shrew (Sorex
fodiens) is somewhat larger than the preceding. It is of a
blackish colour above, whitish beneath, the tail about a
fourth less than the body in length, and compressed towards
the end. The incisive teeth are red at the base, and the
ears are in great measure concealed within the fur. There
are many foreign species not, however, as yet distinctly
characterised ; and the learned antiquary Passalacqua in¬
forms us that he met with more than one species embalmed
in a tomb of the Necropolis of Thebes. One of these was
evidently, from its great size, and other characters, identi¬
cal with Sorex giganteus, a species which, in the living
state, occurs only in India. This is a fact interesting alike
to the archaeologist and the natural historian, as it leads to
the belief, either that certain species of animals native to
Egypt in ancient times, no longer occur in that country, or
that the Egyptians derived from India some of the objects
of their religious worship.
We may here name the Tupaia of Raffles and Horsfield
(Sorex glis, Diard., Cladobates, F. Cuvier), a new generic
group from the Indian archipelago, of which the teeth
agree with those of the Insectivora, although the habits of
the species differ in this respect, that they prey like the
Quadrumana among the branches of trees.1 Their exact
location in the system is therefore still somewhat doubtful.
Genus Mygale, Cuv. Differs from Sorex in having two
very small teeth between the larger of the lower incisives,
and in the upper incisives being triangular and flattened.
Behind these incisives are six or seven small teeth, and
four jagged molars.
Pallas and Geoffroy St Hilaire differ in their descriptions
of the dentition of the species they have respectively de¬
scribed. These animals are of aquatic habits, dwelling in
holes to which they enter under water, and then proceed
upwards to dry and comfortable quarters. They feed on
larvae and worms, and, according to some authors, on the
roots of the nymphaea. The fur of the Russian species
(M. Moscovita, Geoff., Castor moschatus, Linn.) is much
esteemed, on account of its being composed, like that of
103
the beaver, of long silky hair, and of a softer felt beneath. Fene.
It exhales a strong musky odour, which imbues the flesh Insecti-
of pike and other voracious fish which prey upon it. We vor2-
are acquainted with only two species, that of Russia just
named (extremely abundant in the environs of Woronech,
where it is often entangled in the nets of the fishermen),
and the Desman of the Pyrenees (M. pgrenaica). It is
said that these creatures, not being torpid in winter, suffer
dreadfully during that inclement season, from the freezing
of the waters. Many perish from suffocation in their sub¬
terranean abodes,—these having no communication with
the external air. The species last named has as yet been
found only in the neighbourhood of Tarbes at the foot of
the Pyrenees.
Genus Scalops, Cuv. The teeth of this genus resem¬
ble those of the preceding, but their false molars are less
numerous.
The only known species is the shrew mole (S. ca7ia-
densis), a North American animal, nearly eight inches in
length, with a thick cylindrical body, no apparent neck,
short concealed limbs, and broad strongly nailed hands.
It resembles the European mole in its habits, leading a sub¬
terranean life, forming galleries, and feeding principally on
grubs and earthworms. According to Dr Godman, they
exhibit the singular custom of coming to the surface daily
exactly at the hour of noon, and may then be taken alive
by thrusting a spade beneath them, and throwing them out
of their burrows. A tame one in the possession of Mr
Peale was very lively and playful, would follow the hand
of its keeper by the scent (the eyes are very inefficient),
and fed freely on fresh meat, whether cooked or raw. It
would burrow for amusement in loose earth, and after mak¬
ing a small circle, would return spontaneously to its keeper.
Although widely spread over North America, Dr Richard¬
son does not think its existence probable beyond the 50th
degree of latitude, at least to the eastward of the Rocky
Mountains, because the earth-worm, its favourite food, is
unknown in the countries of Hudson’s Bay.2
Genus Chrysochloris, Cuv. Incisive teeth coni¬
cal teeth |molar — f: — 40.
o — o 5 —. o
The only species distinctly ascertained to belong to our
present genus, is the C. capensis(Talpa asiatica, Gmelin),
commonly called the Cape Mole, an animal somewhat less
than the mole of Europe, of a brownish colour, but remark¬
able for exhibiting (especially when moistened) beautiful
metallic reflections of a green and copper colour. This
burnished aspect is extremely rare among the mammiferous
tribes. The species in question inhabits the Cape of Good
Hope (not Siberia, as erroneously indicated by Seba), where
it is found to be troublesome in gardens. It is subterranean
and insectivorous, and differs from the true talpae in having
only three claws to the fore-feet.3 Its eyes are almost ob¬
solete. We have represented this singular animal on Plate
CCCXXXI. fig. 2.
Tribe 2d.
Two large upper incisors in front, followed by two others on
each side, oj which the first has the form of a canine ;
canines, properly so called, small, and not distinct from
the false molars ; four lower incisors inclined forwards,
and spoon-shaped.
2 Ifnn' Trans, vol. xiii. p. 257 ; and Horsfield's Zoological Researches, fascic. 3.
3 ^ Boreall~Amerlcarui (the Quadrupeds, by Dr Richardson), Part I. p. 11.
“ Ceux de derriere en ont cinq de grandeur ordinaire.” Cuvier, Rhine Animal, t. i. p. 129.
Desmarest, Mammalogie, p. 156. ^
“ Pieds de derriere & qmtre doigts.”
104
MAMMALIA.
F era?.
Insecti-
Genus Condylura, Uliger. Incisives 4, conical teeth,
3—3 . 4—4
false molars
true molars
3—3
= 40.1
1 he snout in this genus is greatly prolonged, and is ge¬
nerally terminated by a radiated expansion, from which the
name of star-nose has been applied to it. The species, of
which only two or three are known to naturalists, greatly
resemble moles in their manners and aspect. They have
hitherto been found only in North America. We have
figured the Cond. cnstata of Desm. or “ radiated mole” of
Pennant. See Plate CCCXXXI. fig. 1 and 1, a.
Tribe 3d.
Four canines, apart,—between them small incisives.
Genus Talpa, Linn. Incisives canine
O
1 — 1
TTTT’
molar
7 — 7
6 — C
= 44.
We need scarcely describe the external aspect of an
animal so well known as the common mole ( T. europced),
almost the only species of which the restricted genus Talpa
is npw composed.2 There are few species, however, of
greater interest to the naturalist, whether he regards their
singular economy and instinctive habits, or their very pe¬
culiar organic structure. Moles present as it were the
type or perfect form of a subterranean dweller. The snout
is pointed, yet strong and flexible, the head somewhat de¬
pressed, the eyes inconspicuous, the external ears wanting,
the cervical ligament unusually strong, the bones of the
anterior extremity angular, and so extremely thick as to
be almost as broad as they are long. The two bones of
the fore-arm are fastened together, the paws are broad and
shovel-shaped, with strong claws, and an elongated bone of
the carpus communicates great solidity to their under edges.
The clavicles are very powerful, and the motive muscles of
the anterior extremity, especially the pectorals, are enor¬
mous. Although the organs of sight are feebly developed
(they suffice, however, for whatever visual perceptions may
be necessary to an almost constant dweller in subterranean
darkness), the senses of hearing, touch, and smell, are
acute.
The galleries of the mole are constructed with admirable
sagacity and art, and the female brings forth in a dry and
sheltered chamber, well furnished with grass and leaves.
The exact period of gestation is unknown, but as young
are found in spring and autumn, it is obvious that she pro¬
duces twice a-year. She is careful of, and much attached
to, her young; but, except in relation to these, and during
the pairing season, moles lead a solitary and an isolated
life. They are extremely voracious,—their appetite for
food, according to Geoflroy St Hilaire, amounting to an
actual phrenzy. When kept for a time in a state of absti¬
nence they become outrageous, and will dart with violence
upon whatever prey is then presented,—plunging their
heads into the abdomen of birds and other animals, and
satiating themselves with blood. They have been observed
to refuse toads, but to seize upon frogs with avidity. With
such violent propensities it may be. easily conceived that
they soon die of famine ^hen debarred from food. At the
same time their appetites are not so entirely carnivorous;
at least several authors allege that they occasionally eat
various tender and succulent roots, and the bulbs of the
colchicum. Though deemed very injurious in gardens, and
persecuted by farmers even in the open grounds, they do
not want advocates who espouse their cause as useful agents
in the general economy of nature ; and their undoubted
destruction of grubs and mole-crickets must prove bene¬
ficial to agriculture. The female, indeed, while furnishing
her nursery, is a somewhat too active reaper,—402 young
stalks of corn, with the leaves entire, have been counted in
her nuptial chamber.
The existence of the optic nerve in moles is a great¬
ly contested point among physiological naturalists. Du-
randeau and Dr Gall, conceiving vision to be impossible
in the absence of that nerve, presumed it to exist in those
animals in a complete and normal condition. Cams, Badly,
and Treviranus, have sought to establish its existence in a
rudimentary state ; while its total absence is maintained
by Serres and Desmoulins. Geoffrey St Hilaire presumes
himself to have reconciled these various opinions with the
truth of nature, by shewing that, although the optic nerve
does not occur under the same conditions as it exhibits
among the normal quadrupeds, its analogue is found in a
branch which proceeds from the eye to the fifth pair. An¬
cient writers have been accused of inaccuracy, in describ¬
ing the mole as blind; and this would certainly have been
a gross error in relation to an animal, of which the eyes,
though small, are so distinctly perceptible. It is true that
Aristotle twice repeats the assertion that the mole has no
eyes; but we must remember that the true mole is ex¬
tremely rare in Greece, and that the of the an¬
cients (translated mole) is another animal (Aspalax ty-
phlus), of which the eyes are in truth entirely covered by
the skin. It is only in comparatively recent times that na¬
turalists have become acquainted with a species, the re¬
markable conformation of which thus excuses, if it does
not verify, the statement of the Stagyrite.
The only other mole found in Europe is one lately dis¬
covered among the Apennines by Signor Savi. It is said
to be entirely blind, and has, in that belief, been named
Talpa cceca by the Italian naturalist.3 It is somewhat less
than the common species, and one of our correspondents
states his belief that it occurs in France.
Genus Centenes, Illiger. Incisives — or canines
6
1 — I
molars
6 — 6
= 40 or 38.
1—1’ 1±lulc‘ia 6 —6’
The species of this genus resemble hedgehogs in the
prickles which are intermingled with their hair, but their
teeth are very different. They are nocturnal animals, and
inhabitants of the torrid zone (occurring in Madagascar and
the Isle of France), and are said to pass several months of
the year in a lethargic state. This is a singular circum¬
stance in the history of any intertropical species ; and the
term hybernation, usually bestowed upon the torpid condi¬
tion (in consequence of its constant connection with the
cold of winter), cannot be used in the present instance, be-
1 The student who finds a discrepancy in our statement of the above dentition (or in that of other insectivorous groups'), when
compared with the descriptions of other authors, will bear in mind that this arises chiefly from a difference in nomenclature. In the
present instance we follow ,M. Desmarest. Baron Cuvier seems to think that in Condylura there are only two pair of incisive teeth in
the upper jaw ; what we have considered as the third pair, being regarded by him as the canines. We presume the place of their
of The1 g e mi sr 6111 °n ^ ^ maxlUary boiie would determine the P°int; but we have ourselves no access to a cranium of any species
2 Bartram and other writers who have asserted the existence of moles in America, are supposed by later writers to have mistaken
the shrew mole (scalops). Dr Richardson, however, informs us that there are several true moles in the Museum of the Zoological
Siociety, which were brought from America. They differ from the common European species in being smaller in size, with a thicker
and shorter snout. The fur is brownish-black. Dr Harlan supposes the mole of the United States synonymous with T. europwa of
Lmn. It was named T. amencana m Dr Bartram s MS. J J “
3 Memoire Soientifiche, decade prima. Consult also C. L. Bonaparte’s Iconografia della Fauna Italica.
MAMMALIA.
105
er;B. cause, according to the relation of Bruguiere, it most fre-
hivora. quently occurs during the greatest heats. About three
-.'—^'species of the genus are known to naturalists. As an ex¬
ample, we have figured the radiated Tanrec ( Centenes se¬
mi-spinosus), which is no larger than a mole (See Plate
CCCXXX, fig. 10). The tanrecs are known to Europe¬
ans under the title of pig-porcupines. They utter a grunt¬
ing cry, are generally very fat, and are used as food by the
natives of Madagascar.
DIVISION III.—CARNIVORA.
The genera of this division are characterized by possess¬
ing six incisors in each jaw. Their molars are usually of a
trenchant or cutting character, sometimes tuberculous, but
never beset with the jagged points which we so often
meet with in the preceding division. Their canines are
extremely strong.
Although the epithet carnivorous, as Baron Cuvier has
remarked, applies, in a considerable degree, to all ungui-
culated quadrupeds which possess the three different kinds
of teeth, since the whole are more or less dependent on
animal matter for their support, yet it is among the various
groups of our present division that we meet with the really
sanguinary kinds. They are more or less exclusively car¬
nivorous, according as their teeth are more or less of a cut¬
ting character, and their regimen might almost be calcu¬
lated from the relative proportion between the tubercular
and the cutting surface of their grinders. The bear tribe,
which is the best adapted (of carnivorous creatures) for
subsisting on a vegetable diet, has almost all the teeth tu¬
bercular. Hence the accordance of its love for fruits and
berries.
The anterior molars of this division are usually the sharp¬
est on their edges ; then follows a molar larger than the
others, and usually furnished with a tubercular heel. Behind
that molar we find one or two small teeth nearly flat'upon
thq crown. It is with these latter that dogs chew the
grass which they so frequently swallow. The great molar
just alluded to, and the corresponding tooth of the upper
jaw, are what we designate as the carnivorous cheek-teeth
(les carnassieres of F. Cuvier) ; the anterior pointed ones
are the false molars, and the flattened posterior ones, the
tubercular grinders. The amount of these teeth differs
slightly in some of the genera. Thus, for example, in the
feline race, or cats, there is no separate tubercular tooth
in the lower jaw; but its function is performed by the
inner projecting lobe of the under carnivorous cheek-tooth,
the rounded point of which, when the jaws are closed, is
applied to the flat surface of the upper tubercular grinder.
It will be readily conceived that such species as possess,
the fewest false molars, and the shortest jaws, have the
greatest power in biting, and are likely to prove the most
carnivorous.
We subdivide the Carnivora, in the first place, into
three principal tribes, in accordance chiefly with certain dis¬
tinctive peculiarities in the form of the hinder feet. These
tribes are named Plantigrada, Digitigrada, and Pin¬
nipedia.
Tribe I—Plantigrada.
Entire sole of the foot placed upon the ground in walk¬
ing. hive toes to both the fore and hind extremities. No
caecum.
Genus Ursus. Linn. Incisors^, canine r—v, mo-
0 1 — 17
, C —6
far    — 49
7 — 7 ~ 42
Tail short.
Of the six molars on each side of the upper jaw of this ge- Ferae,
nus there are three which we would denominate false molars; Carnivora,
another corresponds to the carnivorous cheek-tooth, and
the remaining two are tuberculated grinders. In the under
jaw there is generally an additional molar on each side.
It must be remembered, however, that the number of teeth
in the bears is very variable even in the same species, ac¬
cording to the age of the individual. The false molars es¬
pecially vary greatly,—for in young animals they have not
become apparent,—in aged ones they have disappeared.
Among carnivorous quadrupeds, as we have already
hinted, we find many different degrees of ferocity, from
the all-subduing and blood-thirsty disposition of the tiger,
which so savagely rejoices to imbrue its horrid jaws in the
palpitating flesh of a living victim, to the more omnivorous
propensities of the Plantigrada, such as the bear, racoon,
or coati-mundi,—species which, though addicted to prey-
on other animals, are at the same time endowed with a
much greater capacity to adapt their constitution to a mis¬
cellaneous diet. This accommodating instinct no doubt
corresponds with, if it does not proceed from, the less de¬
terminate formation of the digestive and prehensile organs ;
such as the stomach, teeth, and claws. The unequalled
strength and activity of the tiger,—its sharp retractile ta¬
lons, the great development of the canine teeth, and the
compressed and cutting character of the molars, combined
with the simplicity of the stomach, and the shortness of
the intestinal canal, render it, as it were, the type of car¬
nivorous animals. It exhibits no tendency in any of its
forms to the herbivorous structure, but is strictly and cha¬
racteristically a flesh-eating animal, “ a most beautiful and
cruel beast of prey.” It is otherwise with our present ge¬
nus, containing the race of bears. Their external forms
are massy and inactive, their claws are unretractile, their
muzzles more elongated, their jaws consequently weaker,
and their teeth, though sufficiently formidable, manifest a
decided relation to the herbivorous structure in the breadth
of the molars, and their bluntly tuberculated crowns. In
accordance with these conditions of their organization, we
find that even the polar bear {Ursus maritimus), one of
the most carnivorous of its kind, may be sustained for a
length of time in captivity, on bread alone. It is known
that several species, in the wild state, are remarkably fond
of honey (a substance which, though in one sense an ani¬
mal secretion, is, in another and more essential one, a ve¬
getable product), and have been observed climbing trees
to obtain it. Others feed on fruits, reptiles, insects, parti¬
cularly ants; and Sir Stamford Raffles possessed a tame
Malay bear ( U. Malayanus\ which gave proof of its re¬
fined appetite, by refusing to eat any thing but mango-
steens, or to drink any other wine than champagne.1
Here, then, as among every other group which can oc¬
cupy the attention of the naturalist, we find the most beau¬
tiful and harmonious uniformity to prevail between the spe¬
cial end in view, and the means of its attainment. Of all
carnivorous animals, bears are the least qualified either to
pursue in open warfare, or to secure by ambuscade, a living
prey. Their plantigrade position renders their movements
comparatively slow, and the nearly equal length of their
fore and hind legs deprives them of the power of leaping.
Had, therefore, their natural love of flesh and blood been
as insatiable as that of the tiger, and their means of obtain¬
ing it so much more restricted, their lives must have passed
in misery, and the species would ere long have become ex¬
tinct.2 But He who “ tempers the wind to the shorn
lamb,” has drawn strength from this very weakness, and
ordained that, with the deterioration of those characters
which are essential to the well-being of a strictly carnivo-
1 Linn. Trans, vol. xii.
vOL. XIV.
* Wilson s Illustrations of Zoology, vol. i. Genus Ursus.
106
MAMMALIA.
Ferae, rous animal, should arise a capacity of deriving nourish-
Carnivora. ment from a wider and more miscellaneous range of mate-
' rials,—and thus the balance is beautifully maintained be¬
tween the instinctive propensity and the subduing power.
The geographical distribution of the genus Ursus, though
formerly believed to be confined to northern countries, is
now known to be very extensive. We are acquainted
with eight or nine species, several of which occur in the
warmer regions of Continental Asia, and the Indian Islands.
We cannot here, however, afford room for more than the
briefest summary. The white or polar bear (£7. mariti-
mus), which does not occur among the antarctic icebergs,
is common to the northern shores of Asia and America.
This gigantic prowler among frost-bound regions, attains
to a higher latitude than any other known quadruped, and
seems indeed to dwell by preference
“ In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice.”
Its southern limit seems to be somewhere about the 55th
parallel. It is a truly ice-haunting and maritime species,
occurring along a vast extent of shore, but never entering
into wooded countries, except by inadvertence, or during
the prevalence of great mists, nor shewing itself, unless ac¬
cidentally, at any considerable distance from the sea.1
It might naturally be supposed, that animals of almost
gigantic size, of great strength, and considerable ferocity,
would be too formidable and dangerous to the human race,
to remain long unknown in any of their distinguishing cha-
ractei'istics. Yet the specific differences, it must be ad¬
mitted, of the black and brown bears, both of Europe and
America, are still insufficiently illustrated. Both conti¬
nents produce a black bear and a brown one ; the white or
polar species, just mentioned, is common to the northern
latitudes of each, while America alone is inhabited by the
grizzly bear, Ursus ferox. This is undoubtedly the most
formidable animal of the northern parts of the New World.
When full grown it equals in size the great polar species, and
is not only of more active habits, but of a fiercer and more
vindictive disposition. Its strength is so enormous, that it
will drag away the carcass of a buffalo weighing a thousand
pounds. Dr Richardson informs us, that a party of voyagers,
who had been occupied all day in tracking a canoe up the
Saskatchewan, were seated around a fire enjoying the re¬
pose of the evening twilight, and partly occupied in the
agreeable task of preparing their supper. Suddenly a huge
grizzly bear sprung over the canoe, which they had tilted
behind them, and seizing one of the party by the shoulder,
carried him off. The remainder were scattered in terror, with
the sole exception of a metif named Bourasso, who, grasp¬
ing his gun, followed the bear, whom he saw deliberately
retreating with his companion in his mouth. He called out
to his unfortunate comrade that he was afraid to fire lest
he should hit him instead of the bear, but he was answered
to fire instantly, as the monster was squeezing him to death.
On this he took steady aim, and lodged his ball in the body
of the brute, which immediately dropped its original prey,
and turned round to revenge itself upon the brave Bouras¬
so. He, however, contrived to effect his escape, and the
bear, probably feeling itself severely wounded, disappeared
into a neighbouring thicket. The rescued man eventually
recovered, although one of his arms was fractured, and he
was otherwise severely bitten. Another individual, still liv¬
ing in the neighbourhood of Edmonton House, was attacked
by a bear of this species, which suddenly sprung out of a
thicket, and scalped him by a single scratch of its tremen¬
dous claws, laying bare the skull, and pulling down the skin Fer®.
of the forehead quite over the eyes. Assistance being at Carnivora
hand, he was rescued from the bear without farther injury,
but he was left in a painful and unfortunate predicament,
for the scalp not being properly replaced in time, he lost
the power of vision (although his eyes remained uninjured),
owing to the hardening of that skinny and tenacious veil.2
The grizzly bear inhabits the Rocky Mountains, and their
eastern plains, at least as far north as latitude 61°, and its
southern range, according to Lieutenant Pike, extends to
Mexico.3
Another and much smaller species of the New World is
the black bear of North America (£7. Americanos, See
Plate CCCXXXI. fig. 3). It is esteemed as food. The
only South American species with which we are acquaint¬
ed, is the Ursus ornatus of Frederick Cuvier (Ibid. figs. 4.
and 4 a.). It is black, with the throat and muzzle white,
and a large fulvous spot upon the brows. The European
bears are generally supposed to be two in number, the
brown or common bear (£7. arctos, Linn.), and the black
bear (£7. niger). The latter, however, is by some consi¬
dered only as a variety. There are at least three bears in
India. The long-lipped bear ( £7. labiatus) is met with oc¬
casionally in menageries in this country, under the name
of Ursine Sloth (first bestowed upon an individual acci¬
dentally deficient in the canine teeth). It dwells in holes
and caverns, which it sometimes excavates with its long
claws, and feeds on fruit, insects, and honey. It is rather
a docile and intelligent animal, and is taught various tricks
by the jugglers of Bengal, who frequently exhibit it for the
amusement of the people. The Malay bear (£7. Malay-
anus, Raffles), before alluded to, occurs likewise in Suma¬
tra, where it is said to cause great damage by climbing to
the summit of the cocoa trees to drink the milk, after de¬
vouring the tops of the plant. A third Indian species is
the bear of Thibet (£7. Tibetanus, Cuv.), a species inter¬
mediate between the two preceding, but more ferocious
than either. Its claws are weaker than usual, and some
suppose that it cannot climb trees. It was found by Dr
Wallich among the mountains of Nepaul, and by M. A.
Duvaucel in those of Silhet. We may conclude by observ¬
ing, that bears have never been found in any part of Africa
in modern times, although those of Lybia are mentioned by
Virgil and other ancients :—
Acestes
Horridus in jaculis et pelle Libystidis ursse.
Genus Procyon, Storr., Cuv. Incisors !!, canine | ~ ],
o 1 — I
molar   ^= 40. Tail long. Six ventral mammae.
This genus contains the animals commonly called ra¬
coons. We have no precise knowledge of more than two
species. The first is the common racoon of North Ame¬
rica (P. lotor, Cuv. Ursus lot or, Linn.), a fox-like crea¬
ture, with the gait of a bear. In a state of nature it sleeps
throughout the day, prowling during the night in search of
fruits, roots, birds, eggs, and insects. At low water it fre¬
quents the sea-shore, where it preys on Crustacea and shell¬
fish. It climbs trees with great facility. According to M.
Desmarest it extends as far south as Paraguay. But it is
the second species or crab-eating racoon (P. cancrivorus,
Geoff.), which is the more characteristic of the southern
portion of the New World.
The genus Ailurus of Fred. Cuvier, maybe here men-
1 The student who desires to complete his knowledge of this interesting animal, is referred to Martin’s Voyage to Spitsbergen, Fa-
bricius’s Fauna Gramlandica, Pennant’s Arctic Zoology, Scoresby’s Account of the Arctic Regions, the Appendix to Parry’s Second Voyage,
and Richardson’s Fauna Boreali-Americana, part 1st. The same works may of course be consulted with equal advantage for the his¬
tory and description of other arctic quadrupeds. 2 Fauna Boreali-Americana, part 1st, p. 27-
3 Travels on the Missouri and Arkansaw.
MAMMALIA.
107
jlrae. tioned as allied to the racoons. It possesses, however, only
C; livora. one false molar instead of three. Its dentition is not dis-
'—v—-''tinctly known. One species only has been hitherto recog¬
nised, the A.fulgens, a native of the mountains of Northern
India.1 It is an extremely beautiful animal, clothed in a
soft dense fur, the upper parts of a bright cinnamon red, the
under surface deep black. In size it resembles a large do¬
mestic cat, and dwells by preference among trees in the
vicinity of streams and torrents, preying on birds and small
quadrupeds. It offers in some measure a combination of
the characters of the bears, civets, and racoons. See Plate
CCCXXXI. figs. 6 and 6 a.
Another recently constructed genus is named Ictides,
by M. Valenciennes.2 The three hindermost molars of the
upper jaw are much smaller and less tuberculated than
those of the racoons, especially the farthest back in each
jaw, which is very small and almost simple. See Plate
CCCXXXI. fig. 5. The tail is long and densely furred,
with an involved appearance as if it were prehensile. Two
species have been described,—let. albifrons, a native of Su¬
matra, Malacca, and Java; and let. ater, found chiefly in
Malacca. They are not yet distinctly characterized or dis¬
criminated, and one or other of them is the Binturong of
Raffles.3 It was observed to climb trees, with the assist¬
ance of its tail, which has uncommon strength. Major
Farquhar kept one alive for many years. It fed both on
animal and vegetable food, was particularly fond of plan¬
tains, but also ate readily of fowl’s heads, eggs, &c. It was
most active during the night.4
Genus Nasua, Storr., Cuv.
T . 6 .1—1
Incisors canine : 
6 1 — 1
6 mmm 6
molars ^^; = 40. Tail long, covered with hair, not
prehensile. Six ventral mammae. No caecum.
This genus contains the well-known South American
animals called coatis, or coati mundis, so frequently seen
in our menageries. Individuals vary greatly in colour, and
it is the impression of some observers, that the red and brown
coatis, N. rufa and fusca (Viverra nasua and nasiea of
Linn.), are identical. We have represented the so called
Nasua rufa on Plate CCCXXXI. fig. 7. In a state of na¬
ture these animals dwell in the woods, preying on such small
birds and quadrupeds as they can overcome, and producing
occasional devastation in sugar-cane plantations. They
are often domesticated in Brazil, Guiana, and Paraguay,
but it is necessary to keep them chained, as they climb
better than cats, and are always getting into mischief, from
their restless activity and habits (otherwise praiseworthy) of
general inquiry, which induce them to poke their snouts
into every unaccustomed hole and corner. A specimen at
present in our possession is extremely domestic, much at¬
tached to society, and also very fond of strawberries, earth¬
worms, honey, eggs, chickens (either raw or roasted), young
frogs, and green pease.
We may here allude briefly to the genus Potos of Geof¬
frey (Cercoleptes, Illiger), which contains only a single
species of a somewhat anomalous aspect. It is the yellow
maucoco of Pennant (P. caudivolvulus, Desm.), frequent¬
ly called the kinkajou. Its size is nearly that of a domestic
cat, and its physiognomy is remarkably like a lemur’s. A
tame one kept by F. Cuvier was mild and fond of caresses.
It loved obscurity, and slept much during the day. It oc¬
casionally ate meat, but preferred a vegetable diet. It was
a dexterous climber. According to Humboldt it is very
abundant in New Grenada, and was among the number of
those animals formerly reduced by the aborigines to a do¬
mestic state. It is said to be a great destroyer of the nests
of wild bees, and makes use of its long tongue to extract Ferae,
their gathered sweets. On this account it was named the Carnivora.
honey bear, by the missionaries.
Genus Meles, Storr. Incisives canine mo-
(j 1 _ l7
£  fj
lars = 38. Tail very short. Two pectoral and
four ventral mammae. An anal pouch.
Here naturalists place the badgers, a small genus, widely
distributed over Europe, and occurring both in Asia and
America. At the same time we have no precise know¬
ledge of more than two species. Our common badger
{Meles vulgaris, Ursus meles, Linn.) is greyish-brown
above, beneath black, with a longitudinal black band on
each side of the head, passing round the eye and ear. The
tuberculous molars at the bottom of each jaw, especially
those of the upper, are distinguished by their extent, of
which the effect is to limit that of the carnivorous teeth,
and consequently to diminish the natural appetite for flesh,
or, at all events, the power of exercising it. The tubercu¬
lous molar of the upper jaw, occupies a space equal to that
of the carnivorous cheek tooth, and of the two false molars,
by which it is preceded, and the lower half of the under
carnivorous tooth is enlarged, so as to be properly opposed
to the larger tuberculous tooth above. It is thus half tu¬
berculous and half carnivorous. The second incisives of
each side of the lower jaw are not inserted on the same line
as the others, but farther in. Although the badger is un¬
doubtedly a carnivorous animal, it is much less so than many
others of the ferine order, and even in a state of nature
feeds freely on fruits and roots. We have known it enter
a garden to devour strawberries. When domesticated it
is omnivorous, like the cat and dog. Its subterranean life,
and woodland habits, are well known.
The American badger (Meles Labradoria of Richardson
and others), or carcajou of Buffon, is of a mottled or hoary
grey colour above, whitish on the under surface. The fur is
very soft and fine. This species inhabits the sandy plains or
prairies which skirt the Rocky Mountains as far north as the
banks of the Peace River. It abounds in the plains of the
Missouri, although its southern range has not been hitherto
defined. The holes which it perforates in the prairies, in the
vicinity of Carlton-house, are often annoying to horsemen,
especially when the ground is covered with snowy The
greater number of these burrows, however, are not dug by
the badger itself, but are merely enlargements of the sub •
terranean dwellings of marmots (Arctomys Hoodii and
Bichardsonii), which it at the same time most ungener¬
ously digs up and devours. It appears indeed to be fully
more carnivorous than the European species,—a specimen
which Dr Richardson killed, having had a small marmot
nearly entire, and several field mice, in its interior. But
it had also been feeding on some vegetable matter. It
passes the winter, from November to April, in a torpid
state.5
Although the badgers approach the marten tribe in the
characters of their dentition, they are far from resembling
those finely formed, light, and lively creatures in other par¬
ticulars ; thei-r bodies, though strong and muscular, being
rather heavily formed, and their movements by no means
active. Their physiognomy, it has been observed, an¬
nounces neither quickness of intelligence, nor vivacity of
passion. They lead a retired, if not a solitary life. Badgers,
though frequently mentioned by Latin writers under the
names of taxus and meles, seem to have passed unnoticed
by the Greeks. Yet we know that the European species
occurs in Calabria.
1 See l.inn. Trans, vol. xv. p. 161. 2 Annates des Sciences Nat. t. iv.
3 Thc species have even been commingled by several recent systematic writers with the genus Taradoxurus.
4 Linn. Trans, vol. x.iii. p. 254. ' 5 Fauna Boreali Americana, Part i. p. 39.
T
MAMMALIA.
is very common in Paraguay. A fourth is the Taira (G. Fer®
barbatus,—Mustelus barbatus, Linn.), described by Azara Carnivon
under the name of le grand furet. It is likewise a native
of South America.
The Ratel, or cape glutton (G. mellivorus,— Viverra
mellivora and capensis, Gmelin), differs from the pre¬
ceding in having one false molar less in each jaw, and in
the upper tubercular teeth being slightly developed, as in
cats; but in its external aspect it resembles the grison and
badger. It is described by Sparmann as being about the
size of the latter,—the fur greyish above, and black below,
with an intermediate line of white. It inhabits the Cape
of Good Hope, where, with its long claws, it disinters the
nests of wild bees, and feeds upon their honey. Though
long regarded as exclusively of African origin, it now ap¬
pears, on the testimony of General Hardwick, to occur in
several parts of India, along the courses of the Ganges and
the Jumna. Its manners, however, do not at all corres¬
pond with those assigned to the African variety. It inha¬
bits the high banks of the great rivers, and seldom issues
abroad during the day. At night it prowls about the Ma-
hommedan habitations, and will sometimes even scratch up
recently interred human bodies, unless the graves be pro¬
tected by a covering of thorny shrubs. So rapid indeed
are its subterranean operations, that it will work its way be¬
neath the surface in the course of ten minutes. Its fa¬
vourite food consists of birds and small quadrupeds. There
is a specimen of this animal in the London Zoological Gar¬
dens, remarkable for its playfulness and good humour. It
solicits attention by a great variety of postures, and tumbles
head over heels as soon as it has succeeded in attracting
the notice of a visitor.3
Genus Gulo. Incisives % canines Jmolars ^
0 1 — 1 G — G
4 4
or G ; = 38 or 36. No anal pouch.
The Glutton of the north of Europe ( Gulo arcticus, Ur-
sus gulo, Linn.) may be mentioned as an example of our
present genus. It is common in Norway, especially in the
neighbourhood of Drontheim, and is remarkable for its
fierceness and voracity. It is said to climb trees, that it
may the more readily pounce upon deer and other large
animals which it could not otherwise obtain. It fastens on
their necks with teeth and claws, till its astounded prey
rolls upon the earth from loss of blood, or terror at such
an unexpected and insidious foe. In a domestic state it
has been known to eat thirteen pounds of flesh in a single
day. It is not larger than a badger. The glutton does
not become torpid in the winter season.
The Wolverine of North America (Gulo luscus, Sabine),
though regarded by Baron Cuvier as nothing more than a
variety of the preceding, is by others considered as a well
distinguished species. Its habits are characteristically de¬
scribed by Dr Richardson : “ The Wolverine is a carni¬
vorous animal, which feeds chiefly upon the carcasses of
beasts that have been killed by accident. It has great
strength, and annoys the natives by destroying their hoards
of provision, and demolishing their marten traps. It is so
suspicious, that it will rarely enter a trap itself, but, begin¬
ning behind, pulls it to pieces, scatters the logs of which it
is built, and then carries off the bait. It feeds also on mea¬
dow-mice, marmots, and other rodentia, and occasionally
on disabled quadrupeds of a larger size. I have seen one
chasing an American hare, which was at the same time ha¬
rassed by a snowy owl. It resembles the bear in its gait,
and is not fleet; but it is very industrious, and no doubt
feeds well, as it is generally fat. It is much abroad in the
winter, and the track of its journey in a single night may
be often traced for many miles. From the shortness of its
legs, its makes its way through loose snow with difficulty,
but when it falls upon the beaten track of a marten trapper,
it will pursue it for a long way. Mr Graham observes,
‘that the Wolverines are extremely mischievous, and do
more damage to the small fur trade, than all the other ra¬
pacious animals conjointly. They will follow the marten
hunter’s path round a line of traps extending forty, fifty, or
sixty miles, and render the whole unserviceable, merely to
come at the baits, which are generally the head of a part¬
ridge, or a bit of dried venison. They are not fond of the
martens themselves, but never fail of tearing them in pieces,
or of burying them in the snow by the side of the path, at
a considerable distance from the trap. Drifts of snow often
conceal the repositories thus made of the martens from the
hunter, in which case they furnish a regale to the hungry
fox, whose sagacious nostril guides him unerringly to the
spot. Two or three foxes are often seen following a wol¬
verine for this purpose.’1 The wolverine is said to be a
great destroyer of beavers, but it must be only in the
summer, when those industrious animals are at work on
land, that it can surprise them. An attempt to break open
their house in the winter, even supposing it possible for the
claws of a wolverine to penetrate the thick mud walls when
frozen as hard as stone, would only have the effect of driv¬
ing the beavers into the water to seek for shelter in their
vaults on the borders of the dam.”2 Next to the polar
bear, the wolverine is one of the most northern of known
quadrupeds. Its bones were found in Melville Island, near¬
ly in latitude 75°.
A third species of this genus is the Grison, or banded
glutton (G. vittatus), an inhabitant of a warmer clime. It
Tribe II—Digitigrada.
The groups of this tribe derive their name from their
peculiar mode of locomotion. The heel does not touch
the ground, and the act of walking is performed, as it were,
upon the toes. We may name as familiar examples the
pole-cats, martens, dogs, hyenas, and the whole of the fe¬
line race. Like most of our attempts, however, at a gene¬
ral arrangement, founded on any single attribute, we find
this principle imperfect, or at least admitting of exceptions in
relation to the character prescribed, in as far as several
species might be adduced, which truly agree with their di-
gitigrade congeners in their prevailing character, but ap¬
proach the plantigrades in their mode of locomotion.
The genuine JDigitigrades, however, such as cats, are
among the most agile of their tribe, and as activity is an
almost indispensable adjunct in the habits of a carnivorous
creature, we find that these light-footed kinds are also the
most exclusively flesh-eating of all the ferine order. In¬
deed all the genera of our present tribe may be.said to be
more strictly carnivorous than those of the preceding.
1st Subdivision.
A single tuberculous tooth behind the carnivorous cheeh-
tooth of the upper jaw. Body much elongated. Limbs
short.
This subdivision corresponds to the old genus Mustela
of Linnaeus, and includes all those small and slender bodied
animals which, in our own country, are usually designated
as vermin, such as weasels, polecats, &c., the Verminium
genus of Ray. They are very blood-thirsty, and extremely
destructive for their size, destroying great quantities of
game, both in woods, fields, and moorish mountains, and
1 Graham’s MSS. p. 13.
3 Gardens and Menagerie, vol. i. p. 20.
2 Fauna Boreali-Americana, Part i. p. 43.
MAMMALIA.
'era; committing ravages in poultry-yards, and other enclosures,
tsnivora. especially of remote country dwellings. They are wary,
'nocturnal, and insidious, and, from their worm-like form,
can penetrate minute openings,—thus gaining access to
places where their presence was little expected, and less
desired. The general dentition may be stated as: inci-
6 . 1 — 1 . 4—4 5 — 5 ’
sives canine z r, molars     or     ; = 34 or 38.
67 1 — 1 5 —5 0 —o
We shall now proceed to give a short sketch of the mi¬
nor genera (increased in number though restricted in ex¬
tent), into which the musteline group of Linnaeus has been
subdivided in recent times.
The polecats (subgenus Putorius, Cuv.1) are among the
most sanguinary. Their lower carnivorous cheek-tooth has
no interior tubercle, their upper tubercular tooth is broader
than long, and they have only two false molars above and
three below, on each side. They exhale a strong and dis¬
agreeable odour. The species are extremely numerous,
and widely spread. We have three well known British
kinds,—the foumart, or common polecat (M. putorius,
Linn.), of which the ferret (M.furo) is regarded simply as
a variety by some,—the weasel (M. vulgaris, Linn.), and
the ermine or stoat {JSI. erminea, Linn.). Another species,
remarkable for its amphibious habits, and known under the
name of Mink (Mustela lutreola, Pallas), is very common
in Finland, and in other parts of the north and east of Eu¬
rope, from the Icy to the Black Sea. Erxleben, however,
is in error when he supposes it to be a North American
species. The animal of the New World is the vison (AT.
vison, Gmelin) or minx otter of Pennant.2 Both species
prey much on fish, reptiles, and aquatic insects, and the
latter is easily tamed. “ One,"’ says Dr Richardson, “ which
I saw in the possession of a Canadian woman, passed the day
in her pocket, looking out occasionally, when its attention
was roused by any unusual noise.”3 Other species inha¬
bit the warmer countries of the earth, such as Africa (P.
africanus, Desm.), Madagascar (P. striatus, F. Cuvier),
and Java (P. nudipes, Id.). The last-named animal, of a
yellowish fawn-colour, with the head and termination of
the tail white, is figured on Plate CCCXXXIL, fig. 1.
There is a Cape species ( Viverra zorilla, Gmelin) which,
in its general aspect, resembles the polecats ; yet the form
of its fore-claws is somewhat peculiar, and seems to indi¬
cate subterranean habits of life, and a propensity to dig.
It has, on this account, been formed by some authors into
a separate subgenus under the name of Zorilla,—perhaps
an inappropriate title, and apt to mislead the student, in as
far as it was first applied by Spanish writers to one of the
mephitic species of America.
The Martens properly so called (Mustela of Cuvier,
but to which the generic name of Martes would be more
appropriately applied), have a small interior tubercle on the
lower carnivorous cheek-tooth, and (compared with the
{receding) an additional false molar both above and be-
ow. Each of these characters is supposed to indicate
some diminution of the purely carnivorous propensity. We
have two British species, the common or beech marten
(AT. fagorum, Ray, M. martes, var. fagorum, Linn.), of
which the throat and breast are white, and the pine mar¬
ten (AT. abietum,, Ray, AT. martes, var. abietum, Linn.), of
which the throat and breast are dingy yellow. The for¬
mer is the more common in England, and the southern and
central parts of Scotland,—the latter prevails in the north.
109
Though the specific names are derived from their supposed Fene.
propensities towards particular kinds of forests, it appears Carnivora,
that their habits, like those of most other species, are of an«~/
accommodating kind. Both sorts, and more especially the
first named, are often found in districts “ rocky, bare, sub¬
lime,” of which the most hopeless attribute is that of forest
scenery. The common marten more frequently approaches
farm-houses than the other, and was probably, for that
reason, distinguished by the name of domestica by the old
writers, such as Gesner and Aldrovandus. The pine mar¬
ten is extremely common over the northern parts of Ame¬
rica, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and is particularly
abundant where the trees have remained standing after being
killed by fire. Its fur is fine, and has long formed an im¬
portant article of commerce, upwards of a hundred thou¬
sand skins being collected annually in the districts devoted
to the trade. It is well known that it also formed a lucra¬
tive subject of export from Scotland before the Union. Dr
Fleming says it builds its nest on the tops of trees. Ac¬
cording to Dr Richardson, its habits in America are rather
subterraneous. WT have seen its young winding their
worm-like way amid the treeless eorries of the Plighland
mountains, where not even a sapling wild-ash waved its
leaves in the grey solitude.
One of the most famous of the foreign martens is the
zibelline or sable (AT. Zibellina, Linn.), so noted for the
beauty of its fur. It is very like our martens both in size
and proportions, and is usually of a rich lustrous brown co¬
lour, somewhat paler in summer, and marked during that
season with grey upon the throat, and whitish on the ears
and face. It is spread over a wide extent of northern
Asia, where it is held in the highest estimation of all the
fur-bearing animals; and its pursuit among the frozen
wastes of Siberia and Kamtschatka is probably the most pain¬
ful as wTell as perilous of those sacrifices which the human
race, either by force or free will, have ever made to the love
of riches. The winter robe is by much the most esteem¬
ed, being then fuller, darker, softer, and more flexible and
lustrous than at any other season. In this state it is equally
coveted by Chinese mandarins, Tartarian chiefs, and the
noblesse of Europe, and is justly regarded as one of the
most precious and magnificent of all the artificial adorn¬
ments of the human frame. A single skin of the richest
quality is worth from twelve to fourteen pounds, and in its
attempted acquisition many hardy hunters perish miserably
of cold and famine. The Russian dealers, however, are so
skilful in the perfect preparation of these furs, that they
often succeed in selling the summer skins for those of win¬
ter. We may add, that to the pursuit of the sable we owe
the discovery of the eastern countries of Siberia.
The pekan or fisher (AT. canadensis, Linn.) is a well
known species of North America. Its habits resemble
those of the pine marten, but it is nearly twice the size, and
its fur is coarser, and less valuable.
Genus Mephitis, Cuv. Incisives -, canines Lzl.1
c i — r
4 4
molars 5 — 34. As in the polecats, there are two
false molars above and three below, but the upper tuber¬
cular tooth is very large, and as long as broad ; the lower
carnivorous cheek tooth has two tubercles on is inner side,
a character in which the species approach the badgers.
They resemble the latter also in the lengthened claws of
,, Baion Cuvier has applied the generic name Putorius to the group which contains the polecat and the weasel, and he bestows
that ot Mustela on the martens. We think the latter should have been given to whatever group contained the true weasel (M. vuU
tfaro, Linn), as it is otherwise apt to carry false associations. Some recent writers adopt the genus Putorius, as assigned bv Cuvier
but give the title of Martes to the martens properly so called. This is very well in its way, but then we lose the term mustela alto!
gether as a generic appellation. Now we think, that whenever a Linnsean genus is raised to the rank of a family, the original gene
nc title should still be retained, as indicative of one of the restricted groups.
2 Arctic Zoology, voL i. p. 87, and Fauna Boreali-Americana, Part i. p. 48. s p, 49,
110 MAMM
terse, the fore feet, and the almost plantigrade form of the hin-
Larmvora. jgj. extremities.
The animals of this genus are commonly called skunks
or mephitic weasels, and are remarkable for their intense
and ineradicable odour. Although several species are de¬
scribed by naturalists, it does not clearly appear that more
exists than one, the skunk weasel of Pennant (Mephitis
Americana, Rich., Viverra putorius, Gmelin), which is
spread over a great extent of territory in the New World,
and varies in different localities. Its size is that of a do¬
mestic cat, its fur, though rather course, is very ample, of
a black colour, marked by longitudinal bands of white, and
the tail, which is long and bushy, has generally two broad
longitudinal white stripes above upon a black ground. The
skunk, as described by Dr Richardson, inhabits rocky and
wroody regions, spending the winter in a hole, and seldom
stirring abroad during the colder seasons. It preys on mice,
and in summer feeds much on frogs. Its gait is slow, and
it can be easily overtaken by its pursuers, as it makes no
great efforts to escape by flight, but trusts the discomfiture
of its enemies to the discharge of a most noisome fluid.
This fluid, which is of a deep yellow colour, is contained in
a small bag placed at the root of the tail, and emits proba¬
bly the most overpowering stench in the knowm world. It
is so durable, that wherever a skunk has been killed, the
place retains a taint for many days. “ Mr Graham says
that he knew several Indians who had lost their eyesight in
consequence of inflammation, produced by this fluid having
been thrown into them by the animal, which has the power
of ejecting it to the distance of upwards of four feet. I
have known,” adds Dr Richardson, “ a dead skunk thrown
over the stockades of a trading post produce instant nau¬
sea in several women in a house with closed doors upwards
of a hundred yards distant. The odour has some resem¬
blance to that of garlic, although much more disagreeable.
One may, however, soon become familiarized with it; for,
notwithstanding the disgust it produces at first, I have ma¬
naged to skin a couple of recent specimens by recurring to
the task at intervals. When care is taken not to soil the
carcass with any of the strong smelling fluid, the meat is
considered by the natives to be excellent food. It breeds
. once a-year, and has from six to ten young at a time.”1
Not fewer than fifteen varieties of this animal have been
described, and many of them under separate names, as dis¬
tinct species. It is singular that the Hudson’s Bay variety
should approach most nearly to the description of the
Chinche of Buffon (Viverra mephitis, Gmelin), which,
though said to be an inhabitant of Chili, is yet regarded by
some observers as identical with the skunk of more north¬
ern regions, and to the same or closely related species we
may also no doubt refer the so-called glutton of Quito
( Gulo Quitensis), described by Humboldt.2
Genus Mydaus, Horsfield. Incisives-, canines ^
6 1 — 1
4 4
molars     ; = 34. Muzzle truncated, or pig like. Tail
very short.
The only known species of this genus is the Teledu of
Java (M. meliceps, Horsfield), classed as a Mephitis by
Desmarest and others. In its dentition it certainly agrees
closely with the mephitic weasels of America, but its exter¬
nal character and physiognomy are peculiar, its form being
heavy, its neck strong and short, and its mode of progres¬
sion almost entirely plantigrade. It emits an odour very
similar to that of the skunk. “ The Mydaus meliceps”
says Dr Horsfield, in his excellent account of this curious
animal, “ presents a singular fact in its geographical distri¬
bution. It is confined exclusively to those mountains which
have an elevation of more than 7000 feet above the level of
ALIA.
the ocean ; on these it occurs with as much regularity as Fer;e
many plants. The long extended surface of Java, abound- Carnivor!
ing with conical points which exceed this elevation, affords
many places favourable for its resort. On ascending these
mountains, the traveller scarcely fails to meet with our ani¬
mal, which, from its peculiarities, is universally known to
the inhabitants of these elevated tracts; while to those of
the plains it is as strange as an animal from a foreign coun¬
try. A traveller would inquire in vain for the Teledu at
Batavia, Semarang, or Surabaya. In my visits to the
mountainous districts I uniformly met with it; and, as far as
the information of the natives can be relied on, it is found
on all the mountains. It is, however, more abundant on
those which, after reaching a certain elevation, consist of
numerous connected horizontal ridges, than on those which
terminate in a defined conical peak. Of the former de¬
scription are the mountain Prahu and the Tengger Hills,
which are both distinctly indicated in Sir Stamford Raffles’
map of Java: here I observed it in great abundance. It
was the less common on mountain Gede, south of Batavia;
on the mountain Ungarang, south of Semarang; and on the
mountain Ijen, at the farthest eastern extremity; but I
traced its range through the whole island.
“ Most of these mountains and ridges furnish tracts of
considerable extent, fitted for the cultivation of wheat and
other European grains. Certain extra-tropical fruits are
likewise raised with success. Peaches and strawberries
grow in considerable abundance, and the common culinary
vegetables of Europe are cultivated to great extent. To
most Europeans and Chinese a residence in these elevated
regions is extremely desirable ; and even the natives, who
in general dislike its cold atmosphere, are attracted by the
fertility of the soil, and find it an advantage to establish
villages, and to clear grounds for culture. Potatoes, cab¬
bages, and many other culinary vegetables are extensively
raised, as the entire supply of the plains in these articles
depends on these elevated districts. Extensive plantations
of wheat and of other European grains, as well as of tobacco,
are here found, where rice, the universal product of the
plains, refuses to grow. These grounds and plantations
are laid out in the deep vegetable mould, where the teledu
holds its range as the most ancient inhabitant of the soil.
In its rambles in search of food, this animal frequently en¬
ters the plantations and destroys the roots of young plants;
in this manner it causes extensive injury, and on the Teng¬
ger Hills particularly, where these plantations are more ex¬
tensive than in other elevated tracts, its visits are much
dreaded by the inhabitants; it burrows in the earth with
its nose, in the same manner as hogs; and, in traversing
the hills, its nocturnal toils are observed in the morning,
in small ridges of mould recently turned up.
“ The Mydaus forms its dwelling at a slight depth be¬
neath the surface, in the black mould, with considerable
ingenuity. Having selected a spot, defended above by the
roots of a large tree, it constructs a cell or chamber of a
globular form, having a diameter of several feet, the sides
of which it makes perfectly smooth and regular; this it pro¬
vides with a subterraneous conduit or avenue, about six
feet in length, the external entrance to which it conceals
with twigs and dry leaves. During the day it remains con¬
cealed like a badger in its hole ; at night it proceeds in
search of its food, which consists of insects and their larvae,
and of worms of every kind ; it is particularly fond of the
common lumbrici, or earthworms, which abound in the
fertile mould. These animals, agreeably to the informa¬
tion of the natives, live in pairs, and the female produces
two or three young at a birth.
“ The motions of the mydaus are slow, and it is easily
taken by the natives, who by no means fear it. During
Fauna Borcall-Amencana, p. i. p. 55.
2 Recueil d' Observations sur la Zoolooie.
MAMMALIA.
s’erae mY abode on the mountain Prahu, I engaged them to pro-
Lraivora. cure me individuals for preparation ; and as they received
' a desirable reward, they brought them to me daily in greater
numbers than I could employ. Whenever the natives sur¬
prise them suddenly, they prepare them for food ; the flesh
is then scarcely impregnated with the offensive odour, and
is described as very delicious. The animals are generally
in excellent condition, as their food abounds in fertile
mould.”1
We may add, that the teledu is by no means ferocious
in its manners, and, if taken young, might no doubt be
easily domesticated. An individual, retained for some
time in confinement by Dr Horsfield, afforded him an op¬
portunity of studying its disposition. It soon became gen¬
tle and reconciled to its situation, and never emitted its
offensive effluvium. In the natural state, however, its odour
is so strong and volatile, that the entire neighbourhood of
a village may be infected by a single animal in a state of
irritation, and in the immediate vicinity of the discharge
the smell is so violent as to produce fainting fits. The spe¬
cimen from which Dr Horsfield made his drawing ate vo¬
raciously of earthworms, but as soon as it had devoured ten
or twelve it became drowsy, and, making a small groove in
the earth, it placed its snout in it and fell asleep.
Genus Lutra, Ray. Mustela, Linn. Incisives ca-
6
nines
molars
5—5 5—5
11 — 1’ “1Ulal S 5 — 5 °r 6 — 0 ’
flat. Body long and low. Tail strong and depressed at
the base.
We here place those amphibious fish-eating animals com¬
monly called otters, of which there are many species. The
character and aspect of our European kind {Lutra vul¬
garis, Erxleben, Mustela lutra, Linn.) are well known. It
occurs over all Europe and a considerable portion of the
north of Asia. It is a fierce creature, tenacious of life,
and very injurious to fresh-water fisheries, from its habit of
preying very exclusively on the upper parts only of trout
and salmon, leaving a large portion of the caudal extremity
unconsumed. What can be the nature of its objection to
this despised portion ? In Scotland we find the otter fre¬
quently inhabiting the sea-shore as well as the interior, and
seeking its food both in salt and fresh water. The female
brings forth her young, usually four or five in number, du¬
ring spring. The fur is valuable, and forms an article of
export from our northern isles.
The Canada otter (/>. Canadensis, Sabine),2 resembles
the European species, both in food and habits, but it is a
much larger animal, with a shorter tail, and is distinguished
by the fur of the abdomen being of the same shining brown
colour as that of the back. It is found across the whole of
the northern parts of North America, where, during the
winter season, it haunts the falls and rapids for the sake of
open water, and when these are frozen over in one district,
it will travel a long way in search of others, which may have
resisted the power of frost. If pursued by the hunters du¬
ring these peregrinations, it will throw itself forward on its
belly, and slide through the snow for several yards, leaving
behind it a deep furrow, and repeating this peculiar move¬
ment with such rapidity, that the swiftest runner on snow-
shoes with difficulty overtakes it. It also doubles on its
track very cunningly, dives occasionally beneath the snow,
and at last, when too closely pressed to render flight avail¬
able, it will turn and defend itself with courageous obsti¬
nacy. During the spring season, on the Great Bear Lake,
this species frequently robbed the nets of Captain Frank¬
lin’s expedition, usually carrying off the heads of the fish,
= 36 or 38. Head
and leaving the bodies sticking in the meshes
forth, in April, from one to three at a birth,
eight thousand skins are annually imported into England.3
Another well known American species is the sea otter
{Lutra marina, Steller), which Dr Fleming, in the sup¬
position that it possesses only four incisives" in the lower
jaw, desires to constitute a separate genus called Enhydra.
It is mentioned, however, in the narrative of Cook’s (third)
voyage, that a young sea otter had six of these teeth as
usual in the lower jaw, and it may therefore be inferred
that two drop out before the attainment of the adult state.
The species inhabits the northern parts of the Pacific from
Kamschatka to the Yellow Sea on the Asiatic shores, and
from Alaska to California on those of America. It seems
to have more of the manners of a seal than of the land
otter, and is sometimes met with out at sea, at a vast dis¬
tance from the shore ; Pennant says even as far as a hun¬
dred leagues. The fur is very handsome, and was much
esteemed by the Chinese, who gave extraordinary prices
for it in former days. The Canton market, however, has
long been overstocked, and the influx has of course reduced
the value. It varies in beauty with the age and condition
ot the animal, and the season of the year. Those obtained
in winter are of a finer black, and otherwise more perfect
than at any other period, and, according to Meares, the
male is much more beautiful than the female. Those in
highest estimation have the belly and throat interspersed
with brilliant silver hairs, while the other parts consist of a
thick black coat, with a silky gloss of extreme fineness.
Besides these northern otters we have a Brazilian species,
and one (supposed to be distinct) from Carolina, while seve¬
ral Asiatic kinds have been described by Sir Stamford
Raffles, Dr Horsfield, and MM. Diard and Leschenhault.
The Cape otter {Lutra inunguis, F. Cuv.), is alleged to
be destitute of claws, and on the supposition of the truth
of that negative character, has been formed into a separate
genus called Aonyx by M. Lesson.4 He bestows on the sole
species the name of Delalandii, as it was first brought from
the country of the Hottentots, by the French naturalist of
that name. It measures about three feet in length exclu¬
sive of the tail, which is ten inches. The fur is soft and
thick, of a chesnut-brown colour, paler on the flanks, with
a mixture of grey about the head. It inhabits the salt pools
along the marine shores' of the Cape, and preys on fish and
Crustacea.
2d Subdivision.
Two tuberculous teeth behind the carnivorous cheek tooth
of the upper jaw. Body proportionally shorter than in
the preceding subdivision, and the limbs longer.
Our present group is mainly constituted by the genera
Canis and Viverra of Linnaeus, including the dogs, wolves,
and foxes, the civets and ichneumons, besides a few minor
genera of recent introduction.
(> II
Genus Canis, Linn. Cuv. Incisives -, canines
111
It brings Ferae.
Seven or Carnivora.
molars,
C —6
1— l:
= 42.
The incisive teeth are all placed on
the same line, and are usually trilobate, before being worn
by use. The upper molars consist of three small single-
lobed false molars, one bicuspidate carnivorous cheek-tooth,
and two small tuberculous teeth with flattened crowns. The
inferior molars consist of four false molars, one carnivorous
cheek-tooth, and two tuberculous grinders. The tongue is
smooth. The anterior extremities are furnished with five
toes, the posterior with four.
* Zoological Researches. 2 Zoological Appendix to Franklin’s Journey to the Polar Sea, p. 453
launa. Boreah-Americana, part i. p. 58. 4 Manuel de Mammalogie, p. 157.
112
M A M M A L I A.
Ferre. This genus, of such high importance as containing the
Carnivora. numerous anci various breeds of our domestic dog, is in one
or other of its forms most widely spread over almost all
the regions of the habitable globe. We shall not here at¬
tempt to give the peculiar characters of the Canis fami-
liaris, by which general specific term, if we may be allowT-
ed the expression, naturalists are in use to distinguish the
domesticated races from the wolves, jackals, and foxes,
because their characters are so extremely variable in their
nature, and admit of such an extended range of modifica¬
tion, that the exceptions to any presupposed peculiarity are
almost as numerous as its confirmations. The more curved
form of the tail probably distinguishes all domestic dogs
from wolves, while the rounded outline of the pupil serves
to separate them from the foxes, in which that organ, when
exposed to light, assumes a lenticular shape. We shall
proceed to a few general observations on the natural his¬
tory of these animals, without attempting even an enumera¬
tion of the principal domestic kinds.1
The real origin of our domestic breeds, whether from a
single or complex source, may be said to be now entirely
unknown, as a subject either of history or tradition. It is
lost in the usual obscurity of a remote antiquity, and can
now only be ascertained (if at all) by the investigations of
the naturalist. So infinitely varied is the external aspect
of these invaluable creatures, and so much does it seem to
depend, not only on the physical conditions of clime and
country under which they exist, but on the moral and po¬
litical state of the particular nations by whom they are held
in subjection, that in numerous instances all traces of re¬
semblance to the supposed original, or indeed to any known
species of wild animal, have disappeared; and after the
lapse of ages, we are in fact at last presented with what
may be termed artificial creatures, incapable of subsisting
without the aid and companionship of man, and of which
assuredly no natural type ever existed in any age or coun¬
try. It is clear from what we know of the harmonious laws
by which a Divine Providence regulates the economy of the
animal kingdom, that no such creature as a pug dog could
ever have existed as an independent being in a state of
nature, or formed one of those “ golden links” by which
creation is so softly blended. It would have marred the
immaculate beauty of the primeval world.
Many varieties, however, of the domestic dog, though
originally produced by what may be termed accidents, have
now become permanent subspecies, if we may use the
term, each of which is signalised by some characteristic
peculiarity of either a physical or instinctive nature, and
differs from an ordinary variety (as exhibited among un¬
reclaimed animals), in the power which it possesses of re¬
producing individuals exactly similar to itself. Several of
these varieties from their great value to mankind, have
been so encouraged and preserved in purity, as to have be¬
come impressed with characters not only distinctive, but of
so uniform and permanent a nature as to exhibit in certain
instances the aspect of a total difference in kind. Making
due allowance, however, for the influence of all extraneous
or accidental causes, we yet deem it impossible to doubt
that the origin of the dog tribe, as it now exists under the
extended dominion of mankind, has been rather complex
than simple. We do not mean to maintain that every
strongly marked variety has had each its own original
source, or that even when nature
“ Wanton’d as in her prime, and play’d at will
Her virgin fancies,’’
there ever existed wild greyhounds, unreclaimed pug dogs,
or native pointers and poodles, all alike independent of per
each other, and of their now acknowledged lord and mas-Camiv
ter, because the question in that case would, from theirv tl
multiplicity, be speedily set at rest by the occurrence of
one or other of these animals in its original and unsubdued
condition. But we think it improper to refer the various
breeds to one and the same origin, the theory seeming to
ourselves more natural which supposes that the characteris¬
tic kinds, or great leading varieties of each country or con¬
tinent, have either directly descended from, or been cross¬
ed and remodelled by a union with, such of the native
(canine) animals of the same natural genus, as we still find ■>
to occur in such country or continent. For example, al¬
though we may admit with Guldenstaedt, that the Kalmuc,
and some other eastern dogs, may have derived their origin
from the jackal, the same cannot be said of those of New
Holland, or of North and South America, where the jackal
is unknown; and several of our own northern varieties
are evidently descended so much more immediately from
the wolf, as to render the ancestral aid of the “ lion’s pro¬
vider” altogether superfluous. We also know that in Ame¬
rica and New Holland, at the period of (and consequently
prior to) the discovery of these countries by Europeans,
there existed both wild and domesticated dogs, the former
of which were evidently indigenous, and in all probability
the origin of the latter.2
We believe that Pallas was among the first to give cur¬
rency to the opinion that the dog was to be regarded in a
great measure as an adventitious animal, that is to say, as
a creature produced by the fortuitous and diversified al¬
liances of several natural species. Both the shepherd’s dog
and the wolf dog, in his opinion, derive their origin from the
jackal, while the mastiff is regarded as more nearly related
to the hyena, and the smaller tribes of terriers, &c. to the
fox. His ideas, though somewhat fanciful, merit the atten¬
tion of the naturalist. We object, however, to the hyena,
which (though classed with the dogs by Linnaeus) is not
in fact a canine animal, but belongs to a distinct and well-
defined genus, characterized by having five toes on each
foot, and five molar teeth on either side of both jaws;
whereas the truly canine race, such as dogs, wolves, and
jackals, have only four toes on the hinder extremities, with
six molar teeth on each side of the upper jaw, and seven
on each side of the under. The general proportions of the
hyena, too, are very different, the fore-legs being longer
than the hind ones, which has the effect of raising the
shoulders and anterior portion of the body; whereas in
the other species just named, the hind legs are longer than
the fore ones, a character which probably obtains among
all swift-footed animals. The immediate relationship of
the fox is likewise doubtful. His alliance would be useful
as giving the earthy propensities of the terrier tribes, but
we cannot overlook the peculiar shape of the pupil, which
is what naturalists call nocturnal, that is oblong, and nar¬
rowing under the influence of light; whereas in dogs and
other canine species, though it decreases in size under that
influence, it retains its circular form. The difference in
the habitual character and instinctive habits of the fox
must also be borne in mind. It is scarcely necessary to
say that it is a wary, silent, nocturnal animal, of sly and so¬
litary habits, never congregating, or hunting its prey in
packs, but preferring a gradual and unperceived approach,
and the exercise of an insidious cunning, to the more open
warfare declared by its congeners. This distinction is in
truth of greater importance than may at first appear, for we
consider the social or gregarious sentiment in animals as
1 We have given a more extended view of the origin and natural history of domestic dogs in the 5th and 6th numbers of the
Quarterly Journal of Agriculture, and in the first volume of our Illustrations of Zoology, germs Cams. The reader will find a valuable
paper (by another hand) on sporting dogs, under the term Hound, of this Encyclopaedia. See volume xi. p. 697.
2 For Humboldt’s opinion of the indigenous dogs of South America, see Personal Narrative, vol. ii. part 2.
MAMMALIA.
’eras, the true basis of a thorough domestication. A solitary
C nivora. species, may, indeed, be tamed, so far as the individual is
'—y-"""' concerned, but if the social instinct is wanting, its de¬
scendants will be only half reclaimed, and the process must
be again resorted to. But the love of society, which we
call the social instinct, and which is so strongly possess¬
ed by sheep, oxen, and other domestic kinds, when once
properly directed towards himself by the skill of man, ren¬
ders these animals forever both attached and subservient
to the human race. Another strong objection, though of
a more negative kind, to the theories of Pallas and Gulden-
staedt, is founded on their slight consideration, if not en¬
tire exclusion, of the wolf as the most probable parent, espe¬
cially in northern countries, of a numerous and important
tribe of our domestic dogs. In reference to the point at
issue, we indeed regard tins animal, as of all others, the
most entitled to our strong attention. Many well known
varieties of the dog exhibit so wolfish an aspect, that their
descent from that species, at a more or less remote period,
can scarcely be doubted; and we incline the more to this
opinion, when we consider that the jackal is not a northern
animal, that the wolf is eminently so ; and that the remot¬
est tribes of the human race, inhabiting the highest northern
latitudes, have never been found unaccompanied by a do¬
mesticated breed of dogs, bearing a greater resemblance to
the wolf than to the jackal.
All the principal and regulating facts in the natural his¬
tory of the wolf and dog are identical. The rutting season
commences at the same time, and continues for an equal
period in each ; and both carry their young for nine weeks,
—Gilibert’s opinion that the period of the wolf’s gestation
extended to three months and a half having since been prov¬
ed to be erroneous. T hen the jackal is a puny and power¬
less creature, compared with many of its alleged descen¬
dants, while the wolf is one of the strongest of European
carnivorous animals. Though those of Spain and Italy are
not gigantic, the wolves of Lithuania are extremely large,
frequently measuring five feet in length from the muzzle to
the insertion of the tail; and the same, or even increased
dimensions are maintained by those of still more northern
climes. Both their coat and colour vary in accordance
with the climate. In high northern latitudes they become
white in winter, and a black variety occurs in Spain. This
natural variation of the colour of the wolf is a circumstance
of some importance in relation to the present inquiry, be¬
cause the tendency to become wdiite at one extremity of
the series, or range of colours, and black at the other, com¬
bined with what may be called the central or representa¬
tive hue of the animal, which is brown, supplies in fact
the three elementary colours of the whole tribe of dogs,
and thus in a great measure accounts for the variety of
markings by which our domestic races are distinguished.
In a state of domestication the wolf is capable of assuming
and retaining all the docility and gentleness of the dog,
and the productive union of the two, though at one time
doubted by Buffbn, was at an after period ascertained and
demonstrated by that brilliant historian of the brute crea¬
tion, and has since been frequently confirmed in recent
times. We shall here rest satisfied with a single citation :
J hose naturalists,” says Captain Sabine, “who believe
that no animal, in a perfectly natural and wild state, will
connect itself with one of a different species, will consider
t ic long agitated question of the specific identity of the
wolf and dog, as determined by a circumstance of frequent
occurrence at Melville Island. In December and January,
winch are the months in which wolves are in season, a
female paid almost daily visits to the neighbourhood of the
ships, and remained till she was joined by a setter-dog be¬
longing to one or the officers. They were usually together
113
from two to three hours ; and as they did not go far away, Ferae,
unless an endeavour was made to approach them, repeated Carnivora,
and decided evidence was obtained of the purpose for which
they were thus associated.”1
Now the only reasonable objection which, as it appears
to us, remained to the experiments of Buffon and the
younger Cuvier, was deducible from the fact of these hav¬
ing been made upon animals in confinement, and which
were consequently existing under constrained and artificial
circumstances. But here such objection ceases. We wit¬
ness the voluntary cohabiting of two creatures brought up
under entirely different circumstances,—the one with as
much of wildness as the most forlorn region of the earth
could induce upon an originally savage nature, the other
so altered in its form and aspect by the immemorial sub¬
jection of itself and ancestors to the dominion of man, as to
have lost almost all outward resemblance to the stock from
whence it sprung ; and yet, notwithstanding this disparity
of manners, and the different conditions of the social state,
they mutually recognise and acknowledge each other, and
the immediate representative of the natural and unaltered
species, “ like the wild envoy of a barbarous clan,” seeks
and obtains the affection of the enslaved descendant. Un¬
less all. our established notions regarding the legitimate
distinctions of species are essentially false, what more do
we require to prove the identity of the animals in ques¬
tion ?
It is also of importance to bear in mind the existence of
wild dogs of the domestic breed, which live in a fierce and
emancipated state in the plains and forests of many differ¬
ent countries, because this fact demonstrates that no
changes, either physical or artificial, on the earth’s surface,
whether produced by the agency of man or otherwise, can
have extinguished the original source, when its descendants,
after regaining their liberty, are thus found to breed and
prosper in a state of nature. \\ e insist the more upon this
observation, because we think it cuts deeply at the base of
a theory, or rather hypothesis, maintained"^ by certain na¬
turalists, who, unable in any way 1o disencumber the sub¬
ject, give it the slip by asserting that we must now for ever
seek in vain for the original type of our domestic races, in
consequence of its extinction, either by universal servitude,
or. actual extermination. Now, it would certainly be sur¬
prising if the original source of the plurality of our domes¬
tic dogs had ceased to exist in an independent state, when
we. see the wild species of so many of our other domestic
animals still flourishing in their original positions, notwith¬
standing their more confined limits, the smaller number of
their young, and their comparatively defenceless nature.
Those troops of wild (emancipated) dogs which we know
to exist in the midst of European colonies, in spite of con¬
tinued efforts to destroy them, prove that in the infancy and
early progress of human society, a naturally wild species
could neither be entirely subdued, nor utterly exterminat¬
ed. Nor is there any evidence whatever from history, tra¬
dition, or the geological phenomena of nature, of the ex¬
tinction of any wild animal of the dog kind ; and, as an¬
cient writers mention all the actual species of that tribe in
the countries where they still exist, it may more reasonably
be concluded that one or more of these wild species are the
actual source of our various domestic breeds, than that the
source itself has been extirpated.
It is proper, while endeavouring to trace the origin of
what Baron Cuvier has called “ the completest, the most
singular, and the most usefid conquest ever made by man,”2
more especially when we know how ancient that conquest
must have been, to refer to the native species of the coun¬
try usually regarded as the cradle of the human race. From
tne earliest periods of which we have any detailed records
supplement to the Appendix to Parrv’s First Vovaqe. p. 105.
VOL. XIV.
iVegne Animal, t. i. p. 149.
MAMMALIA.
114
Ferae, down to the more minutely authenticated histories of mo-
Carnivora. ^ern times, there has never been any indication given of
the existence, in Asia Minor, of more than four wild ani¬
mals of the dog tribe, viz. the hyena, the wolf, the fox, and
the jackal. The first of these species, we have already
stated, is not now regarded by naturalists as pertaining to
the canine race, and we have also referred to certain strong¬
ly marked distinctive peculiarities of the fox; so that we
consider the wolf and jackal as alone entitled to our parti¬
cular regard in relation to the present inquiry. We have
already said enough to shew the strong claims of the wolf,
so far as the northern races are concerned ; but the mul¬
tiplicity of size, form, and locality of our domestic dogs,
seems to indicate a compound origin, and it cannot be de¬
nied that many of the southern dogs present so marked and
peculiar a character, that their descent from the jackal is
obvious. It is not our province to enter in this place into
anatomical details, but we may state generally, that an at¬
tentive comparison scarcely exhibits any sensible difference
between the internal structure of the jackal and that of the
shepherd’s dog. This is the opinion espoused by Pallas
and Guldenstaedt, the former of whom maintains that the
dogs of the Kalmuks are in truth neither more nor less
than jackals. This animal has always abounded in Asia
Minor, where all the theogonies of the west have placed the
fiaradisaical cradle of the human race, and where it must
iave been easily accessible to the first families of mankind.
We willingly coincide in this view, with the reservations
before mentioned regarding the great northern dogs, and
those of the still remoter countries of the New World, where
the jackal is unknown, but where its place is amply filled
by gaunt and grizzly wolves. It is, indeed, by no means
likely that the dogs mentioned by Pietro Martyro and
Oviedo, as living with the inhabitants of the little Antilles
and the Caraibs of Terra Firma, were derived from species
foreign to America; because the authors first named (both
of whom were contemporaneous with and witnesses to the
discovery and conquest of America), describe these dogs
as being of various colours and kinds of coat, from which
we may infer that they had been, even then, for a long
period reduced to servitude. They were all mute ; that is
to say, they never barked: but that faculty seems, in truth,
to be neither natural nor innate, but rather acquired by
habit, as domestic dogs run wild have no other cry than a
sharp or prolonged howl; and the silent species of bar¬
barous nations, when introduced into civilized society,
speedily acquire the bark of our domestic kinds.
It may, moreover, be borne in mind, that there are at
least two kinds of jackal,—the better known species, com¬
monly called the Indian Jackal f Cams aureus, Linn.), and
that from Senegal, described by Frederick Cuvier under
the name of Canis anthus. These animals, though re¬
garded as specifically distinct, have bred together in the
Garden of Plants. This is a fact of considerable import¬
ance, as shewing the facility with which a mixed breed
from the jackal might be procured ; and as it was previous¬
ly known that the wolf manifested the same instinctive in¬
clination towards different varieties of the dog, we thus ob¬
tain a more extended knowledge of a feature in the cha¬
racter of the canine race, which throws considerable light
upon our inquiries. When we see that both the wolf and
jackal thus breed with other species, and that all our do-
mestioated dogs breed with each other, although some are
scarcely distinguishable from the wolf, while others seem
identical with the jackal, we can scarcely doubt that all
such domesticated varieties have in fact arisen primarily
from these two animals,—the southern from the jackal, FeRft
the northern from the wolf; and that the intermediate va- Carnivora
rieties have sprung from an intermixture of the jackal-dogs''—‘V'-'
on the one hand, and of the wolf-dogs on the other, after¬
wards crossed and commingled in various conceivable ways,
both by accident and design. We confess that the ex¬
treme variations are still surprising, if not unaccountable ;
such as the difference between a lofty limbed and almost
gigantic stag-hound of the ancient Irish breed, and the
low-legged waddling turnspit, or terrier of the Isle of Skye;
but that domestication for many thousand years, and the
altered habits of life which ensue from it, have been strong¬
ly influential in moulding the form and character of the
canine race, is evident from this, that the dogs of all wild
and secluded nations, whose domestic animals may be sup¬
posed to exist most nearly in a state of nature, are all more
strongly allied either to the wolf or the jackall, than those
that partake the fortunes of civilized men, who dwell in
large cities, or in thickly peopled countries; and this ap¬
proximation to the aspect of the wild animal in the one
case, and departure from it in the other, is in truth the
surest index to the primitive types which it is possible to
obtain. Thus from two or three original sources or dis¬
tinct kinds, have been derived about ten times the number
of mixed races,—many of which, and chiefly those which
lead the most artificial or altered modes of life, have now
lost all traces of resemblance to the stock from which they
sprung.
The length of the preceding observations will prevent
our entering into any detailed account of the infinitely va¬
ried dogs of the domestic kind. The subject is, indeed, far
too extensive for our present limits, for there is scarcely a
nation of the earth, savage or civilized, that does not be¬
nefit by their friendly assistance, or derive delight from
their affectionate companionship. We doubt not that
many tribes of mankind would cease to exist if their dogs
were withdrawn from them, and we know of scarcely any
which would not suffer severely from such deprivation.
Their strength, activity, and courage,—their intelligence,
perseverance, and attachment—their exquisite sense of
smell—their finely accommodating instincts, and, in many
cases, their extreme beauty and grace,—have deservedly
rendered the canine tribe the objects of the most unfeigned
wonder and admiration to all observers and narrators, whe¬
ther of ancient or modern days, from Hippocrates to the
Ettrick Shepherd.1
Having figured, as an illustration of the present genus,
the Hare Indian, or Mackenzie River dog ( Canis fa miliar is,
var. lagopus of Richardson, see Plate CCCXXXII. fig. 4),
we shall here conclude with a few lines in explanation of
its history and habits. This variety, as far as yet known, is
cultivated only by the Hare Indians and other tribes that fre¬
quent the borders of the Great Bear Lake, and the banks
of the Mackenzie River. It is too small to be used as a
beast of burden, and is therefore employed solely in the
chase. It has a mild and demure countenance, a small
head, slender muzzle, erect thickish ears, somewhat oblique
eyes, rather slender legs, broad hairy feet, and a bushy tail.
Though it is covered with long hair, intermingled at the
roots with a deal of wool, it differs from the American
foxes, and agrees with the wolves, in always having callous
protuberances, even during winter, on the soles of the feet
and at the roots of the toes. Its size is inferior to that
of the prairie wolf, but rather greater than that of the red
fox of America. Its resemblance, however, to the former
is so great, that, on comparing live specimens, Dr Richard-
1 The reader who desires a knowledge, or at least a notion of domestic dogs of various kinds, will consult with advantage (in ad¬
dition, of course, to the various sporting Annals of our own country), Mr Griffith’s valuable English edition (with additions) of the
Regne Animal—the Menageries (vol. i.) of the Library of Entertaining Knowledge—our essay “ On the Origin and Natural History of
Dogs” in the Quarterly Journal of Agriculture (5th and 6th Nos.)—and Captain Brown’s Compendium entitled Anecdotes of Dogs.
MAMMALIA.
;rse. son could detect no decided difference in form (except the
ivora. smallness of the cranium), nor in the fineness of the fur,
nor even in the arrangement of the spots of colour. It
bears, in fact, the same relation to the prairie wolf that the
Esquimaux dog does to the great grey wolf of the northern
parts of the New World, a fact which affords an interesting
confirmation of the general views contained in the preced¬
ing paragraphs. The Hare Indian dog is very playful and
affectionate, and easily attached by kindness. It is, how¬
ever, not very docile beyond the range of its immediate
instincts, and has a great dislike to confinement. Its
voice, when injured or afraid, is that of a wolf, but when
merely excited or surprised, it makes an attempt to bark,
usually ending, however, in a kind of howl. For its size,
it is extremely swift and strong. A young one purchased
by Dr Richardson from the Hare Indians, became greatly
attached to its master, and when not more than seven
months old, ran by the side of his sledge upon the snow,
for 900 miles, without fatigue. During this long journey,
it often carried, of its own accord, a glove in its "mouth for
a mile or two ; but though gentle in its manners, it exhi¬
bited but a limited love of learning, and made no progress
in fetching and carrying comparable to that of the New¬
foundland dog, or many other kinds. It was at last unfor¬
tunately killed and eaten by an Indian on the banks of the
Saskatchewan, who pretended that he mistook it for a fox,
—a reason which, according to our European notions,
would not so much have led to as deterred from such a
meal.1
We shall now say a few words regarding wolves. The
common wolf (Cams lupus, Linn.) is the fiercest and most
carnivorous of the wild animals yet indigenous to Europe.
It resembles a large lank-faced, ill-conditioned dog, with a
straight tail, a coat of a greyish-fawn colour, and in the
adult state, a blackish streak upon the anterior legs. It
varies, however, considerably, both in size and colour, ac¬
cording to the nature of the different localities in which
it occurs, being larger and fiercer in more northern and
unpeopled countries,—feebler and of smaller size when
surrounded by enemies, and living in a state of continual
fear and precaution. He wanders about in summer during
the morning and evening twilight in search of food, which
in a sufficing quantity he seldom finds. Frogs, field-mice,
and the putrid remains of larger animals, are not despised,
fhe rutting season of the female is in January. She is
then followed by numerous males, the strongest or boldest
of which having driven away the others, becomes her com¬
panion, and seldom quits her till the young have completed
their education. When about to bring forth, she prepares
her den in some sheltered and secluded spot, which she
furnishes with leaves, dried grass, and a portion of wool or
hair from her own body. The number of her litter varies
from five or six to nine, and the young are born with their
eyes closed. For several days the mother never quits
them, she herself being carefully fed by the male. She
suckles for two months, but about the end of the fifth or
sixth week she disgorges half-digested food, and soon after
accustoms them to kill and feed upon small animals which
she has previously captured. It has been observed that,
during this period, the young are never left alone, but are
always guarded by one or other of the parents. In about
two months they lead them from the covert, and initiate
them in the mysteries of the chase. In November or De¬
cember they begin to wander forth by themselves, but
they usually remain more or less united in one family, till
the parents are obliged to prepare for another brood.
I he wolf in a wild state is a cowardly though cruel ani¬
mal. He has sometimes been observed so stupified by
115
sudden fear as to be killed or secured alive without danger Ferre,
or difficulty. At the same time, when pressed by hunger, Carnivora,
and assembled in troops during the winter season, they
become formidable both to man and beast. We know
from the ancient chroniclers, and from various legal enact¬
ments and feudal tenures, how greatly Britain, especially
Yorkshire, was infested by wolves during the days of our
Saxon ancestors ; and that in the reign of Athelstane it
was found necessary to erect a kind of retreat at a place
called Flixton, for the protection of passing travellers.
\V olves, however, appear to have become almost extinct
in England as far back as the termination of the thirteenth
centmy, at least w^e do not find them recorded as a nuisance
after the year 1281. “ It is none of the least blessings,”
observes Hollinshed, u wherewith God hath indued this
island, that it is void of noisome beasts, as lions, bears, ti¬
gers, pards, wrolfes, and such like, by means whereof our
countrymen may trafelle in safetie, and our herds and
flocks remain for the most part abroad in the field without
anie herdsman or keeper. This is chiefly spoken of the
south and south-wrest parts of the island. For whereas
we that dwell on this side of the Tw^eed, may safelie boast
of our securitie in this behalfe : yet cannot the Scots do
the like in everie point within their kingdome, sith they
have grievous wolfes and cruell foxes, besides some other
of like disposition continuallie conversant among them, to
the general hindrance of their husbandmen, and no small
damage unto the inhabiters of those quarters.” 2 Accord¬
ing to the same authority, the extirpation of wolves from
England was imposed as a tribute by king Edgar upon the
conquered Welsh. Ludwal, prince of Wales, paid yearly
a tiibute of 300 wolves, so that in four years none were
left. The last seen in Scotland was killed by Sir Ewen
Cameron in the year 1680. In Ireland the species was
not totally extirpated till about thirty years after that pe¬
riod.
In a state of domestication the wolf can be regarded as
nothing more than a dog of a somewhat anomalous and un¬
usual aspect. M. F. Cuvier has more than once rendered
them so tame and docile, that but for their unextinguish-
able love of live poultry, they might have been allowed to
wander where they chose. They associated freely and
fondly with common dogs, and speedily acquired from them
the habit of barking. In general, however, and when left
free to manifest their natural instinct, dogs exhibit a great
aversion to wolves ; and the latter, according to Hearne,
frequently slay and devour the train dogs of the Esquimaux.
Captain Lyon, who describes the wnlves of Melville Pen¬
insula as comparatively fearless, states, that one afternoon
a fine dog having strayed a short way ahead of its master,
five wolves made a sudden and unexpected rush upon it,
and devoured it in so incredibly short a time, that before
the gentleman who witnessed the attack could reach the
scene of action, the dog had totally disappeared with the
exception of the lower part of one leg. In those forlorn
regions they frequently came alongside the frost-bound
ship, and one night broke into a snow-hut, and carried away
a brace of Esquimaux dogs, which appeared to have made
a vigorous though unavailing resistance, the ceiling being
all besprinkled with blood and hair. So strong, as well as
ferocious are these blood-thirsty creatures, in spite of what
one might suppose the subduing influence of intense cold,
that when the alarm was given, and an armed party pro¬
ceeded to attempt a rescue, one of the wolves above allud¬
ed to was observed, when fired at, to take up a dead dog
in his mouth, and to set off with it at an easy canter, al¬
though the weight of the victim was supposed to be equal
to his own.3 These and similar facts, apparently of a na-
j Ilf an excellent ^^unt of this, as well as of the other dogs of North America, see Fauna Boreali-Americana, part i. p. 79.
Chronicles, vM i. p. j/8 3 Privale J0urnal, pp> 151j &c< 1
116
MAMMALIA.
Fene. ture contradictory to the theory of an identity of species
Carnivora. which we have previously proponed, is, in truth, in proper
accordance with what we know takes place among many other
animals, when wild and tame individuals chance to encoun¬
ter. A strongly marked jealousy, if not positive enmity,
seems to exist between the unsubdued members of the
same species and such as have passed beneath the yoke.
It may be supposed to result, not unnaturally, from that
perception of “ similitude in dissimilitude” which, according
to circumstances, leads alike to the extremes of love or ha¬
tred. We have already alluded to the strong instinctive
affection which in due season has been seen to exist be¬
tween them, and we certainly do not conceive that, from a
few chance murders rendered almost imperative by the
pressure of the times, an argument of any value can be de¬
duced against the natural identity of the wolf and dog.
The black wolf of Europe (Canis Lycaon, Linn, le
loup noir, Buff.) differs very slightly from the common
brown species except in colour. Its ferocity, however, is
said to be greater. It occurs accidentally in France,—
more frequently in Spain and the Pyrenean range. There
were two of these black wolves some years ago in the me¬
nagerie of the King’s Garden in Paris, which every season
brought forth young as fierce and mistrustful as themselves,
but not like their parents in their colour and external mark¬
ings. From this circumstance we would hesitate to regard
the black wolf as more than an accidental variety. Indeed
it has been regarded by some as a mixed race, originally
sprung from the common wolf and a black dog run wild
among the woods or mountains. The American Indians
do not regard the black wolves as distinct from the others,
although they abound on the banks of the Missouri, and
they report that one or more of that colour are occasionally
found in the litter of the common kind.
In regard to the wolves of the New World in general,
naturalists do not quite accord in their enumeration of the
species. A brown wolf, described as possessing all the
characters of the European kind, is said to exist within the
limits of the United States ; but the more northern Ame¬
rican species, though they may possibly approximate those
of Siberia and of Lapland, certainly differ greatly in their
general physiognomy from the natives of France and the
Pyrenees. They are of a more robust and larger form,
their hair is longer, finer, and more woolly, their muzzle
thicker and blunter, their head larger and rounder, with a
sensible depression at the union of the nose and forehead.
Except in their superior size and strength, the North Ame¬
rican wolves so greatly resembled the sledge dogs of the
natives, that our arctic travellers more than once mistook
a band of these predaceous animals for the domestic troop
of an Indian party. The howl of each is precisely the
same.1 When the deep and long enduring snows of win¬
ter have entombed the face of nature in their silent shroud,
these creatures often suffer dreadfully from famine, and were
they not for the most part as fearful as rapacious, they
would assuredly prove most unpleasant neighbours. But
the simple expedient of tying an inflated bladder to a
branch, so as to admit of its waving in the wind, is suffi¬
cient to keep a whole herd at a distance. At times, how¬
ever, they become more venturous; and at Cumberland
House, in 1820, a wolf which had been seen prowling around
the fort, and was shot at and severely wounded by a mus¬
ket-ball, returned again in the dark, streaming with blood,
and carried off a dog among fifty others,—the latter howl¬
ing piteously, but unable to summon courage to attack the Fer.-r.
gaunt intruder. Dr Richardson was even told of a poor ^aiwivon.
Indian woman having been strangled by a wolf, while her
husband, who sawr the onset of the animal, was hastening
to her assistance ; but their destruction of human life is
most extremely rare. In the spring of 1826, a large grey
wolf was driven by hunger to prowl among the huts which
had been erected in the vicinity of Fort Franklin, but he
attacked no one, and being unsuccessful in obtaining food,
he was found a few days afterwards, lying dead upon the
snow. This specimen is now in the Edinburgh College
Museum, and is exhibited in Plate CCCXXXII, fig. 3. of
the present work.2
We have already alluded briefly to those other canine
animals called Jackals, of which there are at least two
species. The Asiatic kind (Canis aureus), commonly
called the Lion’s Provider, occurs over a great extent of
territory from India to Palestine, and from Egypt and Bar¬
bary, along the shores and through the deserts of Africa to
the Cape of Good Hope. Its great voracity, gregarious
habits, and wild nocturnal cries, are well known to eastern
travellers. It hunts in packs, and the king of beasts, when
roused from his royal slumbers by the yells of these insa¬
tiate creatures in pursuit of prey, probably follows the hue
and cry, and ere long coming up with the slaughtered
quarry, comes in for more than a monarch’s share of deer
or antelope, to the no small chagrin of his so-called pro¬
viders. The Senegal kind (Canis anthus) is characteristic
of the western shores, and the Cape jackal (C. niesome-
las, by some regarded rather as a fox), is found more ex¬
clusively at the southern portion of the continent.
Our next group of canine animals contains the foxes.
These may be distinguished both from dogs and wolves by
their longer and more brushy tails, their pointed muzzle,
and the vertical pupils of their cunning eyes. They also
exhale a much more fetid smell. They are of smaller size,
but much more numerous in amount of species. On the
well-known aspect and character of our common kind ( Ca¬
nis vulpes, Linn.) we need not here enter, but shall briefly
notice a few of the foreign species.
The arctic fox (Canis lagopus) inhabits the most nor¬
thern lands hitherto discovered. It breeds on the sea
coasts, chiefly within the arctic circle, forming its burrows
in sandy spots, not isolated as with us, but in little villages
of twenty or thirty adjoining. It resembles our European
fox in form, but is more densely clothed, of smaller size,
and changes its colour in winter from bluish-brown to white.
Its fur is of small value compared to that of the red fox,
but its flesh, when young, is eatable ; while, as an article ol
food, the other species is extremely disagreeable. The
sooty dog of Pennant,3 and the blue fox described by Sir
George Mackenzie,4 are merely varieties of this arctic
species.
The red fox of North America (Canis fulvus, Desm.)
inhabits the woody districts of the fur countries. About
8000 skins are imported into England every year. Pen¬
nant, and most authors of the last century, regarded this
species as identical with our common European kind; but
its peculiarities have since been pointed out by M. Palisot
de Beauvois. It is distinguished by its longer and finer
fur, and more brilliant colouring. Its cheeks are rounder,—
its nose thicker, shorter, and more truncated,—its eyes are
nearer to each other, and its feet generally much more
woolly beneath. It has a more copious brush, and is alto-
1 “ The offspring of the wolf and Indian dog are prolific, and are prized by the voyagers as beasts of draught, being stronger
than the ordinary dogs.”—Captain Back’s Narrative, Appendix, p. 492.
2 For the other wolves of North America, see Fauna Boreali-Americana, Part i., and Harlan’s Fauna Americana. Several spe-
cies occur in the more southern parts of the New World, such as the Mexican Wolf, the Red Wolf of Paraguay, &c. For these see
Desmarest’s Mammalogie, Cuvier’s Ossemens Fossiles, and Azara’s Essai sur ks Quadrupedes de Paraguay.
7 History of Quadrupeds, vol. i. p. 257. 4 Travels in Iceland, p. 337.
*
MAMMALIA.
M7
erne, gether a larger animal. Yet it does not possess the en-
Caiivora. fiuring speed of the British renard, its strength appearing
Vy''-'' to be exhausted at the first burst, after which it is easily
overtaken either by a mounted huntsman, or its enemy the
wolf. The red fox preys much on small animals of the rat
kind, is fond of fish, and in fact rejects no animal substance
of any kind. The American cross fox ( Canis decussatus,
Geoff.) is probably a variety of the preceding, although it
is usually of smaller size. Its fur is much esteemed, a sin¬
gle specimen not many years ago being worth from four to
five guineas, while that of the red fox did not bring more
than fifteen shillings. A rarer and still more valuable va¬
riety is the black or silver fox (Canis argentatus, Desm.),
of which never more than four or five individuals are taken
at any one post of the fur countries throughout the year,
although the hunters leave no device untried. It varies
from a mixed or hoary hue to a shining black. La Hontan
says, that in his time the skin of a black fox was worth its
weight in gold, and it still fetches six times the price of
any other fur obtained in North America. Various addi¬
tional species of the fox tribe have been described by na¬
turalists.
Genus Megalotts, Illiger. Fennecus, Desm. Inci-
= ? Muzzle pointed.
G . 1—1 , 6—6
sives canines ^molars     ;
Ears extremely large. Four (?) toes on each foot.
Great contrariety of opinion has existed among systema¬
tic naturalists regarding the nature and affinities of the ani¬
mal described by Bruce, the Abyssinian traveller, under
the name of fennec,—the Animal anonyme of Buffon ; and
we regret to say, that in addition to merely scientific dis¬
cussion, some not very amiable inferences have been de¬
duced by that spirit of rivalry, which though useful as an
exciting motive, and as a disturber of lethargy, is some¬
times apt, in acrimonious minds, to overflow the bounds of
Christian charity. The discovery of the animal in ques¬
tion, though usually assigned to Bruce, was likewise claimed
by a Swedish gentleman, M. Shioldebrand, who is asserted
by the former to have got the start of him in this matter
by some petty artifice. Neither the one nor the other,
however, it has been observed, has described the species
with such a degree of scientific accuracy as to afford us
any aid in determining its true position in the system, and
the consequence has been, that each subsequent writer has
placed it in a different genus. Some have classed it with
the cats, others among the canine tribes. Illiger made it
the type of a new genus, under the name of Megalotis
(which we here adopt), while it has been occasionally pla¬
ced with the squirrels in the order Glires, and was even at
one period published by the skilful G. St Hilaire as a quad-
rumanous animal, belonging to the genus Galago ! Al¬
though thus known under a sufficient number of appella¬
tions, it is nevertheless most commonly called the “ Ano¬
nymous animal,” as if it had no name at all; and while one
writer describes it as inhabiting the desert wastes of the
Sahara, where it is alleged to excavate for itself a subterra¬
nean dwelling, another assures us that it dwells habitually
amid the plumy summits of the loftiest palm-trees. In con¬
sequence of these contradictory statements, some recent
authors seem inclined to deny its existence altogether,
while others allege that the so called anonymous animal
constitutes in fact a distinct genus, consisting not of one
but of two easily distinguished species.
Buffbn is known to have published his figure of the fen¬
nec from a drawing transmitted to him by Bruce. As the
views of the great French writer were extremely fanciful Ferae,
in relation to arrangement, we need not be surprised that he Carnivora,
should have placed it between the squirrel and the hare.
It certainly has long ears and a somewhat bushy tail; and
we have seen enough of what are called affinities in mo¬
dern times, to palliate the vagaries of our imaginative pre¬
decessors. Blumenbach, from Bruce’s description, refers
it to the civets. Sparrman maintains its identity with a
species of the south of Africa called Zerda,—in conse¬
quence of which it continues to bear that name in many
systematic works. Desmarest follows Illiger in making
it the type of a new' genus,—the name of which, however,
he changes to Fennecus. We need scarcely say, that by
these repeated transpositions but a feeble light was thrown
upon its actual nature. A few years ago, however, the
Museum of Frankfort was visited almost simultaneously by
two intelligent zoologists, M. Temminck and Dr Sigismond
Leuckart of Heidelberg, both of whom immediately recog¬
nised the fennec of Bruce in an animal then recently trans¬
mitted from Dongola by the traveller Rlippel. As the result
of their investigations, and of those of others since continued,
to which we have had private access, there now remains no
doubt that the fennec is closely allied to the canine race,
being most related to the subdivision which contains the
foxes, and approaching particularly to the Canis cor sac.
The teeth, the feet, the number of toes (?), and the form
of the tail, are said to be the same as those of a fox ;—but
the limbs are higher and more slender in proportion. The
aspect of the head is rendered peculiar by the extraordina¬
ry size of the ears. Our information is still defective re¬
garding the manners of this species, but it appears to be
the opinion of those wrho have studied its character and his¬
tory, that the fact reported by Bruce of its living on trees
is erroneous, and that it is more probably a ground or even
a subterranean animal, supporting itself, in a state of nature,
on small quadrupeds and birds.1 Of the individual obser¬
ved by Bruce the favourite food was dates, or any other
sweetish food; yet it wras observed to be very fond of the
eggs of small birds. When hungry it would eat bread,
especially when spread with honey; but when a small bird
passed near, it was observed to engross for a time the fen-
nec’s whole attention, and to be follow'ed, while within the
range of sight, wfith eager eye. It became unquiet and
restless as soon as night came on, from which we may infer
a nocturnal nature. Its body measured about ten inches
long, the tail five, the ears three. The pupil of the eye
was large and black, and surrounded by a deep blue iris.
It had a sly and wfily aspect, but as its habits are not gre¬
garious, and for other reasons, Bruce doubts the propriety
of this creature being regarded as the Saphan of the Scrip¬
tures,—an opinion advocated both by Jewish and Arabian
writers.
The genus now consists of two species, the fennec of
Bruce, above alluded to (M. Brucii, Canis zerda of Gme-
lin), which we have figured in Plate CCCXXXII, fig. 6;
and Delalande’s fennec {M. Delalandii, Smith, Canis
megalotis, Cuv.), which is native to the Cape of Good
Hope.2
We may notice in this place another singular canine ani¬
mal from the Cape, which seems to have likewise received
a multiplicity of names. It occupies, as it were, a station
intermediate to that of the dogs and hyenas, and although
long known to the colonists under the designation of wild
dog, and alluded to by many travellers, its distinctive pe¬
culiarities were first pointed out by Mr Burchell, who de-
1 Edinburgh Cabinet Library, No. xii. p. 390.
2 For figures and descriptions of these animals, see Bruce’s Travels, plate 28; Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, voL ii. ip. 372; and
Rappels Reiseim Niirdlichen Afrika, pi. 111. The ears in Bruce’s figure are too large.
118
MAMMALIA.
Ferae, scribes it under the name of Hyama venatica.1 In the num-
Carmvora. ber of its teeth it agrees with the dogs, but it has only four
^ 'toes on the anterior feet, and its body is hyaena-like in its
form, being considerably higher before than behind, with
the joints of the carpus very weak. If classed with the
true dogs, its most appropriate title would be Canis hycc-
iioides, but it is understood that Mr Brooks (in whose splen-
Ctid museum there existed a skeleton of the animal) regard-
ed it as a distinct genus, and we find it recorded as such un¬
der the name ol Lycaon tricolor.2 The general colour of this
animal is. a sandy bay or ochreous yellow, shaded with
darker hairs, and the entire body is blotched and brindled
with black and white spots. Mr Burchell kept a specimen
for thirteen months chained up in a stable-yard, but its
natuie was ferocious, and although at last it began to gam¬
ble occasionally with a common dog, yet its keeper never
dared to touch it with his hand. In its native state it
hunts in regular packs, both by day and night, and is so rapid
in its movements, that none but the swiftest animals can
ensure their safety. Sheep fall an easy sacrifice, but the
larger cattle are seldom attacked, except stealthily from
behind, for the sake of snapping off their tails,—the want
of which, our readers may be assured, in a warm country,
swarming with hide-piercing insects, is the source of most
serious distress to any quadruped. “ In the morning,” says
our traveller, “ Philip returned with the oxen ; but report¬
ed that, in consequence of Abram Abram’s neglectin<r in
the night before to secure them as usual in the cattle-pen,
the wilde honden (wild dogs) had bitten off the tails of
three. One had only lost the brush, but the others were
deprived of the whole!” The animal in question is of a
more slender form than either the striped or the spotted
hyaena.
Genus Viverra, Linn., Cuv. Incisors «, canines L—
6—6 0 1 — 1
mo ars gUg ’ — *ower iHcisives are placed on the
same line, and the canines are rather strong. The upper
molars consist, on each side, of three false molars, slightly
conical and compressed, of a large carnivorous cheek-tooth,
sharp, cutting, and tricuspidate, and of two tuberculous grind¬
ers. I he lower jaw presents four false molars on each side, a
sti ong carnivorous bicuspidate cheek-tooth, and a single very
broad tuberculous grinder. The head is long, the muzzle
pointed, the pupil narrow when contracted, and the tongue
covered by corneous papillae. Each foot is furnished with
five toes, and the claws are semi-retractyle. The tail is
long and covered with hair.
I his genus, as now restricted (the ichneumons no longer
forming one of its constituent portions), contains the ani¬
mals commonly called civets and genets, all remarkable for
their musky odour. They are peculiar to the warmer
countries of the ancient world, and their habits, in a state
ol nature, are as yet but slightly known.
The civets properly so called (Viverra, Cuv.), are dis¬
tinguished by a deep anal pouch divided into two interior
sacks, and filled with a musky pomade, of considerable
commercial value as an article of perfumery. The species
occur both in Asia and Africa. Enfras, a town of Abyssi¬
nia, is said to carry on an extensive civet trade, great num¬
bers being there kept in a state of confinement. ■ The V.
civetta and zibetha of Linnaeus are still insufficiently distin¬
guished. They are very closely allied to each other, but
the former is said to be characteristic of Africa, the latter
of the East Indies. Dr Horsfield has described a third spe¬
cies called llasse by the Javanese. Its appetite is very
sanguinary in a state of nature, and leads it to prey on
birds and quadrupeds. In confinement it agrees well with Tens.
a mixed diet of rice and animal food. It vields the odorifer- Carnivoj
ous substance called dedes in Java, the jibet of the Malays. '—^
This perfume is a great favourite in java, where, during
festal.days and public processions, the air is diffusively fifed
wTitn its odour. Salt is said to be a poison to the animal
which yields it.
In the group or subgenus called genets (Genetta,
Cuv.) the anal bag is reduced to little more than a fold of
the skin, and the secretion is very slight, though there is a
sensible exhalation of a musky odour. 1 he pupil, when ex¬
posed to light, is vertical, and the claws are almost as re¬
tractile, as those of cats. The common genet ( V. genetta,
Linn.) is a European species, widely extended in its distri¬
bution from the south of France to the Cape of Good Hope.
It varies considerably in its markings, and its fur forms an
article of commerce. Other species occur both in Africa
and the East. I he rare Javanese animal the Delundung,
which seems in some respects intermediate between the
yiveirse and the cats (it forms the genus Prionodon of Dr
Horsfield), is still ranked by Baron Cuvier with the genets.
We may here briefly notice a peculiar species long known
to systematic writers under the name of palm marten and
Genette de 1 ranee. Its dentition and the majority of its
other characters agree with those of the genets, but its
foim .is thicker, its toes semi-palmate, and its walk almost
plantigrade. Its most peculiar character, however, consists
in the form of the tail, which is spirally rolled, though not
prehensile. It now forms the genus Paradoxurus of F.
Cuvier, of which his brother the Baron admits of only a
single species (the animal just alluded to), under the name
^ i • typus. See Plate CCCXXXIII, fig. 1. It is called
Pougoune in India. If, as is generally supposed, it is also
synonymous with the Musanga of Java, then the following
particulars, communicated by Dr Horsfield, will apply to
both. 1 he musanga is most abundant near villages in the
vicinity of the larger forests. It constructs its nest in the
fork of a branch, or the hollow of a tree, of dry leaves,
small twigs, and grass, and sallies forth at night in search
of eggs and chickens. It also robs gardens of various kinds
of fi uit, is particularly fond of pine-apples, and devours cof¬
fee-ben ies in such quantities as to be very destructive in
plantations of that commodity.3
Genus Herpestes, Illiger. Ichneumon, Lacepede. In¬
cisors -, canines molars ; = 36. Body elon¬
gated, and low upon the legs. Head small and pointed.
Eyes susceptible of being covered with a nictitating mem¬
brane. Ears short and rounded. Feet with five toes, arm¬
ed with sharpish semi-retractile claws. Tail long and point¬
ed. Anal pouch large, but simple.
This genus, according to Geoffroy,4 contains nine spe¬
cies, of which four are from India or the Indian Archipe¬
lago, one from Madagascar, two from undetermined re¬
gions, one from the Cape, and one from the north-east of
Africa. Ihe last is the celebrated ichneumon {Herpestes
I heu ctonis, Desm.), so noted in the mythology of ancient
Egypt- E is larger than a cat, and shaped like a marten,
tne fur composed of hairs ringed with brown and fawn co¬
lour. The paws and muzzle are black, and the tail termi¬
nates in a diverging tuft. The ichneumon, “ presenting a
lively image of a beneficent power perpetually engaged in
the destruction of those noisome and dangerous reptiles
which propagate with such terrible rapidity in hot and hu¬
mid climates,” was adored by the Egyptians. It still abounds
in the northern parts of the country, that is, between the
See also the 2d volume of Burchell’s Travels, and Griffith’s
1 It is the Hyarna pida of Temminek, and the Canis piclus of Desm.
Animal Kinjdom, vol. ii. p. 376.
2 Synopsis of Mammalia, p. 151. One of its previous specific names ou^ht assuredly to have been retained
?rse. Mediterranean and Siout, but it is rare in Upper Erypt.
Cmivora. It preys on rats, reptiles, and the eggs both of birds and
- v crocodiles, and is itself attacked by foxes, jackals, and the
animal called Tupinambis. It is not bred in confinement
by the modern Egyptians (who call it Nems), but beino-
easily domesticated when taken young, and of kindly docile
habits, it is often brought up as a kind of pet about their
houses. Like cats, these animals acquire a strong attach¬
ment to particulai dwellings, and readily recognise the
voice and person of their master.
The Indian species, commonly called the mangouste (II.
mungos, Desm.), is less in size than the preceding, its co¬
lour paler and more grey, and its tail pointed. It is cele¬
brated, like its brother of the Nile, for its destruction of
poisonous snakes and other reptiles, and is still more deser¬
vedly renowned for its strange instinctive discovery of the
medicinal virtues of the plant called Ophiorhiza munqos
as an antidote to the otherwise fatal effects of their enve¬
nomed fangs. Another nearly allied species is the Ichneu¬
mon gnseus of Desmarest ( Viverra cafra, .Gmelin). It is
easily domesticated, and thrives well on bread and milk.
Yet its carnivorous propensities are unsubduable, and it
cannot be trusted in the vicinity of caged birds or poultry.
It may be rendered useful in the destruction of rats and
other vermin. This animal is said to occur both in India
and the south of Africa. To it M. Geoffrey has (we think
MAMMALIA.
Genus Hyaina,
I — 1
Storr, Cuv. Incisives
molars
5 — 5
4 — 4
119
canines r I‘ef£e-
Carnivora.
— 34. All the extremities with
1 — l’
four toes. There are three false molars above, and four
below, all conical, blunt, and singularly large ; the upper
carnivorous cheek-tooth has a small tubercle within ante¬
riorly, but the inferior presents only a ample of strong
cutting points. ®
The great size ot the teeth in this genus, combined with
the extraordinary strength of the muscles of the jaws and
neck, bestow upon it a tremendous power of mastication,
by means of which the species can crush to atoms the bones
of the largest and most obdurate prey. Their hold is in¬
deed so strong, and so tenacious, that it is almost impos-
Sible to wrest any thing from them when once enclosed
within their iron fangs. Hence, among the Arabians, their
very name_ is used as the symbol of obstinacy. Elymnas
generally inhabit caverns and other rocky places, from
whence they issue under cover of the night to prowl for
food. They are gregarious, not so much we think from any
social principle, as from a gluttonous and grasping instinct,
which induces many to assemble together even over the
most insufficient meal. They are accused of violating the
sepulchres of the dead, for the sake of devouring whatever
    , u i- i ;—7 — ^ utrvuui him wiiatever
erroneously) applied the name of mangousttTras 'thus inTiumpd^F*0 dlSint1er’ or.may chance to find but hastily
bestowing an Egyptian name upon a species which assnivA.. ^ij 10r^ such notions, however slightly founded,
Iv occurs not in iLp nnnnf™ tL,. x>u„ i.- .V" us\ia associate a peculiar gloominess and malignity of
rnsnnciti/”m    . , J
Incisives,
on
ly occurs not in the country of the Pharaohs.
Genus Ryz^na, Illiger. Surikata, Desm.
6 • 1 — 1 . 6 — G
_ canines molars ; = 40. Four toes
both the anterior and posterior extremities.
This genus is constituted by the Surikate alone ( Viverra
tetradactyla, Linn.), an animal from the south of Africa
of a nature intermediate between the pole-cats and ich¬
neumons. _ It is easily tamed, and, like a cat, becomes at¬
tached to its own dwelling. Buffon erred in deeming it a
native of America.
We shall terminate this subdivision of the Digitigrada
c tAA:.notlce10f a sinSular animal from the southern parts
of Africa, which conducts us naturally to the hyenas.
We allude to the Proteles Lalandii of Isidore G. St
Hilaire,1 formerly regarded as a genet, and named pro¬
visionally Viverra hycenoides by Baron Cuvier. It was
originally transmitted from the Cape by M. Delalande,
and belongs undoubtedly to a distinct genus. Its cranium
partakes of the characters of the dogs and civets, and, like
ic canine tribes, it bears a fifth or rudimentary toe upon
tiie fore feet; but its raised shoulders, sloping back, and
all its outer aspect, are precisely those of a hyena, even to
tlie radiated markings of the fur. It is a nocturnal animal,
an inhabitant of the banks of the Fish River in Caffraria, and
is supposed to have been examined as yet only in an imma¬
ture condition. Its teeth amount to thirty, of which four
are canine, twelve incisives, with eight molars in the up¬
per jaw, and six in the under ; but there is reason to be-
ieve that our knowledge of its true condition is as yet
imperfect. See Plate CCCXXXIII, figs. 2 and 2 a.
3d Subdivision.
^ tuberculous tooih behind the large carnivorous cheek¬
tooth oj the lower jaw.
^division consists of the most bloodthirsty and car-
— 0 ,t'le claf ’ a"d contains the Linmean genus Felis,
tur di addlt;on the hyaenas, which the great Swedish na¬
turals placed in the same genus as the dogs and wolves.
disposition with the aspect of these creatures, and the name
of “ laughing hyena,” which one of them bears, seems to
render their character still more unnatural and revolting.
We fancy them indulging in their horrid mirth, like reck¬
less resurrectionists,—their hilarity increasing as they tear
the protecting cerements from the dead man’s grave. Like
any other animal, however, the hyaena is perfectly capa¬
ble of being tamed, and indeed a contradictory feature in
regard to diet has been observed even in the manifestation
of its natural and unbiassed instincts. About Mount Li-
banus, Syria, the north of Asia, and the vicinity of Algiers,
the hyaenas, according to Bruce, live mostly upon large and
succulent bulbous roots, especially those of Fritillarias,
u %a,j informs us that he has known large patches of
the fields turned up by them in their search for onions and
other plants. He adds, that these were chosen with such
care, that after having been peeled, if any small decayed spot
became perceptible, they were left uneaten. In Abyssinia,
however, and many other countries, their habits are certain¬
ly exclusively, or, at least, decidedly carnivorous, although
the same courage or rather fierceness which an animal diet
usually produces does not so obviously manifest itself. In
Barbary, according to the same authority, the Moors, in
the daytime, will seize the hyaena by the ears and drag him
along, without his resenting such ignominious treatment
otherwise than by attempting to draw himself back; and
the hunters, when his cave is large enough to give them
entrance, take a torch in their hands, and advancing
straight towards him, pretend to produce fascination by the
utterance of some senseless jargon. The creature in the
mean time becomes so astounded by the unaccustomed
noise and lurid glare, that he allows a blanket to be cast
over him, and unresistingly succumbs to fate. Bruce one
day locked up a goat, a kid, and a lamb, with a Barbary
hyaena which had fasted, and in the evening he found the
intended victims not only alive but quite uninjured. He
repeated the experiment, however, on another occasion,
during the night, with a young ass, a goat, and a fox, and
next morning he was not unreasonably astonished to find
the whole of them not only killed, but actually eaten, with
1 Mem. du Mus., t. xi. pi. 20.
120
MAMMALIA.
Ferae, the exception of some of the ass’s bones ! This was pretty
arnivora.weii for an animal so curious in bulbous roots. Yet the
experience of the narrator was undoubtedly great. “ I do
not think, says the Abyssinian traveller, “ there is any one
that hath hitherto written of this animal who ever saw the
thousandth part of them that I have. They were a plague
in Abyssinia in every situation, both in the city and the
field, and I think surpassed the sheep in number. Gondar
was full of them from the time it turned dark till the dawn
ot day, seeking the different pieces of slaughtered carcasses
which this cruel and unclean people expose in the streets
without burial, and who firmly believe that these animals
are Falasha from the neighbouring mountains, transformed
by magic, and come down to eat human flesh in the dark
in safety.” On entering his tent one night he perceived
two large blue eyes glaring at him from the head of his
bed. It was a hyaena with several bunches of candles in its
mouth, but which immediately paid for its temerity as a tal¬
low-chandler with its life.
Africa is the true country of hyaenas, although the striped
species (Hycena vulgaris, Desm., Cams hyaena, I am.) ex¬
tends into western Asia. The spotted or Cape hyaena
(H. caper,sis, Desm., Cards crocuta, Linn.) resembles the
species just named except in the external markings of the
fur. It carries' the posterior part of the body very low,
owing to the articulations of the hind legs being con¬
stantly bent. It is apt to feel dazzled by strong light,
which gives an appearance of indecision to its movements
during the day. It is easily tamed, and, according to Sir
John Barrow, is trained in the district of Schneuburg
for the service of the chace. The third species (which
we here figure as an example of the genus, see Plate
CCCXXXIII, fig. 4) is the brown hyaena (//. brunnea,
Thunberg,1 H. villosa, Smith).2 It is likewise a native
of Southern Africa, and is characterized by the blackish rays
upon its legs.3
4
Genus Felis, Linn.
■ 4 3 — 3
— or  :
3 3—3
Incisives canines -
6 1—1
, molars
30 or 28. Of the four molars of the up¬
per jaw two are conical or false molars, one is a very large
three-lobed carnivorous cheek-tooth, and the fourth (want¬
ing in some of the species) is a small tuberculous tooth,
broader than long. The molars of the under jaw consist
of two simple compressed false molars, and one bicuspidate
carnivorous cheek-tooth. There is no tuberculous tooth in
this jaw, but its functions are performed by the inner lobe of
the cheek-tooth, the rounded point of which, when the jaws
are closed, is brought into contact with the flattened sur¬
face of the upper tubercular grinder. Plead and muzzle
short. Anterior feet with five toes, the posterior with four,
all strongly armed with sharp curved retractile talons, held
backwards in repose. Tongue rough, with horny papillte
pointing backwards.
The feline race, containing the most bloodthirsty and fe¬
rocious of animals, is characterized by an organic structure
admirably adapted to the wants and habits of its numerous
species. These differ greatly in size and colour, but re¬
semble each other in shape and general proportions. The
genus is distributed over the whole world, with the excep¬
tion of Australia and the polar circles.
In a state of nature animals of the cat kind are almost
continually in action both by night and day. They either
walk, creep, or advance rapidly by prodigious bounds, but
they seldom run, owing, it is believed, to the extreme per
flexibility of their limbs and vertebral column, which do not Carnim ■
preserve the rigidity suitable to that species of progression.v—-
Their sense of sight, especially during twilight, is acute,
their hearing very perfect, their perception of smell less so
than among the canine race. Their most obtuse sense is
supposed to be that of taste ;—the lingual nerve in the lion,
according to Desmoulins, being no larger than that of a
middle-sized dog. The tongue of these animals is in truth
almost as much an organ of mastication as of taste, the
sharp and callous points with which it is covered being used
for tearing away the softer parts of the animal substances
on which they prey. The perception of touch is said to
reside in great perfection in the small bulbs at the base of
the whiskers.
We have elsewhere stated our opinion, that all that has
been said regarding the noble generosity and superior
courage of the lion and other species of the race, is con-
sidei ed by naturalists to be purely fabulous.4 They seize
their prey by surprise, lying in treacherous ambuscade, or
gliding insidiously through dark ravines ; and are constitu¬
tionally of a nature so shy and mistrustful, that if they fail
in their first attempt upon the life of even an insignificant
creature, they rarely renew it again upon the same indivi¬
dual. Neither does their ferocity by any means imply, as
so frequently supposed, the fatal necessity of murder ; for
the instinct to destroy is only the sensation of hunger in
animals having a propensity to flesh, and provided with the
means of obtaining it. This instinct is itself effaceable by
an artificial supply of food, provided continuously and in
abundance. No existing animal (wre mean of course of the
higher classes,—inhabitants of the same element with our¬
selves) is rendered incapable, by the constitution of its na¬
ture, of being ameliorated by the art of man. The blood-
thirsty jaguar of America plays with its keeper, as a kitten
does with a child ; and our menageries of recent years have
exhibited many Bengal tigers of very mild and gentle man¬
ners.
The females are remarkable for their tender attachment to
their young, while the males are distinguished by a peculiar
jealousy, as it may be called, which frequently renders them
the most formidable enemies of their own offspring. Flence it
is, that the former sex usually conceal the places of their
“ procreant cradle,” or frequently remove their young. They
are, upon the whole, a solitary tribe (although young lions
sometimes assemble together in small family groups), and,
like most animals wiiich feed on living prey, rarely seek
each other’s society except during the season of love. Like
the “ mighty hunters” among the human race, they require
an extensive domain for the exercise of their predacious
habits, and a near neighbour can therefore be regarded
only as a mortal foe. It is the uneradicable nature of this
sentiment which causes that peculiar noise in the throat
and the mistrustful rolling of the eye, observable even in
the most perfectly reclaimed individuals, when they are ap¬
proached during meal-time. The cry varies greatly in the
different species. The lion, when in that mood “ of stern
disdain at which the desert trembles,” roars with a voice
resembling distant thunder, deep, tremulous, and broken ;
the jaguar barks almost like a dog; the cry of the wily
panther is like the grating of a saw; and most of them",
when pleased, appear to purr after the manner of our do¬
mestic cat, with an energy proportioned to the size of the
species.
1 Menu de l'Acad, de Stock. 1820, part i. pi. 2. 2 Linn. Trans, vol. xv. pi. 19.
3 The Canis {Hycena) Hycmnmelas of Bruce is nothing more than a variety of the common striped species. The H venalica of Bur
chell {H. picta, Tern.) has been already noticed under another head. The fossil species do not fall within the province of the pre¬
sent article. r ^
4 Illustrations of Zoology, vol. i. Genus Felis.
MAMMALIA.
v,. t It would be inconsistent with the nature and prescribed
fora, extent of the present treatise to enter into descriptive de-
-''tails of the numerous and diversified species of which the
genus Felis is composed.1 The following notices must
therefore be few and brief.
The lion {Felis leo) king of beasts, is easily distinguish¬
ed by his uniform tawny hue, his large and flowing mane,
and tufted taih His general aspect is indeed strikingly
bold and magnificent. His large and shaggy mane, sur¬
rounding his imperial front,—his bright commanding eyes,
which upon the least excitement seem to glow with un¬
earthly lustre,—his magnanimous and lofty countenance,
symbolical of boldness from remote antiquity,—to say no ¬
thing of his muscular limbs, extensile talons, and the irre¬
sistible armature of his deadly jaws,—certainly embody our
liveliest conceptions of warlike grandeur, and of a power
not unbefitting his assumption of regal sway. The sou¬
thern parts of Africa produce a variety of which the mane
is nearly black. Those of Barbary are brown, with a very
thick mane covering the neck and shoulders of the male.
In Senegal they are of a yellow hue, with thinner manes.
The Asiatic lion seldom attains to the dimensions of the
South African kind, and his colour is paler and more uni¬
form. Modern naturalists seem inclined to regard some of
these animals as of different species, according to their natu¬
ral localities, but they have as yet failed to point out satis¬
factory characters for their specific separation ; and their
general reasoning on the subject is rather hypothetical than
conclusive.
The geographical distribution of the lion seems to have
become greatly circumscribed within these last two thou¬
sand years, for from many districts where it formerly
abounded it has now entirely disappeared. According to
Herodotus it was once sufficiently common both in Thrace
and Macedonia, and it is also known to have abounded in
Asia, from the shores of Syria to the banks of the Ganges
and the Oxus. The vast numbers fought together by the
Romans during the games of the circus have been often
recorded.
Inferior to the lion in the majesty of his deportment, but
nearly equal in size and strength, and perhaps superior in
activity, is the tiger (Felis tigris), a familiarly known, but
greatly dreaded feline animal, of which the external cha¬
racters need not to be here detailed. This “ most beauti¬
ful and cruel beast of prey” has a more slender body, and
a smaller and rounder head than his great congener. His
motions, notwithstanding his vast deceptive bulk, are full
of graceful ease and lightness ; and the rich tawny yellow
of the prevailing portion of his coat, contrasted with the
numerous sloping lines of black, and the pure white of the
under portions of his body, render him one of the most perfect
pictures of savage beauty presented by the brute creation.
I he geographical distribution of this gorgeous tyrant of the
East is much more extended (so far as Asia is concerned,
for he does not occur in Africa) from south to north than
that of the lion, as he not only advances far into those de¬
sert countries which separate China from Siberia, but is
also found between the Irtysch and the Ischim, and even,
though rarely, as far as the banks of the Obi. In a longi¬
tudinal direction, however, there is a much greater restric¬
tion of the one species than of the other, as the tiger ap¬
pears but rarely to pass to the westward of a line drawn
from the mouths of the Indus in a northerly direction to
121
the shores of the Caspian Sea. The species was therefore Fene.
much less familiarly known to ancient writers than the Carnivora.
lion, and Megasthenes alone among the Greeks seems to' * '
have been acquainted with it from personal observation.
Aristotle mentions it merely as an animal of which he had
heard by name; and, even among the Romans, it was long
regarded as of extreme rarity. Claudius exhibited four at
one time, and it has been reasonably conjectured that the
beautiful mosaic picture of four tigers, discovered a good
many years ago in Rome, near the Arch of Gallienus, was
executed in commemoration of so striking and unprecedent¬
ed a display.2
The panther {Felts pardus, Linn.), the pardolis of an¬
cient writers, is believed to occur over a great portion of
Africa, the warmer parts of Asia, and the islands of the In¬
dian Archipelago. It is usually marked along the sides
with six or seven rows of black spots, each spot being itself
composed of five or six small simple spots ranged in a cir¬
cle. Ihe leopard {Felis leopardus, Linn.) is a species
closely allied to the preceding, but marked with ten rows
of smaller spots, and believed to be confined to Africa.
The hunting tiger or chittah {Felis jubata, Schreber), one
of the most lively and elegant of the genus, is less than the
panther, of a more slender form, and proportionally higher
in the legs. Its toes are lengthened like those of a dog,
and its claws, very slightly retractile, are blunter and less
curved than in any other species of the cat kind. It is an
Asiatic animal well known in eastern countries as an acces¬
sary in the chase of antelopes. The extent of its geogra¬
phical distribution is still, we think, obscure. According
to Thunberg it is common in the south of Africa,—a fact
confirmed by Lichtenstein, who saw the chief of a horde of
Caffres clothed in its beautiful and sumptuous skins ; Tem-
minck has ascertained its existence along the western shores
of that division of the world ; and several specimens have
been lately transmitted from Nubia by Ruppel to the Frank¬
fort Museum. Now the range is so great from the north
of Africa to the far forests of Sumatra, where hunting tigers
likewise abound, that observers begin to surmise that two
species have been probably confounded under one name.
Those from eastern countries are said to be more dog-like,
to have longer legs, and a scantier mane. The chittah is
known in Persia by the name of youze, and naturalists are
of opinion that many of the skins received by furriers from
Senegal and other parts of Africa, are identical with those
of the hunting tiger of Hindostan. Many other feline spe¬
cies occur in Asia, Africa, and the eastern islands.
In the New World animals of this genus are likewise
very numerous. Of these one of the most noted is the
great panther of the furriers, tigre d’Amerique of the
French, commonly called the jaguar {Felis onca, Linn.).
It is a fierce and dangerous species, of which the habits
have been well described by Humboldt, Azara, and other
writers. Its general colour and aspect resemble those of
the preceding spotted species, but it is of greater size, pro-
portionably lower on the legs, with a larger head, and the
circular spots, ranged along the sides in four rows, have
usually each a smaller spot in the centre. The jaguar in¬
habits the forests which skirt the magnificent rivers of South
America, and is by far the most formidable animal of the
New World, where it is held in great dread by the native
tribes, who are impressed with the belief that it prefers
their flesh to that of white men. They are probably what
Most of these may be found in two works very accessible to all classes of readers,—the Naturalist’s Library, edited by Sir W.
' ,armne (Mammalia, vol. ii.), and the Miscellany of' Natural History, edited by Sir T D. Lauder (vol. ii. Feline Species). See also
.ninth s Animal Kingdom, vol. ii, Desmarest’s Man.malogie, p. 216, Temminck’s Monographic de Mammalogie, t. i. p. 73, the Atlas to
IvuppeU s Reise im Nordlichen Africa, Azara’s Voyage au Paraguay, and his Essai sur l’Hist. Nat. des Quadrupedes of that country, and
Wilsons Illustrations of Zoology as last referred to.
2 See (hsemens Fossiles, t. iv. p. 415. We do not think it necessarv to buidcn our pages with anecdotes of tiger-liuntincr, &c. as
tnese are to be met with (more than enough) in so many accessible volumes.
1 99
I A~djMd
MAMMALIA.
Ferse.
Carnivora.
the Highland schoolmaster would call more accessible, be¬
ing less incumbered with clothing. While travelling, they
light great fires during the night, from the notion (we be¬
lieve well founded), that most wild animals fear the restless
glare of that fierce element; yet, of six men stated by
Azara as having been devoured by jaguars, two were car¬
ried away from the immediate precincts of a blazing fire at
which they bivouacked. This animal so greatly abounded
in Paraguay before the expulsion of the Jesuits, that 2000
are known to have been slain in a single year. Humboldt
mentions, about the same period, that more than 4000 ja¬
guars were killed annually throughout the Spanish colonies,
and that 2000 skins were formerly exported every year
from Buenos Ayres alone. No wonder that a cheerful fire,
amid the damp recesses of the forests, should be there found
less pleasant than in colder climes.
Another fierce, but less powerful species of the New
World, is the puma or American lion (Felis concolor,
Linn.). It is almost the only animal against which the
charge of wanton or unnecessary cruelty seems well found¬
ed. It has been known to kill fifty sheep at one time, for
the sake of sipping a little of the blood of each. Its man¬
ners differ considerably from those of the jaguar. It rather
inhabits plains than forests, and approaches nearer to the
habitations of man. In ascending a tree it is said to spring
up at a single leap, and to descend in the same manner;
while the jaguar runs up exactly like a common cat. Not¬
withstanding its ferocity in a state of nature, it is easily
tamed when taken young, as we have elsewhere recorded
of the specimen brought home in the Diamond frigate, by
the late lamented Captain Lord Napier. The puma is
more widely distributed than the preceding species, as it
occurs not only over a great portion of South America,
but extends northwards to the province of Pennsylvania,
and even makes occasional inroads into the state of New
York. For the history of the beautiful ocelot (Felis par-
dalis, Linn.), and of the other species of the New World,
we must refer the reader to the works mentioned in the
preceding note. In illustration of the genus, we have
figured (Plate CCCXXXIII, fig. 3) the female of the chati
(Felis mitis, F. Cuvier), a rare species, from South Ame¬
rica. We have also represented1 (Plate CCCXXXIII,
fig. fi) another small species sent from India to the Edin¬
burgh Museum. It exhibits an alliance to the lynxes in
its slightly tufted ears.
In regard to the European feline animals, the only in¬
digenous species (exclusive of the lynxes) is the common
wild cat (Felis catus, Linn.), usually, though perhaps er¬
roneously, regarded as the source of our domestic kind. A
few lines may not be misbestowed on the subject of this
curious inquiry. The opinion generally current amongst
us, and even adopted by most naturalists, as to the origin
of that useful domestic animal which we find as a reclaim¬
ed captive wherever man is in any measure civilized and
gregarious, is, that it has sprung from the larger inhabitant
of our rocky ravines and forests, a species of a brownish
grey colour, paler beneath, marked with some deeper
transverse bands, and three bars upon the tail, of which the
lower part is blackish. Now several circumstances seem
at variance with this supposition. The tail of the domes¬
tic cat is longer and tapers to a point,—that of the wild cat
being of nearly equal thickness throughout, and thus ap¬
pearing as if truncated at the extremity. The head, too,
in the former is larger in proportion to the body.2 All our
other domestic creatures are larger than their original
races, but the house-cat, supposing it to have sprung from
the indigenous woodland species, seems to have reversed
the rule ; for never even its most pampered and overgrown
condition does it in anyway equal the powerful dimensions Fer®
of its supposed original. Carnivora,
When we seek to ascertain the origin of any anciently
domesticated species, the mind naturally reverts to periods
of antiquity, and to the history of nations characterized by
remote records. It was from within the sacred precincts
of the temples of Isis, and under the reign of the Pharoahs
or Egyptian kings, that the earliest rays of science dawned
upon the nations. There the heroic Greeks “ drew golden
light,” and from thence were distributed, by more or less
direct gradations, the knowledge and civilization which,
long waning at the primal source with feeble and uncertain
gleam, have burned like an unconsuming fire amid those
“ barbarian lands” to which they were conveyed. Egypt,
so remarkable in the early civilization of the human race,
might reasonably be supposed even a priori to have fur¬
nished the primitive families of mankind with one or more
of its domesticated animals ; and in relation more particu¬
larly to the present subject, we know that of all the ancient
nations of whom we possess records, the Egyptians were
the most noted for their appreciation of the useful qualities
of the cat. It was even embalmed in their temples, in
common with the mystical body of the ibis, and we doubt
not it must have become familiar to them from its benefi¬
cial qualities as a domestic species ; for the reverential re¬
gard in which several animals were held in ancient days
may be supposed to have sprung either from the beneficial
influence which they exercised in the economy of nature,
or the more direct benefits which they conferred in the do¬
mestic state. That the people in question derived their
cats from an indigenous source is more than probable, es¬
pecially as a wild Egyptian species (Felis maniculata,
Tem.) bears, of all others, the closest resemblance to the
domestic breed. At all events, it could scarcely be drawn
from the wild cat of Europe, as that species, though widely
distributed over all the wooded countries of the continent,
and ranging through Russia into Siberia, and over a great
range of Asiatic territory, is unknown on the banks of the
Nile, and seems to hold its centre of dominion rather in the
temperate than the warmer regions of the earth. Another
argument against the derivation of our domestic cats from
the indigenous woodland species, may be drawn from the
extreme scarcity of the former in the early ages of our
history. It is known that in the time of Hoel the Good,
King of Wales, who died in the year 948, laws were enact¬
ed to preserve and establish the price of cats and other ani¬
mals remarkable for being alike rare and useful, and for¬
feits were exacted from any one who should kill the cat
that guarded the prince’s granary. Now, these precaution¬
ary regulations would seem to indicate that our domestic
cats were not originally natives of our island, but were in¬
troduced from some of the warmer countries of the east,
and required for a time considerable care and attention to
preserve the breed. This would scarcely have been neces¬
sary had the original stock been found prowling in every
thicket and corrie of the country, which the wild cat un¬
doubtedly was in those distant days. We therefore agree
with M. Temminck and other naturalists who suppose that
the gloved cat of Northern Africa (F. maniculata) is the
more probable source of our domestic kind (see Plate
CCCXXXIII, fig. 5). Its proportions agree with those of
the wild cat of Britain, but it is smaller by about one-third,
and its tail is comparatively longer and more slender. The
nature of its coat and the distribution of its colours re¬
semble those of the female wild cat, although it is more of
a yellowish ash colour,—a hue, we may observe, which pre¬
vails in the natural tinting of many of the quadrupeds of
northern Africa.3
1 From Naturalist s Library (Felince), p. 232, pi. 25. It is figured in the work referred to as the Felis ornata, but it is described
under the title of Felis servalina. 2 Fleming’s British Animals, p. 15.
3 See Temminck’s Monographics, p. 120, note, Edinburgh Cabinet Library (Nubia and Abyssinia, No. xii. p. 401), and Ituppel’s
work before referred to.
MAMMALIA.
p;-®. The last group of the feline genus of which we shall
^ar:vora.make mention includes the animals known under the name
■jp'l ^ of lynx. They are chiefly characterized by the length of
their fur, the comparative shortness of their tails, and their
tufted ears. Their skins are of considerable value in com¬
merce, and it appears that several species have been con¬
founded by naturalists under the name of Felis lynx, Linn.
The largest and most beautiful is sent to us from Asia by
way of Russia. Its fur is of a reddish-grey colour, spotted
with black. It equals a wolf in size, and is the Felis
etrvaria of Temminck. The lynx of the north of Europe
(Felis borealis, Temm.) is of an ashy grey, varying to
brown and hoary, the fur being extremely full. Natural¬
ists are now inclined to recur to the opinion of Pennant,
that the Canada lynx {F. Canadensis, Geoff'.) and this spe¬
cies are identical. According to Dr Richardson, they are
timid creatures, incapable of attacking any of the larger
quadrupeds, but well armed for the capture of the Ameri¬
can hare, on which they chiefly prey. They make a poor
fight when surprised by a hunter on a tree ; for though
they spit like cats, and set up their hair in anger, they
are easily killed by a blow on the back with a slender stick.
They swim well, and will cross the arm of a lake two miles
wide. Their flesh, which is white and tender, though ra¬
ther flavourless, is eaten by the natives.
The lynx of temperate and southern Europe (Felis lynx,
Temm.) has a red fur, spotted with brown. It has now
almost disappeared from the more densely peopled portions
of the continent. A specimen described by M. Bory St
Vincent was, however, killed within eight leagues of Lis¬
bon. It is rather frequent among the central and southern
mountains of Spain, where it is said to attain a greater
size and a more beautiful aspect than elsewhere. It is
likewise well known in the Neapolitan dominions. We
presume that this is the species which occurs in Germany,
where, however, according to Tiedemann, it is now much
rarer than of old. M. Schyntz informs us that it is by no
means unusual in Switzerland. M. Delarbe mentions one
that was killed in Auvergne in 1788, and Cuvier has re¬
corded another destroyed at Barege not many years ago.
We are not aware that it exists at present in France,
though it may no doubt still descend occasionally in search
of prey from the more secure fastnesses of the Pyrenees.
The south of Europe produces a distinct species of smaller
size, described by Oken under the name of Felis pardina.
The caracal or Barbary lynx (Felis caracal, Linn., see
Plate CCCXXXIII, fig. 8) inhabits warmer and more south¬
ern climates than the preceding. It is a wild and savage ani¬
mal, of a uniform wine red colour, about the height of a
fox, but much more powerful. It has been known to attack
and tear a hound in pieces. The caracal is probably the
animal designated by the ancients under the name of lynx,
as the species now distinguished by that title has never been
found in those countries of which the lynx of the ancients
was said to be a native. Pliny assigns Ethiopia as its ori¬
ginal country, and according to Ovid,
“ Victa racemifero lyncas dedit India Baccho.”
Several other species are described by naturalists. Of
these we have here engraved the booted lynx of Bruce
(Felis caligata, Temm., see Plate CCCXXXIII, fig. 7), an
animal extensively distributed over Africa, and also occur¬
ring, it is said, in Southern India.
Tribe III—Amphibia.
The concluding tribe of the carnivorous Mammalia con¬
sists of the seals and morses. Their feet are so short, and
so encompassed in the skin, as to render their terrestrial
123
movements very awkward, but as the intervals of their toes Ferae,
are filled by membranes admirably adapted for natation, Carnivora,
their swimming powers are nearly inexhaustible, and they ''“’"'v '
pass the greater portion of their lives in water. The form
of the body is elongated, the spine extremely flexible, the
muscles very powerful, the fur short and close.
The genus Phoca of Linnaeus comprises a great amount,
and a considerable diversity of species,—some of which,
though still regarded as seals, are separated into minor
genera by modern naturalists. The teeth differ consider¬
ably both in their nature and number, and when accurate¬
ly ascertained and distinctly described, will no doubt aid
the systematic observer in his arrangement of the species
into natural groups. All the species agree in having five
toes to both extremities. Those of the fore paws diminish
in size from the what we may call the thumb to the exte¬
rior or little finger, while on the hind legs the lateral toes
are the largest, and the others diminish towards the centre.
The form of the head bears some resemblance to that of a
dog, and in their natural cunning and intelligence, and
their capacity of being tamed and instructed, they present
a farther likeness to that sagacious creature. They prey
chiefly on fish, and are extremely destructive to salmon
and other migratory and gregarious species along our shores,
in estuaries, and at the mouths of rivers. They seldom,
however, ascend the fresh waters to any considerable dis¬
tance from the sea, and the alleged occurrence of seals in
remote Siberian rivers, and the inland waters of Lake
Baikal, is a fact which requires confirmation.1
Although extensively distributed over the waters of the
ocean, it is in high latitudes (whether northern or southern)
that seals occur in greatest abundance,—such as inhabit
tropical regions being as it were insulated from their kind,
and occurring in less numerous assemblages. The species
are so vaguely described by voyagers, and have been even
as yet so indifferently characterized by naturalists, that
their geographical boundaries are in no way well defined;
but we may rest assured that those authors are in error who
describe our northern kinds as occurring equally among
the antarctic icebergs. All other animals have limits which
they do not pass, and seals are doubtless subject to a cor¬
responding restriction. For example, the gigantic species
called the sea elephant (Phocaproboscidea, Desm.) is never
found in the northern hemisphere, while such of the smaller
southern species as have been examined, are found to dif¬
fer from those of corresponding size, which are native to
the European shores. In regard to the geographical dis¬
tribution of marine amphibia, the views of Peron are de¬
serving of consideration. He is of opinion that the species,
in reference to their natural location, form three great geo¬
graphical groups, of which two are northern (Atlantic and
Pacific) and one southern, and that the species of each of
these regions are proper to itself. He inclines to apply
the same principles to the cetaceous tribes. In neither case,
however, has he sufficiently considered the numerous spe¬
cies which occur in temperate and equatorial regions. A
proper exposition of the species of the Mediterranean and
the Euxine, and their comparison on the one hand with
those of the north, and on the other with such as are known
to occur in the enclosed waters of the Caspian, the Red
Sea, the Persian Gulf, the Indian Ocean, and the frozen
waters of the extreme south, would prove a subject of deep
interest. It is indeed singular that animals so important
in the scale of creation, whether we regard their great eco¬
nomic value to mankind, their position in the system of na¬
ture, or their peculiar organization and habits of life, should
hitherto have attracted so superficial a notice on the part
of naturalists.
1 See Krachenninikow’s Voyage en Sibtrie et au Kamtschatka, t. ii. p. 421.
124
M A M M A L I A.
Carnivora ^ie restriCted genus Phoca (Peron), the external ear
^ is obsolete or rudimentary ; the incisives are pointed, with
simple edges ; the toes possess a certain degree of motion,
and the claws by which they are terminated are placed on
the margin of the uniting membrane.
Our common seal (Phoca vitulina, Linn., see Plate
CCCXXXIV. fig. 1.) possesses, in common with the little
group of species with which it is associated ( Calocephalus,
F. Cuv.), six incisive teeth above, and four below. It varies
greatly in colour, and sometimes attains the length of six
feet. It is frequent along the northern European shores,
and extends into very high latitudes. It is even said to
occur in the Caspian Sea, and the great fresh water lakes
of Russia and Siberia; but this assertion, as Baron Cuvier
Las remarked, requires to be confirmed by an exact com¬
parison of species. Seals were formerly used as food,
though their flesh is coarse and dark coloured. Their blood
is blackish, and very abundant. At present they are slain
chiefly on account of their skins and oil. Dean Monroe
informs us, that on the banks of Lochegrenord, in Islay,
they were formerly killed by means of trained dogs. They
seem occasionally subject to epidemic diseases. About fifty
years ago numerous carcasses were cast ashore in every bay
in the north of Scotland, Orkney, and Shetland, and many
were found in a sickly state at sea.1
Our other British species is called the great seal (Phoca
burbata, Fabr.). It attains the length often or twelve feet,
and seems almost confined with us to the western and nor¬
thern isles, although it has been occasionally met with off
the Fern Isles, and a specimen was shot a few years ago
near Stonehaven by the late Lord Cassilis. It spreads,
however, far and wide along the icy arctic shores.
Of the antarctic species we may name the small nailed
seal, Phoca leptonyx of Blainville (genus Stenorhinchus.
F. Cuv.), to which the species brought home by Captain
Weddell from the South Orkneys, and now in the Edin¬
burgh Museum, seems nearly allied.2 The head of the
latter is very small, the neck greatly elongated. Its teeth
4 1 1 5 5
ai*e, incisors-, canines 1 -, molars    ; 32. The
4 1 — 1 5—5
last named teeth are sharp, compressed, trilobate.
One of the most noted of the southern seals is the mon¬
strous species so often mentioned by Dampier, Anson,
Cook, and other navigators, under the names of sea lion,
sea elephant, &c. It is the Phoca leonina, Linn. Ph.pro-
boscidea of Peron and Desmarest, and probably also the
Ph. Ansonii of the last named author, for its synonyms are
almost as numerous as its own oily herds. It constitutes
the type of the modern genus Macrorhinus, distinguished
by having four incisive teeth in the upper jaw, and only two
in the under, the molars obtusely conical, and the muzzle
in the form of a short moveable proboscis. The species are
widely extended over the southern hemisphere, and furnish
the English and American fisheries with an important arti¬
cle of commerce. The sea elephant above alluded to is
the largest of the group, attaining sometimes to the length
of 30 feet, and measuring from I 5 to 18 feet in circum¬
ference. The lower canines are long and projecting, and
the male during the rutting season is characterized by the
full inflated condition of the muzzle. It inhabits many of
the desert isles and sand} shores of the southern hemi¬
sphere. According to Peron it migrates every season,
with a view to avoid the extremes of heat and cold, mov¬
ing southwards in summer and northwards in winter. Its
favourite food consists of cuttle fish, and it loves to repose pg,.
itself amid the thick and tangled beds of Laminaria giyan- Camivo^!
tea. It is probable that it also feeds on fuci, as a quantity
of marine vegetation has been found in its interior, min¬
gled with the bones of cephalopodous mollusca. These
animals keep much at sea during the first four months of
the year, after which they pay frequent visits to the land.
They move with great ease and some celerity in the wa¬
ter, but their motions on shore are slow and awkward, and
they are then easily slain, notwithstanding their great
strength and gigantic size. Their dispositions are natural¬
ly mild, their habits indolent, and their general character
much less wary and mistrustful than that of the smaller
tribes of seals. They are thus easily approached by man,
and fall a ready victim to the lance of their pursuers. One
male has generally several females, and, during the season
of love, dreadful conflicts take place with a view to the for¬
mation of a seraglio. A certain degree of domestic peace
is established in the autumn. Gestation continues about
nine months, and the females bring forth one or two young
ones in June of the ensuing year. At this period they
usually assemble together on sandy flats, at some little dis¬
tance from the shore, and surrounded by the males. They
give suck for two or three months; during which time they
are said to reside entirely on shore. They then descend
together to the sea, where, after a few weeks’ refreshment,
they recommence their contentious courtships.3
We cannot here enter into farther details regarding thfe
seal tribe, and shall conclude by observing that the Phoca
monachus of Gmehn, a well-known Mediterranean species,
common among the islands of the Adriatic, and the shores
of Greece, and probably the species best known to ancient
writers, belongs to the genus Pelagius of F. Cuvier, cha-
racterized by four incisors both above and below,—the
molars being like obtuse cones, with a slightly developed
heel before and behind.
I he preceding groups of amphibious mammalia agree in
the absence or rudimentary state of the external ear. It is
otherwise, however, with the remaining genus Otaria,
Peron, which is distinguished by external ears, and by the
singular character of having double cutting edges to the
four intermediate incisors of the upper jaw, the external
being small and simple. All the molars are simply conical;
the toes of the fore paws are almost immoveable; and the
swimming membrane is prolonged in advance of the toes of
the hinder extremities. All the claws are flat and slender.
To this genus belongs the maned seal (Phoca jubata,
Gmel.), or sea lion of Steller, Pernetty, and some other
authors. It grows to the size of from fifteen to twenty feet,
and the neck of the male is clothed with hair longer and
more frizzled than that of the rest of the body. The species
is usually described as occurring at both extremities of the
Pacific Ocean, but the individuals found along the Pata¬
gonian coast, at the Malouin Islands, and in the Straits of
Magellan, will assuredly be found to differ specifically from
those of Behring’s Straits and other northern regions.
Forster describes them as living in troops, the old males
roaring like lions or enraged bulls, and, except during the
breeding season, living together apart from the females.
On the Magellanic shores, they couple in December and
January, carry eleven months, and bring forth two young.
Those of Kamtschatka, according to Steller,4 are of analo¬
gous habits ; but in each group there are only two or three
females, instead of ten or a dozen, and each produces at a
1 Fleming’s British Anin.ah, p 17.
2 Consult Weddell’s Voyage to the South Pole, and Lesson’s Manuel de Mammalonie, p. 200.
3 For ample details see heron's Voyage aux Terres Australes, 2d Ed. t. iii. pp. 55-103, and the well known narratives
illustrious circumnavigators.
4 De Bestiis Marinis, Mem. Acad. Petersb., t. ii.
of our own
MAMMALIA.
125
se.
birth only a single young. The flesh is held in some
esteem bv the natives of the Aleutian Isles and other nor¬
thern tribes.
To the preceding genus also belongs the Sea Bear, so
called (Phoca Ursina, Gmel.). It measures about eight
feet, and is destitute of mane. The colour varies with age
and season, from brown to grey and white. The young,
when newly born, are black. The fur of this species, when
cleared of the longer coarser hair, is almost as much es¬
teemed as that of the beaver. It fears the maned seal, but
wages a cruel war against most other marine creatures. A
corresponding species exists in either hemisphere, that is,
the Ursine Seal is described by Steller as a native of
Kamtschatka, and by Foster as inhabiting the southern
coast of America, and the shores of New Holland, and Van
Diemen’s Land. It is probable that two distinct kinds are
here confounded.1 Various additional species are describ¬
ed by MM. Desmarest, F. Cuvier, Lesson, and other sys¬
tematic writers.
2 i i
Genus Trichechus, Linn. Incisors -, canines ^
^ 5
molars     ; — 24. Body elongated, and conical, like
that of the preceding groups of seals. Head round, muzzle
full. No external ears. Tail extremely short.
The absence of canine and incisive teeth from the lower
jaw sufficiently distinguishes the present genus, which as
yet contains but a single species, commonly called the morse,
walrus, or sea-horse,— Trichechus rosmarus, Linn. See Plate
CCCXXXIV. fig. 2. It attains to the length of from 18 to 20
feet, and in its general aspect and habits resembles a gigan¬
tic seal. It is an animal of gregarious disposition, and oc¬
curs abundantly in the Northern Atlantic, and the polar
regions of the Pacific Ocean. The walrus is sought for
amid those icy solitudes, on account of its oil, skin, and ivory
tusks. The latter are harder and more homogeneous than
those of the elephant, and are less apt to be rendered yel¬
low by the hand of time, for which reason they are useful
to dentists in the fabrication of false teeth. The capture
of this animal is not, however, an object of such import¬
ance as it is known to have been prior to the institution of
the Spitzbergen whale-fishery. In fact, it is now allowed
to float along its desolate shores, almost without molesta¬
tion from the British, the Russians being its principal per¬
secutors. Our whale-fishers seldom take more than ha’f a
dozen in a voyage, although the elder Scoresby once pro¬
cured in a single season 130 in Magdalene Bay. But this
is nothing to the multitudes obtained in former times.
Stephen Bennet, for example, in 1606, along the shores of
Cherry Island, killed 700 or 800 in less than six hours ;
and in the ensuing voyage about 1000 were slam in less
than seven hours. “ When seen at a distance,” says Mr
Scoresby junior, “ the front part of the young walrus, with¬
out tusks, is not unlike the human face. As this animal is
in the habit of raising its head above water, to look at ships,
and other passing objects, it is not at all improbable but
that it may have afforded foundation for some of the stories
of mermaids. I have myself seen a sea-horse in such a
position and under such circumstances, that it required little
stretch of imagination to mistake it for a human being; so
like indeed was it, that the surgeon of the ship actually
reported to me his having seen a man with his head just
appearing above the surface of the water.”2 The walrus
is a fearless animal, paying no regard to a boat, except as
an object of curiosity. Its capture in the water is not made
without danger, as an attack on one individual generally draws Marsu-
its neighbours around it, and the planks of the boat are pialia.
sometimes pierced with their tusks, which, from the great
weight of the suspended body, become weapons of enor¬
mous power. The species is confined to the coldest re¬
gions of the northern hemisphere, and its southern bound¬
ary is probably more restricted than of old. It is mention¬
ed by some of our ancient native writers, but has been long
unknown along the British shores, although the ivory bits
described by Strabo as articles of British commerce may
be conjectured to have been fabricated from its teeth. In
December 1817, a solitary wanderer, who had probably
been floated southwards on an iceberg, was shot while re¬
posing on a small rock in the Sound of Stockness, on the
east coast of Harris, one of our Outer Hebrides.3
Order III.—MARSUPIALIA.
The order which contains the marsupial or pouched ani¬
mals, is composed of such heterogeneous elements, as to
be extremely difficult of definition. The most universal,
as well as remarkable peculiarity, consists in the prema¬
ture production of the young, the majority of which are
born in a state comparable only to that exhibited by the
foetus of other animals not many days after conception.
Thus the Virginian Opossum, when first brought forth,
does not weigh above a single grain, though its parent is
as large as a full-grown cat; and the Gigantic Kangaroo,
which sometimes attains the weight of nearly 200 pounds,
gives birth to a pair of young ones, each about an inch
long. Incapable of voluntary movement, destitute of dis¬
tinct sensation, and with the external organs in a rudiment¬
ary state, the feeble offspring becomes attached (in a man¬
ner as yet but indistinctly known) to the mammae of the
mother, and adheres to them continuously till such time as
it has attained the ordinary conditions of a new born crea¬
ture, and even long after that period it continues to seek
frequent refuge in its parent’s lap, which for that purpose
is furnished with an ample pouch, within which the nipples
are contained. Two special bones attached to the pubis,
and interposed between the muscles of the abdomen, sup¬
port the pouch, and occur at the same time not only in the
females of certain species in which the pouch is scarcely
perceptible, but also in the males, in which it does not ex¬
ist.4 Another peculiarity of the marsupial order consists
in this, that in spite of a general resemblance which so
strikingly pervades the species, that for a long time they
were regarded as forming only a single undivided genus,
they differ so greatly in their teeth, and in their organs of
digestion and of locomotion, that a rigorous adherence to
these characters, would induce their partition into various
orders. “ On disait, en un mot,” says Baron Cuvier, “ que
les marsupiaux forment une classe distincte, parallele a
celle des quadrupedes ordinaires et divisible en ordres sem-
blables ; en sorte que si on placait ces deux classes sur deux
colonnes, les Sariques, lesDasyures, et les Perameles seraient
vis-a-vis des carnassiers insectivores a longues canines, tels
que les tenrecs et les taupes; les Phalangers et les Poto-
roos, vis-a-vis des herissons et des Musaraignes; les Kan-
guroos proprement dits ne se laisseraient guere comparer
a rien, mais les Phascolomes devraient aller vis-a-vis des
rongeurs. Enfin, si 1’on n’avait egard qu’aux os propres de
la bourse, et si 1’on regardait comme marsupiaux tons les
animaux qui les possedent, les ornithorinques et les echidnes
j See, in addition to the works already quoted, the article Phoque of the Diction. Classique d'Hist. Nat., t. xiii. p. 400.
2 Arctic Regions, vol. i. p. 504. 3 Edinburgh Phil. Joitrn., vol. ii. p. 380.
4 “ La matrice des animaux de cette famille n’est point ouverte par un seul orifice dans le fond du vagin, maiselle communique
ayec ce canal par deux tubes lateraux en forme d’anse. II parait que la naissance prematuree des petits tient h. cette organization
singuliere. Les males ont le scrotum pendant en avant de la verge, au contraire des autres quadrupedes, et la verge, dans 1’etat des
repos, est dirigee en arriere.” Regne Animal, t. i. p. 173.
126
M A M MALI A.
Marsu- y formcraient un groupe parallele a celui des edentes.”1
pialia. Jn these views we can scarcely agree, and in truth they
'■““'v'-"-' have not been proceeded upon by their author, who, in his
most recent work, continued to group the marsupial genera
under a distinct order, as above named.
Several years have elapsed since (in 1828) we ventured
to express our opinion regarding the unnatural constitution
of the marsupial order, and we are satisfied to see that
similar sentiments have been generally expressed in more
immediate times. The present work does not present a
proper field on which to enter into a minute detail of the
many ingenious, though not always consistent, theories
which have been proposed in explanation of the numerous
anomalies observable in the structure and habits of this ex¬
traordinary assemblage of living creatures. Considered
even in regard to their external structure, something re¬
markable may be presumed to characterize a group of ani¬
mals regarding the division and arrangement of which
scarcely two naturalists of note have expressed the same
opinion. Baron Cuvier, as we have seen, made them con¬
stitute the fourth family of his Carnivorous Order ; MM.
Geoffroy St Hilaire and Latreille still regard them as form¬
ing of themselves a separate order, while M. De Blainville
erects them into what he is pleased to call a subclass of
the animal kingdom. In fact, as we have already observed,
the only principle on which zoological writers have till late¬
ly been of one mind in relation to the Marsupialia, is that
of holding the genera together in juxtaposition,—certainly
an unfortunate principle to proceed upon, if it can be shewn
to be inconsistent with the due consideration of those na¬
tural and undisputed analogies by which we profess our¬
selves to be guided in our arrangements of the other tribes.
It has been well observed, that the marsupial genera exhibit
the types of almost as many separate orders as exist among
all the other Mammalia; and no one will doubt of this being
in a great measure true, who has ever examined the well
armed jaws of a Didelphis or Dasyurus, and compared
them with the simple structure of the same parts in the
gentle wombat.
According to the principles of the natural system so
much (and deservedly) insisted on by the modern school,
the group of genera named Marsupialia, whether regard¬
ed as a family or an order, includes indeed such hetero¬
geneous elements, as bid defiance to every preconceived
form of classification. It is true that they all present some
peculiar modifications of the generative and lacteal systems;
and if the student has recourse to these alone, and regards
them as a sufficient and satisfactory basis for the establish¬
ment of a primary character, in conformity with the nature
of which the totality of the class Mammalia is to be parti¬
tioned into two great subdivisions, then the Monodelphs
and Didelphs of M. De Blainville may suffice. But if the
formation of a class, according to the admitted signification
of the term, depends upon the coexistence of certain cha¬
racters, neither few in number, nor of less than the highest
value and importance in their kind, it is difficult to see why
the mere existence of an external pouch, or duplication of
the abdominal skin, though connected with a very peculiar,
and it may be unaccountable mode of foetal production,
should suffice for the establishment of one of the greatest
divisions of which the animal kingdom is regarded as sus¬
ceptible. A bird differs in its class from a mammiferous ani¬
mal or quadruped commonly so called, on the one hand,
and from an amphibious animal or reptile on the other;
and it is distinguished from both by many essential orga¬
nic attributes, which involve such a difference in the vital
functions and economy of the several subjects of these dif¬
ferent classes, as to render their mutual discrimination, as it
were, apparent to the most cursory observer. They not
only differ in their mode of producing their young, and in
their method of rearing it, but also in the structure of the
heart, the character of the respiratory and circulating sys¬
tems, the perfection of the senses, the number of the cer¬
vical vertebrae, and consequently in their whole external
form and aspect. But the marsupial animals, however dis¬
similar to each other, do not vary essentially from certain
types which occur in one or other of the numerous orders
of which the normal mammalia are composed; and with
these different genera they may assuredly be combined, in
a manner more consistent with the principles of the natural
system, than when they are allowed to constitute by them¬
selves a separate and exclusive division, by whatever name
it may be called. “ Let each of the marsupial genera be
classed according to the position pointed out by a careful
study of its natural and most influential characters ; and if,
for example, the structure of its teeth indicate a carnivo¬
rous disposition in one genus, an insectivorous one in ano¬
ther, or a herbivorous one in a third, then let each be re¬
ferred to its appropriate station in the general system, whe¬
ther as a member of the Carnivora, the Insectivora, or in
closer connection with the more harmless Glires. But do
not re-establish the worst parts of an artificial method, by
following a fanciful analogy in the structure of a secondary
and apparently uninfluential organ. That the marsupium
or pouch is not a character of a highly influential kind,
is evident from its occurrence in tribes and genera which
in every other respect are so variously and dissimilarly con¬
stituted. It does not, in short, afford a key to the rest of
the organization.”2 The preceding observations may suffice
to guard the reader from the supposition that the Cuvierian
order of marsupial animals is of natural component parts.
In this place, however, we adhere to that order, in confor¬
mity with our adoption of the general principles of classi¬
fication laid down in the “ Regne Animal.”
In regard to the geographical distribution of these tribes,
they appear to be confined entirely to New Holland, Ame¬
rica, and one or two islands in the Eastern Seas. They
are entirely unknown in Europe, Africa, and continental Asia.
We shall now proceed to a brief notice of the genera.
Division I. Long canines and small incisors in both
jaws. Abdominal pouch sometimes wanting.
The hind molars of this group are beset with points,
and in general all the characters of the teeth are those of
the insectivorous tribes, to which they consequently ap¬
proximate closely in their food and habits.
10
Genus Didelphis, Linn. Incisives—, canines
1-1’
7 7 6 6
molars   ^ or     50 or 48. Head long and coni¬
cal. Muzzle pointed. Mouth deeply cleft. Eyes placed
high, oblique. Ears large, thin, nearly naked, rounded in
their outlines. Tongue ciliated on the edges, and beset
with horny papillae. Five separate toes to each foot. The
thumb of the hinder extremities (which are plantigrade)
opposable, and destitute of nail; the nails of the other toes
curved. Tail rather long, round, scaly, and without hair
throughout the greater part of its extent. Stomach small
and simple ; coecum of medium size, not pouched.
This genus contains the most anciently known of the
marsupial tribes, and is peculiar to America, particularly the
southern division. The species are known under the ge¬
neral name of opossums. They are nocturnal animals, re¬
sembling martens in their habits, but are less active in their
movements. Their intelligence is limited, a fact in curi¬
ous conformity with the entire absence of all folds or con-
1 Loc. dt. p. 174.
Wilson s Illustrations of Zoology, vol. L Order Marsupialia.
MAM M
3f; 5U- volutions of the brain,1 and according with the theory of
pi.ia. M. Desmoulins, that the intellectual faculties are in the
direct ratio of the extent of the cerebral surfaces.2 * They
dwell in woods, where they climb the branches of trees,
feeding on birds, eggs, reptiles, insects, and fruits. They
enter farm-yards, and commit great damage by sucking the
blood of poultry.
One of the best known is the Virginian opossum, Plate
CCCXXXIV, fig. 3 {D. Virginiana, Penn.). It exists
over a great extent of territory from Paraguay to the coun¬
try of the Illinois, and is well known in the southern Uni¬
ted States. This species lives in fields and woods, and
often enters houses during the night, in search of domestic
birds, or other prey. It brings forth upwards of a dozen
young at a time, which at first do not weigh above a grain.
They instinctively adhere to the teat, to which they conti¬
nue fixed till they are as large as mice, and become cover¬
ed with hair. The first gestation lasts about six-and-twenty
days, and the offspring remain in the pouch for nearly twice
that period. Azara has seen them carried along by their
mother, by means of their little tails twisted round that of
their parent.
The crab-eating opossum (Z). cancrivora, Gmel.) is a more
restricted species. See Plate CCCXXXIV. fig. 5. and 5. a.
It inhabits the coasts of Guiana and Brazil, and besides the
usual prey, is said to feed greedily on crabs, which, accord¬
ing to Laborde, it catches by introducing its tail into their
holes. Several other species are described by naturalists.
Genus Thylacinus, Temm. Distinguished from the
preceding by the want of thumb on the hinder extremities,
the tail covered with hair and not prehensile, and two in¬
cisors less in each jaw. The ears are of moderate size, and
haired.
This genus has been instituted for the reception of a
single species from Van Diemen’s Land, described by Mr
Harris, under the name of Dasyurus cynocephalus? It is
the Thylacinus Harrisii of Temminck.4 This animal is
as large as a wolf, though somewhat lower in the legs,
and may be regarded as the strongest and largest of all the
flesh-eating species of Australia. It is of a greyish colour,
with transverse bands of black on the hinder parts of the
body. The head is large, and resembles that of a dog. It
dwells among rocks and caverns, in the deep and almost
inaccessible glens in the vicinity of the highest mountains
of its native island, and is said to prey upon the brush kan¬
garoo and other quadrupeds. Some authors allege that it
feeds on Ornithorhynchi, Echidnae, and crabs, and that its
compressed tail gives it great power and activity as a swim¬
mer But we find nothing of this kind given by its origi¬
nal describer, who does not even mention it as a littoral
species, although M. Temminck, and in his wake subse¬
quent compilers, make it inhabit rocks by the sea shore.
It may do so, but the fact is not stated by Mr Harris.
As we cannot detail the characters of all the minor mar¬
supial groups, we may here note that the Didelphis peni-
;dlata of Dr Shaw, and the Dasyurus minimus of Geoffroy,
form the genus Phascogale of Temminck.
Genus'Dasyurus, Geoff. Incisives j, canines | ~ j,
molars ~^; = 42. Anterior feet with five toes, armed
with curved claws, the posterior with four, and a fifth in
a rudimentary state, without nail, and distant from the
others.
The Dasyuri approach the opossums (Didelphis') in their
general organization, but wanting the strong thumb of the
ALIA. 127
hinder extremities, and the tail being not prehensile, they Marsu-
are incapable of climbing trees like their American conge- pialia.
tiers. They prey chiefly during the night, feeding on v  
small quadrupeds, birds, insects, mollusca, and the remains
of seals or other marine animals which they may occasion¬
ally find along the shore. The species (at present four in
number) are restricted to New Holland and Van Diemen’s
Land. We may mention as an example the Das. ursinus
of Temminck {Delph. ursina, Harris), an animal of subter¬
ranean habits, extremely common at the time of our first
settling at Hobart Town, where it proved particularly de¬
structive to poultry. It, however, in return frequently fur¬
nished the convicts with a fresh dinner, and its flesh was
said in taste to resemble veal. As the settlement increased
they retired to the deeper recesses of the forest, where they
are still easily procured by traps, baited with any kind of
raw meat. Their tracks are often seen on the sea shore.
Genus Perameles, Geoff. Incisors —, canines * *
6 1 — I,
7 7
molars ; = 48. Head elongated, muzzle pointed.
Feet with five toes, of which the fore paws have the inner¬
most and outermost merely rudimentary, and wuthout nails,
and the middle toe the largest. The hind feet have the
thumb or innermost toe rudimentary, and without nail, the
second and third united under a common integument as
far as the nails, the fourth the largest and most elongate,
and the fifth or outer toe next in size to the preceding.
Although systematic writers describe three species of
this genus, the only one as yet distinctly known is the long-
nosed perameles (A. nasuta, Geoff.), or pouched badger of
New Holland, an insectivorous animal resembling a large
brown rat in its external aspect. See Plate CCCXXXIV.
figs. 4, 4 a, and 4 h. One of the most remarkable charac¬
ters detected in a specimen submitted to our examination
some years ago by Professor Jameson, consisted in this,
that the marsupium, or abdominal pouch for the reception
of the foetal young, did not open from above downwards, as
in most other marsupial animals, but commenced almost
imperceptibly at the distance of half an inch from the an¬
terior margin of the anus, and extended upwards beneath a
thick fold of the skin as far as the sternum,—the entrance
of the sack being arched upwards, and quite open for more
than an inch from its lower or posterior margin. The whole
cavity was lined with soft, very short, white, woolly hair,
and its parietes were remarkably soft and dilatable.5
Division II. Two long incisives in the lower jaw, pro¬
jecting forwards. Six incisives in the upper jaw. The
upper canines, as usual, long and pointed, but the
lower so small as to be frequently hidden in the gums.
Thumb of the hinder extremities separate and oppo¬
sable, the two following toes shorter than the others,
and united as far as the toes. The intestines and the
ccecum long. An abdominal pouch in all the females.
The regime of this division, as might be inferred from
the structure of the teeth and intestines, is almost entirely
frugivorous.
Genus Phalangista, Cuv. The Phalangers properly
so called, exhibit no extension of the skin along the flanks.
They have in each jaw four posterior molars presenting a
double range of points, besides a large anterior tooth com¬
pressed and conical, between which and the upper canine
teeth are two others small and pointed. To the latter
correspond the very small teeth of the under jaw already
1 See Tiedeman, Icon. Cereb. Sirniar. et quer. Mammal, rar. tab. 5. fig. 9.
* See the article Cerebrospinal of the Diction. Classique d'llist. Nat. t. iii. p. 361.
s L'nn- Trans, vol. ix. pi. 19. * Monog. de Mamm. t. i. p. 60.
J See the detailed observations with which we were kindly funfiAied by Dr Grant (of the London University'), and published in
ine first volume of our Illustrations of Zoology.
128
MAMMALIA.
Marsu- mentioned in the divisional character. The tail is prehen-
pialia. sile.
The species inhabit the Moluccas, New Holland, and
Van Diemen’s Land. They in some measure represent
in the ancient world the opossums of America, but they
differ greatly in their teeth. Those of the Moluccas and
other eastern islands dwell in trees, and feed on fruits and
insects. Their flesh is eaten, though it exhales a disagree¬
able odour. The tail is naked and scaly. M. Temminck
distinguishes five species,—Phal. ursina, chrysorrhos, ma-
culata, cavifrons, and Quoy. In the Australian species, the
tail is furred. The latter amount to three,—Phal. vulpina,
Cookii, and nana, Temm.1
In the genus Petaurus of Shaw, which includes those
animals commonly called flying Phalangers, the skin of the
sides is more or less extended. By this structure they are
partly supported in the air, so that their leaping powers are
greatly increased. They are peculiar to New Holland. In
some of the species, canine teeth still exist in the lower
jaw, but extremely small in size. The upper canines, and
the first three molars, both above and below, are very
pointed. The posterior molars have each four points. As
an example, we may name the pigmy opossum of Shaw
{Pet. pygmcea of Desmarest, who of this group forms his
subgenus of Voltigeur or Acrabata), one of the smallest
of quadrupeds, scarcely exceeding a mouse in size. The
hairs of the tail are beautifully disposed on either side, like
the barbs of a pen. See Plate CCCXXXIV. figs. 7 and 7 a.
Other species want the lower canine teeth, and the upper
ones are very diminutive. The four hinder molars also
present four points, but somewhat curved or lunate, in
which they approximate those of the ruminants. There
are two additional anterior molars above and one below, of
a less complicated character,—a structure which, as Cuvier
observes, renders the species more ffugivorous than the
preceding.
Division III. Two long projecting incisors in the lower
jaw and six in the upper. Canine teeth in the upper
jaw only. Hinder paws long and narrow, without thumb,
the first two toes being very small, and united together
as far as the base of the nails. An abdominal pouch
in the females.
The only genus of this division is that called Hypsi-
prymnus by Illiger, consisting of the kangaroo rat, Hyp.
murinus, Desm. {Macropus minor, Shaw). It has on each
side of both jaws a long-shaped anterior molar, cutting and
dentated, followed by four others beset by four blunt tu¬
bercles. There is only a single species known, of a mouse
colour, equalling a small rabbit in size. Its regimen is her¬
bivorous, its stomach large, divided into two sacks, and
much pursed. The ccecum is rather small and rounded.
This animal is called potoroo by the natives of New Hol¬
land.2 The great length of its hinder extremities indicates
its leaping powers.
Division IV. No canine teeth in either jaw.
Genus Macropus, Shaw, Cuv. Halmaturus, Illiger.
Kangurus, Geoff. Desm. Incisives canine ^ -, m
5 ^
lars - 5 ; = 28. Extremities disproportioned, the fore
legs being small, short, and furnished with five toes; the
hinder legs, much lengthened, and muscular, with only
four toes, of which the two inner are very small and united
together. Tail lengthened, strong, furnished with power-1
ful muscles, and of great use in locomotion. Hair woolly.
An abdominal pouch in the female.
This singular genus, of which nearly a dozen species have
been described by voyagers and systematic writers, con¬
tains the animals commonly called kangaroos. “ Buffon,
whose only errors were those of genius, clearly perceived
that every continent, in its animal productions^ presented
the appearance of a special creation ; but he gave an uni¬
versality to this proposition, of which it is not altogether
susceptible. It is nevertheless true, even at the present
day, within certain limits. A great number of the Asiatic
animals are not found in Africa, and vice versa. The le¬
murs seem to exist only in Madagascar. America is peo¬
pled with a host of mammalia exclusively peculiar to itself,
and there are many more in Europe not to be found in the
other quarters of the globe. The discovery of Australia
has given an additional support to the opinion of Buffon.
The species of animals there discovered have not only no
affinity with those of the other continents, but, in fact, be¬
long, for the most part, to genera altogether different. Such
are those mammalia which the natives of New Holland call
kangaroo, and which offer to the observation of the natural¬
ist organic peculiarities perceivable in no other animal, with
the exception of a single species. It is in this tribe that,
for the first time, we view the singular phenomenon of an
animal using its tail as a third hind leg in standing upright
and in walking.” 3
Kangaroos in general dwell in small troops of from twelve
to thirty, under the guidance of an old male. In a state of
repose they rest as it were upon a kind of tripod, composed
of the two hinder legs and tail, the body being nearly per¬
pendicular, and the head extended horizontally. In mov¬
ing leisurely they employ their fore feet like other quadru¬
peds, but, in more rapid progression, they advance by pro¬
digious bounds, leaping, it is said, nearly thirty feet at a
single spring. MM. Q,uoy and Gaymard, however, who have
often hunted these animals, inform us, “ que lorsqu’ils
etaient vivement poursuivis par les chiens, ils couraient
toujours sur leurs quatre pieds, et n’executaient de grands
sauts que quand ils rencontraient des obstacles a franchir.”
The support which they receive from their tails is also of
great advantage in self-defence, by enabling them to inflict
severe wounds with their hind feet. In the natural state
their habits are herbivorous, but in a domestic condition
they eat almost every kind of food. Their own flesh is
held in considerable estimation, and as they now breed freely
in this country, the time may come when we shall find a joint
of kangaroo an acceptable and frequent dish upon our own
tables. The females bring forth only one or two at a time.
One of the largest species of the genus is that described
in Cook’s first voyage. It is the Macropus major of Shaw
{Kangurus labiatus of Desm.), and is distinguished by its
fiir of an ashy grey colour above, paler below, a transverse
band of grey upon the chin, the upper surface of the legs
and tail being of a blacker hue. It measures nearly six
feet in height, and is well known in the neighbourhood of
Botany Bay. Mr Cunningham probably alludes to the
hunting of this species in the following passage :—“ From
the great length of their hind legs and tail, they are enabled
to stand on the firm bottom, while the dogs are obliged to
swim, and in this way a fight between a large kangaroo and
1 The last named species is not inserted in the second edition of the Rcgne Animal, but another is described under the name of
Phal. Bougainvillii. For the descriptions, see Monograph, de Mammalogic, p. 1.
2 White’s Voyage to New South Wales, p. 286. Philip’s Voyage to Botany Bay, p. 277- M. F. Cuvier is of opinion that the ob¬
servations of MM. Quoy and Gaymard have established the existence of other species besides the kangaroo-rat above named. To
the latter they give the name of H. Whitei. It is probably identical with Kangurus Gaimardi of Desmarest.
3 Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. iii. p. 47-
Marsu.
pialia, .
«
feu-
ia.
MAMMALIA.
129
a pack of dogs affords a most amusing spectacle. The
’ kangaroo stands generally upright, with his fore paws spread
'out before him, wheeling round and round to ward off his
assailants ; and whenever one arrives within reach, he
pounces his paws upon him, and, sousing him suddenly
under, holds him fast in this position, gazing all the while
around with the most solemn simpleton sort of aspect, heed¬
less of the kicking and sprawling of his victim, whom he
quickly puts an end to, if some courageous colleague does
not in good time advance to aid, and force the kangaroo to
let his half-drowned antagonist bob above water again, who
paddles forthwith toward shore, shaking his ears and look¬
ing most piteously, with no inclination to venture in a se¬
cond time, notwithstanding all the halloos and cheerings
with which you urge him.” 1
The preceding is sometimes confounded with a still larger
species, called the sooty kangaroo (/if. geant of F. Cuvier),
which inhabits the south coast of New Holland, and is sup¬
posed likewise to occur in the vicinity of Port Jackson.
The latter is seen in large troops, which, in the course of
their habitual movements, form broad well-beaten footpaths,
which a stranger would readily mistake for those occasion¬
ed by a numerous and active colony of the human race.
Another species, called the banded kangaroo (K. fasciatus,
Peron and Lesueu),2 inhabits the islands (Bernier, &c.) on
the west coast of New Holland. Its ears are smaller, and
its tail feebler, than the same parts of the other species.
It dwells among almost impenetrable thickets of a low
growing species of mimosa, through which it forms nume¬
rous galleries, communicating with each other, and in which
it seeks refuge on the approach of danger. From these
and other peculiarities in its form and habits, M. Fred.
Cuvier regards it as the type of a genus distinct from Ma-
cropus, and on which he bestows the name of Halmaturus,
originally proposed by Illiger for the kangaroos.3 We
think it unnecessary to extend our observations on animals,
the general habits of which have of late years been so fre¬
quently described, and shall merely name Le Brun’s kan¬
garoo (the Javan opossum of Pennant and Shaw, K. Brunii,
Desm.) as a species which occurs somewhat beyond the
range of its nearest allies. It inhabits the Aroe Islands,
and, according to Le Brun, digs in the earth like a rab¬
bit.4
Division V. Two long incisive teeth in the under jaw,
no canines; two long incisives in the middle of the
upper jaw, with some smaller lateral ones, and two
small canines.
Here naturalists place only a single species, the Phas-
colarctos fuscus of Blainville, commonly called the Koala.
Besides the teeth mentioned in the preceding divisional
character, this animal has four molars on each side of both
jaws, making twenty-eight teeth in all. Its feet are pen-
tadactylous.5 6 Its ears large and pointed, with the conch
directed forward. The limbs are short, and the tail want¬
ing. It somewhat resembles a bear in its aspect, and is
said both to climb trees with facility and to burrow in the
ground. The female carries about her young for a long
time upon her back. The koala attains the dimensions of
a middle-sized dog, and inhabits the banks of the river Glires or
Vapaum in New Holland. Rodentia.
Division YI. Two cylindrical truncated incisives in each
jaw. No canines.
This division, like the preceding, contains only a single
species commonly called the Wombat, which constitutes the
genus Phascolomys of Geoffroy and Cuvier. In addition to
the teeth above mentioned, there are five molars in each side
of both jaws, or twenty-four teeth in all. The wombat is
about the size of a badger, and, in its general aspect, re¬
sembles a small bear. In its dentition and intestines it is
closely allied to the order Rodentia, which we are now
about to enter ; but the/irticulation of the lower jaw is dif¬
ferent. Its habits, however, are herbivorous. Captain
Baudin introduced two specimens into the French Mena¬
gerie from the south coast of New Holland. Their mo¬
tions were slow, their dispositions gentle and passive ; and
though tame, so far as the absence of fear was concerned,
they exhibited little sense or discrimination. In their na¬
tural state they live in burrows, and the female brings forth
three or four young at a birth. Peron reports that the
flesh of the wombat is much esteemed by the seal-fishers,
and Cuvier has expressed his desire that it should be natu¬
ralised in the basse-cours of France, as likely to prove a va¬
luable addition to the table. It is the Phase, wombat (See
Plate CCCXXXIV, fig. 6.) of Peron and Lesueur,* the
Phase. Bassii of Lesson,7 and the Wombatus fossor of
Geoffroy.8 Some confusion has arisen in its history in
consequence of Bass (and we believe also Flinders) having
described under the name of wombat, an animal of cor¬
responding external aspect, but furnished with six incisives,
two canines, and sixteen molars in each jaw. The latter
has by some been referred to the genus Phascolarctos, with
which, however, its dentition is equally discordant. We
know, in truth, little of the animals (whether of one or more
species) hitherto recorded under the title of wombat, ex¬
cept that they are feeble defenceless creatures, inhabiting
certain islands in Bass’s Straits.9 They seem to have been
first noticed by Dr Shaw, in his crude compendium, under
the name of ursine opossum,10 and a good deal has been
since written about them to very little purpose. Mr Ben-
net, however, informs us, that a wombat was kept alive, and
in a tame state, at Been, in the Jumal country. It usually
remained in its habitation till dark, and then came out in
search of the keelers or milk vessels, from which it would
contrive to get off the covers, and wrould then bathe itself
in the milk, drinking at the same time. It would also en¬
ter the little vegetable garden attached to the station, in
search of lettuces, to which it evinced great partiality ; and
when none could be found, it would gnaw the cabbage
stalks without touching the leaves.11
Order IV GLIRES or RODENTIA. GNAWERS.
The following are the principal characters of this exten¬
sive order. Two large incisive teeth in each jaw, separat¬
ed by an empty space from the molars. No canine teeth.
1 Two Years in New South Wales, vol. i. 314. 2 Voyage aux Terres Australes, i. 114.
3 We fear he has bestowed this name of Halmaturus {aXya., saltus, soy,, cauda) on the species which it least befits.
4 Voyage aux hides, p. 374, pi. 213.
9 In relation to this character authors differ. “ Le pouce manque au pieds de derriere,” Cuv. Begne Animal, t. i. p. 188. “ Le
pouce des extremites posterieures tres gros, separe, sans ongle,’’ Desm. Mammalogie, p. 276. We have never ourselves seen a koala.
6 Voyage aux Terres Australes, pi. 58. 7 Manuel des Mamm. p. 229. 8 Ann. Mus. t. ii. p. 364.
s Naturalists differ even in their simple observation of the form of the intestines. The coecum, according to Geoffror, is very
small and slender, while Cuvier describes it “ gros et court,” It is furnished with an appendix vermiformis.
10 General Zoology, voL i, p. 504. 11 Wanderings, vol. i. p. 330.
VOL. XIV.
R
130
MAMMALIA.
Glires or Molar teeth either with flat crowns, or with more or less of
Rodentia. a tuberculated surface. The four extremities terminated
by unguiculated toes, which vary in number according to
the species. Thumb sometimes rudimentary or obsolete ;
never opposable to the other toes. Number of mammm
various. Orbits not separated from the temporal fossae.
Lower jaw articulated by a longitudinal condyle. Hinder
extremities exceeding the anterior in length. Stomach
simple ; intestines very long ; coecum large, but sometimes
wanting.1
The genera of this order confine themselves chiefly to
a vegetable diet, by which we mean not only leguminous
plants, but grain, grasses, fruit, nuts, and other productions
oi the earth. I hey derive their name of gnawers from
their mode of eating, which consists in reducing their food
by a continuous action of the front teeth, into very small
particles, instead of tearing it like the carnivorous tribes,
or grinding it by a lateral motion, like the ruminating ones.
In the Rodentia, the lower jaw is so articulated as to ad¬
mit, in addition to the vertical movement which must ne¬
cessarily obtain in all the higher animals, of a motion back¬
wards and forwards, but not lateral; and in fine adapta¬
tion to this structure, the raised plates of the molar teeth
are placed transversely, so as to act in more direct opposi¬
tion to the confined horizontal movement of the jaw, thus
aiding the power of triturition. A few of the species (such,
for example, as the earless marmot, M. citillus, Linn.), are
somewhat carnivorously inclined, and in natural accordance
with this propensity, their molar teeth are jagged, or more
sharply tuberculated than in other genera. Several of the
murine species may be said to be omnivorous, and have
become colonized in many foreign regions, through the un¬
intentional agency of man. Most of the hybernating quad¬
rupeds belong to this order. The Rodentia seem to inha¬
bit all parts of the known world, with the exception of the
numerous islands which compose the different central ar¬
chipelagoes of the South Seas, where they do not occur as
aboriginal. They are creatures of a timid disposition,—
their habits for the most part nocturnal.
Division I. With clavicles.
Genus Sciuuus. Linn. Cuv.
T . 2 .0—0,
Incisors -, canine ’
0 —— 0
= 22.2 Anterior paws with four toes, fur-
molars    
4 — 4
nished with curved compressed claws, thumb tubercular ;
posterior paws with five toes, which, as well as the tarsus’
are elongated. Tail long, usually furnished with an ample
fur of considerable length. Two pectoral and six ventral
mammae.
The species of this genus, commonly called Squirrels, are
with few exceptions essentially arboreal in their habits, and
pass their lives among the umbrageous branches of forest
trees, where they construct a spherical nest, composed of
twigs, leaves, and moss, intermingled occasionally with a
portion of fur apparently plucked from their own bodies.
Certain species, however, inhabit burrows at the base of
trees. Squirrels are extensively distributed over the whole
eaith, with the exception of New Holland, where as yet
none has been discovered. Buffon was in error when he
supposed the species in general to be characteristic of the
colder and temperate regions of the earth ; for we now re-
ceive many fine kinds from the warmest countries of Asia,
and the sultry forests of Africa are by no means unproduc¬
tive ot these agile tribes. The species, however, are much
more abundant in North America than in Europe.
The distichous or divergent character of the fur upon
the tail, and the absence or existence of cheek pouches,
furnish characters by which the genus is divided into minor r-
groups. . ot
Of those with distichous tails, but unprovided with cheek
pouches, our common squirrel (Sciurus vulgaris), affords
a familiar example. Phis beautiful and active creature is
widely dispersed over the cold and temperate zones of the
ancient continent, and its external colour and aspect vary
with the diversified climates under which it occurs. Several
imaginary species have been described by travellers not
conversant with the modifications which it undergoes. In
Britain, France, and Southern Germany, the fur is always
of a reddish-brown above, more or less lively according to
the season, and of a pure white below. In the northern
parts of Europe and Asia, it assumes a much grayer hue
in winter, owing to the hairs becoming encircled with whit-
ish rings. A black variety is described by Pallas and
Gmehn as native to the rugged and mountainous regions
which surround Lake Baikal; but it is more than probable
that it will be found to constitute a distinct species. The
common squirrel does not hybernate or become torpid
during winter, but stores up in the trunk of a tree a supply
or nuts, acorns, pine seeds, &c., to which it has recourse,
when the ordinary supplies of the forest have fallen or been
exhausted. Its graceful and varied postures, with its beau-
tifully flowing tail, its sparkling eyes and tufted ears, its
activity and cunning in a state of nature, and familiar pe¬
tulance in confinement, are all too generally known to need
description. It never breeds in captivity. The only other
European species with which we are acquainted is the
Sciurus alpinus of M. F. Cuvier, a native of the Alps and
Pyrenees. In its general size and proportions it resembles
the common kind, but its head is somewhat less. Its co¬
lour is deep brown, speckled with yellowish-white above,
the under parts being pure wdiite. The inner surface of
the limbs is grey ; the edges of the lips are white. A ful¬
vous band separates the white and grey of the under parts
from the brown of the upper. A male and female lived
for a long time in the Menagerie of the French Museum,
and the colours of their coat underwent no change, further
than that the brown became somewhat blacker in win¬
ter, and that the tail, during the latter season, assumed a
greyer aspect.3 For the numerous foreign species we must
refer the reader to the works of systematic authors. We
lave figured as an example of the genus, the Sciurus cine-
reus of America. See Plate CCCXXXV, fig. 1.
flying squirrels belong to the genus Pteromys of
Cuvier, and are characterized by an extension of the late¬
ral skin, which spreads out from the fore to the hind legs,
and, by acting as a parachute, greatly aids them in the act
of leaping. A species {Sciurus volans, Linn. Pt. Sibiri-
cus, Desm.), occurs in Poland, Russia, and Siberia. It
feeds chiefly on the young shoots of pine trees, and, ac¬
cording to Pallas, its excrements thus acquire so resinous
a quality, that they burn with a pure bright flame. It springs
fiom branch to branch and from tree to tree with the most
surprising agility. It is not readily tamed, and bites se-
vcrely w hen in a state of irritation. Another flying* squir-
rel {Pt. volucella, Desm.), erroneously named polatouche
by Buffon, from the Russian name polatucka (which ap¬
plies to the preceding species), inhabits the United States.
(See Plate CCCXXXV, figs. 4 and 2.) It lives well in
captivity ; and it even appears that a pair bred at Malmai-
son in 1809. This animal is frequently brought alive to
Euiope. Several otner species inhabit the Eastern Islands.4
Genus Cheiromys. Cuv. Geoff. Incisors "*
molars
4 — 4
’2’
canine
0 — 0
3 3 » — 18* F ive toes to all the feet,—those of
1 As in the dormice, Genus Myoxis. ~~ "
* 'V’f £fth molar,°fthe upper jaw seems to occur only in the young, and disappears in the adult state.
HnrST / M—l09'el ?■ 332, and the article Ecureuil of the Diction. Class. d'Hut. Nat. t vL p. 67
Horsheld s Zoological Researches, liv. 4 and 5. 1 ‘
MAMMALIA.
;li,ii or the anterior extremities very long and slender. The hind
tod itia. feet resemble hands, and are furnished with a short oppo-
''sable thumb. Two inguinal mammae.
This singular genus, regarding the true position of which
in the system a great diversity of opinion exists among na¬
turalists, contains only one species, the aye-aye of Mada¬
gascar or long-fingered Lemur of Shaw {Lemur psylodac-
tylus, Schreber, Sciurus Madagascariensis, Gmelin). This
animal is of the size of a hare, its colour brown mingled
with yellow, its ears large and almost bare, its tail very
long, and rather densely clothed with long blackish hair.
(See Plate CCCXXXV, figs. 3 and 6.) The aye-aye is
slow in its movements, of timid disposition and nocturnal
habits. It was discovered by Sonnerat on the eastern coast
of Madagascar. Little is known of its natural history ; but
a pair, kept alive for some months by the French traveller,
fed on boiled rice, in the eating of which they made use of
their long fingers, pretty much in the way in which the
Chinese employ their chopsticks. In a state of freedom
it is said to pick out larvae and other insects from beneath
the bark of trees. In its distinct orbits, the form of the
hind feet, and other characters, it seems allied to the quad-
rumanous order (at the termination of which it is placed by
M. Desmarest), but its teeth are those of the Rodential tribes.
2
Genus Arctomys, Gmel. Mm, Linn. Incisors —, ca-
0—0 ,5—5 . . , , „
nines Q __ 0> molars - ^ ; = 22. Anterior paws with four
fingers, and the rudiments of a thumb; posterior with five.
Tail of medium length, or short.
The marmots are subterranean dwellers, living together
gregariously, and subject to the torpid state in winter. Al¬
though they feed on roots and other vegetation, the some¬
what pointed tubercles of the molar teeth indicate a de¬
parture from the strictly herbivorous character, and they
are easily induced to eat both flesh and insects. They
are usually extremely fat, prior to the assumption of the
torpid state, and the epiploon is then furnished with nu¬
merous adipose leaflets; when they awake again on the
return of spring, they are very thin, and their weight
has become sensibly diminished, a proof that the fatty sub¬
stance with which they are so amply furnished, supports
the system not only in hybernation, but also during those
trying periods when they are roused by any accidental al¬
ternation of temperature.1 It is seldom, however, that they
are exposed to sudden changes in those deep burrows, in
which they take their winter sleep. The genus is at pre¬
sent composed of a great amount of species, the majority
ot which inhabit the temperate and colder regions of both
continents.. Above a dozen occur in North America, and
(including the three species brought from Buckharia by
M. Eversham), about eight are found in Europe.2
The most generally known species is the marmot of the
Alps (Arct. mar motto, Gmel., Mm alpinm, Linn.), an ani¬
mal somewhat larger than a rabbit, of a yellowish-grey co¬
lour, ashy towards the head, the upper part of which, and
the end of the tail, are black. It inhabits high mountains
immediately beneath the line of perpetual snow. Though
of a stupid aspect it is a creature not only of great instinc¬
tive intelligence, but also susceptible of education, while
its habits, in a state of nature, are in every way worthy of
131
attention. Several individuals combine in forming a sub- Glires or
terranean retreat, contrived with great art, and consisting Rodenlia.
of an oval cavity or general receptacle, with a large canal'—~y—'
or passage, divaricating so as to present a couple of outlets.
These recesses are generally made on declivities, and are
supplied during autumn with an ample store of moss and
hay. During the joyous summer season the alpine mar¬
mots are often seen sporting near their holes, or sitting up¬
right in the enjoyment of the genial sunshine ; but it is
said that a sentinel is usually placed on the summit of a
neighbouring crag, to give warning of approaching danger.
Certain it is that they are very wary, and not easily sur¬
prised at any distance from their subterranean retreats.
When the increasing cold of autumn betokens the approach
of their long continued winter sleep, they betake themselves
to their chambers, which they have previously furnished
with the sweet summer hay. With the same, or some si¬
milar material, they also close up the opening to their
dwelling, and soon fall into a torpid state, which continues
till the spring. When they first enter their winter quar¬
ters they are extremely fat, but become emaciated after
the lapse of a few months. If carefully dug up they may
be carried away without awakening; but the heat of a
warm chamber speedily restores them to active life. In
like manner, if well cared for in confinement, they do not
assume the torpid state. From these, and other facts well
known to naturalists, it would appear that hybernating ani¬
mals are not condemned to torpidity by any inherent qua¬
lity of their nature, but that it is rather a provisional fa-
culty, dependent on external circumstances, and may con¬
sequently be interrupted, postponed, or altogether pre¬
vented, by regulating the conditions under which the indi¬
vidual is placed.3 The Alpine marmot is less productive
than most of its order. It brings forth only once a year,
and produces four or five young at a birth. These increase
rapidly, and are not only easy to tame, but may be taught
to perform various tricks and gesticulations. In a domes¬
tic state they are almost omnivorous, and in eating they
sit upright, and use their paws like a squirrel.
Another noted species is the bobac or Polish marmot
{Arctomys bobac, Gmelin). It is found in Poland, in the
basins of the Dnieper and Borysthenes, and spreads through
the north of Asia into Kamtschatka. It lives in groups of
from twenty to forty, digging deep excavations on the
southern sides of hills of no great elevation, and resembles
the preceding species in its general habits. The souslik
or variegated marmot {Arctomys citillus, Gmel.) differs in
not being gregarious. It is of a more irascible disposition,
and exhibits a tendency to prey on animal food. In addi¬
tion to the supply of hay, chiefly used for bedding by the
other species, this kind stores up roots, nuts, grain, &c. from
which its winter sleep may be inferred to be less profound.
Pallas, indeed, informs us, that such as are occasionally
found in granaries are observed in motion even during the
winter season.4 The so-called variegated or Siberian
marmot has a widely extended distribution, occurring in
Austria, Bohemia, and European Russia, and spreading
northwards into Siberia, Kamtschatka, and the Aleutian
islands, and southwards to Persia and Hindustan. The
species of this genus are likewise numerous in North Ame¬
rica ;5 of these, however, we shall here notice only the
1 Mangili’s M(moire sur le Lethargic des Marmottes.
t or the species see Pallas s Nov. sp. Quadrup. e Glir. Ord. and the Fauna Boreali-Americana, part i>
^ Nee the article Animal Kingdom of this work, vol. iii. p. 167.
It may be here noted, however, that under the title of Mus citillus, Pallas is supposed to have described three distinct species of
marmot, two of which he regarded as varieties of the other. The actual distribution of each is therefore probably more circumscribed
Nee Nooce species Quadrnpedum e Glirium Ordine ; and for the recent species, Voyage d Boukhara, par M. le Baron Meyendorff, in 1820
m which the animals collected by M. Eversman are described by Lichtenstein.
TV \or Marmots of the New World, see Godman’s American Natural History, vol. il, Dr Harlan’s Fauna Americana, the
avels ot Lewis and Clarke, and Dr liichardson’s work already so frequently referred to.
132
MAMMALIA.
Glires or Quebec marmot (Arctomys empetra, Plate CCCXXXV,
Rodentia. figs. 5 and 8) of Pennant.1 It inhabits woody districts, at
least as far north aslat. 61 °. Although it is a subterranean
species, it also climbs trees and bushes, probably in search
of buds or other vegetation. The natives capture it by
pouring water into the hole which it inhabits. They consi¬
der its flesh as a delicacy when in good condition. Its fur,
however, is of no value.
2
Genus Myoxis, Gmelin. Mus, Linn. Incisives ca-
. 0 0 4 4
nines ^molars ^^; = 20. No cheek pouches.
Anterior paws with four toes and a rudimentary thumb ;
posterior with five. Tail long, sometimes round and bushy,
sometimes depressed and distichous, occasionally tufted
only at the extremity. Hair very fine and soft. No cce-
cum.
The beautiful species, commonly called dormice, which
constitute this genus, seem characteristic of Europe.
They resemble squirrels in many of their habits, live in
woods, and store up provisions for their winter store, al¬
though they pass most of that season in torpidity.2 Their
food consists chiefly of nuts and fruits, but they are said to
attack occasionally the eggs and young of small birds.
They pair in spring, and bring forth usually about five young
in summer. Many curious observations have been made
upon the nature of their hybernal sleep by Mangili, Saissy,
Edwards, and others. Respiration is suspended and re¬
newed at regular intervals, which vary, however, with the
temperature. Thus, at 3° an individual observed by Man¬
gili respired twenty-four or twenty-five times consecutive¬
ly in a minute, after four minutes of repose. Their bodily
temperature also falls. A lerot or garden dormouse, which
in summer shewed a heat of 36° 5', exhibited in December
only 21°. Edwards has shewn that hybernating animals
habitually produce less heat than other warm-blooded spe¬
cies, and that in that respect they continue permanently
under the same conditions as the young of ordinary animals.
The fat dormouse (Alyoxis glis, see Plate CCCXXXV.
fig. 7) is the most nearly allied to the squirrels. It dwells
in forests, climbs trees, and leaps from branch to branch
with considerable agility. It builds its bed in hollow trees,
or in rocky clefts, dislikes moisture, and rarely descends to
the ground. It is confined to the warmer and temperate
parts of Europe, and was used by the Romans (as it still
is in Italy) as food. That luxurious people fattened it for
the table in receptacles called Gliraria ; and Martial was
of opinion, that in spite of long continued abstinence it be¬
came fattened by its winter sleep :
‘ Tota mihi dormitur hiems; et pinguior illo
Tempore sum quo me nil nisi soninus alit.”
The flavour of its flesh resembles that of the guinea-pig.
The lerot or garden dormouse (M. niteld) is more nume¬
rous and widely spread than the preceding. It inhabits
temperate Europe as far north as Poland, and frequently
occurs in gardens and outhouses. It inhabits holes in
walls and hollow trees, and is injurious from its habit of
climbing espalier trees, and eating the best and ripest
fruit, especially peaches. It is itself uneatable. The mus-
cardine (our English dormouse, Myoocus mmcardinus,
Gmelin, Mus avellanarius, Linn.) is scarcely larger than
a common mouse. It never enters houses, but inhabits Glires,
woods, where it makes a nest like that of the squirrel, com- hodeiitv
posed of interlaced herbage opening from above, and usually
placed on a hazel bush, or some low growing tree. It hv-
bernates in hollow trees, occurs over Europe from Italy to
Sweden, and is the only British species. Although ex¬
tremely lethargic it is easily roused from torpidity, bv
either a diminution or increase of temperature. M. Man¬
gili exposed a dormouse in a lethargic state to an artificial
cold of 10°, and it died in twenty minutes. When opened
a great quantity of blood was found in the ventricles of the
heart and in the principal vessels connected with the lungs,
while the lungs themselves, as well as the veins of the neck,
head, and brain, were much distended.
Genus Echimys, Geoff. Incisives canines   
2’ 0 _ o’
4 4
mo^ars 4TL 4 ’ = c^eek pouches. Four toes and
the vestige of a thumb on the anterior feet; the posterior
with five toes. Tail long, scaly, slightly haired. Fur
coarse, and intermingled with flattened spines.
This genus consists of several South American species
usually designated spiny rats, although in some the hair
is of the usual kind. We know little of their history or
habits. The red species (Ech. spinosus) is described by
Azara as digging burrows in dry and sandy soils, four or
five feet long, about eight inches beneath the surface, and
sometimes so numerous and close together, as to render
precaution necessary on the part of the pedestrian. It mea¬
sures about eight inches in length.
Genus Hydromys, Geoff. Incisives - molars 2 ^;
i _ 2 2 — 2
— 12. Feet with five toes, the thumb almost enveloped
in the skin, the anterior toes free, those of the hinder ex¬
tremities connected by a swimming membrane. Tail
nearly as long as the body, cylindrical, pointed at the ex¬
tremity, and covered with coarse hair.
Two Australasian animals (//. leucogaster and chryso-
gaster, Geoff.3), by some regarded as varieties of each
other, constitute this obscurely known genus. The yel¬
low-bellied species was described from a single individual
killed by a sailor on an island in the straits of Entrecas-
teaux, while it was endeavouring to hide itself beneath a
heap of stones. (See Plate CCCXXXV. figs. 9 and 12.)
Its fur is softer and finer than that of the white-bellied spe¬
cies. Both kinds measure about a foot in length, besides
the tail, which extends eleven inches. In the first edition
of the Regne Animal, they were erroneously regarded as
natives of Guiana, and their supposed attributes are still
commingled with those of a South American animal erf am¬
phibious habits, called the Coypou (genus Myopotamus of
Commerson). Setting aside, then, the generalities which
apply to the latter animal, we believe that nothing is known
of the habits of the Hydromys. They are, in the mean
time, inferred to resemble those of our water rats.4
We shall here merely name the
Genus Capromys of Desmarest, which contains two spe¬
cies native to the island of Cuba, where they are known to
have been used as food by the natives. They resemble
enormous rats.5
Genus Mus, Cuv. Desm.
Incisives molars
1 Arctic Zoology, vol. i. p. 111. The Quebec marmot of Forster (Phil. Trans. Ixii. p. 378), is, however, another species—the Arc-
tomys Parryi ot Itichardson,
2 The only exotic species with which we are acquainted (M. Coupeii, F. Cuvier, M. murinus, Desm., an animal imported from
the Cape of Good Hope by Delalande), although probably in its native country active throughout the year, was found to become
lethargic when exposed to the cold of Europe.
3 ^nn\(j.u t. vi. pi. 36. 4 Diction' Class. d'Hist. Nat. t. viii. p. 427*
3 See Mem. de la Soc. d Hut. Nat. de Paris, t. i. p. 43; and Regne Animal, t. L p. 200.
MAMMALIA.
133
3ji: 3 or =16. Anterior feet with four toes and a rudimentary
toe! itia. tlmmb, the posterior with five. Tail long, naked, and
scaly.
Tins genus, still of great extent, is now restricted to
the rats and mice properly so called, an omnivorous race,
some of which have followed man throughout his almost
universal migrations. Wherever European nations have
colonised, these small but adventurous creatures have ac¬
companied the merchant or the mariner ; and from the for¬
lorn settlements of the fur traders of North America to the
populous cities of Southern Asia, their sly and furtive ha¬
bits are the source of equal annoyance.
The common brown rat of this country (M. decumanus)
is believed to be an eastern animal, a native of Persia and
Hindustan, which made its appearance in the western
countries of Europe only during the earlier half of last cen¬
tury. It is a bolder and more powerful species than its
predecessor the black rat, which it is said to have nearly
extirpated.1 It burrows under the foundations of walls
and houses, makes its way into drains of foul water, swims
with great facility, abounds in sea-port towns, and fre¬
quently establishes itself on board of ship. It is extremely
prolific. This species is now well known in America and
die colonies. It was unknown, even in the maritime towns
of France, prior to 1750 ; and according to Pallas, was un¬
observed in Siberia and Russia before 1766. About that
period they were seen to arrive in great troops towards the
embouchure of the Wolga, and in the towns of Astracan
and Jaitzkoi-Gorodok, appearing to come from the west¬
ern desert, that is, from the European side.
The black rat (Mus rattus) is a smaller animal, of a
darker colour, a more elongated head, and sharper muzzle
than the preceding. It is equally omnivorous, but less
productive. Its original country is extremely doubtful.
Ancient authors make no mention of it, and the prevailing
belief is that it made its way into Europe during the mid¬
dle ages. It is still the prevailing species in some parts of
the continent, but is now comparatively rare in Britain. Dr
Fleming, however, observes, that “ the period of their ex¬
tirpation is far distant. They still infest the older houses
of London and Edinburgh, and in many districts of the
country they are common.”2 It was observed during the
great fires which occurred in the ancient quarter of the
last named city in the year 1824, that such rats as were
dislodged from garrets and other lofty places, were all of
the black kind.
Foreign countries produce various species of the rat
tribe unknown to Europe. Of these we shall briefly de¬
scribe the Malabar rat of Dr Shaw,—Mm giganteus of
General Hardwicke,—a species of enormous size.3 The
nose is rounded, the under jaw much shorter than the up¬
per, the cutting teeth broad, incurved, compressed. The
body is thick, and greatly arched, the upper portion black,
the under inclining to grey. The legs and toes are black,
and the tail, thinly covered with hair, measures two and a
half inches in circumference at the root. The specimen
just noticed was a female, arid weighed two pounds eleven
ounces and a half. The male weighs above three pounds,
and, including the tail, which is above a foot long, measures
nearly thirty inches in length. This huge rat is found in
many places on the Coromandel coast, in Mysore, and in
several parts of Bengal, between Calcutta and Hurdwar.
It is partial to dry situations, and scarcely ever occurs at a
distance from human dwellings. According to General
Hardwicke, the lowest caste of Hindoos eat the flesh of
this rat in preference to that of any other species. It is Glires or
extremely mischievous, and will burrow to a great depth, [Rodentia.
passing beneath the foundations of stores and granaries,v
unless these are very deeply laid; and it perforates with
ease the walls of such buildings as are formed of mud or
unburnt bricks. It is also destructive in gardens, from its
habit of turning up the seeds of all kinds of leguminous
plants. Fruits likewise suffer from its depredations, and it
will even attack poultry when at all stinted in its vegetable
diet. The bite of this species is considered dangerous;
and a European serving in the Honourable Company’s ar¬
tillery is known to have died in the Doub of confirmed hy¬
drophobia, in consequence of having been bit by it. One
of the largest and most destructive rats with which we are
acquainted is the pilori, or musk-rat of the Antilles {M.
pilorides, Pallas and Gmelin), which measures fifteen inches
in length, exclusive of the tail.4
Several foreign rats (not to be confounded, however, with
the genus Echimys, already noticed) have a portion of their
hair so strong and stiff as to be almost spiny. Such is the
Perchal rat (3Ius Perchal, Shaw), a species which mea¬
sures above a foot in length, exclusive of the tail. It in¬
habits houses in the town and neighbourhood of Pondi¬
cherry, where it serves as food. Another spiny species
occurs in Egypt, and is described by Geoffrey under the
name of Mm Cahirinus.
Of the smaller species, or mice, we need scarcely describe
the external aspect. The common domestic species (Mus
musculus) was well known to ancient writers, and now oc¬
curs in most countries of the known world. It is amazing¬
ly prolific, sometimes producing seventeen at a birth. Aris¬
totle’s experiment in relation to this point has been often
quoted. He placed a pregnant female in a vessel of grain,
and after the lapse of a short period he examined his store,
and found the grain greatly diminished, but the mice in¬
creased to 120. To the same genus belongs a somewhat
larger species, called the long-tailed field mouse {M. sylva-
ticus), which resembles the preceding in the colour of its
upper parts, but has the sides more rufous, the ears larger,
the head longer, and the eyes more prominent. It dwells
in fields, woods, and gardens, stores up seeds and roots in
autumn, and is said to become torpid in very cold weather.
This species is extremely abundant in certain seasons, and
is often very destructive in plantations, by gnawing asun¬
der the seedling trees or devouring the seeds. Buffon was
of opinion that it did more damage in these respects than
all other quadrupeds and birds together. They are killed
abroad by fastening a roasted walnut to a stick, the latter
supporting a large stone. In this manner above 2000 have
been killed between the 15th November and the 8th of
December, in a piece of ground not exceeding forty French
arpents. The harvest mouse of White (M. messorius) is
the smallest of British quadrupeds, the length of its body
measuring only about two inches and a quarter. It builds
its nest above ground. The one described by Mr White
was composed of the blades of wheat, was perfectly round
in its form, of the size of a cricket ball, with an aperture so
ingeniously contrived, as to be discovered with difficulty.
It contained eight young ones, all blind and naked, and was
suspended in the head of a thistle. It is also often hung
amid the blades of standing corn. The harvest-mouse, like
most of the field species, is more frequently met with in the
autumn than during any other season. It seeks protection
from the winter’s cold in hay or corn ricks, or in burrows
beneath the earth. We have found it several times of late
fin^ th® above observation recorded in all modern books of natural history,—Pennant’s opinion having been followed by our
English compilers ; and the same sentiment prevails in most foreign works. “ II est vorace," says M. Desmarest, “ fait la guerre la
plus acharne'e au rat noir,” &c. Mammalogie, p. 299. Neverthless, we have sought in vain for the evidence on which such supposition
has been founded. “ On the contrary,’’ says Dr Fleming, “ I know that they have lived for years under the same roof, the brown
rat chiefly residing in holes of the floor, the other chiefly in holes of the roof.” British Animals, p. 20.
3 Linn. Trans, vol. vii. p. 30G. 4 Regne Animal, t. i. p. 201.
134
MAMMALIA.
Glires or years in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh. It does not ap-
Itodentia. pear to have been as yet generally recognised on the conti-
V v ' nent of Europe, though well known in some of the provin¬
ces of Fi’ance, where of late a still smaller species has been
discovered, the mulot iiain% M. pumilus of F. Cuvier.
The American field-mouse (Mus leucopus, Rafinesque)
inhabits the northern districts of the New World, and ex¬
tends across the whole country from the shores of Hud¬
son’s Bay to the mouth of the Columbia. It becomes an
inmate of the dwelling-houses as soon as any have been
erected at a trading post. “ The gait and prying actions
of this little creature,” says Dr Richardson, “ when it ven¬
tures from its hole in the dusk of the evening, are so much
like those of the English domestjc mouse, that most of the
European residents at Hudson’s Bay have considered it to
be the same animal, altogether overlooking the obvious dif¬
ferences of their tails and other peculiarities. The Ame¬
rican field-mouse, however, has a habit of making hoards
of grain or little pieces of fat, which I believe is unknown
of the European domestic mouse; and what is most sin¬
gular, these hoards are not formed in the animal’s retreats,
but generally in a shoe left at the bedside, the pocket of a
coat, a nightcap, a bag hung against a wall, or some simi¬
lar place.”1 This species may be regarded as the repre¬
sentative of the Mus sylvaticus of Europe. In the stoat or
ermine it finds a most inveterate and deadly foe, being fre¬
quently pursued by that greedy bloodsucker even into the
sleeping apartments of the settlers.
Genus Gerbillus, Desm. Meriones, Illig. Incisives
2 3 3
-, molars ^   ; = 16. Anterior feet short, furnished with
four toes, and a rudimentary thumb ; the posterior long,
with five toes. Tail long, and covered with hair.
The species of this genus are peculiar to the warmer
portions of the ancient continent. They may be described
as long-footed rats, allied in many respects to the gerboas,
with which indeed they have been frequently confounded.
As an example we may mention the Mus tamaricinus of
Pallas, a subterranean animal, inhabiting the southern
shores and deserts of the Caspian Sea. An Indian species
( G. Indians) was discovered by General Flardwicke ;2 and
several others inhabit Africa, from Nubia to the Cape.
They are great leapers.
Genus Meriones, F. Cuv. Separated from the pre¬
ceding on account of the greater length of the hind legs,
the nakedness of the tail, and the existence of a very small
tooth in front of the molars of the upper jaw.
The species are American, and the best known is that
called the jumping mouse of Canada, described as a gerboa
by General Davies.3 It is an animal of extreme agility, of
the size of a mouse, with a very long tail. “ The first I
was so fortunate to catch,” says the gentleman just named,
“ was taken in a large field near the falls of Montmorenci,
and by its having strayed too far from the skirts of a wood,
allowed myself, assisted by three other gentlemen, to sur¬
round it, and after an hour’s hard chase to get it unhurt,
though not before it was thoroughly fatigued, which might Glw
accelerate its death. During the time the animal remained Rode^
in its usual vigour, its agility was incredible for so small a'’'“\>.
creature. It always took progressive leaps of from three
to four, and sometimes of five yards, although seldom above
twelve or fourteen inches from the surface of the grass; but
I have frequently observed others in shrubby places, and in
the woods, among plants, where they chiefly reside, leap
considerably higher. When found in such places it is im¬
possible to take them, from their wonderful agility, and
their evading all pursuit, by bounding into the thickest part
of the cover they can find.” On the approach of cold
weather it descends into the earth, and passes the winter
in a state of torpidity. Another species has been recently
described under the name of Labrador jumping mouse.4 * It
is a very common animal in the fur countries as far north
as Great Slave Lake, but Dr Richardson did not obtain any
precise information regarding its habits.3
Genus Cricetus, Cuv. Teeth as in the genus Mus,
but the tail is short, and clothed with hair, and the mouth
is provided with cheek pouches, in which the species trans¬
port grain and other provisions into their subterranean
chambers.
I he most noted is the hamster ( Cricetus vulgaris, Desm.,
Mus cricetus, Pallas ; see Plate CCCXXXV, fig. 10), an
animal of variable colour, somewhat larger than a rat, of a
thicker form, with a shorter tail. Although it occurs in
Lower Alsace, it is rare in Europe to the west of the
Rhine, but is widely spread from that river to the Danube
on the south-west, and north-easterly through a vast ex¬
tent of country into Siberia. It lives on roots, fruits, herbs,
and other vegetable produce, and is said to be much at¬
tached to the grain of the liquorice plant. Some authors
allege that it also preys occasionally on small birds, mice,
&c. Though easily tamed, it is a fierce, resentful, pugna¬
cious creature, and has been known to spring upon the
muzzle of a horse, and hold on with its teeth till killed.
When preparing for defence or attack, it empties its cheek
pouches, and then so inflates them with air that its head and
neck seem larger than the whole body. It then rises on its
hind legs, and making a sudden spring, seizes on its adver¬
sary with the most obdurate tenacity. It will even spitefully
grasp, and perseveringly maintain its hold of a piece of hot
iron. Though the hamster occurs in great numbers, it is
so far a solitary animal, that each inhabits a separate hole.
It lays up during the summer season an ample and varied
store, and is extremely injurious in many countries, from
the quantity of grain which it conveys from time to time,
in its cheek pouches, to its subterranean dwelling. These
vary in depth and the number of their divarications with
the age of the animal,—a young individual making them
hardly a foot in depth, while the elders sink them four or
five. I he principal chamber is lined with hay, and serves
as a sleeping room, while the other apartments contain
the provisions.6 These, it is said, will amount, for a single
individual, to the weight of a hundred pounds. “ On the
!
1 Fauna Boreali-Americana, part i. p. 142. ® Linn. Trans, vol. viii. pi. vii. 3 Ibid. vol. iv. pi. viiL
* Godmans American Nat. History, vol. ii. p. 97- 5 Fauna Boreali-Americana, part i. p. HI.
In the history of the hamster, as in that of other foreign species, the habits of which we have no means of ascertaining from
personal observation, we are necessarily dependent for our information on the published works of authors of repute. We are some-
times, however, rather at a loss by which statement to be led, where there is a contrariety of evidence; as, for example, in regard to
the species in question. ^ “ II est commun," says Cuvier, “ dans toutes les contrees sablonneuses qui s’etendent depuis le nord d’Alle-
magne, jusqu en Siberie” (Regne Animal, t. i. p. 205); “ II evite," observes M. Desmoulins, “ les terrains sablonneux, et ceux qui sont
trop arroses (Diction. Classique d'Hist. Nat. t. viii. p. 34.). So in like manner regarding the entrances to their subterranean stores,
there is a disparity of opinion. “ Les cavites,” according to M. Desmarest, “ oil elles (diverses semences, &c.) sont situees it deux
pieds et derm ou trois pieds sous terre, et elles communiquent au dehors par deux galeries, dont une, oblique, est le chemin d'usage ordi.
naire, et 1 autre, perpendiculaire, ne sert que dans les cas d’alerte” (Mammalogie, p. 310); while Dr Shaw observes, that “ each hole
has two apertures, the one descending obliquely, and the other in a perpendicular direction, and it is through this latter that the
animal goes in and out (General Zoology, vol. ii. p. 97.). We adduce these discrepancies to shew the difficulties which sometimes be¬
set even the humble labours of a conscientious compiler. How almost insuperable they become in the way of original observation,
may be inferred from the few precise additions to actual knowledge which we find amid the multiplied channels of modern infor¬
mation.
MAMMALIA.
;lir or approach of winter,” says Dr Shaw, “ the hamster retires
odutia. into his subterraneous abode, the entry of which he shuts
—V—^ up with great care; and thus remaining in a state of tran¬
quillity, feeds on his collected provision till the frost be¬
comes severe; at which period he falls into a profound
slumber, which soon grows into a confirmed torpidity, so
that the animal continues rolled up, with all its limbs in¬
flexible, its body perfectly cold, and without the least ap¬
pearance of life. In this state it may be even opened, when
the heart is seen contracting and dilating, but with a mo¬
tion so slow as to be scarce perceptible, not exceeding fif¬
teen pulsations in a minute, though in the waking state of
the animal it beats a hundred and fifty pulsations in the
same time. It is added, that the fat of the creature has the
appearance of being coagulated, that its intestines do not
exhibit the smallest symptoms of irritability on the appli¬
cation of the strongest stimulants, and the electric shock
may be passed through it without effect. This lethargy of
the hamster has been generally ascribed to the effect of
cold alone ; but late observations have proved, that unless
at a certain depth below the surface, so as to be beyond
the access of the external air, the animal does not fall into
its state of torpidity, and that the severest cold on the sur¬
face does not affect it. On the contrary, when dug up out
of its burrow, and exposed to the air, it infallibly awakes
in a few hours. The waking of the hamster is a gradual
operation: he first loses the rigidity of his limbs, then makes
profound inspirations, at long intervals ; after this he begins
to move his limbs, opens his mouth, and utters a sort of
unpleasant rattling sound. After continuing these opera¬
tions for some time, he at length opens his eyes, and endea¬
vours to rise, but reels about for some time, as if in a state
of intoxication, till at length, after resting a small space, he
perfectly recovers his usual powers. This transition from
torpidity to activity requires more or less time, according
to the temperature of the air, and other circumstances.
When exposed to a cold air, he is sometimes two hours in
waking; but in a warmer air the change is effected in half
the time.”1
Numerous other species of this genus are described by
naturalists, and the beautiful little South American animal
called chinchilla (C. laniger, Geoff, and Desm.), so re¬
markable for the softness of its fur, has been usually classed
with the hamsters.2 New genera have been formed by M.
Rafinesque Smaltz, and other recent writers, for the recep¬
tion of several of the reputed hamsters of North America,
such as the sand rat, camas rat, pouched rat of Canada, &c.;
but into the history of these we cannot enter.3
135
Genus Fiber, Cuv., Desm. Incisives molars ^^ ;
2’ 3 — 3
= lb. Hind feet with a marginal row of long hairs, but
not webbed.4 Tail long, laterally compressed, scaly or
granular, and thinly haired.
Of this genus the only species as yet distinctly charac¬
terized is Fiber zibethecus, or musk rat of Canada, com¬
monly called the musquash. It is an animal of amphibious
habits, measuring above a foot in length, with a thick flat-
tish body, a short head, indistinct neck, thighs hid in the
body, very short legs, and large hind feet. The fur greatly
resembles that of the beaver, but is shorter, with the down
coarser and of less value. Although it resists the water
when alive, it is easily wetted after death. The musquash
is peculiar to North America, where it extends from about
noith latitude 30°, almost to the mouth of the Mackenzie
River in latitude 69°. They feed, for the most part, on ve¬
getable substances (in summer they are said to devour the
fresh water mussels), and their favourite abodes are small Glires or
grassy lakes or swamps, or the grassy borders of slow-flow- Rodentia.
ing streams which possess a muddy bottom. They are'^~v^'^/
very prolific, bringing forth sometimes three broods in a
season, but their numbers are often checked by a great
mortality which attacks them at uncertain intervals, from
some unknown cause. The districts in which they abound
are also subject to frequent inundations, which, covering all
the lower grounds, occasion the death of many by drown¬
ing, and in severe winters they are almost extirpated from
certain districts by their swampy dwellings being frozen
over. In such cases, Dr Richardson informs us, they are
driven by famine to devour each other. In a state of na¬
ture they are rather watchful than shy, that is, they will
approach close to a canoe, but will dive the instant they
perceive the flash of a gun. According to Hearne they
are easily tamed. Their fur is extensively used in the fa¬
brication of hats,—between four and five hundred thousand
skins being annually imported to Great Britain. The In¬
dian hunters spear these animals through the walls of their
mud houses.
Genus Arvicola, Cuv. Incisives
3 3
molars = 16.
Hind feet neither palmated nor ciliated. Tail round, haired.
This genus contains, among many other species, two
small British quadrupeds,—the water rat (A. aquatica) and
the short-tailed field mouse {A. agrestis). The former in¬
habits holes by the banks of lakes and rivers. In this coun¬
try, its disposition, so far as yet observed, is herbivorous,
but French and Italian naturalists state that it preys also on
insects, reptiles, and the spawn of fishes. The latter is very
common in fields, gardens, and the outskirts of woods, in
all of which it sometimes occasions no small damage. Al¬
though M. Desmarest assigns “ 1’ancien continent” as the
geographical range of the genus Arvicola, yet several spe¬
cies inhabit North America. Indeed the French author
has himself described A. xanthognathus as native to the
shores of Hudson’s Bay. Of the species of Northern Asia,
one of the most singular is the economic rat (A. economies,
Desm.), so called from the great skill and sagacity which it
displays in providing the supplies of winter. This dabour
rests chiefly with the female,—the male during summer lead¬
ing a solitary life, dwelling in old deserted holes, and feeding
on berries and other produce of the season. When cold
weather approaches, both sexes wisely betake themselves to
the same hole. The occasional migrations of this species
are scarcely less remarkable than those of the lemming.
The cause of these movements is quite unknown, although
Pallas imagines (and every one is entitled to indulge that
poetical and pleasing attribute) that they are occasioned, at
least in Kamtschatka, by some uneasy sensation produced
by the subterranean fire of that volcanic region. M. Bose
is of opinion that he has found this species in the forest of
Montmorency, and we have also been informed of its sup¬
posed occurrence in Switzerland. Although those locali¬
ties are somewhat doubtful, we must at the same time bear
in mind, that several of the species are very extensively
distributed,—Arvicola pennsylvanieus of Ord (commonly
called Wilson’s meadow-mouse) being by some regarded
as identical with our A. agrestis.
Genus Georychus, Illig. Lemmus, Desm. Scarcely
differs from the preceding, except in the shortness of the
ears and tail, and the larger and stronger claws, more fit
for digging.
We here place the celebrated lemming (Mus lemmus,
Linn., Lem. Norvegicus, Desm.), of the migratory move-
General Zoology, vol. ii. p. 07.
The chinchilla is now regarded as generically distinct. We shall notice it at the conclusion of our present order.
Ti xr i T 1{oreall-Ameri!:anai part i., and Lesson’s Manuel de Mammalogie.
Tieds de derricre demi palmes.” Cuvier. “ There is no vestige of a web.” Richardson.
136
MAMMALIA.
Glires or ments of which we have such singular records. It is a
Itodentia. northern animal, an inhabitant of the mountains of Nor-
way and Lapland, of the size of a rat, and clothed with fur
varied by black and tawny. The specimens from different
localities do not altogether accord either in size or colour.
The lemming differs from many of its congeners, and in¬
deed from several species of its own genus, in having five
well developed toes to the anterior feet, instead of four toes
and a rudimentary thumb. We have heard less of late of
this animal than might have been anticipated from the ex¬
traordinary accounts which the preceding century furnished
of its history. The lemmings were described as natives of
the mountains of Kolen, in Lapland, and were said to ap¬
pear once or twice in a quarter of a century “ in numbers
numberless,” advancing in a straight line, unchecked by
hill or dale, by lake or river, and devouring in their on¬
ward journey “ every green thing.” Even the anxieties of
maternity do not slacken their march, for they have been
known to produce their offspring while journeying, and to
proceed as if nothing had happened, with a young one be¬
tween their teeth, and another on their back.1 Innumer¬
able bands were seen to march from the Kolen, through Nord-
land and Finmark, to the Western Ocean, which, nothing
daunted, they immediately entered, and after swimming
about for some time, as might be expected, perished. Other
bands were observed to take their route through Swedish
Lapland to the Bothnian Gulf, where they were drowned
in the same manner. When opposed by the peasants, they
stood still and barked at them; and they themselves were
not only barked at in return, but were swallowed in great
quantities by the lean and hungry dogs of Lapland. The
advent of these vermin is regarded as the omen of a bad
harvest. They are followed in their journeys by bears,
wolves, and foxes, which prey upon them incessantly, and
regard them as the most delicious food.2 These excursions
seem to augur a rigorous winter, of which the lemmings in
some way appear forewarned. For example, the season of
1742, remarkable for its severity throughout the circle of
Umea, was comparatively mild in that of Lula, although
situate further to the north; the lemmings migrated from
the former, but remained stationary in the latter district.
Whatever may be the motive of these journeys, they are
certainly executed with surprising perseverance, and with
the universal accord of the whole nation,—the officina
murium pouring forth its entire hordes, and leaving scarce
a remnant in their ancient habitation. The greater pro¬
portion perish before they reach the sea, and of course few
survive to return to their ancestral homes. They do, how¬
ever, endeavour to return ; for the object of their travel to
a far country, whatever it may be, is not to found a multi¬
plied or more extended empire. This indeed is evident
from the comparatively local restriction of the species; for
the true lemming of the Scandinavian Alps does not appear
to occur even in Russian Lapland ; and the kind which in¬
habits the countries in the vicinity of the White and Polar
Seas, as far as the mouths of the Obi, is a species or strong¬
ly marked variety, smaller by at least one-third, and of a
different aspect and colour.3 Their migratory propensities
are, however, entirely the same in different countries ; for
the species which dwells among the northern extremities
of the Ural Mountains, emigrates sometimes towards Pet-
zora, at other times towards the banks of the Obi, and is
followed, as usual, by troops of carnivorous and insatiate
foes.4 The domestic manners of the species are said to
present this discrepancy, that the Norwegian lemmings lay
up no provisions, and have only a single chamber in their
subterranean dwelling-places, whereas the lesser kind ex¬
cavate numerous apartments, and are provident of tlie win- Glires ot
ter season, by storing up ample magazines of that species Kxkntia,
of rein-deer moss called Lichen rangiferinus.5 'wj’V,,,
Many other lemmings occur in Siberia and the Tartarian
deserts, and several in North America. Of the latter we
may mention that from Hudson’s Bay, G. Hudsonius, one
of the most northern of known quadrupeds. It does not
appear to have been met with as yet in the interior of
America, but inhabits Labrador, Hudson’s Straits, the
coast from Church-hill to the extremity of Melville Penin¬
sula, and the desolate islands of the Polar Sea. Its man¬
ners are imperfectly known, but Hearne states that it is so
easily tamed, that if taken even when full grown, it will in
a day or two become reconciled to captivity, and will vo¬
luntarily creep into its master’s bosom. This species has
no external ears, and scarcely any tail. “ Les deux doigts
du milieu,” says Cuvier, “ aux pieds de devant du male,
ont fair d’avoir les ongles doubles parceque la peau du bout
du doigt est calleuse, et fait une saillie sous la pointe de
1’ongle,—conformation qui ne s’est encore rencontree que
dans cet animal.”6 Dr Richardson, however, informs us,
that the lower layer of the claw appeared to him to be not
an enlargement of the callus, but rather of the same sub¬
stance as the superior portion or nail proper.
Genus Dipus, Gmel. Incisors —, molars   or
3’
; = 16 or 18. Head broad. Eyes large. Ears long
and pointed. Anterior feet with four toes, and a nailed
wart in place of thumb. The posterior extremities of great
length, and terminated by three or five toes. Tail very
long, cylindrical, covered throughout with short hair, and
terminated by a tuft.
The jerboas, called two-footed rats by ancient writers,
are nocturnal animals, of subterranean habits, native to the
central countries of the Old World. They feed on fruits
and roots. One of their most remarkable characters con¬
sists in this, that the three middle toes are all supported
by a single metatarsal bone, which thus resembles the
canon bone of the ruminating tribes, an osteological feature
unique, we believe, in the rodential order. Such of the
species as have only three toes, have but a single metatarsal
bone to the whole. The Dipus jerboa (Mus sagitta, Pall.)
is abundant in Barbary, in Upper and Lower Egypt, and
Syria, and makes its appearance again in more northern
countries between the Tanais and the Volga. It feeds
chiefly on bulbous plants, and is remarkable for the extreme
celerity of its course, which it effects by a series of long
and rapid bounds. Though its tail, from the cruel experi¬
ments of M. Lepechin, appears to be of great use in loco¬
motion, it is not by any means thick and muscular like
that of the kangaroo. The jerboa usually walks on all
fours, but when alarmed it seeks its safety by prodigious
leaps, executed with great force and rapidity. When about
to spring, it raises its body by means of the hinder extre¬
mities, and supports itself at the same time upon its tail,
while the fore feet are so closely pressed to 'the breast, as
to be scarcely visible. Hence, probably, its ancient name
of dipus, or two-footed. It then leaps into the air, and
alights upon its four feet, but instantaneously erecting it¬
self, it makes another spring, and so on in such rapid suc¬
cession, as to appear as if rather flying than running. The
experiments above alluded to consisted in maiming or cut¬
ting off the tails of these poor creatures. In proportion as
that organ was reduced in length, their power of leaping
diminished; and, when it was entirely lopped away, they
not only could not run at all, but fell backwards whenever
1 Mammalogie, p. 288.
5 Schreber, pi. 195, B.
5 Did. Class. d’Hist. Nat., article Campagnot.
2 See Quarterly Review, vol. xlvii. p. 338, and Bods lev’s Annual Register, for 1769.
4 Pallas, Novce Species Qnadrupedum e glirium online.
6 Rcgne Animal, t. i. p. 208.
MAMMALIA.
(-li s or they attempted to raise themselves with a view to their ac-
lioi iitia. customed spring. “ The jerboa,” says Bruce, “ is a small
harmless animal of the desert, nearly the size of a common
rat, the skin very smooth, and the ends of the hairs tipt
with black. It lives in the smoothest plains or places of
the desert, especially where the soil is fixed gravel, for in
that chiefly it burrows, dividing its hole below into many
mansions. It seems to be apprehensive of the falling in
of the ground; it therefore generally digs its hole under
the root of some spurge, thyme, or absynthium, upon whose
root it seems to depend for its roof not falling in and bury¬
ing it in the ruins of its subterranean habitation. It seems
to delight most in those places that are haunted by the
cerastis, or horned viper. Nature has certainly imposed
this dangerous neighbourhood upon the one for the good
and advantage of the other, and that of mankind in gene¬
ral. Of the many trials I made, I never found a jerboa in
the body of a viper, excepting one in that of a female big
with young, and the jerboa itself was then nearly consum¬
ed.”1 This species is used as food, and its flesh, in taste,
is scarcely distinguishable from that of a young rabbit. It
is described at a remote period by ancient authors, and is
represented in some of the earliest medals of the Cyrenai-
cum, sitting beneath an umbellated plant (supposed the
Silphiuni), the figure of which is likewise preserved on the
silver medals of Gyrene. The Dipus jaculus inhabits the
Tartarian deserts, and other species occur in different re¬
gions, from the shores of the Caspian Sea to the banks of
the rivers of Siberia. We here figure an African species, the
Dipus of Lichtenstein. See PI. CCCXXXV.fig. 11.
The largest species of the genus, as formerly constructed,
is the Cape jerboa, Dipus caffer, Gmel. It differs from the
others in having four molar teeth on each side of both jaws,
five toes to the anterior feet, and only four to the posterior,
the latter armed with broad claws almost resembling hoofs.
It measures about a foot in length, exclusive of the tail,
which extends fifteen inches. This species is remarkable
for its great strength and activity, which enable it to spring
from twenty to thirty feet at a single bound. It dwells in
deep burrows in the mountainous regions to the north of
the Cape of Good Hope, and is known to the Dutch colo¬
nists under the name of springen haas, or jumping hare.
In consequence of the peculiarities of structure just refer¬
red to, it has been formed by Illiger into a separate genus,
under the name of Pedetes (Helamys, F. Cuvier). See
Plate CCCXXXVI. fig. 1.
Genus Spalanx, Guldenstaedt. Aspalax, Olivier, Desm.
Teeth as in the rats and hamsters, but the incisives more
projecting and exposed. Legs very short; all the feet fur¬
nished with five toes, with flat thin nails. External ears
and tail scarcely perceptible.
The singular animal (Mus typhlus of Pallas) which forms
the type of this genus, resembles the mole in its habits,—
throwing up the earth from its burrows in the same man¬
ner, though furnished with much less powerful limbs. It
measures nearly ten inches long, has a thick cylindrical
body, a large triangular head, and no apparent eyes. Be¬
neath the skin, however, there are small black points re¬
sembling eyes, although their functions, as organs of vision,
are difficult to understand, in as far as they are covered
over by skin and hair. “ Whether the spalax be absolute¬
ly blind, or whether it receives any perception of light
through the medium of the eye as an organ, does not suf¬
ficiently appear by what has hitherto been said by its de-
137
scribers. The presence of what'may be called the vestige Glires or
of an organ, seems perfectly consistent with other instances Kodentis.
in which the application of such imperfect organ is not at "'“““'v''--''
all to be traced. On the contrary, it accords with that ap¬
parent unwillingness in nature to depart from prescribed
law's. The total absence of an accustomed organ is much
more anomalous in nature than the complete inutility of
an imperfect one.”2 It has been generally assumed that
the Greeks described our common mole as blind, under the
name of <e<r5r«A<*|, and modern authors, knowing that the
sleek inhabitant of our pastures is possessed of eyes, though
small ones, have prided themselves on their supposed cor¬
rection of an ancient error ; but the observations of Olivier
go to prove that the mole of the Greeks was not the spe¬
cies of western Europe, but the animal in question, which
spreads through Asia Minor into Persia and the south of
Russia, between the Tanais and the Wolga. The original
error probably lay with the Latin writers, wdio translated
the word into talpa, and then applied the term to
the mole of Europe. We may add, however, that Profes¬
sor Savi of Pisa is of opinion that the aspalax is to be re¬
garded as identical with the species of mole (Talpa cceca)
which he discovered in the Apennines,3 and which Baron
Cuvier says is “ tout a fait aveugle,”4 by which w'e pre¬
sume he merely means that its eyes are covered by the
skin. M. Charles Lucien Bonaparte likew ise regards these
species as synonymous.5
We may here briefly notice the genus Bathiergus of
Illiger, which, with several attributes of the preceding
genus, is distinguished by four molars on each side both
above and below', by a small though perceptible eye, and
a short tail. The sand mole {B. maritimus, Plate
CCCXXXYI. fig. 2.), as the larger species is usually call¬
ed, is an animal of the size of a rabbit, which occurs abun¬
dantly along the sandy shores of the Cape of Good Hope,
where it sometimes excavates the ground in such a manner as
to produce inconvenience, if not danger, to horsemen. An¬
other species, called the Cape rat (B. capensis), is destruc¬
tive in gardens and pleasure grounds. A third has been of
late years described under the title of B. hottentotus, by
MM. Lesson and Garnot.6
For the genera Geomys and Diplostoma of M. Rafi-
nesque, and a few other groups of the Rodential Order, the
characters of which we cannot here detail, we must refer
the reader to the works quoted below.7
Genus Castor, Linn. Incisives molars ^; = 20.
Eyes small. Ears short and rounded. Five toes to each
foot, those of the hinder extremities united by a web or
membrane. Tail broad, depressed, ovular, naked, and
scaly. Two pouches (in the male) on each side of the
genitals, containing an unctuous matter called castoreum.
As the description of the beaver, which alone constitutes
our present genus, is recorded in almost every book of na¬
tural history, wre shall here confine ourselves to a few par¬
ticulars regarding its general habits, and as its history, as
given by the traveller Hearne, has been characterized by
competent authority as the most accurate which has been
yet presented to the public, we shall here abridge it for the
benefit of the same. We may, however, premise by ob¬
serving, that naturalists have not yet been able to establish
any distinctive characters between the gregarious beavers
of North America, and the few that still survive in isolated
pairs along the banks of a few great European rivers, such
1 Travels, vol. v. p. 121. 2 Griffith’s Edition of the Animal Kingdom, vol. iii. p. 162. 3 Memorie Scientifiche, Decade prima.
4 lltgne Animal, t. i. p. 131. Since the above was written, we have happened to cast our eyes on a supplementary note by Baron
Cuvier, in which he states as follows: “ La taupe appelee aveugle par M. Savi, ne Test pas entierement; ses paupieres ont aussi une
ouverture, mais encore plus petite que dans la taupe commune. On a nie' Pexistence du nerf optique de la taupe commune ;—je me
crois en etat de le demontrer et dans tout son trajet.” Ibid. p. 580.
5 Iconographia della Fauna Italica. 6 Voyage de la Coquille, PI. 2.
7 Desmarest’s Mammalogie, and Kiehardson’s Fauna Boreali-Americana.
VOL. XIV.
s
138
MAMMALIA.
Glires or as the Rhone, the Rhine, and the Danube.1 Those of
liodentia. Europe seem of somewhat larger dimensions, and of a paler
   ' coloured fur. See Plate CCCXXXVI. fig. 3.
The situation of the beaver houses in America is found
to be various. Where the animals are numerous, they in¬
habit lakes, ponds, and rivers, as well as those narrow creeks
which connect the lakes together. They generally, how¬
ever, prefer flowing waters, probably on account of the ad¬
vantages afforded by the current for transporting the ma¬
terials of their dwellings. They also prefer deepish water,
no doubt because it yields a better protection from the
frost. But it is when they build in small creeks or rivers,
the waters of which are liable to dry or be drained off, that
they manifest that beautiful instinct with which Providence
has gifted them,—the formation of dams. These differ in
shape according to the nature of particular localities. Where
the water has little motion the dam is almost straight;
where the current is considerable it is curved, with its con¬
vexity towards the stream. The materials made use of are
drift wood, green willows, birch, and poplars ; also mud
and stones intermixed in such a manner as must evidently
contribute to the strength of the dam ; but there is no par¬
ticular method observed, except that the work is carried
on with a regular sweep, and that all the parts are made of
equal strength. “ In places,” says Hearne, “ which have
been long frequented by beavers undisturbed, their dams,
by frequent repairing, become a solid bank, capable of re¬
sisting a great force both of ice and water ; and as the wil¬
low, poplar, and birch generally take root and shoot up,
they by degrees form a kind of regular planted hedge,
which I have seen in some places so tall, that birds have
built their nests among the branches.”2 Their houses are
formed of the same materials as the dams, with little order
or regularity of structure, and seldom contain more than
four old, and six or eight young beavers. It not unffe-
quently happens that some of the larger houses have one
or more partitions, but these are only posts of the main
building left by the sagacity of the beaver to support the
roof, for the apartments, as some are pleased to call them,
have usually no communication with each other except by
water. Those travellers who assert that the beavers have
two doors to their dwellings, one on the land side, and the
other next the water, manifest, according to Hearne, even
a greater ignorance of their habits than do those who assign
to them an elegant suite of apartments, for such a construc¬
tion would render their houses of little use either as a pro¬
tection from their enemies, or as a covering from the win¬
ter’s cold. Neither is it true that these animals drive stakes
into the ground when building ; they lay the pieces cross¬
wise and horizontal. It is equally inaccurate to state that
the wood work is first finished, and then plastered, for both
houses and dams consist from the foundation of a mingled
mass of mud and wood, mixed with stones, when such can
be obtained. They carry the mud and stones with their
fore-paws, and the timber between their teeth. They al¬
ways work in the night, and with great expedition. They
cover their houses late every autumn with fresh mud, which
freezing when the frost sets in, becomes almost as hard
as stone ; and thus neither wolves nor wolverines can dis¬
turb their well-earned repose. When walking over their
work, and especially when about to plunge into the water,
they sometimes give a peculiar flap with their broad heavy
tails; but they do not use these parts exactly as a mason
uses his trowel, for a tame beaver will flap by the fireside,
where there is nothing but dust and ashes.
The favourite food of beavers is the plant called Nuphar Gli™. j
luteum, which bears a resemblance to a cabbage stalk, and RoJ i
grows at the bottom of lakes and rivers. They also gnaw >
the bark of birch, poplar, and willow trees. But during
the bright summer days winch clothe even the far northern
regions with a luxuriant vegetation (the more beautiful as
contrasted with the rigorous and long enduring winter) a
more varied herbage, with the addition of berries, is con¬
sumed. When the ice breaks up in spring they always
leave their embankments, and rove about until a little be¬
fore the fall of the leaf, when they return again to their
old habitations, and lay in their winter stock of wood.
They seldom begin to repair the houses till the frost sets
in, and never finish the outer coating till the cold becomes
pretty severe. When they erect a new habitation, they
fell the wood early in summer, but seldom begin building
till towards the latter end of August. Some tame beavers
kept by Hearne became extremely attached to human so¬
ciety, and were also remarkably fond of rice and plum¬
pudding. dhey would even eat freely of partridges and
fresh venison. Kalm mentions a tame beaver which be¬
longed to a gentleman of New York, and was in the habit
of going about the house like a dog. A cat which inha¬
bited the same dwelling, on producing kittens took posses¬
sion of the beaver’s bed without any opposition being offer¬
ed ; and ere long, when the cat went out, the beaver used
to take a kitten between his paws, and hold it to his breast,
as if to keep it warm, till the return of the proper pa¬
rent.3
Dr Richardson informs us that the flesh of these animals
is much prized by the Indians and Canadian voyagers,
especially when roasted in the skin, after the hair has been
singed off. This of course makes it an expensive luxury,
the enjoyment of which it requires all the influence of the
fur traders to restrain. Beavers are said to pair in Febru¬
ary, to carry their young about ten weeks, and to bring
forth from four to eight cubs by the middle or end of May.
In regard to the geographical distribution of these highly
interesting creatures, Pennant fixes their southern range
in Louisiana, about latitude 30°, not far from the Gulf of
Mexico, while Mr Say assigns as their limit the confluence
of the Ohio and Mississippi, about seven degrees farther
north. In the higher latitudes, their extension seems re¬
stricted by the absence or deficiency of wood, the districts
called the Barren Grounds not yielding enough even of
willows for their subsistence. Many are known to occur
as high as latitude 68°, on the banks of the Mackenzie, the
largest and best wooded of the American rivers that dis¬
charge themselves into the icy basin of the Polar Sea.
The Iroquois are the greatest beaver catchers in Canada.
There is no doubt that great injury has resulted from the
indiscriminate capture of old and young, and the too fre¬
quent trenching of the same dams,—evils which the Hud¬
son’s Bay Company are at last endeavouring to remedy by
the adoption of more prudent measures. “ In the year
1743, the imports of beaver skins into the ports of Lon¬
don and Rochelle, amounted to upwards of 150,000; and
there is reason to suppose that a considerable additional
quantity was at that period introduced illicitly into Great
Britain. In 1827, the importation of beaver skins into
London, from more than four times the extent of fur coun¬
try than that which was occupied in 1743, did not much
exceed 50,000. ”4
There is an amphibious animal called the Coipu {Mus
coipus, Molina), which dwells by the rivers of South Ame-
filii
✓
1 Nous n’avons pu encore constater, malgre des comparaisons scrupuleuses, si les castors ou bievres qui vivent dans des terriers le
long du Rhone, du Danube, du Weser et d’autres rivieres, sont differents par I’espece de celui d’Amerique ; ou si le voisinage des
hommes est ce qui les empeche de batir "—-Regne Animal, t. i. p. 214. “ Nous avons cru devoir re'unir, d’apres MM. Cuvier, le castor
d’Europe a celui du Canada, surtout d’apAs 1’observation recente de ses moeurs en captivite, qui prouve eVidemment que ce castor
a, comme 1’autre, un penchant inne a const wire.” Mammalogie, p. 278.
* Journey to the Northern Ocean. 3 Travels in North America, 4 Fauna Boreali-Americana, part 1st, p. 108.
MAMMALIA.
139
;iii i or rica, and is allied to the beaver in many of its characters,
;o(] itia. except that its tail is narrow and elongated. Its fur, much
/ Used in the manufacture of hats, is known to merchants un¬
der the name of racoonda, and is imported in great quan¬
tities to Europe. This animal inhabits Chili, is very abun¬
dant in the provinces of Buenos Ayres and Tucuman, but
rare in Paraguay. It is described by Desmarest as a hy-
dromys (H. coypus1), and is mentioned by Azara under
the name of Quouiya? It is now regarded as forming a
distinct genus under the title of Myopotamus, as first pro¬
posed, we believe, by M. Commerson.
Division II, Clavicles incomplete or nonexistent.
Genus Hystrix, Linn. Incisives molars ^=
20. Muzzle broad and blunt. Ears short and rounded.
Tongue beset with prickly scales. Anterior feet with four
toes and a rudimentary thumb, the posterior with five, the
whole armed (except the small anterior thumb) with strong
claws. Body protected by strong sharp-pointed spines of
different length, intermingled with the hairs.
This genus is composed of four or five animals of very
extraordinary aspect, known under the name of porcupines.
They occur in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and have
recently been formed into several minor generic groups, of
which we shall give a brief sketch. All the species feed on
fruits, roots, and grain, and either dig themselves subter¬
ranean dwellings, or seek retirement in the secure hollows
of ancient trees.
The restricted genus Hystrix, Cuv., characterized by
the dilatation of the muzzle and nasal bones, contains the
European porcupine (H. cristata, Linn.), an animal which
occurs in the south of Italy, Spain, Sicily, and Barbary.
(See Plate CCCXXXVI, fig. 4.) Indeed the same spe¬
cies, or one closely allied, extends to the Cape of Good
Hope, and spreads from Persia into Hindustan. It mea¬
sures above two feet in length. Its quills are very long,
ringed with brownish-black and white. There is a kind of
crest or mane of long bristles on the head and nape. The
tail is short, and furnished with truncated hollow quills,
suspended by a narrow pedicle, so that they rattle when
the creature walks, like a half-filled quiver. Mr Brydone
mentions that the porcupine is frequent in Sicily, in the
district of Baiae, and that he killed several during a shoot¬
ing excursion in the Monte Barbaro. He dined upon his
game, but found it luscious, and soon palling upon the ap¬
petite.3 The singular aspect of this animal seems to have
attracted the attention of the lovers of natural history at a
very early period, and many fabulous attributes were added
to the character of a creature in itself sufficiently curious.
It was said to possess the power of darting its quills at
pleasure with great force, and to a considerable distance,
against its enemies ; and Claudian observes, that it is itself
at once the quiver, the arrow, and the bow:
“ Ecce, brevis propriis munitur bestia telis,
Externam nec quaerit opem, fert omnia secum
Se pharetra, sese jaculo, sese utitur arcu !”
We may add, that Agricola states the Italian porcupine to
he not indigenous to the south of Europe, but imported
from India or Africa.
In the genus Atherura, Cuv., the head and muzzle are
not dilated, and the tail is long, though not prehensile. It
contains the Hystrix fasciculata, Linn., Mas fasciculatus,
Desm., a native of India and the peninsula of Malacca.
The genus Eretison, F. Cuvier, of which the cranium
is flat, and the muzzle not dilated, the tail of medium
length, and the quills short and half concealed by long
hair, contains the well-known Canada porcupine (//. dor-
sata, Linn.). This species is distributed over a consider- Glires or
able extent of North America, from the 37° to the 67°. Rodentia.
According to Dr Harlan, it makes its dwelling-place be-"'y''"-''
neath the roots of hollow trees. It dislikes water, is cleanly
in its habits, sleeps much, and feeds chiefly on the bark
and leaves of Firms canadensis and Tilia glabra. It is
also fond of sweet apples and Indian corn. In the fur
countries it is most numerous in sandy districts, covered
with Finns Banksiana, on the bark of which it delights to
feed. Its spines are detachable by the slightest touch
(some say by an act of volition on the part of the animal),
and not unfrequently occasion the death both of dogs and
wolves. Its flesh tastes like flabby pork, and, though re¬
lished by the Indians, is nauseous to the palate of a Euro¬
pean.
The genus Synetheres of F. Cuvier (Couendu, Lace-
pede), contains certain South American species with pre¬
hensile tails, such as H. prehensilis, Linn., and H. insidi-
osa, Lichtenstein. (See Plate CCCXXXVI. fig. 5.) The
feet have only four claws, armed with nails, and they dif¬
fer from the preceding species in their habit of climbing
trees. Other generic groups have been proposed in rela¬
tion to the genus Hystrix, but without having met with
general reception on the part of naturalists.4
Genus Lepus, Linn. Incisives —, molars 5  ; = 28.
Anterior feet with five toes, posterior with four. Tail short.
Coecum very large, pouched, and divided by a spiral valve.
The species of this genus, familiarly known under the
name of hares and rabbits, are spread over almost all the
regions of the earth, from the tropical regions of Africa and
America, to the islands of the Polar Sea. Their most dis¬
tinctive character consists in their upper incisives being
double, that is, each has a smaller one behind it. The soles
of the feet, and the inside of the mouth (a character re¬
marked by Aristotle), are covered with hair. The genus
is not only one of considerable extent, but extremely na¬
tural,—the species of which it is composed corresponding
both to the principal characters, and also to several others
which are secondary and unessential, such as the colour of
the fur, which is usually of a reddish-grey, with the eye
placed in a spot of paler hue. The abdomen and under
side of the tail seem almost always white, and the tips of
the ears black. They are all of a timid disposition, ex¬
tremely swift in their movements, and valuable to the hu¬
man race, not more on account of the value of their furs,
than of their nutritive and pleasant flavoured flesh. Seve¬
ral of the species resemble each other so closely as to be
with difficulty distinguished.
The common hare {Lepus timidus) is known all over
Europe, and a great part of Russia, Asia Minor, Syria, &c.
The varying hare {Lepus variabilis) is somewhat larger
in the body, with rather shorter ears and tail, its fur in
summer being of a bluish-grey, and changing to white in
winter. This remarkable alteration is said to take place in
the following manner:—About the middle of September
the grey feet become whitish, and before the end of the
month all the four feet are white, and the ears and muz¬
zle of a brighter aspect. The white colour gradually as¬
cends the legs and thighs, and beneath the grey hair whit¬
ish spots may be observed, which continue to increase till the
end of October; but still the back continues grey, while
the eye-brows and ears are nearly white. From this period
the change is rapid, and by the middle of November the
whole fur is white, excepting the tips of the ears, of which
the black is permanent. The back becomes white within
eight days, and during the whole of this singular mutation
no hair is shed. Hence it appears that the fur itself, though
1 Mammaloffie, p. 20G.
3 Tour in Skill/.
Essai sur l'Hist. Nat. de Paraguay, t. ii. p. 5. See also Annul, du Mus. t. vi. pi. 35.
See Memoires du Museum, t. ix. p. 413.
140
Glires or altered in aspect, remains unchanged. It continues white
Rodentia. till the month of March, or later, according to the sea-
» 'son, after which it again becomes grey. But the spring
change differs in this respect from that of the eavl'v winter,
that the hair is then completely shed.1 This animal inha¬
bits the alpine parts of Europe, but does not extend to the
PYfrPrrm vi1 T>    . i ,
MAMMALIA.
and rounded.
extreme northfas supposed ^ Pennant lie snecies of Z 7 , S ° - T f (/Z Erx- %-
locality being now 4
.. . 7 11 ksj j. cmiaiiL, tut: aptJcitJb or mat
locality being now distinguished by the name of Polar
hare, Zepus glacialis, Leach. The size of the latter is
equal to that of the largest English hare. It does not bur-
row, but seeks shelter among large stones and the crevices
of rocks. Its flesh is more juicy than that of our own al¬
pine or varying hare. The polar species is common in
INorth America, but does not seem to advance southwards
beyond the 58th parallel, and does not occur in wooded
countries, though often seen in the vicinity of thin clumps
ol spi uce fii. It extends to Melville Island. Several other
species occur in America. 1 he American hare, commonly
Anterior feet furnished with four toes, the rr
posterior with three, all webbed, and terminated by strong 2
blunt claws. No tail. Mammae twelve. Fur coarse and
The only known species of this genus is the capybara or
water hog of South America (//. capybara, Erx., Sus hi-
^  upWctIUS Or
feet m length, and is the largest of all the Rodentia. Its
habits are aquatic and gregarious. It abounds in the rivers
of the Oroonoko, the Apure, and the Cassiquiare, and is
much preyed on by jaguars while on shore, and by croco-
tliJes in the water. Its flesh is excellent, and was eaten bv
the missionary monks during Lent along with their turtle
on the score, we presume, of its amphibious habits. Pre¬
cise views of the exact nature of all mammalia are some¬
times inconvenient. These animals are so numerous in
many of the marshes and moist savannahs of the Llanos as
greatly to injure the adjoining pastures. They browse
so called (Lepus Americans), bears a great resemblance chieflvo^tbnTr adjoini"S Pastures- They browse
? “ZZ Z48 th“ horses, called eSgZrZZ
fiom one of the native names of the capybara. Their flesh
is common in all the woody districts, and 25,000 have
been taken at a single trading post in one season. They
are imported into Britain under the name of rabbit-skins.
The prairie hare (Lepus Virginianus) is a much larger
animal, weighing from seven to eleven pounds. It can
leap above twenty feet at a single bound. We cannot here
allude to the species of southern latitudes.2
The rabbit (Lepus cuniculus), now so common through¬
out the temperate and southern parts of Europe, is suppo¬
sed to have been of African origin, and first imported into
op am. . It differs greatly from the hare in its gregarious
habits, its subterranean life, the whiter colour of its flesh
and less perfect state of the young when first produced!
It is also much more prolific.3
A few species of the old genus Lepus, of which the ears
aie snorter, the limbs of more equal length, the clavicles
almost perfect, and the tail wanting, form the generic group
now called Lagomys. We shall here mention as an ex-
rTrVvY^G °i -N°rtherri Asia (Lay- "ipinus, Plate
, • , . , ;.L h£- o.), a species of the size of a guinea pig-,
wduch inhabits the tops of high mountains, such as those
of the Altaic range, and the cold heights of Siberia. It
dwells in burrows, the clefts of rocks, "and even (when it
can get them) in the trunks of trees, and is sometimes gre-
garious, sometimes solitary. ”3 “ UnT ?,aTe'CC®Xvffi
gust it collects and nrenares a meat mass of ha,, 1 „,h„. { , ’ / “te LLLXXXVI> fiK' 7- «)
- • --  IXllUUie U1 jAU-
gust it collects and prepares a great mass of hay and other
herbage for winter use, and in this labour several join to-
gether. These heaps sometimes measure more than eight
feet in diameter, and equal or exceed the height of a tall
man. I his admirable instinct has rendered these little
animals celebrated throughout the countries they inhabit.
I neii precious stores, however, are often discovered by the
Siberian hunters of the sable, who convert them from their
intended uses into fodder for their hungry horses.
.  jLiieir nesn
is made into hams, and would be less disagreeable if free
from the strong odour of musk with which it is impregnated.
hese creatures are of gentle disposition, capable of con¬
siderable attachment in a state of domestication, and not
greatly fearing the human race even in their natural and
unreclaimed condition. When attacked they endeavour to
escape by flight; and, when overtaken, they can scarcely
be said to stand upon the defensive, but as they possess
great natural strength both in their incisive teeth and
guilders, they have been known, in their dying agonies, or
when pushed to a desperate extremity, to inflict so severe
a wound as to tear the flesh from the paw of a jaguar or the
leg of a horse. They were observed by Humboldt in all
the great rivers, either swimming about like dogs, with the
head and neck above water, or diving from the surface to
escape their pursuers. They possess the power of remain¬
ing submerged for seven or eight minutes.
Genus Cavia, Illiger. leeth the same in number as
m the preceding genus. Feet not palmated. Only two
ventral mammae.
This genus is also believed to contain only a single spe-
cies, well known throughout Europe in a domestic state
under the name of guinea-pig (Cavia cobaja, Pallas, Mils
Like most
1 . J . ' . . T UJ, -LilWU II1UM
reclaimed animals, it varies in its markings, the usual co-
lours being a mixture of white, black, and reddish-brown.
It is of an amazingly prolific nature, being capable of bring¬
ing forth when not more than two months old, and that
same period only elapsing between the production of each
brood. The number of young at a birth varies with the
age of the parent, from four to twelve. It has been calcu¬
lated that a single pair may prove the parent stock of a
t lousand in a year. 1 he wild or native guinea-pig is sup-
pikaVrrfnCuvTerptTs fl CF/° ^
Order, which SLl undaZZe if STaMZ''0""1 ^ ^ ™
in co^ivcly recent times, the formation of the foliow^ aid
productive powers of these animals in the natural and do
mpcfir* cfofo — T •  • i , i . r.
genera
Genus Hydroch.erus, Erxleben.
4 — 4
4—4
Incisives —,
2
* M.   ~ IICILUI CXI ctnu UU-
molars mestic sfateJ the aperea being said to bring forth only one
or two at a birth, and to breed not more than once a year.
20. Muzzle deep and blunt. Ears rather small regard this as a strong fact against their probable
identity ; but when we consider that the teats are only two
1 Edin. Phil. Journal, vol. ii. p. 15. . _ —   —
It is curious that naturalists should differ in 66 le.artlcle Lievre of Diet. Class. d’Hist. Nat. t. ix. p. 378.
covered with hair, and with their eyes open ” Griffith’s Ini ' / S m ] ' .1!stor-v °^a creature so common. “ They are born
perfect, the 5hi„ is deetitute 11^“' ^ ** *“ ^
MAMMALIA.
141
I or in number in each variety, we ought rather to consider the
tia. extreme fertility of the domestic kind as in a great measure
the result of high and careful keeping. “ Nous avons com¬
pare,” says Ant. Desmoulins, “ des cranes du cobaie do-
mesti^ue a ceux du cobaie sauvage, et nous n’y avons pas
trouve de difference entre eux. Par-la se trouve peremp-
toirement refute tout ce qu’a dit Gall sur la cause organique
de cette activite genitale dont les extremes ne sont nulle
part plus tranches qu’entre les deux etats sauvage et do-
mestique de cette espece.” 1 In speaking of the domestic
breed M. Desmarest observes, “ qu’il ne boive jamais.”
Perhaps this means that they do not like water, but we can
vouch for their drinking a great deal of milk. The French
author adds: — “ C’est un animal d’un naturel doux et
docile, mais il est sans aucune intelligence, et incapable de
s’attacher a son maitre.” 2 Now, in contradiction to the
last part of the indictment, we have seen this animal exhi¬
bit great discrimination in singling out and creeping kindly
into the protecting arms of a favourite and well-known in¬
dividual of a pet-loving community. It is rather remark¬
able that the guinea-pig is never used as food in European
countries, when we know that the aperea is esteemed for
that purpose, and is pursued as game in its native regions.
The animals called agoutis in some measure represent
our hares and rabbits in the Antilles and South America.
They form the genus Dasyprocta of Illiger. The com¬
mon species (Cavia agouti, Linn.) is gregarious, living in
troops of about twenty individuals. It inhabits woods, re¬
sembles a rabbit in its gait and aspect, but equals a hare in
size. Its flesh is good, partaking of the qualities of these
two animals combined. The agouti occurs in Guiana, Bra¬
zil, Paraguay, and some of the West Indian islands. It is
said to be extremely voracious, devouring all kinds of vege¬
table substances, and is much attached to nuts. In a state
of confinement, it will speedily gnaw its way through a
door. The Patagonian cavy of Pennant and Shaw (Das.
Patachonicd), called by Azara the pampa hare, likewise be¬
longs to this genus. It inhabits the pampas or great plains,
and usually occurs in pairs. Azara was informed that this
species produces its young in the burrows dug by the vis-
cache. It extends far southwards into the colder counti’ies
of the New'World, and was observed by Narborough and
other voyagers to be very abundant in the vicinity of Port
Desire, in the 47° south latitude, as well as at Port Saint
Julian, some degrees farther south.
I he pacas (genus Ctzlogenys, F. Cuvier) resemble the
agoutis in their teeth, but they have a small additional inner
toe on the fore feet, and one (equally small) on either side
or the hinder ones, making five toes to each extremity.
There seem to be two species, the brown and the yellow
paca {Cel. suhniger and /M/W), both natives of Brazil and
Guyana. They are excellent as articles of food, and Buf-
fon and later writers have advised their importation into
Europe for the uses of the table.
We shall here close our sketch of the Order Rodentia
with a short notice of an animal, the exact position of
which in the order has not yet been rigorously determin-
ed. We allude to the chinchilla, a South American spe¬
cies, greatly esteemed for the fineness and beauty of its fur,
which forms a frequent adornment of the fair sex in Europe.
Mr Bennet has remarked that, notwithstanding the exten¬
sive trade carried on of the skins of this animal, it might
have been regarded till of late as almost unknown, as no
modern naturalist, with the exception of Molina, had seen
an entire specimen, either living or dead.3 That author
describes it as a species “ of field-rat, in great estimation for Edsntata.
the extreme fineness of its wool, if a rich fur as delicate as'
the silken webs of the garden spiders may be so termed.
It is of an ash-grey, and sufficiently long for spinning. The
little animal which produces it is six inches long from the
nose to the root of the tail, with small pointed ears, a short
muzzle, teeth like the house rat, and a tail of moderate
length, clothed with delicate fur. It lives in burrows under
ground in the open country of the northern provinces of
Chili, and is very fond of being in company with others of
its species. It feeds upon the roots of various bulbous
plants, which grow abundantly in those parts, and produces
twice a year five or six young ones. It is so docile and
mild in temper, that, if taken into the hands, it neither
bites nor tries to escape, but seems to take a pleasure in
being caressed. If placed in the bosom, it remains there
as still and quiet as if it were in its own nest. The ancient
Peruvians, who were far more industrious than the moderns,
made of this wool coverlets for beds and valuable stuffs.” 4
A more recent observer, Schmidtmeyer, also describes it as
“a woolly field-mouse, which lives under ground, and chiefly
feeds on wild onions. Its fine fur is well known in Europe ;
that which comes from Upper Peru is rougher and larger
than the chinchilla of Chile, but not always so beautiful in
its colour. Great numbers of these animals are caught in
the neighbourhood of Coquimbo and Copiapo generallv by
boys with dogs, and sold to traders, who bring them to San¬
tiago and Valparaiso, from whence they are exported.
I he Peruvian skins are either brought to Buenos Ayres
from the eastern parts of the Andes, or sent to Lima.” 5
A living specimen of the chinchilla was brought to Eng¬
land by Captain Beechy, and presented to the Zoological
Society, while, at the same time, an entire skin, rendered
valuable by the preservation of the skull (which never ex¬
ists in the skins of commerce) was presented by Mr Collie,
surgeon, to the British Museum. According to Mr Ben-
net, the slightest inspection of the teeth was sufficient to
prove that the species could no longer be associated with
the groups in which it had been previously placed, and that
it was distinct in character from every other known genus
of Rodentia. Geoffroy and Desmarest had previously
ranged it with the hamsters (genus Cricetus), and Baron
Cuvier having never seen its teeth, was uncertain whether
it was most allied to the guinea-pigs, the lagomys, or the
rats. But the inspection of the specimens above alluded
to has shewn that it possesses two incisives and eight molars
in each jaw, or twenty teeth in all. The form of the head
resembles that of a rabbit; the eyes are full, large, and
black ; and the ears (in this differing from Molina’s descrip¬
tion, already quoted) are broad, naked, rounded at the tips,
and nearly as long as the head. There are four short toes,
with a distinct rudiment of a thumb on the anterior feet;
and the posterior are furnished with the same number, three
of them long, the middle more produced than the two la¬
teral ones, and the fourth external to the others, and placed
far behind. A second specimen has been since added to
the collection of the Zoological Society of somewhat larger
size and rougher fur.6
Order V—EDENTATA, Cuv.
The term edentate, or toothless, must not be construed
literally in relation to the truly singular groups which con¬
stitute the present order. The front teeth are absent, but
Mammalogie, p. 337.
1 Diet. Class. d’Hist. Nat. t. iv. p. 248.
3 Gardens and Menagerie of the Zoological Society, vol. i. p 1
PKt “ “ "***’ 5«•»'» zmZTItaUe (the autrG:™ylS
142
M A M M A L I A.
Edentata, the armadillos have both canines and molars,—the latter,
"indeed, so numerous as to be surpassed only by those of
the cetaceous genus Delphinus. The osteology of this or¬
der is the only portion of their structure with which we are
well acquainted, and we owe that knowledge to the beauti¬
ful memoir of Baron Cuvier.1 But w^e know with what
singular fidelity the skeleton, though itself essentially inert,
represents, by the form and amalgamation of its parts,
the supervening modifications of the more active organs,
that is, those of the nervous, sensitive, and digestive sys¬
tems. In relation to almost all the actions which result
from those systems, our present order is not only one of the
most widely separate from other" Mammalia, but also pre¬
sents the greatest disparity between several of its own ge¬
nera, as compared with each other. These genera, it has
been observed, though connected together in spite of obvious
differences, by several heteroclyte characters, and appearing
to be, as it were, the work of a particular conception, are by
no means the products of one common country, but almost
each group is characteristic of some separate great division
of the globe, such as the southern parts of Africa and Ame¬
rica, the Indian Archipelago, or New Holland. It is diffi¬
cult to state any character belonging to the entire order,
although the great size of their claws, embracing all the
extremity of the toes, and more or less approaching the na¬
ture of hoofs, is perhaps among the most prevalent. Their
movements may be characterized as slow and inactive.
Some climb trees, others dig burrows', while the habits of a
few are amphibious. Their food varies in the different ge¬
nera. None are strictly or fiercely carnivorous, but several
devour insects, and shew no distaste for flesh. Many in¬
dulge in a herbivorous diet. Baron Cuvier divides the or¬
der into three tribes, as follows.
Tribe 1st, Tardigrada.
We here place those singlar animals of the New World,
commonly called sloths,—genus Bradypus, Linn. They
are distinguished by the shortness of the face, by the cy¬
lindrical form of the molars (four on each side above, and
three below), and the sharp and lengthened shape of the
canines. See Plate CCCXXXVII, fig. 3. The toes, va¬
rying as to amount in different species, are incased within
the skin as far as the base of the claws, which are long and
arched, and in a state of repose are kept bent beneath the
palm of the hand, or sole of the foot. The hind feet are
articulated obliquely on the leg, and thus act as supports,
chiefly by their external margins. “ Les phalanges des
doigts,” says Cuvier, “ sont articulees par des ginglymes
serres, et les premieres se soudent a un certain age aux os
du metacarpe on du metatarse: ceux-ci finissent par se
souder ensemble faute d’usage2 and to this inconvenient
(or we should rather say peculiar) structure of the extre¬
mities, may be added that of their disproportionate respec¬
tive lengths. The arm and fore-arm are much longer than
the thigh and leg, so that when they walk they are obliged
to draw themselves along upon their elbows. The pelvis is so
broad, and the thighs are so directed laterally, that the knees
cannot approximate. “ Ils se tiennent sur les arbres,” savs
Cuvier rightly, for their structure is entirely suited to ar-
joreal habits;—but when he adds, “ et n’en quittent un
qu’apres 1’avoir depouille de ses feuilles, tant il leur et pen-
ible d’en gagner un autre,” we must correct the senti¬
ments of the European philosopher by the experience of a
practical observer. Mr Waterton states, that as he was
one day crossing the river Essequibo, he saw a large two¬
toed sloth upon the ground. How it came there nobody
could tell. Although the trees were not twenty yards from
him, he could not make his way even that short distance Eden tab > >
before the party landed and overtook him. He immediately '—-A ^
threw himself upon his back, and gallantly defended him¬
self with his fore-legs. Mr Waterton humanely allowed him
to hook himself to a long stick, by which he conveyed him
to a high and stately mora tree. This he ascended with
great rapidity, and then went off in a lateral direction, by
catching hold of the branches of another tree, and so he
proceeded towards the heart of the forest, and was soon
lost to view. The sloth, in truth, is the most sylvan of
quadrupeds. It is produced, it lives, and it dies among
trees, and though unequal to cope with John Gilpin in
speed, it yields not to his namesake in love of forest scene¬
ry. “ The sloth,” says our author, “ is the only known
quadruped which spends its whole life from the branches of
trees, suspended by his feet. I have paid uncommon at¬
tention to him in his native haunts. The monkey and squir¬
rel will seize a branch with their fore feet, and pull them¬
selves up, and rest or run upon it; but the sloth, after seiz¬
ing it, still remains suspended, and suspended moves along
under the branch, till he can lay hold of another. Where-
ever I have seen him in his native woods, whether at rest,
or asleep, or on his travels, I have always observed that he
was suspended from the branch of a tree; and when his
form and anatomy are considered, it will appear evident
that he cannot be at ease in any situation where his body
is higher or above his feet.”3 One of the great objects of
the creation seems to be to multiply the enjoyments of ani ¬
mal life,—an object which can only be attained by a vast
diversity in structure and instinct. In the case of the sloth,
as in all other cases, structure and instinct accord, and we
may therefore fairly infer, notwithstanding what Buffon and
others have composed regarding his miserable and degraded
existence, that his peculiar mode of life is accompanied by
a corresponding share of pleasure and advantage. No ani¬
mal is organized for wretchedness.
Few species of the genus are as yet distinctly known, and
these few offer among themselves a considerable disparity
of structure in several important particulars, such as the
number of the ribs, and the form of the cranium. The
three-toed species, which are furnished with a short tail,
form the genus Acheus of F. Cuvier. Of these the at, or
three-toed sloth {B.tridactylus, Linn., Plate CCCXXXVII,
fig- 2.), is the only animal hitherto supposed to possess nine
cervical vertebrae. We have already alluded to the more
recent opinion, that in this respect it forms no exception to
the usual rule.4 The Unau, or two-toed species {B. di-
dactylus, Linn., Ibid., fig. 4.), is, according to Cuvier, “ un
peu moins malheureusement organise que 1’Ai,” in other
wrords, something different in its habits of life, renders ne¬
cessary a less anomalous form. All these animals are be¬
lieved to be very tenacious of life. They will hang long to
the branch of a tree after being mortally wounded. “ De-
lalande aide de son domestique, a inutilement essaye pen¬
dant une demi-heure d’etrangler un Ai avec une corde de
la grosseur du doigts; Panimal ne cessait d’etendre et de
ramener ses bras en crochets sur la poitrine par intervalles,
ce qu’il fit encore pendant plusieurs heures au fond d’un
tonneau d’alcohol ou on le tint ensuite submerge. Pison
avait disseque vivante une femelle pleine d’unau. Elle se re-
muait encore en totalite et contractait ses pieds longtemps
apres 1’arrachement du cceur et des visceres.”5 We conclude
by observing that sloths are entirely herbivorous, feeding
chiefly on leaves, especially those of Cecropia peltata.
Tribe 2d, Effodentia.
In this tribe the muzzle is elongated. The teeth are of
the molar kind only (and in some even these are wanting).
1 Ossemens Fossiles, t. v.
4 See our present article, p. 73-
2 liegne Animal, i. p. 224. 3 Wanderings in South America.
fi Diet. Class. d’Hist. Nat. t. ii. p. 483.
MAMMALIA.
Kdi tata. The first generic group is that called Dasypus by Lin-
naeus, which we name armadillo. Their teeth are feeble,
simple, and cylindrical, and range in different species from
28 to 68. Their most remarkable character consists in
their being covered by a defensive armour, or kind of os¬
seous shell, divided into polygonal scales arranged in nu¬
merous transverse bands, covering head, body, and often¬
times the tail. The ears are large, the claws strong, and
varying in number with the species. The tongue is smooth,
and but slightly extensile. A few scattered hairs occur
between the scaly plates, but these creatures can scarcely
be said to have any fur. They dig burrows, and live partly
on a vegetable regimen, partly on insects, reptiles, worms,
and animal remains. Their stomach is simple, and the cce-
cum is absent. They are all natives of the warmer and
temperate parts of America. The females are very prolific.
As we cannot here describe the species, nor even indi¬
cate the minor groups into which recent naturalists have
divided the original genus, we shall here give a short ex¬
tract in illustration of their general habits.1 We quote
from Mr Waterton, to whom naturalists are greatly indebt¬
ed for many interesting elucidations of the history of the
rarer animals of South America. “ The armadillo burrows
in the sand like a rabbit. As it often takes a considerable
time to dig him out of his hole, it would be a long and la¬
borious business to attack each hole indiscriminately, with¬
out knowing whether the animal were there or not. To
prevent disappointment, the Indians carefully examine the
mouth of the hole, and put a short stick down it. Now if,
on introducing the stick, a number of musquitos come out,
the Indian knows to a certainty that the armadillo is in it;
and vice versa, wherever there are no musquitos in the hole,
there is no armadillo. The Indian, having satisfied him¬
self that the armadillo is there, by the musquitos which come
out, immediately cuts a long and slender stick, and intro¬
duces it into the hole; he carefully observes the line the
stick takes, and then sinks a pit in the sand to catch the
end of it; this done, he puts it farther into the hole, and
digs another pit; and so on, until at last he comes up with
the armadillo, which had been making itself a passage in
the sand till it had exhausted all its strength through pure
exertion. I have been sometimes three quarters of a day in
digging out one armadillo, and obliged to sink half a dozen
pits, seven feet deep, before I got up to it. The Indians
and negroes are very fond of the flesh, but I consider it
strong and rank. On laying hold of the armadillo, you
must be cautious not to come in contact with his feet; they
are armed with sharp claws, and will inflict severe wounds:
when not molested, he is harmless and innocent. The ar¬
madillo swims well in time of need, but does not go into the
water by choice. He is very seldom seen abroad during
the day; and when surprised, he is sure to be near the
mouth of his hole. Every part of him is well protected by
ns shell, except his ears. In life, this shell is very limber,
so that the animal is enabled to go at full stretch, or roll
mmselt up into a ball, as occasion may require.”2
Me knew little of the actual history of the armadillos, or
of their amount of species, till the time of Azara, who de¬
scribes eight different kinds, one of which {Das. giganteus)
measures above three feet in length. They were supposed
to feed exclusively on vegetable substances, till the Spanish
author observed that they were both insectivorous and car¬
nivorous. The direction of their burrows shew that they
pursue the ant-heaps, and these laborious insects quickly
143
diminish in their neighbourhood. The great species just Edentata,
named (winch belongs to the genus Priodontes of F. Cu-
vier, distinguished by the great size of its claws, and the
enormous number of its teeth,—about 90 in all) feeds on
carcasses, and when a human being happens to be buried
beyond the usual precincts of the sepulture, and in a dis¬
trict where this animal occurs, the grave is covered by
strong double boards, to prevent the disinterment of the
body. They also prey on birds and their eggs, as well as
on lizards and other reptiles. They are themselves eaten
both by native Indians and by Spanish tribes. As an ex¬
ample of the genus we have figured the Encoubert, or six-
banded armadillo{D. sexcinctus, Linn., Plate CCCXXXVII,
fig. 9-), a species distinguished from all the others by pos¬
sessing a pair of small teeth upon the incisive bone. It mea¬
sures about a root and a half in length from the snout to the
insertion of the tail. The latter part is round, about half the
length of the body, and is ringed only at its base. The
cuirass is composed of six or seven moveable bands, formed
of large, smooth, rectangular pieces, longer than broad.3
This^animal runs swiftly, and burrow's with great ease. It
possesses, in spite of its scaly armour, the singular faculty
of so pressing and expanding itself upon the surface of the
ground, as to become three times broader than high. It is
extremely common in Paraguay.
Me may here notice a very singular animal of recent
discovery, of the natural habits of w liich our information is
as yet extremely scanty, but which partakes of many of the
characters of the armadillos. We allude to the Chlamy-
phorus truncatus of Dr Harlan (see Plate CCCXXXVII,
fig. 1.), a subterranean species from Mendoza, in the inte¬
rior of Chili, so well represented on the plate referred to,
as to save us the necessity of descriptive details. The ani¬
mal was obtained in a living state, but survived in confine¬
ment only a few days. Its habits are said to resemble those
of the mole, and it is reputed to carry its young beneath
the scaly covering of its body. Baron Cuvier states that it
has “ dix dents partout,”4 while its original describer men¬
tions only eight on each side (all molars), that is, sixteen in
each jaw.5
Genus Orycteropus, Geoff. The only known species
of this genus is an animal peculiar to Africa, called the
Cape ant-eater {Or. Capensis). It is of large dimensions,
measuring between three and four feet in length, exclusive
of the tail, which is nearly two feet long. Its grinders
amount to six on each side of both jaws, or twenty-four in
all, and are distinguished by a peculiar structure, being in
the form of solid cylinders, traversed throughout their length
by an infinity of little canals resembling the interior pores
of canes. Its habits are nocturnal and subterranean, and
its food consists of ants and termites, which it seizes with
its long glutinous tongue, after having disarranged their
dwellings with its paws. The- ant-eaters properly so call¬
ed, belong to the following genus, and are peculiar to Ame¬
rica, so that the species just noticed may be regarded mere¬
ly as their African representative. Its flesh is used as food,
and is indeed held in considerable estimation both by Eu¬
ropean and Hottentot, notwithstanding the strong odour of
formic acid with which it is infected.
Genus Myrmecophaga, Linn. Teeth entirely want¬
ing. Head more or less elongated, and terminated by a
slender muzzle and a narrow mouth. Eyes and ears small,
the latter rounded. Tongue very long, cylindrical, and ca¬
pable of extension. Toes (varying in number with the spe-
i Regne Animal, t. i. p. 226; Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. iii. p. 283; F. Cuvier’s Mam Lithoa Azira’s <■„
^T?83. U,; DeSmarest’S Mammalogie. p. 366; and the article TaUru in the French Diction Jre^Stst. Nat
, 1 See the .
I Hist. Nat. du  a ^
5 Wanderings, p. 183.
Animal, t p. 229. See Anml, of the Neu, M Lyeeum of Natural Ilutory, vol i, and Znlogical Journal, No. vi.
D. sexcinctus
MAMMALIA.
144
Edentata, cies) always united as far as the base of the claws, which
'■“""v'"""'''are large and strong. Tail very long, sometimes prehen¬
sile and comparatively bare, sometimes covered with lax de¬
pending hairs.
This genus consists of the true ant-eaters, all of which
are natives of South America, and occur chiefly in the
countries bounded on the south-east by the Rio de la Pla¬
ta, and on the north by the Oroonoko. Naturalists are
tolerably well acquainted with at least three species. They
prey almost exclusively on ants and termites, which they
take by means of their long, extensile, gluey tongues, aid¬
ed, as excavating implements, by their vigorous claws. Like
the sloths, there exists among themselves a considerable
disparity of structure,—the small two-toed species being
provided with strong clavicles, attached to the sternum,
while in the larger species these parts are entirely wanting.
One of the most notable features of the ant-eaters con¬
sists in the lengthened, cylindrical, tunnel-shaped character
of the head, which almost resembles that of the long-billed
birds, such as snipes and woodcocks. This is caused chiefly
by the great prolongation of the jaws, of which the upper
(in the species called Tamandud) is more than twice the
length of the cranium. If these long jaws were to open at
the same angle as in most mammiferous animals, the gape
or separation of the terminal portions would be propor¬
tionally greater than in any other species; but, as it hap¬
pens, the opening of the mouth is in fact the most restrict¬
ed with which we are acquainted. This is owing to the
jaws being surrounded throughout their entire extent by
the skin, there being only a very small terminal mouth,
measuring scarcely a fifteenth part of the length of the
maxillae. The muscles of the lower jaw are, moreover, so
extremely feeble, as to be almost unable to produce any
compression. They seem to collect their food entirely
with their tongue, and may be presumed to swallow it with¬
out mastication, like the majority of birds and fishes. The
ant-eaters, of all the Mammalia, are those of which the
temporal fossae and zygomatic arches are the most effaced.
The bones of the nose occupy almost the half of the length
of the upper portion of the head. The ribs of these animals
are so broad, as to leave scarcely any intermediate space
between them.
The great ant-eater (Myr. jubatd), though low of sta¬
ture, is an animal of almost gigantic extent, sometimes
measuring seven feet from the muzzle to the end of the
tail. It has four toes to the anterior feet, and five to the
posterior. Its tail is garnished, from base to tip, with very
long hair. It seems singular that so large and robust a
creature should support itself solely on ants ; but we must
bear in mind the multitudes of those minute insects which
occur in South America. In captivity it may be fed on
crumbs of bread, meal, flour and water, &e. A living spe¬
cimen, brought a good many years ago into Spain, ate rea¬
dily of raw meat minced, and was said to swallow from
four to five pounds a-day.1 How many ants would be re¬
quired to equal that amount ? This species possesses great
strength in its legs and paws, and is said to defend itself
successfully against the attacks of the largest feline ani¬
mals, such as the jaguar and other beasts of prey. It is
even held in great dread by the Indians, who however
much they may have disabled it, never approach it closely
till it is entirely dead. When it seizes an animal with its
fore-paws, it hugs it tightly to its body, and retains its
grasp so tenaciously as to kill its enemy either by pressure
or starvation. It does not climb trees.
The species known under the name of Tamandua {Myr.
tamandua, Cuv., M. tetradactyla and tridactyla, Linn.), is
not more than half the size of the preceding, and differs in
its prehensile and almost naked tail, by which it is assisted E(jent,tl
in climbing trees. Azara is of opinion that, in addition to
the usual insect food, this species eats wild bees and honey.
It smells strongly of musk. The little ant-eater {M. didac-
tyla, Linn., Plate CCCXXXVII. figs. 5 and 8.), is rather an
elegant animal. Its body measures little more in length
than six inches, and, besides the great disparity of size, it
is distinguished from the two preceding species by having
only two claws to the fore feet and four to the hinder ones.
It is covered by a beautiful soft fur, of a very pale yellow¬
ish-brown colour. It inhabits the woods of Guyana and
Brazil, dwelling habitually on trees, and preying on ants
and other insects.
Genus Manis, Linn. In this genus also the teeth are
entirely wanting. The body is extremely elongated, low
upon the legs, and covered by strong corneous scales. The
muzzle is very long, the mouth small and terminal, the
tongue of remarkable length, round and extensile. All the
feet have five toes, armed with strong talons. The tail is
very long, covered with scales, and as broad at its base as
the termination of the body.
The entire range of the animal. kingdom scarcely pre¬
sents us with species of a more marked and peculiar aspect
than the manis tribe or pangolins. Instead of hair they
are covered by a scaly armour, composed of triangular
plates, placed upon each other like slates or tiles; and
this remarkable character, combined with their attenuated
form, gives them so much the appearance of reptiles, that
they are often designated as scaly lizards. (See Plate
CCCXXXVII. figs. 6 and 7 ) We possess no very detailed
knowledge of their natural history. They seem to be in¬
offensive creatures, feeding, like the ant-eater, on insects, es¬
pecially ants, which they collect by thrusting their long insi¬
dious tongue into the dwellings of these industrious la¬
bourers. Three species are described by systematic wri¬
ters, and of these one inhabits continental India, another
occurs in Java, and a third is native to Senegal and the
coast of Guinea.
Tribe 3d, Monotrema.
The term by which this tribe is designated was first be¬
stowed by Geoffroy St Hilaire, and is now very generally
adopted by naturalists. It applies to a small number of
species discovered in Newr Holland in comparatively recent
times, and characterized by a general organization, cer¬
tainly conformable to that of other mammalia, but with
modifications so remarkable and anomalous, that their true
position in the animal kingdom (the very class to which
they belong), is still a disputed point. The apparent ab¬
sence of mammae, and their supposed oviparous nature,
were these two circumstances satisfactorily ascertained,
would either remove them from the ordinary class of quad¬
rupeds, or render necessary an alteration in the technical
definition of that class. In our present tribe only two ge¬
nera are as yet included, viz. Echidna and Ornitho-
rhynchus. Latreille is of opinion that these should form
two distinct orders, an arrangement which has not been
adopted, but which possesses the advantage of shewing that
they greatly differ from each other,—an inference not de-
ducible from Sir Everard Llome’s mode of combining them
in a single genus. Shaw placed Echidna with the ant-
eaters, and as connecting these with the porcupines ;
while he expressed his opinion that Ornithorynchus (his
genus Platypus'), should follow Myrmecophaga. This ar¬
rangement, in fact, approaches very close to that adopted by
Baron Cuvier.
The monotremous tribes exhibit several peculiarities in
1 Shaw’s General Zoology, vol. i. p. 1G8.
MAMMALIA. 145
,;ata. their osteological structure, by which they are further allied
- to the class of birds. Such, for example, is a kind of cla¬
vicle common to both shoulders, placed in front of the or¬
dinary clavicle, and analogous to the furcula of the fea-
thered tribes. Besides the five claws on each foot, the
males bear a spur on their hind legs, resembling that of a
cock, but pierced by a canal capable of transmitting a li¬
quid of a venomous or inflammatory quality, secreted by a
peculiar gland.1 But however anomalous these and other
characters may be, when we consider their quadrupedal
form, their hairy covering, their lungs freely suspended,
the existence of a diaphragm, the rudiments of teeth, and
the general agreement of the skeleton with that of other
mammiferous animals, we can scarcely hesitate as to the
class to which they belong.2 Their agreements with the
Mammalia are numerous and striking, and deduced from
the most important organs, while their disagreements are
few, and deduced for the most part from characters not of
the highest value. Vv'e shall conclude these meagre ge¬
neralities with the words of Baron Cuvier: “ Avec les
formes exterieures et le poil des mammiferes; avec leur
circulation, leur cerveau, leurs organes des sens, et une
grande partie de leurs organes du mouvement; avec le
bassin des Didelphes, les Monotremes ressemblent a beau-
coup d’egards, aux oiseaux et aux reptiles par leur epaules
et par les organes de la generation ; ils manquent de ma-
melles et paraissent assez vraisemblablement produire des
ceufs ou quelque chose d’equivalent, au lieu de mettre au
jour des petits vivans. Ils semblent vouloir echapper a nos
classifications par leur osteologie comme par leurs autres
rapports. On ne peut comparer celle de leur tete a celle
d’aucun des ordres de Mammiferes; cependant c’est une
vraie tete de Mammifere et non d’ovipare d’aucune classe.”3
Genus Echidna, Cuv. Teeth entirely wanting, but
their functions partly supplied by several rows of small
spines upon the palate, directed backwards. Muzzle long,
slender, terminated by a small mouth, containing an exten¬
sile tongue. Body short and rounded, covered by many
strong sharp spines. Legs short, each foot furnished with
five strong claws, fit for digging. Tail very short.
Only two species of this genus have been as yet disco¬
vered,—the JE. hystrix, which occurs in the vicinity of
Port Jackson, and is almost entirely covered by strong
spines, and the E. setosa, a native of Van Diemen’s Land
and the islands in Bass’s Straits, characterized by fewer
species, and a more ample coat of hair. See Plate
CCCXXXVIII. fig. 1. Some observers incline to consider
them as varieties of the same species, resulting from a dif¬
ference in age.4 Both animals are nearly of the size, and
somewhat of the aspect, of a hedgehog. They feed on
insects, and burrow under ground with great strength and
celerity, their feet and claws being admirably adapted to Edentata,
subterranean purposes. It is even said that they will make
their way beneath a wall, or under a pretty strong pave¬
ment. During these exertions their bodies become greatly
lengthened, so as to present a very different appearance
from that of their ordinary state. They keep much under
ground during dry weather, and move about chiefly during
the rains. They are capable of supporting a long conti¬
nued abstinence, and seem subject to a kind of numbness
or peculiar stiffness (engourdissement), which will some¬
times continue for upwards of eighty hours, and is fre¬
quently renewed when they are retained in captivity.5
Genus Ornithorhynchus, Blumenbach. Platypus,
Shaw. This genus differs from the preceding, in having
two fibrous molar teeth placed in the gums on each side of
both jaws. The muzzle is prolonged into a broadish flat¬
tened beak, greatly resembling that of a duck. The head
is small and round, with minute eyes, and no external ears.
The nostrils are round, close to each other, and placed near
the extrefhity of the upper mandible or jaw. The tongue
is in some measure double,—there being one within "the
beak, beset with villosities, and bearing another at its base,
of a thicker form, with two small fleshy anterior points.
The legs are very short, directed laterally, the anterior
and posterior very distant from each other, owing to the
comparatively lengthened form of the body. Each foot
has five toes, those of the anterior extremities of nearly
equal size, slender, separate, furnished with flattened nails,
united by a peculiar membrane which projects beneath
them ; the posterior toes united as far as the nails. Tail
rather short, broad at the base. The body is covered with
hair.
Of this very singular genus it does not appear that more
than a single species has as yet been ascertained,6 7—the
Ornithorhynchus paradoxus of modern writers, first de ¬
scribed by Dr Shaw under the name of Duck-hilled Pla¬
typus.1 It is an animal of a very peculiar aspect (see Plate
CCCXXXVIII. fig. 2), of amphibious habits, and a native
of New Holland, where it inhabits marshes-, and the banks of
rivers, especially in the neighbourhood of Port Jackson.
The general belief is, that it lays eggs. We think, however,
that that fact has as yet been rather inferred than demon¬
strated ; and it is certainly singular that it should not have
been proved in those districts where the species is so often
met with, and where so extraordinary a circumstance
must have excited a corresponding degree of curiosity and
attention. The following detailed particulars were pub¬
lished a few years ago in an Italian periodical, but without
any indication of the source from which they were derived :
“ The ornithorhynchus inhabits the marshes of New Hol¬
land. It forms, among beds of reeds by the water-side, a
1 “ I cannot,” says Sir John Jamison, “ avoid relating to you an extraordinary peculiarity which I have lately discovered in the
Ornithorhynchus paradoxus. The male of this wonderful animal is provided with spurs on the hind feet or legs, like a cock.
Ihe spur is situated over a cyst of venomous fluid, and has a tube or cannula up its centre, through which the animal can, like
a serpent, force the poison when it inflicts its wound. I wounded one with small shot; and, on my overseer’s taking it out of the
water, it struck its spurs into the palm and back of his right hand with such force, and retained them in with such strength, that
they could not be withdrawn until it was killed. The hand instantly swelled to a prodigious bulk ; and the inflammation having
rapidly extended to the shoulder, he was in a few minutes threatened with locked jaw, and exhibited all the symptoms of a person
bitten by a venomous snake. The pain from the first was insupportable, and cold sweats and sickness of stomach took place so
alarmingly, that I found it necessary, besides the external application of oil and vinegar, to administer large quantities of the vola¬
tile alkali with opium, which I really think preserved his life.”—Extract from letter dated llegentville, New South Wales, Septem¬
ber 10. 1816, published in Linn. Trans., vol. xii. p. 584. See also Dr Knox’s Observations on the Anatomy of the Ornithorhynchus
paradoxus, in Memoirs of the Wernerian Society (for 1823-4), vol. v. p. 26 and p. 144.
4 See De Blainville’s Dissertation sur la place que la famille des Ornithorhynches et des Echidnts doit occuper dans les series naturelles.
3 Ossemens fossiles, t. v.
4 “ L echidne, dont on fait deux especes, suivant que les piquans sont plus ou moins garnis de poils, est vraiment uninue.” Les¬
son’s Manuel de Mammalogie, p. 318.
4 See Zoologie de la Coquille, p. 134, et seq.
6 In this opinion we coincide with Oken, Meckel, and Geoffroy St Hilaire. Desmarest, Macgillivray, Vander Hoeven, Peron and
Lesueur, and other writers, have described what they regard as one or more species distinct from the common kind. We apprehend
that these authors, in the absence of an extensive series of specimens, have attached too much importance to certain individual varia-
7 Naturalist’s Miscellany, pi. 385.
VOL. XIV.
T
MAMMALIA
146
Pachyder- nest composed of hair or wool, and intermingled roots, in
mata. which it deposits two white eggs, smaller than those of our
domestic poultry ; on these it sits a long time, hatching them
like a bird, and refusing to leave them unless threatened by
a very formidable foe. It appears that during all this time
it eats neither seeds nor herbs, but contents itself with
slime or mud; at least nothing more is found within it.
When the ornithorhynchus plunges under water, it remains
but a short time submerged, and comes soon to the sur¬
face, shaking its head like a duck. It walks, or rather
creeps, along the margins of the marshes with considerable
quickness ; its movements are prompt, and its sight so ex¬
cellent as to render its capture difficult. It usually em¬
ploys only one nostril in respiration. It scratches its head
and neck, like a dog, with one of its hind legs. It attempts
to bite when taken, but can inflict no injury, owing to its
soft and feeble beak. The male alone is armed with a
spur upon the hinder legs, and he employs that weapon
against his aggressors. The wound which he inflicts pro¬
duces inflammation and a violent pain, but there is no in¬
stance of its having ever occasioned death.” 1 There is an
appearance of truth in the circumstantial mode in which
the preceding details are narrated, and we therefore regret
the more that they should have appeared anonymously.
The testimony borne to the oviparous nature of the animal
in question accords with the reported belief of the natives,
and with the researches of Hill and Jamison. “ The fe¬
male,” says the last named observer, “ is oviparous, and lives
in burrows in the ground, so that it is seldom seen either
on shore or in the water. The males are seen in numbers
throughout our winter months only, floating and diving in
all our large rivers; but they cannot continue long under
water. I had one drowned by having been left during the
night in a large tub of water. I have found no other sub¬
stance in their stomachs than small fish and fry. They
are very shy, and avoid the shot by diving, and afterwards
rising at a considerable distance.” 2
Order VI.—PACHYDERMATA.
In entering upon the consideration of this interesting
order, we may remind the reader that all the terrestrial
Mammalia are divisible into two great secondary groups,
the unguiculated or nailed quadrupeds, and the ungulated
or hoofed quadrupeds. The former series may be said to
terminate with the Edentata, which themselves approach
the ungulated tribes in the great size of their claws, and
the hoof-like fashion in which these embrace the extremi¬
ties of the toes. They still, however, possess the faculty
of being bent, or otherwise varied in their motion, for the
purposes of seizure, excavation, &c. It is the absence of
that faculty which characterizes the hoofed animals pro¬
perly so called; they want the clavicle, and their anterior
extremities are always in a state of pronation, being avail¬
able only for the purposes of support and of locomotion, but
not for collecting their food, or for any other kind of ma¬
nipulation. They all browse on vegetable substances, and
their bodily forms, as well as their modes of life, are less
varied than those of the unguiculated orders.
The great ungulated or hoofed division is itself parti¬
tioned into two groups, one of which consists of the rumi¬
nating tribes (order Pecora or Ruminantia), and the
other of certain thick-skinned genera, called Pachyder-
mata,—our present order. Of these two orders it will be
readily perceived that the former is established upon orga¬
nic peculiarities of the highest importance, and is therefore Pachyde
in a great degree natural and well composed, while the mats!
constituents of the latter agree principally in the negative
character of not being ruminant, and exhibit among them¬
selves so great a range and diversity of structure and cha¬
racter, as to present a much less natural combination. We
find, accordingly, in examining the different genera, that
their toes vary (externally) from one to three, four, and
five ; that their teeth are sometimes of three kinds, some¬
times of only two ; that their skin, generally bare, is occa¬
sionally covered by close or even shaggy hair ; that their
stomach, in some cases simple, is in others divided into se¬
veral pouches; that the size of certain species is small,
while that of others attains to the most gigantic dimen¬
sions ; and that while certain minor groups seem nearly al¬
lied to the ruminants, others are broadly distinguished by
numerous anomalies of organization, some of which point
them out as among the most remarkable species of the ani¬
mal kingdom. In a word, the pachydermatous order con¬
sists of the small sized living Daman, and the gigantic and
now extinguished Mastodon,—of the swift and slender
limbed horse, and the short-legged sluggish rhinoceros,—of
the savage boar, and mild-eyed elephant. The great dif¬
ferences which exist in the genera now named have occa¬
sioned the grouping of this order into several families,
which some authors are inclined to view rather in the light
of distinct orders.3 We certainly think that the removal
of the genus Equus (which Illiger and others have classed
as a separate order under the title of Solidungula) would
enable us to simplify our definition of the pachydermous
tribes.
Family 1st—PROBOSCIDEA.
This family includes of living creatures (and with the
fossil species we are not concerned) the genus Elephas
alone. The skeleton exhibits five complete toes, but so
encrusted in a callous skin which surrounds the foot, that
only the nails are visible, attached, as it were, to the mar¬
gins of a seeming hoof. The canine teeth, and incisives,
properly so called, are wanting, but in the incisive bones are
implanted a pair of tusks, projecting much beyond the
mouth, and sometimes attaining an enormous size. The
necessary dimensions of the alveoli of these peculiar teeth,
as Baron Cuvier has remarked, render the upper jaw so
high, and so shorten the bones of the nose, that the nos¬
trils, in the skeleton, occur towards the upper portion of
the face, although in the living animal they are prolonged
under the form of a long, gradually attenuated, cylindrical,
trunk or proboscis, composed of several thousand small
muscles, so variously interlaced as to produce a great di¬
versity of motion, endowed with an exquisite sense of touch,
and terminated by a small finger-formed appendage. By
means of this admirable organ the elephant is possessed of
almost as much address as the ape receives from the hu¬
man-like structure of its hand. Its exquisite uses are so
frequently exhibited in menageries, that we need scarcely
expatiate upon the subject. The head, though of enor¬
mous size, is rendered comparatively light by the cellular
structure of a large portion of the cranium. There are no
incisive teeth in the lower jaw ; the grinders are two on
both sides of each jaw; making the total number ten, in¬
cluding the tusks. The stomach is simple, the coecum
enormous, the mammas only two, their position pectoral.4
As the Genus Elefhas contains all the living species of
the family, the preceding characteristics may be regarded
1 Anthologia (di Firenze), t. xxiv. p. 305.
2 Linn. Trans, vol. xii. p. 385. An interesting account of a living ornithorhynchus, in captivity, was recently published by Mr
George Bennet, in one of the c< Annuals.”
3 See Diet. Class. d'Hist. Nat. t. xii. p. 579. * Rcgne Animal, t« i. p. 238.
MAMMALIA.
Pa nder-as generic. The distinctive character of the teeth consists
riita. in the molars being composed of a certain number of verti-
'•r^™^/cal plates, each formed of an osseous substance, enveloped
by enamel, and connected together by a third or cortical
matter. These teeth succeed each other not vertically, as
the second molars of the human race succeed the milk-
teeth, but from behind forwards, in such a manner that in
proportion as one grinder becomes used it is pushed for¬
ward by its successor; and thus there is sometimes two,
sometimes only one on each side. The first teeth have
few plates, the succeeding ones a greater number; and the
molars are said to be sometimes changed as often as eight
times, while the tusks or great incisives are only once
renewed. There are only two species known to natura¬
lists of these gigantic creatures.
The African elephant (G. Africanus) is easily distin¬
guished from the Asiatic species by his rounder head, more
convex forehead, much larger ears, and the lozenge-marked
surface of his grinders. His tusks are also longer, and
those of his female are described as equally great with his
own, whereas the female of the Asiatic elephant has very
small tusks. He inhabits a wide extent of Africa from Se¬
negal to the Cape, and abounds in the forests of the inte¬
rior. That the African elephant has not in modern times
been rendered serviceable to man, we cannot think arises
from any defect in the wisdom or docility of his disposi¬
tion, but rather from a difference in the social and political
conditions of the human tribes of Africa, and their inferior
civilization. It is known that the ancient Carthaginians
made use of elephants, which, so far as our information
extends, there is no reason to believe were otherwise than
of African origin; in like manner as the Asiatic variety
was used by Porus and the Indian kings. It is not yet
clearly ascertained whether the individuals of the eastern
shores of Africa are specifically the same as those of the
interior and western districts, or whether they do not ex¬
hibit a closer approximation to the Asiatic species. We
may observe, that the size of both the African and eastern
elephant has been much exaggerated. Dr Hill, for ex¬
ample, asserts that when full grown they will measure from
seventeen to twenty feet in height. One-half of the latter
dimension is probably nearer the truth, even for an indivi¬
dual of more than usual size, and twelve feet may be stated
as an extreme height. The African, however, are alleged
(by travellers though not by systematic writers) to be larger
than those of Asia. Major Denham, for example, while
journeying to the Schad, saw elephants so enormous that
he calculated their height at sixteen feet. These, how¬
ever, he had no opportunity of measuring; but another
which was killed in his presence was found to be nine feet
six inches from the foot to the hip-bone, and three feet
from the latter to the back; that is, twelve feet and a half
in all, or more than twice the height of the tallest races of
mankind. When we consider, that even in proportion to
its height, the elephant is an animal of enormous bulk, and
of the most massive proportions, we may conceive what an
enormous mass of flesh and bone its rugous coat must
usually contain. A large individual weighs from six to
seven thousand pounds, and it may easily be imagined that
when travelling through tire forest with any special object
m view, he must force his way through all intervening ob¬
stacles more after the manner of a modern locomotive en¬
gine, than of any mere animal force of which we have an
accustomed conception.
“ Trampling his path through wood and brake,
  And canes which crackling fall before his way,
And tassel-grass, whose silvery feathers play,
O’ertopping the young trees,
On comes the elephant to slake
His thirst at noon in yon pellucid springs.
Lo ! from his trunk upturn’d, aloft he flings
The grateful shower; and now,
Plucking the broad-leav’d bough
Of yonder plume, with waving motion slow,
Fanning the languid air,
He waves it to and fro.”1
Of the Asiatic elephants (E.Indicus, Plate CCCXXX VIII,
fig. 3) those of Ceylon are among the most celebrated. In¬
deed, the torrid zone seems the most favourable for the
production of the largest races ; for although elephants oc¬
cur along the coast of Malabar as far north as the territo¬
ries of Coorgah Rajah, these, according to Mr Corse (Scott)
are inferior to the breed from Ceylon. Those of China,
where they seem to be used rather as an appendage of im¬
perial greatness than as beasts of burden, are described as
smaller than those of moi’e southern regions, and of a lighter
hue. A few are, however, said to have bred to the north¬
ward of the tropic ; and we may add, that elephants appear
to have been very anciently known even in remote parts of
the Chinese empire.2 As Kublai Khan, one of the con¬
quering heroes of the thirteenth century, subdued Ava and
other southern provinces, where elephants are known to
have abounded, and where they were opposed to his armies
in battie, it is probable that he then added those gigantic
and imposing animals to his establishment, and conveyed
them to the more northern parts of his great Tartarian em¬
pire, which included a large portion of what we now de¬
signate by the name of China. A few are still kept by the
emperors of the reigning dynasty.3
It is to the Asiatic species that most of the anecdotes
apply, as recorded in our systematic works and books of
travels.4 Although generally regarded as the “ wisest of
beasts, it is alleged by some to owe much of its apparent
sagacity to that admirable instrument its proboscis, by
which it is enabled to perform many actions which the
canine race, though probably equal in wisdom, cannot
achieve in consequence of their different, if not more de¬
fective, organization. “ Apres,” says Baron Cuvier, “ les
avoir etudies long-temps, nous n’avons pas trouve qu’elle
(I’intelligence) surpassat celle du chien ni de plusieurs
autres carnassiers.”5 Still we think it is demonstrable both
from ancient record and modern observation, that the ele¬
phant is most highly gifted for an irrational being, and that
it generally retains its finer natural instincts even in con¬
junction with those artificial acquirements which in several
other sagacious species seem to deaden or destroy the in¬
fluence of pure instinctive feeling.
We have already stated our opinion that the size of the
elephant is usually exaggerated. Mr Scott of Sinton, whose
authority is frequently quoted, and deservedly valued on
such points, has stated, in relation to the Asiatic species,
that he never heard of more than a single instance of its
exceeding the height of ten feet. The following are the
proportions which he gives of a fine male belonging to the
Vizier of Oude
147
Pachyder-
mata.
1 Southey’s Curse of Kekama.
Feet,
From foot to foot over the shoulder, ... 22
From the top of the shoulder, perpendicular |
height, j" *0
From the top of the head when set up, . .12
From the front of the face, to the insertion I
of the tail, r
15
Inches.
10J
11
1 See various passages in Marsden’s edition of the Travels of Marco Polo.
3 T* in rrt t i .. occ vaiiuu& uas&ctfcr
4 s Travels, vol. n. p. 25 ; Van Braam’s Voyage en Chine, t. i. p. 280.
Mr ^mpler exPos.itiol\we beS to re,fer the reader to a ™ry accessib.e volume (in the Library of
elephanu ^ 1 d The^Mena9enes, vol. u., where a complete account is given of the ancient and modern history of
6 Hegne Animal, t. L p. 239.
148 M A M M A L I A.
Pachyder- Nothing, indeed, is more deceptive than the dimensions
mata. of an animal which, obviously exceeding in size whatever
-y'—'' living creature we have been previously accustomed to, has
yet been unsubjected to actual measurement, for our as¬
tonishment magnifies the real size. Thus a celebrated
elephant belonging to the Nabob of Dacca, which was ge¬
nerally reported to be fourteen feet high, and which even
Mr Scott’s practised eye estimated at twelve, was found by
measurement not to exceed ten feet. Those from Pegu
and Ava (as well as the Ceylonese) are, however, of greater
size than those of Hindostan. There is the skeleton of an
elephant in the museum of St Petersburg!!, presented by
the King of Persia to the Czar Peter, which measures
above sixteen feet in height, but we have no doubt that
some portion of this prodigious stature is owing to the
mode in which the bones have been articulated in the set¬
ting up, and the more or less natural curvature of the
spine. A new born elephant usually measures about thirty-
five inches high, and he is said to grow eleven inches the
first year, eight the second, five the fifth, three and a half
the sixth, and two and a half in the seventh year. He
takes from twenty to thirty years to attain his full growth,
and has been alleged to live for a couple of centuries.
There are authentic instances of elephants having been
kept in a domestic state for a hundred and thirty years.
The female is capable of breeding after her fifteenth year.
She produces a single young one at a birth, after a gestation
of from twenty-two to twenty-three months.
Elephants in this country are usually fed on hay and
carrots, and the quantity of food which they consume is
enormous. Those of the Emperor Akbar had each a daily al¬
lowance of 200 pounds in weight, with an additional supply
of ten pounds of sugar, besides rice, milk, and pepper; and
during the sugar-cane season each was provided daily with
300 canes. The Mogul princes are known to have kept
up their stud of elephants at a vast expense ; and accord¬
ing to Pliny, even the Romans, a people so addicted to
extravagance, found the sustaining of the Carthaginian
elephants captured by Metellus so costly, that they were
afterwards slain in the circus. Yet, according to zElian’s
account, less rigid economy prevailed in the days of Ger-
manicus. His elephants were exhibited in the arena, re¬
posing on splendid couches, adorned with the richest ta¬
pestry. Tables of ivory and cedar-wood were placed be¬
fore them, and on these their viands were presented in
vessels of gold and silver. They danced to the sound of
“ flutes and soft recorders,” or moved about the theatre in
measured and harmonious steps, scattering around them
the fi-eshest and the choicest flowers. Arrian mentions
an elephant which played on symbols, one being fastened
to each knee, and another held by his proboscis, while his
unwieldy companions danced in a circle, keeping time with
the greatest exactness.
The general use of gunpowder in the practice of war,
and the application of steam to machinery, have greatly
superseded the employment of this gigantic living engine
for the purposes of the human race, although it is still ex¬
tensively used as a beast of burden in the East. In regard
to the pecuniary value of the elephant, Mr Forbes informs
us that a common price is from 5000 to 6000 rupees, but
that he has seen one valued at 20,000.1 We must now
terminate our miscellaneous notices of this interesting
genus.2
Pa<%der.
Family IL—PACHYDERMATA PROPER. .
In the majority of this family the three sorts of teeth exist
together, and the number of toes ranges from two to four.
Those in which the toes are of an even number have their
feet in a measure cloven, and approach the ruminants both
in the structure of the skeleton, and the complicated form
of the stomach.
Genus Hippopotamus, Linn. Incisives \ , canines   
molars ^^; rr 36.3 Body very bulky, legs proportion¬
ally short, the feet with four toes terminated by small
hoofs. Lower incisives cylindrical, and directed obliquely
forwards. Skin extremely thick, and hairless.
Only one species of this genus is distinctly known to
naturalists, the Hippopotamus amphibius of systematic wri¬
ters.4 Next to the elephant and rhinoceros this is proba¬
bly the most bulky land animal with which we are acquaint¬
ed. It is peculiar to Africa, where it inhabits the fresh
waters of the central and southern portions of that sultry
continent. It appears to have formerly existed in Lower
Egypt, but has long since disappeared from that district.
It is, however, well known in Abyssinia. Mr Salt had no
sooner reached the banks of the Tacazze, a tributary of the
Nile, than his attention was roused by the cry of his at¬
tendants of “ Gomari! Gomari 1” the native title of the
hippopotamus; but he at that time succeeded in obtaining
only a momentary glance, which sufficed to shew that its
action somewhat resembled the rolling of a grampus in the
sea. The river was about fifty yards across, and between
its fords, at the place alluded to, there are pools of almost im¬
measurable depth, resembling the wild and beautiful moun¬
tain tarns of the north of England, and in these the amphibi¬
ous giants love to dwell. Mr Salt and his party stationed
themselves on a high overhanging rock which commanded
a deep translucent pool, and they did not remain long be¬
fore a hippopotamus rose to the surface at a distance of
twenty yards. He came up very confidently, raising his
enormous head above the water with a violent snort. The
muskets were instantly discharged, their contents seemed
to strike directly on the forehead, on which he turned round
his head with an angry scowl, and making a sudden plunge,
descended to the bottom, with a peculiar noise between a
grunt and a roar. The sportsmen for a time entertained
the hope that he was killed, but he ere long rose again
close to the same spot, apparently not much concerned at
what had happened, but with somewhat greater caution
than before. The guns were again discharged, but as in¬
effectually as before ; and although some of the party con¬
tinued firing at every one that made his appearance, they
were by no means certain that the slightest impression was
produced. This they attributed to their having used leaden
balls, which are too soft for such almost impenetrable skulls.
One of the most interesting parts of the amusement con¬
sisted in witnessing the perfect ease with which these huge
creatures quietly descended to the bottom, for the water
being exceedingly clear, they were distinctly perceptible
at least twenty feet beneath the surface. They are able
to remain five or six minutes at a time under the water.5
The flesh of the hippopotamus is used as food by many of
1 Oriental Memoirs.
2 In addition to the works already quoted, we have in this as in some other parts of our present treatise, availed ourselves of the
natural history sketches contained in various volumes of the Edinburgh Cabinet Library.
z An additional molar is sometimes found on each side of the upper jaw, but it seems of a temporary nature.
4 M. Desmoulins regards the species of Senegal as distinct from that of the southern extremity of Africa.
5 Salt’s Voyage to Abyssinia, p. 345»
MAMMALIA.
lCh ier- the African tribes ; its skin is also employed for a variety
mt». of purposes, and its teeth yield an ivory of great value.
Genus Sus, Linn. Incisives ^ or canines,
7 7
molars,     ; = 42 or 44. All the ieet furnished with
7 — 7
four toes, of which two are anterior or intermediate, and of
larger size, and two are lateral or posterior, and so short as
scarcely to touch the ground. The lower incisives always
project forwards, and the canine teeth, even those of the
upper jaw, likewise project and curve upwards. The snout
is lengthened, and truncated at the point.
The wild boar (Sus aper), the supposed origin of our
domestic breeds of swine, occurs in many parts of Europe,
Asia, Africa, and the islands of the Indian Sea. Its body
is of a brownish-black colour, covered with bristles, which
are hard and stiff, especially along the spine. It is an ani¬
mal of great strength, and considerable activity; but its
dimensions though large, probably never exceed those of
an overgrown individual of the domestic breed. Wherever
die boar occurs in a state of nature, he is found in moist
and shady situations, generally well wooded, and for the
most part not far distant from streams and marshes. He
prefers even cultivated grounds, with all the dangerous con¬
sequences likely to result from such localities, to dry or
open tracts of weather-beaten barrenness. However fierce
in self-defence, when attacked in some favourite place of
strength, or irritated during the rutting season, when his
passions are inflamed, his natural tastes are almost entirely
herbivorous. Buffon, however, states that they have been
seen eating horse flesh; and the skin of deer, and the claws
of birds, have been sometimes found within them. Des-
marest asserts that they devour the smaller kinds of game,
such as leverets and partridges, and are very fond of eggs.
Their habits are rather nocturnal, at least they are fre¬
quently observed to quit their coverts during the evening
twilight, and when they hold their lair in the vicinity of
human cultivation, they often do great damage by turning
up the soil in long straight deep furrows, in search of roots
or grain. By means of their delicate perception of the
sense of touch and smell, they discover and disinter many
low growing plants, half sunk beneath the soil, and hence
probably their desire to dwell in moist and sombre places
where, amid “ a boundless contiguity of shade,” their na¬
tural powers are more easily and efficiently exerted. They
continue to increase in size and strength for four or five
years, and are said to live for about thirty years. It is
when they have nearly attained maturity, that they afford
the most exciting and dangerous occupation to the sports¬
man. A strong boar will then continue to run for a long
time, and finally make the most vigorous and determined
self-defence. An experienced boar exhibits considerable
intelligence in avoiding his enemies, although the strong
scent which emanates from him, especially in a state of irri¬
tation, renders his eventual escape from the dogs extreme¬
ly doubtful. In his revenge also, there is said to be less of
blind and indiscriminate fury than might be expected from
his coarsely savage aspect; for even when harassed beyond
the hope of life, and about to be torn to pieces by the insa¬
tiate hounds, should he receive a ball from the huntsman’s
rifle, he has been known to turn upon his dread pursuers,
to break through the bellowing pack, and to single out and
assault with savage ire his human persecutor.1
1 he wild boar is among the fiercest of the animals of India.
It there inhabits chiefly the woods and jungles; but when the
grain is nearly ripe, it occasions great damage in corn fields,
and still greater among sugar plantations. In eastern coun¬
tries it is spread over a vast extent of territory, and exists
149
in great abundance in the Archipelago of the Papuas, pachyder-
to the north of the Moluccas, and the westward of New mata.
Guinea. It would even appear that there are two wildv~—v--—'
species in the Celebes (besides Sus Babyrussa), and some
writers are of opinion that there exists in the Indian and
Chinese dominions a species distinct from the wild boar of
Europe, and the more probable source from which the Sia¬
mese breed, and that of China, have been derived.
We cannot here enter into a detailed history of our nu¬
merous cultivated breeds. With a repulsive aspect, an un¬
graceful form, the most sensual habits, and a ferocity of
disposition not seldom approaching to that of the carnivorous
tribes, the domestic hog is nevertheless one of the most
useful of quadrupeds. If the value of a benefit depends in
a great measure on its universality, this despised animal may
indeed claim a higher rank than many of a loftier nature ;
for one of the most singular circumstances in its history
is the immense extent of its distribution, more specially in
far i-emoved and isolated spots, inhabited by semi-bar¬
barian people, to whom the wild species is utterly unknown.
The South Sea Islands, for example, on their discovery by
Europeans, were found to be well stocked with a small,
black, short-legged hog ; and the traditionary belief of the
human natives, bore that they were as anciently descended
as themselves. The hog, in fact, is in these islands the prin¬
cipal quadruped, and is of all others the most carefully
cultivated. The bread-fruit tree, either in form of a sour
paste, or in its natural condition, constitutes its favourite
food, and its additional choice of yams, eddoes, and other
nutritive vegetables, rendersits flesh most juicy and deli¬
cious,—its fat, though rich, being at the same time (so says
Foster) not less delicate and agreeable than the finest but¬
ter. Before our missionary labours had proved so signally
successful in those once forlorn and benighted regions, by
substituting the mild spirit of Christianity for the sanguin¬
ary forms of a delusive and degrading worship, the Ota-
heitans, and other South Sea islanders, were in the habit
of presenting roasted pigs at the morais, as the most sa¬
voury and acceptible offering to their deities which they
could bestow. Hogs are now abundant in America. They
were not, however, indigenous to the New World, but were
transported thither by the Spaniards, soon after the disco¬
very and conquest by that nation of the western regions.
China is famous for its pigs, and throughout most of the
provinces is much more abundant than mutton. Indeed
the powerful and prevailing love of the former viand has
even been assigned by a philosophical historian as a prin¬
cipal reason for the rejection by the subjects of the celestial
empire, of the laws and religion of Mahomet.2
Of animals allied to the boar we may name the Sus
larvatus, a species which occurs in Madagascar and Southern
Africa, and the Sus Babyrussa (Plate CCCXXX VIII. fig. 4.)
a native of the Indian Archipelago, distinguished by its
longer and more slender limbs, and the extraordinary length
of its upturned and greatly curved tusks. The genus Pha-
cochcerus, F. Cuvier, has only two incisives in the upper
jaw, and even these are often wanting, though their vestiges
are sometimes found beneath the gums. It is also charac¬
terized by a large and fleshy lobe on either cheek. The
species (supposed to be two in number, if that described
by Ruppel is really distinct) are fierce and savage animals,
which, when attacked, become extremely furious, and rush¬
ing on their enemies with great force and swiftness, oc¬
casionally inflict the most desperate and sometimes fatal
wounds. The genus Dycoteles of Cuvier, has four inci¬
sives above, six below, with two canines and six molars in
each jaw. The species differ from all the preceding por¬
cine groups in the canines being directed in the ordinary
1 Quarterly Journal of Agriculture, vol. ii. p. 875. An account is given of the different domestic breeds in vol. iii p. 35, of the same
2 Ibid. vol. ii. p. 877-
v MAMMALIA.
150
Pachyrter- manner, in there being only three toes to the hinder feet,
mata. and in the tail being tubercular. These animals, common-
“v’-—^ ly called peccaries, are native to South America, where
there are two species, the collared peccary (D. torquatus),
and the white-lipped peccary (1). labiatus). The former
inhabits the Atlantic coasts of the New World from Gu¬
yana to Paraguay, the latter occurs in parts of the same
extensive range, and is sometimes met with in vast flocks.
It is easily tamed, and its flesh is good to eat. Prior to the
practical researches of Azara, both species seem to have
been confounded under the title of Sus Tajassu, Linn.
Genus Rhinoceros, Linn. The number of teeth in
this genus differs according to the species. Each foot is
divided into three toes. The bones of the nose, which are
very thick, and united into a hollow arch, bear one or more
horns, which adhere to the skin, and are composed of a
fibrous substance, resembling a mass of agglutinated hairs.
The species, of which four or five are known to naturalists,
are of a dull and heavy aspect, and of much more restricted
capacity than the elephant. Though inferior also in size
to that sagacious creature, they are yet of sufficiently gigan¬
tic dimensions to form a very imposing feature in zoology.
Their senses of sight and touch are said to be rather defec¬
tive ; those of smell and hearing more acute. A young
rhinoceros, kept in the Garden of Plants, in Paris, was ha¬
bitually gentle, obedient to his keepers, and extremely sen¬
sible of kindness. He exhibited, however, at times the most
violent paroxysms of rage, during which it was necessary
to keep beyond “ the pale of such contention,” as it would
have been but poor comfort to those whom he might have
gored, to be informed that his ordinary proceedings were en¬
tirely innocuous. Lie was usually mitigated by a liberal
supply of bread and fruit, and as soon as he saw those who
were in t he habit of feeding him, he would stretch his muzzle
towards them, open his mouth, and extend his tongue.
The preceding observations apply to the species of con¬
tinental India (Rh. Indicus, Cuv. Plate CCCXXXVIII.
fig. 8), which, besides twrenty-eight molars, has two strong
incisive teeth in each jaw, two others of a smaller size be¬
tween the lower incisives, and one still smaller on each in¬
cisor of the upper jaw. It has only one horn, and its skin
forms deep folds behind and across the shoulders, and be¬
fore and across the thighs. “ The power of this species is
frequently displayed to a surprising degree when hunting
it. A few years ago, a party of Europeans, with their na¬
tive attendants and elephants, when out on the dangerous
sport of hunting these animals, met with a herd of seven of
them, led, as it appeared, by one larger and stronger than
the rest. When the large rhinoceros charged the hunters,
the leading elephants, instead of using their tusks or wea¬
pons, which, in ordinary cases, they are ready enough to
do, wheeled round, and received the blow of the rhinoceros
on the posteriors. The blow brought them immediately to
the ground with their riders, and as soon as they had risen,
the brute was again ready, and again brought them down,
and in this manner did the combat continue until four of the
seven were killed, when the rest made good their retreat.1
The rhinoceros of Java {Rh. Javanus, Cuv.) is possessed
of the large incisives and single horn of the Indian species,
but its skin has fewer folds, and is entirely covered with small
close-set angular tubercles. A third eastern species occurs
in Sumatra (Rh. Sondaicus, Cuv.). Its skin is more hairy,
with scarcely any folds, and there is a small horn behind
the ordinary one.2
The African species have two horns, no folds on the skin,
and want the incisive teeth. The best known is the Rhi- Paciv^
noceros Africanus of modern writers,—Rh. bicomis, Linn, mata,
Its name was changed on the discovery of the two-horned
Sumatran species, and the title of African was bestowed
upon it, in the erroneous belief that it was the only species
found upon that continent. But the discovery of a distinct
species in the interior of southern Africa by Mr Burchell
(and which that traveller names Rh. simus), affords a proof,
among many others which might be adduced, of the impro¬
priety of naming any species from the continent which it
inhabits. Few creatures stand so “ alone in their glory” as
to exist over a vast tract of country without claiming kin¬
dred with any other, and it may almost be inferred a priori
that when one of a genus is discovered, a second or a third
will ere long be ascertained. When this happens, such
names as Africanus, Americanus, &c. cease to be discri¬
minating, and consequently lose their value. In the mean
time, we have no means of ascertaining the difference in
the geographical distribution of the two species of African
rhinoceros, or how far their history and description may
not have been confounded by travellers. Mr Burchell’s
species is chiefly distinguished by the truncated form of the
lips and nose, and by its general dimensions being much
larger. It was first met with amid immense plains near the
26° of south latitude, and was described by the natives as
feeding on nothing but grass, while the other is said to
browse on shrubs and branches. One or other of the spe¬
cies extends over a great expanse of Africa, where they are
much esteemed as food, the tongue especially being regard¬
ed as a great delicacy. The hunters of the rhinoceros are
called agageer in Abyssinia, from agaro to kill, by cutting
the hams or tendon of Achilles, with a sword. The eyes of
the animal being extremely small, his neck stiff, and his
head very ponderous,3 he seldom turns round so as to see
any thing that is not directly before him. To this, accord¬
ing to Bruce, he owes his death, as he never escapes if there
is as much plain ground as to enable a horse to get in ad¬
vance, for his pride and fury then induce him to lay aside
all thoughts of escaping but by the victorious overthrow of
his enemy. He stands for a moment at bay, then starting
forward, he suddenly charges the horse, after the manner
of a wild boar,—an animal which he greatly resembles in
his general mode of action. The horse, however, easily
avoids this heavy though impetuous onset, by turning short
aside,—and now is the fatal instant,—for a naked warrior,
armed with a ruthless sword, drops from behind the princi¬
pal hunter, and, unperceived by the huge rhinoceros, who
seeks only to wreak his vengeance on his more open enemy,
he smites him with a tremendous blow across the tendon of
the heel, and thus renders him incapable of further flight.
It may be easily conceived that his rage is great, and his
resistance vain.
A rhinoceros in confinement will consume towards two
hundred pounds of vegetable substances in a day. They
are usually fed on moistened beans, hay, carrots, and a cer¬
tain allowance of grain. In speaking of the supply of vege¬
table matter essential to the support of so gigantic a living
mass, Ave must likewise bear in mind the vast quantity of
water which it consumes. No country, according to Bruce,
but such as that of the Shangalla, deluged with six months’
rain, full of large and deep basins hewn by nature in the
living rock, and shaded from evaporation by dark umbrage¬
ous woods, or one watered by extensive and never-failing
rivers, can supply the enormous draughts of his capacious
maw.4
* Griffiths’s Animal Kingdom. voL iii. p. 426.
2 For a description of its habits of life, see Dr Horsfield’s Zoological Besearches in Java.
* A head, when disjoined from the vertebra;, is described bv Mr Burchell as being of such enormous weight that four men could
merelv raise it from the ground, and eight were required to place it on a carriage.
4 VYe may here note an opinion entertained both by Mr Salt and Baron Cuvier, that the figure of the African rhinoceros given
MAMMALIA.
der- We shall here briefly notice the Genus Hyrax of Her-
a- mann, which seems to contain only a single well authenticated
■“■^species (H. capensis and syriacus, Plate CCCXXXVIII,
fig. 5), described under a variety of names, such as daman,
Cape marmot, Cape favy, &c. It is an animal of the di¬
mensions of a rabbit, with a greyish-coloured fur. It was
long classed among the Rodentia, probably on account of
the smallness of its size ; but, as Cuvier has remarked, with
the exception of the horn, which is here wanting, the hyrax
may be said to represent the rhinoceros in miniature. It
has exactly the same molars, but there are two strong in-
cisives curved downwards in the upper jaw, and, in the
young state, a pair of small canines; there are four inci-
sives in the lower jaw. The fore feet have four toes, the
hinder three, all furnished with very small rounded hoofs
(or rather nails, for in this respect our present genus seems
to form an exception to its order), except the inner toe of
the hinder extremities, which bears a curved oblique nail.
The tail is tubercular. This animal has twenty-one pair of
ribs, being exceeded in that number, we believe, by only a
single quadruped, the unau or two-toed sloth, which has
twenty-three. In this character, as in many others, it
agrees with the pachydermous tribes in general, all of which
have numerous ribs ; whereas the majority of the Rodentia
have only twelve or thirteen pair of ribs, those of the beaver
alone amounting to fifteen. The hyrax is spread over a
vast portion of Africa from the Cape of Good Hope to the
north of Abyssinia. It dwells in clefts of the rocks, feeding
on herbs and roots. Bruce describes it as “ found in
Ethiopia, in the caverns of the rocks, or under the great
stones in the Mountains of the Sun, behind the queen’s pa¬
lace at Koscam. It is also frequent in the deep caverns in
the rock in many other parts of Abyssinia.” It is there
called ashkoko, and several dozens are frequently seen sit¬
ting together upon great stones at the mouths of caves, en¬
joying the warmth of the mid-day sun, or the freshness of
a fine summer evening. They are gentle and easily tamed,
though at first, if roughly handled, they are apt to bite.
“ In Arabia and Syria he is called Israel’s sheep or gannim
Israel, for what reason I know not, unless it is chiefly from
his frequenting the rocks of Horeb and Sinai, where the
children of Israel made their forty years’ peregrination;
perhaps this name obtains only among the Arabians. I ap¬
prehend he is known by that of saphan in the Hebrew, and
is die animal commonly called by our translators cuniculus,
the rabbit or coney.”1
6 . 1-1
15J
Incisives canines
6’
1 _ 1’
lars
Genus Tapir, Linn.
7 — 7
y; zz 44. Muzzle prolonged into a small fleshy
trunk, but not prehensile. Anterior feet with four toes,
posterior with three. Tail very short.
The most anciently known of this genus is the Tapir
Americanus, supposed to be the largest quadruped native
to the southern division of the New World, where it is very
generally distributed from the Isthmus of Panama to the
neighbourhood of the Straits of Magellan, being, however,
more abundant in Guyana than in Paraguay. Its prevail¬
ing colour is deep brown, and there is a small mane on the
upper portion of the neck of the male. This species mea¬
sures nearly six feet in length, with a height of about three
feet six inches. It is hunted by means of dogs, on account
bodi of its flesh and hide, the former being held in some
esteem by the Indians, whose taste is not distinguished for
delicacy. When pursued, it seeks its safety by bursting
through close and diorny thickets, where it is widi difficulty
followed by its thinner skinned enemies. It is also some- Pachyder-
times shot by those who lie in ambush durin0- the night mata.
among the water melons, its accustomed food. ° It is tena-'
cious of life, if we may judge from the account given by
Azara, who saw one run for some time after it had receiv¬
ed two balls through the heart. It is a solitary animal, of
nocturnal habits, easily tamed if taken young. See its cra¬
nium on Plate CCCXXXVIII, fig. 6.
A second American species has been discovered of late
years by M. Roulin,2 and described under the title of Ta¬
pir us pinchaque. It is nearly equal in size to the preced¬
ing, and resembles it in its general form and aspect, but its
osteological structure exhibits a considerable difference, and
it is said to occur only at a great height among the moun¬
tains.
The only other described species is the Malay tapir
of Raffles and Horsfield (Tapir indicus, Cuv., Plate
CCCXXXVIII, fig. 7), a native of Sumatra and the Pe¬
ninsula of Malacca. It exceeds the American kinds in
size, and is further distinguished by a peculiar and con¬
trasted colouring, the head, shoulders, and fore and hind
legs being of a blackish-brown, while the intermediate por¬
tion of the body is of a dingy white. Though a common
animal in the east, its habits in a state of nature are but
little known. The specimen described by Sir T. S. Raffles
was young and tractable. It roamed about the park at
Barrackpore, and was frequently observed to enter a pond
and walk along the bottom under water, but without any
exercise of the ordinary mode of swimming.3
Family III—SOLIDUNGULA.
We here place the different species of the horse tribe,
technically characterized by possessing only one external
toe to each foot, covered by a single undivided hoof. But,
beneath the skin on each side of the metacarpal and meta¬
tarsal bones, are two small protuberances or styles, which
represent the lateral toes. The three kinds of teeth exist
in the males ; the canines are almost always wanting in the
females.
Genus Equus, Linn. Incisives canines * ~ j, mo-
. 6 — 6
lars gTTo ’ := Upper lip developed and flexible. Eyes
lateral. Ears large, pointed, moveable. Limbs long and
slender. Tail of medium length, and either furnished
throughout its whole extent with long hair, or terminated
by a somewhat lengthened tuft. Stomach simple, and of
medium size ; intestines very long ; coecum enormous.
According to the views of modern naturalists, this im¬
portant genus consists of six distinct, though nearly allied
species, namely, the horse {Equus caballus), the dziggithai
{E. hemionus), the ass {E. asinus), the quagga {E. quaggai),
the zebra or mountain zebra (E. zebra), and the zebra of
the plains {E. Burchellii). It has been remarked that the
characters which distinguish these animals from each other,
though sufficient for the purposes of the naturalist, are not,
anatomically considered, of an essential nature. They are
rather superficial, consisting chiefly in the comparative size
of the ears, the length and texture of the hair, and the dis¬
tribution of the external colours. As the size varies re¬
markably in several of the species, the difference of dimen¬
sion can scarcely be assumed as a specific character. Hence
the most accomplished comparative anatomist can with diffi¬
culty distinguish a species merely from the inspection of a
few isolated bones, although such inspection is amply suffi-
iwoBhTneo^rUhwIvn=e®n ,fPied,/ia COmrievCe’ frnthe 0ne-hoTC,d species of with the addition of a second horn, as the
i ’V>°rne, r'llnoceros wants the folds in the skin, which are nevertheless represented by the Abyssinian traveller.
, -1jruco s Travels, Appendix, p. 136, pi. 23. See also the late Dr Scott’s Essay in Wernerian Memoirs, vol. vi.
Annales des Sciences Nat. 1829, t. i. p. 26. 3 See Linn. Trans, vol. xiih part 2d, and Horsfield’s Zoological Researches.
152
MAMMALIA.
Pachyder- cient for the determination of species in the case of almost
mata. all other groups of which we possess an osteological know-
' ledge. We shall devote a few sentences to each ot the ani¬
mals above enumerated.
Equus caballus. The Horse. Our cultivated breeds of
this invaluable creature are now so numerous, that a volume
would scarcely suffice for their record. We shall here con¬
fine ourselves to the few facts within our knowledge which
illustrate its natural history, properly so called,—for one
great effort of the zoologist should consist in the distin¬
guishing those facts which depend on instinct, and are there¬
fore natural to an animal, from those which result artificial¬
ly from education and an altered mode of life, in ascer¬
taining what really appertains to it as a natural inheritance,
as well as what it may have derived through the interven¬
tion of man,—and in avoiding to confound “ the animal
with the slave, the beast of burden with the creature of
God.”1 In the present case, however, it must be admitted,
that the domestic breeds are improved not more in useful¬
ness than in beauty and grandeur of aspect, whatever poets
may fancy to the contrary in a wild horse of the Tartarian
deserts. The following are the characters which distinguish
this animal in a state of nature. The head is large in pro¬
portion to the body ; the front, above the eyes, bulging or
convex ; the forehead straight; the ears long, carried ha¬
bitually low, and pointing backwards, thus producing a
somewhat vicious aspect; the circumference of the mouth
and nostrils is garnished with long hairs ; the mane is very
thick, and prolonged beyond the withers ; the back is less
vaulted than in the domestic varieties; the legs are propor¬
tionally longer and thicker ; the hair, sometimes long and
weaving, is never smooth ; its colour, usually dun or brown,
sometimes varies to a kind of cream-colour, but is never
either black or pied. These are the characters of the tar-
pan or wild horse of the Tartarian deserts ; and similar fea¬
tures seem to have been reproduced in the Spanish or An¬
dalusian race, now wild in the pampas of the New World
to the south of Buenos Ayres. There the size has de¬
creased, the limbs become thicker, the neck and ears longer,
and the varied colouring has, in a great measure, disap¬
peared,—there being usually about ninety chestnut bays in
the hundred, while black is so rare that there is scarcely
one out of two thousand of that colour. Now, as all eman¬
cipated animals exhibit a tendency to recover after a cei-
tain lapse of time, and as a consequence of liberty, not
merely the manners and instinctive inclinations, but also
the form and colour of their primitive types, M. Azara
concludes that this chestnut bay is the original hue of the
horse. According to Foster there are neither pied nor
black horses among the wild troops of central Asia, among
which the dun and greyish-brown prevail, and one or other
of these is therefore by some regarded as the natural co¬
lour. The hair of the South American troops has scarce¬
ly increased in length ; but this is probably owing to the
greater mildness and equality of temperature which prevail
in their adopted country, than in the climate of the north
of Asia. One remarkable distinction, however, is said to
exist between the disposition or temper of the South Ame¬
rican and Asiatic wild horses. It is this. At whatever age
the former are caught, they may be rendered, in a measure,
fit for the service of man almost in a few days, whereas the
latter can only be tamed when taken young, and frequent¬
ly shew themselves in after life to have been but half, sub¬
dued. Does not this go far to prove that the one is the
genuine original,—the other but a rebel race ?
The native country of the horse is believed to be those de- Pachvdei
sert regions which environ Lake Aral and the Caspian Sea. mata.
Although no doubt exists as to the occurrence of wild, or
at least of what may be called independent horses in those
countries, as well as in the southern parts of Siberia, in the
great Mongolian deserts, and among the kalkas, to the
northwest of China; yet it ought not to be concealed that
some thoughtful inquirers are of opinion that these also, as
well as those of America just mentioned, are merely eman¬
cipated tribes, descended at some remote period from an
enslaved stock, and that the real wild horse, using the ex¬
pression as we apply it to other animals existing entirely
(and ab initio) in a state of nature, is extinct. The wild
horses, for example, mentioned by Pallas as pasturing in
the deserts on each side of the river Don, in the vicinity of
the Pains Maeotis, are now believed, if not ascertained, to
be the offspring of the Russian horses employed in the siege
of Asoph in the year 1697, and which, for want of forage,
were at that time intentionally turned adrift. Their de¬
scendants have now assumed an aspect of great natural
wildness.
In Asia each congregated troop seldom exceeds twenty
individuals; but, in America, many thousands are some¬
times seen together. In both these distant regions a pe¬
culiar variety has sprung up with crisped or frizzled hair ;
but those of Asia are always white, while the American
(frizzled) variety is of every colour except white and pied.
When we consider the almost constant relation which may
be traced between the length and abundance of hair, and
an increased degree of cold, we might have expected to
discover this frizzled variety of the New World rather to¬
wards the colder country of Patagonia, than in Paraguay,
just as the corresponding variety of Asia is found beneath
the varying climate of the Baskir nation. According to
Azara those magnificent troops of insurgent horses (Alza-
dos is the Spanish term) which have become wild in the
plains of America, to the south of the Rio de la Plata, some¬
times amount to 10,000 individuals. Preceded by videttes
and detached skirmishers, they advance in a close column
so broad and dense that nothing can break through it. If
a travelling caravan, or a body of cavalry, is seen approach¬
ing, the leaders of the wild horses advance upon a recon-
noisance, and then, in accordance with the movements of the
chief, the entire body passes at a gallop to the left or right,
inviting, at the same time, by a deep prolonged neighing,
the domestic horses to desertion. These often join the
“ rebel host,” and are said never voluntarily to submit them¬
selves again to man’s dominion. Each of these great squad¬
rons is composed of a re-union of smaller companies, them¬
selves consisting of as many mares as a single horse can
keep under a loving subjection. Descended, as we have
said, from the ancient breed of Andalusia, these animals
are, however, inferior to their noble ancestry in beauty,
strength, and swiftness. Their heads are thicker, their
limbs coarser and less symmetrical, their necks and ears
longer; and, in all these qualities, it has been remarked,
they approach again to the supposed primitive model which
still exists in a state of freedom, amid the illimitable wilds
of the Tartarian deserts. Domestication, therefore, is not,
as Buffon has so eloquently maintained, in all cases preju¬
dicial to the nature of an animal; for the beau ideal of a
horse is undoubtedly to be found, not among the desert
tribes, as the French Pliny supposes, but rather in one of
the cultivated races of Spanish or Arabian birth.2
Equus hemionus, Pallas. The Dziggithai. 1 his species
2 “"detailed account of the domestic breeds see Gulley’s Observations on Live Stock M&rshM’s Economy of For^ira and the
Midland Counties the works of Buffon, Bewick, &c. : also the volume entitled “The Horse,” in the farmer’s senes of the Library of
Usef ul Knowledge, Our own sketch of the Genus Equus coincides with, and is indeed chiefly compiled from, materials which we h
some time ago occasion to collect from various sources for the formation of an essay “ On the Origin and Natural History of the Hor
and its allied Species,” published in the Edinburgh Journal of Agriculture, No. vii.
MAMMALIA. 153
r i’ath jler-bears a considerable resemblance to a mule in size and fi-
ma:- gure, but is much more elegant. It is called Hemionos
(literally half-ass) by Aristotle, and is mentioned by that
philosopher as occurring in ancient times. It is of a grey¬
ish Isabella colour. The coat, during winter, is tufted like
that of a camel, but in summer it is scarcely three lines in
length, and is distinguished by radiated marks like ears of
corn, scattered here and there upon the flanks. The exist¬
ence of this animal in Syria was known to ancient writers.
Alban describes it as a native of India. The first of the
moderns by whom it was recognised appears to have been
Messerschmidt; but it is to Pallas that we are indebted for
its genuine history. It is confined at the present day to
the steppes of Central Asia, and is found especially in the
desert of Gobi. There is certainly no modern proof of its
existence to the west of Lake Aral, and the mountains of
Belur. It neither penetrates into forests, nor ascends
mountains. Its neighing is more grave and sonorous than
that of a horse; and it is described as bearing its head and
neck loftily like a stag. It can travel fifty or sixty leagues
across the desert without drinking, and its congregated
bands do not consist of more than about twenty females and
foals, under a single male chief. Sometimes several males
are observed together, followed only by four or five females.
The rutting season takes place towards the end of August,
and the young are produced in spring. There is usually
only one brought forth at a time, which attains the adult
state in three years. The chase of this animal affords a
favourite pastime both to the Mongols and Tanguts; but
its prodigious and proverbial swiftness, aided by a piercing
sight, and an acute sense of smell, generally baffles the ex¬
ertions of the most experienced and best mounted hunts-
1 men.
Equus asinus. The Ass. As in our preceding notice of
the nobler horse we dwelt chiefly upon its natural attributes,
so in this humble species we may distinguish between the
indigenous and subdued kinds. The Onager, or wild ass,
called koulan by many of the tribes of Asia, differs from
t the domestic breed in its shorter ears, the greater length
and finer form of its limbs, its straighter chest, and more
compressed body. In its general aspect, it is said to re¬
semble a young foal. The males alone are characteriz¬
ed by the transverse bar across the shoulders, observable
in the domestic ass, and, in the wild species, it is some¬
times double. The onager was well known to the ancients,
although it appears to have been lost sight of during the
dark ages, and to have been but obscurely known for several
centuries after the revival of learning. Indeed we possess¬
ed no good modern elucidation of its history till the time
of Pallas.1 The Turkish name of this animal, Dagh ais-
chaki, or mountain ass, points out its natural locality, else¬
where beautifully indicated,—“ Whose house I have made
the wilderness, and the barren land his dwelling. The
range of the mountains is his pasture, and he seeketh after
t every green thing.”2 Even the choice which the domestic
ass may be often seen to make of the narrow and uneven
paths by the wayside, is probably a remnant of this natural
instinct. The native country of the wild ass is the same
i as that of the horse; but, while the latter extends as far
! north as the 56°, the former does not voluntarily pass be-
] y°nd the 45°. In its southern migrations, however, it de¬
scends to the Persian Gulf, and even towards the south¬
ern extremity of Hindostan. It was seen by Odoar Bar-
1 boza among the mountains of Golconda; and those troops
( of wild horses mentioned by Turner as frequenting the up-
1 land countries of Boutan, where they are called Gourk-
haivs, were, in fact, onagers or wild asses. Eye-witnesses
have also assured Pallas of their having frequently observed
in the Tartarian deserts, and those of Persia, the route of
congregated wild asses, forming a path of 300 toises (above Pachyder-
600 yards) broad. I he food of the wild ass, according to mata.
Di Shaw, consists chiefly of saline, or bitter and lactescent ^ y"****'^
plants. It is also fond of salt or brackish water. Its flesh
is highly esteemed by several oriental nations, and its skin
is known in commerce under the name of chagrin, so call¬
ed from the Turkish term sagri. The engrained aspect
which it bears is not, however, natural to it, but is produ¬
ced by a chemical process described by Pallas. In regard
to the domestic ass, its manners and appearance, as it ex¬
ists in this country, are so familiar as to render description
needless. I he races of eastern origin are much more
beautiful, with glossy skins, carrying their heads loftily, and
moving their limbs in a very graceful manner. They ac¬
cordingly fetch a high price. Some contrariety of opinion
exists regarding the progress of their introduction west¬
ward, and their great uniformity of aspect, compared with
the multiplied varieties of the horse, has induced some to
suppose that asses have not been so long nor so generally
under the dominion of the human race. In the time of
Aristotle they were not found in Thrace, nor even in Gaul;
but, on the other hand, we know, from the sacred writings,
that they were used as beasts of burden in the remotest
ages of the Jewish history, and were, therefore, in all pro¬
bability reduced to servitude by the eastern nations fully
more early than any other animal not essential to the ex¬
istence of a pastoral people. Buffon is of opinion that the
domesticated breed of asses used in Europe came origin¬
ally from Arabia; that they first passed into Egypt, and
thence to Greece, Italy, France, Germany, England, &c.
Ihose used in more northern countries have been intro¬
duced at a comparatively recent period. Indeed, even in
England, according to Hollinshed, so late as the days of
Elizabeth, “ our lande did yeelde no asses.” If it were so,
they must have become extinct, for there is no doubt of
theii existence in this country during a period long prior
to the golden days of “ good Queen Bess.” They are men¬
tioned in the reign of Athelred, and again in the time of
Henry III. J hey may, however, have been reintroduced
to Britain in the time of Elizabeth’s successor, upon the re¬
newal of our intercourse with Spain, a country famous for
the production of both ass and mule. ^* The relation ot
Lucilius, says Sir Thomas Browne, “ now become common
concerning Crassus, the grandfather of Marcus, the wealthy
Roman, that he never laughed but once in all his life, and
that was at an ass eating thistles, is something strange.
For, if an indifferent and unridiculous object could draw his
habitual austereness into a smile, it will be hard to believe
he could with perpetuity resist the proper motion thereof.”3
Equus quagga. The Quagga. This animal measures
about four feet in height at the withers. The head and
neck are deep blackish-brown, striped with greyish-white
lines, transverse upon the cheeks, but longitudinal on the
temples and forehead, and forming triangles between the
mouth and eyes ; the other parts are of a clearer brown,
paler beneath, and almost white upon the belly. The mane
is blackish, and resembles that of a horse which has been
dressed. A black line runs along the spine to the tail. The
quagga inhabits the karoos or flats of southern Africa, and
frequently pastures in company with the zebra, of which it
was for a long time regarded as the female. The existence
of two so nearly allied species within the same geographical
boundaries, and subject to constant association, without any
third or intermediate variety having sprung up, may be re-
garded as a proof that animals of distinct kinds, in a state
of freedom, have no sexual intercourse with each other;
while the entire similarity, or rather identity of climatic in¬
fluences, under which these two species co-exist, also de-
monstiates that neither is derived from the other, but that
1 Ada Petropolitana, t. if 2 job ch. xxi^ Ver. 6-8.
VCT.. XJY.
3 Pseudodoxia Epidemica.
U
MAMMALIA.
154
Pachyder-each has descended from a separate type, and forms a pri-
mata. rnitive species. The quagga is of a much more docile and
pliant disposition than the zebra, and is consequently more
easily rendered subservient to domestic uses. A curricle
drawn by a pair of these animals has been often seen dur¬
ing the gay season in Hyde Park. The late Lord Morton
succeeded in raising mules between the quagga and mare,
and, in the course of his experiments, a rather singular
circumstance occurred. The mare which had produced
the hybrid or mule, gave birth several seasons afterwards
to a foal which exhibited decidedly the markings of the
quagga coat, although the mother had not, in the mean time,
associated except with her natural mate, the horse. Indeed
her former friend, the quagga, had been dead for more than
' a year.
Equus zebra, \Axm. E. montanas, Burchell. The Zebra,
or mountain zebra. This species resembles the mule in
shape. Its head is rather large, its ears long, it limbs ele¬
gantly small, its body well formed, round, and fleshy. But
its most remarkable character consists in the extraordinary
regularity of its stripes, or markings of alternate colours,
which seem rather an effect of art than the genuine pro¬
duction of nature. The head is striped with delicate bands
of black and white, which form a centre in the forehead ;
the neck is adorned with stripes of the same colour running
round it; the body is beautifully variegated with bands
running across the back, and ending in points at the belly;
and its thighs, legs, ears, and tail, are all beautifully streak¬
ed in the same manner.1 The sexes nearly resemble each
other. In the young the dark coloured bands of black or
brown are paler. The female carries for twelve months.
She has been known to breed in confinement with both the
horse and ass. M. F. Cuvier has figured and described a
mule produced between a female zebra and a Spanish ass.
See Plate CCCXXXIX., fig. 2. It sucked for a year, was
at first of a peaceable nature, but as it increased in size it
lost its resemblance to its mother, and also became very
stubborn and mischievous.2 Its coat, when we last heard
of it, was of a deep grey, varied on the withers, legs, and
tail, by transverse bands. It never neighs, loves to roll it¬
self on the moist ground, attacks all and sundry both with
hoofs and teeth, and is indeed a most unamiable creature.
The inhabitants of the Cape have never succeeded in their
attempts to reduce the zebra to subjection, although Spar-
mann records an instance of a rich citizen who, to a certain
extent, had managed to subdue them. On attempting,
however, on one occasion to yoke them to his chariot, he
nearly forfeited his life, for, without warning, they rushed
back to their stalls, with every symptom of fury and indig¬
nation. Buffon was misinformed when he reported a state¬
ment (corrected in one of his supplementary volumes), that
zebras were used in Holland. Mr Barrow, however, seems
to think, that if judicious means were perseveringly made
use of, these gay and fantastic creatures might still be re¬
duced to an available servitude, notwithstanding their na¬
turally wild and vicious disposition ; and M. F. Cuvier men¬
tions an instance of a zebra which was so tame as to suffer
itself to be handled and mounted without difficulty. This
species was known to the ancients under the name of hippo-
tiger, a term by which it is well designated, as possessing
the form of a horse, with the striped hide of the great
feline destroyer.3
Equus Burchettii, Gray. Equus zebra, Burchell. The
Zebra of the plains. Although our knowledge of this beau¬
tiful animal is originally due to Mr Burchell, who was the
first to perceive that South Africa produced two species Fachyd«r
(besides the quagga), we seem to owe the more precise set- mata, 1
dement of its distinctive characters to Mr W. E. Gray. It's**vw
appears, in fact, that the traveller above named, after as¬
certaining that there really were two different kinds of this
animal, fell into the error of describing the one previously
known as the new species, while he overlooked, or did not
sufficiently illustrate, the specific distinctions of the zebra
of the plains, regarding it as the kind already well known,
although it had, in reality, hitherto escaped the notice of
naturalists. “ The hoofs of animals,” Mr Burchell observes,
“ destined by nature to inhabit rocky mountains, are, as far
as I have observed, of a form very different from those in¬
tended for sandy plains ; and this form is in itself sufficient
to point out the dauw4 as a separate species. The stripes
of the skin will answer that purpose equally well, and shew,
at the same time, the great affinity and specific distinction
of the ass, which may be characterized by a single stripe
across the shoulders. The quagga has many similar marks
on the hind and fore part of the body ; the zebra is cover¬
ed with stripes over the head and whole of the body, but
the legs are white; and the wild paarde is striped over
every part, even down to the feet. The zebra and wild
paarde may be further distinguished from each other, by the
stripes of the former being double ; that is, having a paler
stripe within it, while the latter, which may be tevmedEquus
montanus, is most regularly and beautifully covered with
single black and white stripes : added to this, the former is
never to be found on the mountains, nor the latter on the
plains.”5 It is evident from the preceding descriptions (espe¬
cially from the line which we have marked in Italics, and
which applies exclusively to the old species), and from the
comparison instituted by Mr Burchell himself, that although
he is entitled to the merit of discovering that there were two
distinct kinds, he has applied his new name to the old
species, and confounded the new species under an old
name. It therefore became imperative that his designa¬
tions should be changed, because the well known zebra is,
in fact, the mountain horse, and Mr Burchell’s new species
is the zebra of the plains. Hence the propriety of the
emendations suggested by Mr Gray, who retains the name
of zebra, as applying specifically to the animal so called by
Linnaeus and Buffon; and applies the epithet Burchellii to the
other species, in deserved honour of the enterprising and in¬
telligent traveller by whom it was discovered.6 The student
will not fail to perceive that the term montanus, though re¬
tained by Baron Cuvier7 to distinguish the new species, is
inapplicable to an animal which its first describer informs
us “ is never to be found on the mountains,” and which
was, in truth, originally applied by inadvertence to another
species. We here exhibit a portraiture of the young of
Burchell’s zebra. See Plate CCCXXXIX. fig. 1.
Order VII—PECORA ; RUMINATING ANIMALS.
This order is deemed by Baron Cuvier to be the most
natural and best determined of the class of quadrupeds, as
all the species seem constructed on the same model, al¬
though the camels present some slight exceptions to the
prevailing characters. At all events, it includes species of
the highest and most essential value to the human race.
The characters of the order are somewhat negative. There
are seldom any incisive teeth in the upper jaw?, and those of
the lower are usually eight in number. Between the in-
! Bewick’s Quadrupeds. 2 Mam. Lithog., 15th livrais. s Dion. Cassius, lib. 75, cap. 14.
The Dauw or wild Paarde of the Hottentots {Equus Zebra, Linn.) erroneously regarded by Air Eurchell as the newly disco¬
vered species. 5 Travels in Africa.
6 See a paper entitled « a Revision of the Equidie,” in Zoological Journal, vol. i. p. 241.
7 Ilegne Animal, t. i. p. 253. * ’ 1
MAMMALIA.
F ora, cisive teeth and the molars there is an empty space, in
which, in certain genera, are implanted the canines. The
molars, almost always six on each side of both jaws, have
their crowns marked by two double crosses, of which the
convexity is turned inwards in the upper, and outwards in
the lower teeth. The four limbs are terminated by two
toes (hence the title of Bisulca, bestowed by Illiger), each
covered by a hoof, and behind these hoofs there are some¬
times two small spur-like projections,—the vestiges of lateral
toes. The two bones of the metacarpus and metatarsus
are united into one, commonly named the canon bone; but
in certain species the vestiges of lateral bones are observ¬
able.
The most singular functional character in the natural
economy of the tribes of our present order, consists of that
ruminating faculty from which they derive their most fa¬
miliar appellation. They possess the power of re-chewdng
their aliments, by bringing back the food for a second time
into the mouth after it has been swallowed ; and this power
results from the peculiar structure of the stomach, which is
in a measure quadruple,—the first three being so disposed
in relation to the oesophagus, as to admit of either of them
receiving the food. The first and largest is the paunch,
which receives the mass of vegetable matter grossly bruis¬
ed by a first and hasty mastication. It then proceeds into
the second called the bonnet, the sides of which have la¬
minae resembling the combs of the honey-bee. This sto¬
mach is small and globular; it soaks the herbage, and com¬
presses it into little pellets, which successively remount to
the mouth, to undergo a second mastication. During this
process the creature remains quiescent, “ bedward ruminat¬
ing,” until all the food previously taken into the paunch
has been subjected to it. When thus re-chewed, the ali¬
ments descend directly into the third stomach, and from
thence into the fourth, the sides of which are plaited or
wrinkled. This last is the true organ of digestion, and is
analogous to the simple stomach of ordinary animals. As
long as the young remain in the condition of sucklings, and
are supported only upon milk, the fourth stomach is the
largest of the whole, but, as soon as the herbivorous habit
commences, and large supplies of bulky food become indis-
pensable, the paunch acquires an enormous development.
The intestinal canal is very long in all ruminants, but the
larger intestines are but slightly pursed. The ccecum is
likewise long and smooth. The fat of these animals har¬
dens more in cooling than that of others, and even becomes
brittle. The mammae are placed between the hinder limbs.
With the exception of the horse and dog, all the most
truly valuable species which have yet been subjected to the
dominion of man, belong to the ruminating order; for ex¬
ample, sheep, rein-deer, camels, and “ the cattle on a thou¬
sand hills.” These either directly yield us the most im¬
portant articles of human diet, or afford us the kindly pro¬
tection of their woolly covering, or provide us with many
indispensable articles from their strong tenacious hides ; to
say nothing of their uses as beasts of burden. They are all
provided with antlers or horns, at least in the males,—with
the exception of the two genera which contain the camels
and musk deer, both of which are hornless. It may be as
well to devote a few paragraphs in this place to a brief con¬
sideration of the nature of these important parts.
The organs of defence and attack with which the heads
of ruminating herbivorous animals are furnished, are called,
according to their structure and composition, either antlers
or horns. With the former the stasz, roe-buck, rein-deer,
elk, are armed; antelopes, goats, sheep, bulls, are provided
with the latter. Although both these kinds of defensive
organs follow the same mode of formation, in so far as they
155
are prolongations of the frontal bone, and have their ma- Pecora.
terials supplied by bloodvessels, yet there exists between w'
them a considerable distinction in relation to the different
distribution of these vessels,—a distinction which occasions
the periodical fall of antlers, and the permanence of horns.
The bloodvessels of horns are internal, those of antlers ex¬
ternal ; the former are covered by a corneous substance,
and increase from their bases, the latter are, for a time, in¬
vested by a prolongation of the skin, and, in growing, ap ¬
pear to sprout from their superior extremities.
Antlers, in their perfect state, according to Cuvier, are
true bones, both in their texture and elements. Their ex¬
ternal part is hard, compact, and fibrous; their internal
spongy but solid. They have no large cells, no medullary
cavity, and no sinuses. The bases of antlers adhere to,
and form one body with the os frontis, in such a manner
that at certain ages it is impossible, from their internal tex¬
ture, to determine the limits between them ; but the skin
which covers the forehead does not extend further,—an ir¬
regularly toothed bony substance called the burr surround¬
ing the base, while on the antlers themselves are only to
be seen furrows more or less deep,—the vestiges of vessels
formerly distributed along their surfaces when in a softer
state. These hard and naked organs remain only for one
year, the period of their fall varying according to the spe¬
cies ; but, when that period approaches, there appears, on
sawing them longitudinally, a reddish mark of separation
between their bases and the eminence of the frontal bone,
by which they are supported. This mark becomes more
and more apparent till the osseous particles of that portion
at last lose their cohesion. At this period a very slight
shock frequently makes the antlers drop off,—two or three
days commonly intervening between the fall of the one, and
that of the other.
The eminence of the frontal bone, after this period, re¬
sembles a bone broken or sawed transversely, and its spongy
texture is laid open. The skin of the forehead soon covers
it, and, ere long, the new horns make their appearance in
the form of tubercles, which continue covered by an ex¬
tension of the skin, until they acquire their perfect shape
and size. During the whole of this time the tubercles are
soft and cartilaginous, and under the skin is a true perios¬
teum, in which vessels, sometimes as thick as the little
finger, are distributed, and penetrate the mass of cartilage
in every direction. This cartilage ossifies gradually as
other bones, and finishes by becoming a perfect bone.
The burr at the base of the horn now penetrates the in¬
dentations through which the vessels pass, and, by its fur¬
ther development, first confines, and finally obstructs their
flow.1 The skin and periosteum being thus deprived of
nourishment wither and fall away, and the antlers, now
hard, and sharp, and bare, exist for a time in their most
“palmy state,” ere long, however, to shed their glory either
amid the forest’s gloom, or on the heathy side of sun-lit
mountains. For several years successively, at each renewal,
they increase in size and majesty.
It is usually in the months of March and April, when a
great increase of vigour and activity is observable in these
animals, that the renewal of the antlers takes place, and
three weeks, or a month, are said to be sufficient for their
total growth. Antlers are the characteristic marks of the
male sex, the female of the rein-deer, however, forming an
exception to the general rule; for, in that species, the
heads of both sexes are armed.
Buffon considered the growth of antlers as a species of
animal vegetation, and referred the phenomena of their
production, and those attending the budding and expansion
of plants, to one and the same law. This view of the mat-
1 See Cuvier’s Comparative Anatomy, Lect. iL p. 115.
MAMMALIA.
ter, so much more fanciful than correct, was no doubt
founded upon a limited knowledge of facts. The antlers of
the stag certainly begin to shoot in the spring season, when
an abundant nourishment (and, according to Buffon, so
much the more reparatory in its nature, as being composed
of buds containing the most active elements of vegeta¬
tion !) begins to renovate the strength which the rutting
season of the preceding autumn had exhausted; but, that
no connection exists between the two classes of phenomena
alluded to, is evident from this, that, in species of the same
climate, browsing on the same kinds of herbage, the periods
of the frontal accession may differ from four to five months.
Besides, if the production of antlers depended on the lig¬
neous quality of their nourishment, there would be no as¬
signable reason for the unarmed condition of the females,
none of which are provided with antlers, with the exception
of that of the rein-deer,—the very species, by the bye,
which is the least nourished by ligneous food. Neither can
the casting of the antlers be attributed in any way, as some
have imagined, to the influence of cold on the circulating
system; for those of the roe are reproduced in the middle
of winter, while the moulting of the stag is actually retard¬
ed by the continuance of cold. On the other hand, certain
species of the South American continent lose their antlers
about the period of the summer solstice. These, according
to the relation of Azara, are not subject to annual loss and
renewal, for he observed on the same day, three males, two
of which had the antlers old and complete, while those of the
other were only half grown. He adds, that not more than
one-third of the males renew their antlers in each year.
A more philosophical and better established relation has
been demonstrated to exist between the growth and decay
of the antlers, and the active or passive state of the genera¬
tive system. The period of love in this tribe of quadru¬
peds so well known under the name of rutting season, pro¬
duces a series of remarkable changes in their physical
state. The reflux of the animal fluids in a direction contrary
to that of the antlers, has so obvious an influence on their
fall, that, in climates where the rutting season does not at¬
tain to so violent a crisis, the antlers are borne for more
than a year, and castration is said to render them perma¬
nent, by extinguishing the cause of this counter flow.1
We shall now notice the horns properly so called, which
are formed upon processes of bone, and which grow at
their root or base, and chemically considered, bear a great
resemblance to the hair, nails, and other external parts of
animals. In the third month of conception, while the foetus
of the cow is still enclosed in the membrane, the cartila¬
ginous os frontis presents no vestige of the horns. To¬
wards the seventh month, however, jt becomes in part ossi¬
fied, and exhibits on either side a small tubercle, apparently
produced by the elevation of the osseous laminae. These
bony tumours soon after appear externally. They raise
the skin, which becomes callous at that part, in proportion
as the tumour grows. It becomes at last horny as it elon¬
gates, and forms a kind of sheath, which covers externally
the process of the frontal bone. Within this sheath there
are numerous branches of blood-vessels, which serve to
nourish the osseous portion. The horns, therefore, are only
solid, hard, elastic, and insensible sheaths, which protect
the osseous prolongation of the frontal bone. These sheaths
are generally of a conical figure, and broadest at the base,
the extremity from which they grow. They also present
different channels or transverse furrows, which depend on
the age of the animal, and denote the number of years it
has lived in a very certain manner according to the species.
The texture of the horns appears to be much the same
in the goat, sheep, antelope, and ox. They consist of fibres
of a substance analogous to hair, which appear agglutinated Pecora.
in a very solid manner. In the first two genera these
fibres are short, and covered by superincumbent layers like
tiles. In the last two they are longer, more compact, and
form elongated horns incased in each other.
The horns of the Rhinoceros already briefly alluded to,
seem to differ somewhat from those of ruminating animals.
They have no bony part, and are not situated on the os
frontis, but on the lines of the nose. They are formed,
however, of the same substance, and we even observe more
distinctly in the horns of this animal the fibres analogous
to hair. The base of the horn, indeed, presents externally
an infinite number of rigid hairs, which seem to separate
from the mass, and render that part rough to the touch.
When sawed transversely, and examined with a glass, we
perceive a multitude of pores that seem to indicate the in¬
tervals resulting from the union of the agglutinated hairs.
When divided lengthways, numerous longitudinal and pa¬
rallel furrows also demonstrate the same structure. This
kind of horn is attached to the skin only. Those of the
two-horned rhinoceros appear always in some degree mov¬
able. When fixed, as in the one-horned species, there is
a thick mucus interposed between its base and the bone
on which it rests.2
In the Giraffe or Cameleopard the horns are short and
cylindrical, and even in their completed state, are covered
with hair, except at the points, which are more bare and
callous. Their bases are dilated by very large cells, which
are continuous with the frontal sinuses. These horns differ
from those of the bull, antelope, &c. in this, that they are
not continuations of the frontal bone, but are separated
from it and the parietal, by a membranous space; at least
such is the structure observable in the young giraffe which
was transported to Paris by Delalande. These horns
are permanent, and in relation to several of their anatomi¬
cal and physiological characters, may be regarded as inter¬
mediate between the antlers of stags, and the horns pro¬
perly so called, of the other tribes.
We may observe, in conclusion, that ruminating animals
occur in almost all parts of Europe, Asia, Africa, and Ame¬
rica. None are native to New Holland.
2 l l
Genus Camelus, Linn. Incisives canines   -, false
molars
1 — 1
molars
=r 36. The upper lateral in-
l — l’ 5 — 5’
cisors assume the form of canine teeth, and the canines them¬
selves are straight and strong. The head is lengthened, the
upper lip cloven, the nostrils consist of two clefts capable of
being opened and closed. The eyes are projecting ; the ears
rather small. The neck and limbs extremely long. The feet
are not cloven, but are furnished beneath with a very broad
horny sole, and the two toes are each terminated by a small
short somewhat curved nail. There are one or more fatty
humps along the dorsal region. The mammae are four in
number.
Of this remarkable genus there are two species, or at
least two well marked races, usually regarded as distinct.
The Bactrian species, or Camel properly so called (C. Bac-
trianus, Linn.), is distinguished by its pair of humps, one
above the shoulders, and another near the rump. It is an
animal of Asiatic origin, and is said still to occur in the
wild state in the desert of Shamo, on the frontiers of the
Celestial Empire. It is used as a beast of burden in Tur-
kistan and Thibet, and even as far north as the shores of
Lake Baikal. It is consequently capable of being accli¬
mated without much difficulty in any temperate region, and
was introduced into Tuscany by the Grand Duke Leopold,
where it still breeds in the maremmas of the Pisan district
1 See the article Cerf in the Diction. Classique d'Hist. Nat, t. iii. p. 371; consult also the words Bois and Cornes of the same work.
s Comp. dnat. Lect. xiv. p. C23.
MAMMALIA,
Though useful as a beast of burden, it is not there em¬
ployed at all extensively for the general purposes of rural
labour, being chiefly occupied in carrying stores of firewood
to the city. This animal is more restricted in a southern
direction than the single humped species.
The other species of camel usually called the dromedary
(C. dromedarius, Linn.), has only a single hump upon its
back (see Plate CCCXXXIX, fig. 3^). It is now the better
known and more abundant of the two, and has spread from
Arabia into Syria, Persia, and all over the northern parts of
Africa. The name of dromedary (from the Greek
was originally applied to a swift running variety, but has in the
course of time been applied to the species itself. Colonel Ha¬
milton Smith informs us that it is the dromedary that is used
in India to precede the nabobs on state occasions, and that a
corps of these animals was formerly maintained by the Ho¬
nourable Company, each being mounted by two men, and
armed with musketoons or swivels. At particular seasons they
are very savage. If we may judge from the ample covering
of woolly hair by which, except towards the termination of
the rutting season, both the species are clothed, we should
infer that each was originally derived from a comparatively
temperate clime. The southern base of the Caucasus has
been by some assigned to the dromedary or Arabian species;
while the arid plains beneath the northern confines of the
Paropamisaden range, with the wilderness of Gasnak and
Chorasmia, east of the Caspian Sea, are regarded as the
native abodes of the two humped or Bactrian camel. This,
it is said, may be inferred from scattered hints in the Zend,
the poems of Schah Ferdusi, and from the Arabian Epic,
the Romance of Antar.1 The articles used in manufactures,
and known by the names of mohair and camlets, are the
produce of the fur of these animals.
Ancient authors do not seem to allude to the camel as
an inhabitant of Africa. It is mentioned however in Genesis
(chap. xii. v. 16) as among the gifts bestowed by Pha¬
raoh on Abram, and it must therefore have been well
known on the banks of the mysterious Nile, at a period
prior to that of the most ancient of the Greek or Roman
writers. It has indeed been remarked as a singular cir¬
cumstance, that the Romans who waged such frequent wars
ki Africa, should not have thought of mentioning these
animals, till Procopius noticed camel-riding Moors in arms
against Solomon, the Lieutenant of Belisarius.
Genus Auchenia, Illig. Incisives canines ^ ^
\ x 5 5
false molars , molars   = 32. Feet more clo-
0 — 0 o — 5
ven than in the camels, but supported behind by a small
callous sole. No fatty humps upon the back. Mammge two.
The species of this genus are peculiar to South America,
where they may be said to represent the camels of the Old
World. Various species have been described by Molina2
and other writers, but naturalists seem to have failed in
establishing the distinctive characters of more than two, the
lama or guanaco (Camelm llacma, Linn.), and the Vi-
gogna {Camelus vicugna, Linn.). Of these the former is
as large as a stag. It is covered with long coarse chestnut
coloured hair, of varying hue, in the domestic state. It
lives in troops upon the cold and lofty ranges of the Andes,
and was the only native beast of burden in Peru at the time
of the discovery of that country by Europeans. The animal
known as the Alpaca (see Plate CCCXXXIX, fig. 4 and 5)
is now regarded as a woolly-haired variety of the lama.
The vigogna is of smaller size, and is characterized by a
woolly fawn-coloured coat, of a texture so admirably soft
and fine as to be highly prized for the fabrication of various
157
stuffs. This species inhabits a vast extent of the Andes Pecora.
in the neighbourhood of the region of perpetual snow.
When transported to the lower plains of Chili and Peru it
becomes unhealthy, and does not long survive. It is of a
more savage nature than the preceding species, and has
not yet been effectively reduced to a domestic state. It is
alleged never to drink. The vigogna is of a very fearful
disposition, and is easily deterred from its accustomed paths
of safety by a stretched cord, from which pieces of coloured
rags are here and there suspended. In this state of uncer¬
tainty and terror it is not only easily shot, but will even al¬
low itself to be approached and seized by the hind legs.
Eighty thousand are said to be killed every season in the
higher countries of Chili and Peru. As it is for the wool
alone that they are massacred, it would probably be more
politic rather to sheer than slay them.
Genus Moschus, Linn. (Male) incisivescanines ^—,
v ' 8 0—0
molars     ; = 34. (Female) incisives —, canines
molars     ; = 32. The canine teeth in the upper jaw
of the males of this genus are long, vertical, compressed,
and slightly curved backwards. They protrude consider¬
ably from the mouth (see Plate CCCXXXIX, fig. 6). The
feet are hoofed and cloven, like those of the ordinary ru¬
minants. The mammae are two or four in number.
The musk deer seem confined to the temperate and
southern parts of Asia, and the great eastern islands. They
are remarkable for their elegant and graceful forms. Al¬
though the substance called musk has been known through¬
out Central Asia from time immemorial, it does not appear
that the species which produced it was described by the
ancients, or in any way identified till the days of Abuzeid
Serassi, an Arabian author, who mentions it as a deer with¬
out horns. A knowledge of it seems to have been first in¬
troduced into Western Europe by Serapion, a writer of the
eighth century. The musk deer, properly so called {Mos¬
chus moschiferus, Linn.) is nearly as large as a roebuck, and
occurs over a vast extent of Central Asia, from Thibet to
the vicinity of Lake Baikal. It is also frequent in many
parts of India, and the mountainous provinces of the Chinese
empire. The prized perfume is obtained from a small bag
placed in the lower region of the abdomen of the males.
There are various modes of capturing the musk deer or
che-kiang, as it is called in the East. It is frequently shot.
The sportsman, however, must climb among the mountain
fastnesses like a chamois hunter, and ascend towards the
most inaccessible places. It is also taken by nets and gins,
or by encumbering the sides of some deep and lonesome
defile by a kind of palisade of thick and prickly bushes.
Several other species of this genus have been described by
naturalists, such as the napu or Java musk {M. javanicus.
Raffles,3 see Plate CCCXXXIX, fig. 7), and the beautiful
Chevotrain {M. pygmccus), one of the smallest of the ruminat¬
ing order. The body of the latter does not measure more
than eight inches long. The minima is a Ceylonese species
first described by Knox.4
In all the ensuing genera of the ruminating tribes, the
head (at least of the males) is furnished with antlers or horns.
Genus Cervus, Linn. Teeth of the same amount as in
the preceding genus; the canines of the males, however,
being shorter. Branched antlers, solid and deciduous, and
of greater or less extent, according to age, and the consti¬
tution of each particular kind. Mammae four.
This genus contains those magnificent and diversified
species commonly called Deer. These animals are, with
1 Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. iv. p. 46. See al.-o M. Desmoulins’ Memoire stir la Patrie du Chameau, &c. in Mem. du Mus. t. ix.
2 Storia Natuvale del Chili. For the various species, real or supposed, see also the Synopsis of Mammalia (in Griffith's Animal King¬
dom, vol. v.), and the article Chameau in Diction. Clcssique d'Hist. Nat. t. iii. p. 447.
•' Linn. Trans, vol. xiii. 4 In his Historical Deletion of Ceylon.
MAMMALIA.
158
Pecora. few exceptions, characterized by extremely graceful forms,
by light but strong proportions, and by the energy and ac¬
tivity of their general movements. As constituting the
noblest objects of the chase, as well as affording the choicest
subjects for the larder, they have long been regarded with
great interest by the human race. The genus is distribut¬
ed over all the greater divisions of the earth, with the ex¬
ception of New Holland, and its numerous species have
been formed in modern times into many minor groups, an
exposition of the detailed complexities of which would be
incompatible with the compendious nature of the present
treatise.1
Two species (the rein-deer and the elk) seem common
to the northern parts of Europe and America; five or six
are peculiar to North America; about an equal number
occur in the New World, south of the equator; and a
much greater variety inhabit India, China, and the great
islands of the south-east of Asia. The generality of deer
vary in colour according to age and season, and are sub¬
ject to those constitutional changes which physiologists dis¬
tinguish by the names of albinism and melanism,—the for¬
mer applied to the white, the latter to the black varieties
of colour. M. Desmoulins has remarked the singular cir¬
cumstance, that the white varieties occur more frequently
in equatorial regions than in the colder countries of the
north ; a proof, perhaps, that the intensity of light and
heat are but secondary causes in the production of animal
colours. We shall proceed to a brief notice of a few of
the more remarkable species.
The elk {Cervus aloes, Linn., see Plate CCCXXXIX, fig.
9), called moose-deer in America, is the most gigantic of the
genus, and is easily recognised by the great height of its
limbs, the shortness of its neck, its lengthened head, project¬
ing muzzle, and short upright mane. Its general aspect
seems rather disproportioned and ungraceful. When full
grown it measures about six feet in height. The fur is long,
thick, extremely coarse, of a hoary brown colour, but varying
considerably in hue with age and season. The antlers are of
great breadth and solidity, plain along their inner or back¬
ward margins, but armed externally with numerous sharp
pointed snags or shoots, which sometimes amount to nearly
thirty in number.2 A single antler has been known to
weigh about sixty pounds. Although the muzzle of the
elk is long and flexible, yet, owing to the shortness of its
neck, it gathers its food with difficulty, or at least in a
constrained and awkward posture, from the surface of the
ground. Hence its propensity to browse upon the tender
twigs and leaves of various shrubs and trees; a mode of
feeding frequently exhibited by the individual in the gar¬
dens of the Paris Museum. In the northern parts of Ame¬
rica elks live in small troops, and are fond of swampy
places. The old ones lose their horns in January and
February, the young in April and May. They were for¬
merly found as far south as the Ohio, but at present they
occur only in the more northern portions of the United
States, and beyond the great lakes. Although they form
small herds in Canada, they are very solitary in all the
more northern districts, where two are seldom seen to¬
gether except during the rutting season, or when the fe¬
male is accompanied by her fawns. Sir John Franklin
met with several during his last expedition feeding on wal¬
lows at the mouth of the Mackenzie River, in lat. 69°.
T his great species is one of the shyest and most wary of
the deer tribe. It is an inoffensive animal, unless when ir¬
ritated by a wamnd, or under the influence of the rutting
season. W nen provoked, by whatever cause, its prodigi¬
ous strength renders it almost irresistible, and it wall kill
the largest dog or the fiercest wolf in a moment by a single
blow of its fore foot. It is much sought after by the Ame- Petm
rican Indians on account of its flesh, which, though coarse s-—
grained, and tougher than most other kinds of venison, has
a palatable flavour, somewhat resembling that of beef. The
nose and tongue are particularly esteemed. The hide is
of value in the making of canoes, and of several articles of
dress. A fine male elk will weigh twelve hundred pounds.
This animal occurs (as far as yet known, specifically the
same) in several of the northern countries of Europe, es¬
pecially Scandinavia, between 53° and 63°. It is also found
in Asia, where it is said to advance (in Tartary) as far
south as the 45°. The ancient history of the elk consists
of but little else than a series of absurd fables. Neither
the Greek nor Roman writers knew any thing of its actual
existence in any of those territories which .they overran,
although the former received exaggerated accounts from
the Scythians, the latter from the Germans, of its extraor¬
dinary aspect and character. It was said to have no joints
to its legs, to have antlers growing from its eye-lids, to be
incapable of browsing except when walking backwards,
while its origin was traced to a productive union between
the stag and camel.
Another noted species, likewise extensively distributed
over the northern parts of both the Old and New World, is
the (Cervus tarandvs, Linn., Plate CCCXXXIX,
fig. 8). It has long been domesticated in the Scandinavian
peninsula, and is an animal of indispensable importance to the
forlorn families of the Lapland race. We are less acquainted
with the domestic manners of the American variety, which
indeed has never been rendered subservient to man. There
appears to be two distinct or w ell marked races of the rein¬
deer in the fur countries of the New World. One of these is
confined to the woody and more southern districts, wffiile the
other retires to the wroods only during the winter season,
and passes the bright but fleeting summer either in what
is called the barren grounds, or along the shores of the
Arctic Ocean. Those of the barren grounds are small of
stature, and so light that a hunter can carry a full grown
doe across his shoulders. Dr Richardson is of opinion that
when in prime condition the flavour of its flesh is superior
to that of the finest English mutton. He wras probably
hungrier in America than he has ever been at home. The
other variety is much larger, and is usually called theVood-
land caribou. It is, however, much inferior as an article
of diet. One of the most remarkable peculiarities of this
animal is that it travels southwards in the spring, crossing
the Nelson and the Severn Rivers in vast herds during the
month of May, with a view to spend the summer on the
low marshy shores of James’s Bay, and returning inland,
in a northerly direction, in September. The provision
called pemmican, so essential to the subsistence of our
Arctic travellers, is formed by pouring one-third part of
melted fat over the flesh of the rein-deer, after it is dried
and pounded. We may add, that of all the cervine ani¬
mals of America, this species is the most easily approach¬
ed, and immense numbers are annually slain by the Indian
hunters. Indeed, the very existence of several of the na¬
tive northern tribes may be said to be linked to that of the
animal in question.
The European rein-deer, in its domestic state, is of in¬
finite advantage to the Laplanders, serving at once as a
substitute for the horse, the cowr, the sheep, and the goat.
Several attempts have been made to introduce it into Bri¬
tain, but without any permanent success. It would pro¬
bably succeed better among the rocky hills of the Hebrides
than in the more luxuriant pastures of the south. Those
introduced by Sir H. G. Liddell, in 1786, although some
of them produced young, and gave promise of a healthy
I or an ample account and classification ot the antlered ruminants, see Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vols. iv. and v.
1 The antlers as represented by the figure last referred to are immature.
MAMMALIA.
Peiva. life, died of a complaint similar to the rot in sheep. This
^ was attributed to the richness of the grass on which they
fed. A buck rein-deer lived nearly three years not far
from Hackney. He was kept in a close of about an acre,
the grass of which was rich, and he fed constantly on it
throughout the year, though much fonder of a small sup¬
ply of lichen which was sent over from Norway, and
which, extremely abundant on almost all the rocky grounds
of Scandinavia, constitutes his natural food. He would
fondly follow any one who held even a shred of it in his
hand. When put into a garden where there existed a con¬
siderable variety both of flowering shrubs and forest-trees,
the individual in question was observed to browse upon
them all except the elder. He drank a great quantity of
water. This animal cast his antlers in winter for two suc¬
cessive seasons, and renewed them in the spring. During
one of these years they continued in the state of stumps
till the 30th of January, when they began to shoot; on
the 24th of February they were five or six inches high, and
covered by a deep pile of velvet hair. It may possibly be
unsafe to reason generally from one individual in a state of
confinement; but this account does certainly not agree
with that of Leems, who, in his ninth chapter, states that
the rein-deer loses his horns in spring. Both Hoffberg and
Buffon indeed assert the contrary, yet, as Leems lived ten
years in Lapland, his opportunities of personal observation
must have exceeded those of all other naturalists ; and we
may add, that his account is more consistent with the fact
mentioned by so many travellers, that the rein-deer makes
use of its brow antlers to remove the snow from the ground
in winter ; a circumstance also recorded by several of those
very compilers who at the same time, with characteristic
inconsistency, deny the animal its antlers during that in¬
clement season. Leems, however, expressly says that the
rein-deer procures the lichen by means of itg feet. He
adds, that it also kills a great quantity of mice, of which it
devours the heads with great avidity,—a most singular pro¬
pensity in a ruminating animal.1
Contrary to the usual rule, the female rein-deer is pro¬
vided with horns, as well as the male,—a fact mentioned
by Julius Caesar, who records the species as an inhabitant
of the Hercynian forest, that “ boundless contiguity of
shade” which is supposed to have extended as far as the
Uralian Mountains. In truth, a vast quantity of rein-deer
horns are still found in the sandy banks of the Olenia, a
159
stream which flows into the Wolga, about forty wersts be- Pecora.
low Sarepta. Pallas observes that the steppes to the east"'v—
of the Wolga were of old clothed with forests ; and herds
of wild rein-deer are still found among the pine woods
which stretch from the banks of the Oufa, under the fifty-
fifth degree, to those of the Kama. -They proceed even
farther south, along the woody summits of that prolongation
of the Uralian Mountains which stretches between the
Don and the Wolga, as far as the forty-sixth degree. The
species thus advances almost to the base of the Caucasian
Mountains, along the banks of the Kouma, where scarcely
a winter passes without a few being shot by the Kalmucks,
under a latitude two degrees to the south of Astracan.
This remarkable inequality of the polar distances in the
geographical positions of this species, according to the
difference of meridian, is of course dependent on the laws
which regulate the distribution of heat over the earth’s sur¬
face, as explained by Humboldt.2 It is well known that
physical climates do not lie, as it were, in bands parallel to
the equator, but that the isothermal lines recede from the
pole in the interior of continents, and advance towards it
as we approach the shores. It follows that the farther any
northern animal is naturally removed from the ameliorating
climatic influence of the ocean, the more extended may be
its range in a southerly direction.3
We can here scarcely do more than name the wapiti or
Canadian stag (Cervus canadensis, Gmelin, C. strongylo-
ceros, Schreber), described under the name of red-deer by
Mr Warden. It is not, however, specifically the same as
the animal so called in Britain, being about a fourth larger,
and farther distinguished by the extreme shortness of its
tail. According to Hearne, it is the most stupid of all
the deer tribe.
The fallow-deer {Cervus dama, Linn.) of our enclosed
parks, is now scarcely known except in the domestic state.
Some incline to regard it as originally an African species,
in consequence of an individual having been shot some
years ago, apparently wild, in a wood to the south of Tu¬
nis. It is easily distinguished from our native red-deer,
by its smaller size, its longer tail, and the palmation or
breadth of its antlers, a character which induced its ancient
name of platyceros. It is very common in the southern
countries of Europe, but rare in Sweden and other northern
regions. According to Linnaeus it does not occur in the
latter country except in the parks of the king and the no-
1 See Leems’s Account of Finmark and Lapland, and Barrington’s Miscellanies. 2 In the Memoires d'Arcueil, t. iii.
3 Although we have already assigned a greater space to our notice of the rein-deer than our limits can well afford, we yet can¬
not refrain from here alluding to a curious point in what may be called the literary history of the species, which, till it was cleared
up by the sagacity of Baron Cuvier, had greatly perplexed the naturalist. It was an opinion very generally received, that the rein¬
deer had existed in France, at least in the Pyrenees, as late as the fourteenth century ; which opinion brought along with.it several
others regarding the changes of temperature which had taken place in Europe, and the origin of many fossil bones. It was first
broached by Buffon, however contrary it may seem to his own system, which maintains the gradually increasing coldness of our
globe. “ Quinze siecle,” says Buffon (xii. 83), “ apres Jules-Cesar, Gaston Phoebus semble parler du renne sous le nom de rangier,
connne d’un animal qui auroit existe de son temps dans nos forets de France,” &c. This Gaston Plnebus was Gaston III. Count of
Foix and Lord of Bearn, born in the year 1331, and author of a book entitled, Le Miroir de Phebus des deduits de la Chasse, in which
the rein-deer is described with tolerable^ accuracy. As Gaston de Foix’s territories lay at the foot of the Pyrenees, it was hence in¬
ferred that he had there seen the animal in question ; and on this erroneous supposition the Count de Mellin, Schreber, and others, have
proceeded in their history of the species. It first occurred to Cuvier to compare the different early editions of the work, to see if any
thing could be thereby elicited; but the most beautiful, that of Antoine Verard, led him farther from the truth than ever. He there
found the following passage : Pen ai veu en Morienne et Pueudeve oultre mer, mats en Romain pays en ay je plus vcu. Of course, the
existence of the rein-deer in Mauritania would have been still more extraordinary than at Bearn. He next had recourse to a search
among the manuscripts of the royal library, where he fortunately found the original of the work in question, as presented by Gaston
himself to Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy; and on referring to the particular passage, he found all obscurity at once removed.
It is there clearly written: “ J’en ai veu en Nourvegue et Xuedene et en ha oultre mer, mes en Remain pays en ay je peu vus.’’
Now, Norway and Sweden were the very countries of which the rein-desr had been described as an inhabitant by Albertus Magnus,
about a century before the time of Gaston, and where, we need scarcely sa_y, they still exist in great abundance. The interest
which this inquiry excited induced an examination of Froissart and other ancient chroniclers, from whom it appeared that Gaston de
Foix, as was usual for the cavaliers of the fourteenth century, had at an early age joined a crusade in favour of the distressed Teu¬
tonic knights against the Paynims of Lithuania; that he was passionately fond of hunting, usually entertained 1600 dogs, and at
last died of fatigue in consequence of his exertions in pursuing a bear. Hence Cuvier naturally inferred, that after his journey into
Prussia, he had been induced, by curiosity or the love of sport, to cross the Baltic Sea and traverse Scandinavia, where the numerous
troops of reindeer could not have failed to attract the notice of “ a mighty hunter.” There is therefore no reason whatever for sup¬
posing that this species ever inhabited the mountains of the Pyrenees, or any of the southern countries of Europe. See Cuvier's
Mote sur la pretendue existence du lienne en France dans le moyen age, read to the Institute, and published in the Ossemens Fossiles.
t. vi. p. 119 (of the 4th edition, 1835).
M A M
bility, although it sometimes escapes by chance into the
forests. It is said to be now frequent in the forests ot Li¬
thuania, from whence, according to Raczinsky, the parks of
the Polish nobles were in use to be supplied. But it is
not included by Pallas in his Catalogue of Russian Ani¬
mals.1 In Livonia it requires to be sheltered during the
winter season. It abounds in Sardinia, and in several of
the Greek and other islands of the Mediterranean. The
evidence of its existence in the higher countries of Asia,
and onwards through the Chinese dominions, is too ob¬
scure to be depended on as truly applicable to this particu¬
lar species. If not indigenous to France and Spain, the
period of its introduction to these countries must have been
remote. Two permanent varieties seem to exist in Bri¬
tain, viz. a spotted kind supposed by Pennant to have
been transmitted from Bengal, and a kind of a dark brown
colour alleged to have been introduced by James I. from
Norway into Scotland, and thence transported to the
chaces of Enfield and Epping. It is possible that the
existence of the spotted species called Axis in India,
may have led to the first idea,—presumed to be erroneous
from the fact of the spotted buck being noticed in Gwillims’
Heraldry (4th edition, 1660), where it is quoted as being
borne on ancient coats of arms, at least anterior to British in¬
tercourse with the east; and it may perhaps militate against
the introduction from Norway of our darker brown variety,
that Pontoppidan, in his natural history of that country,
makes no mention of fallow-deer of any hue whatever.
The stag or red-deer (Cervus elephas, Linn.) is the
most stately and magnificent of all the wild animals still
indigenous to Britain. Vast herds continue to range the
mountains in various parts of Scotland, and the species is
not unfrequent in the larger of our western islands, such
as Mull and Jura. In the southern quarters of the island,
the breed is almost extinct in the wild state. It is a shy
and wary creature, finely endowed with the sense of smell,
not easily approached by the hunter, even from the leeward,
and extremely dangerous to encounter closely, from its
great strength and occasional courage. Many instances
are recorded of its having killed both men and dogs, and
one is knowm of its having beat off a tiger which was let
loose upon it in an inclosed area, at the instance of William
duke of Cumberland. Its flesh, though lauded by Dr
Johnston, and by no means to be despised by a hungry
sportsman in the wilds of Scotland, is in our opinion poorer
and less highly flavoured than that of the fallow-deer. Of
course it is not so easily selected, or in any other way ob¬
tained in prime condition, and the necessity of eating it
occasionally when lean and tough may possibly have proved
injurious to its culinary character. Both sexes of the red-
deer have obtuse canine teeth in the upper jaw. The age
of a stag may be pretty easily determined by the branches
of the antlers till its seventh or eighth year ; but after that
period the increase of those parts is not subjected to any fixed
rule. The oldest have seldom more than ten or twelve
branches, though an instance has occurred of there being
thirty-three on each antler.2 According to Cuvier, the older
the individual, the deeper are the furrows of the antlers.
The only other British species of the deer tribe is the
roe (Cervus capreolus, Linn.). This beautiful animal, so
well known to the Scottish sportsmen, is believed to be now
extinct in the southern portions of the kingdom.3 It differs
from the generality of the deer kind in not being grega¬
rious, seldom more than a single family being found toge-
M A L I A.
then The roe rarely measures above two feet in height, Pecorf , ;
with a length of about three feet four inches. The ant- _
lers are about eight inches long, and are usually divided at
the top into three branches. The colours of the fur vary
with the season, being bright tawny-brown in summer, in
winter more grizzled and obscure. The hair is long, and
when inspected minutely, is found to be generally ash-co¬
lour at the base, black towards the point, with the point it¬
self yellow. The rump and lower parts are white. This
species is certainly confined to the Ancient World, although
by a misapplication of the name, it has been believed by
many to occur in America. It is common in Scotland, and
is found pretty generally, though not in great abundance,
in what may be called the Central Zone of Europe. It is
rare in France, and is known to have been almost entirely
extirpated from Burgundy during the cold winter of 1709.
The places where it loves to dwell are woody districts, va¬
ried by open glades, and broken in upon by land capable
of cultivation. It does not ascend those sterile mountain
tracts where the red-deer is so often found. According to
Captain Williamson, the roe occurs on the borders of Ben¬
gal, particularly among the crags and ravines of the west¬
ern frontier.
We shall now notice a very few of the more southern
foreign species. It has been observed in general, that few
of these change their colours with the season. Several
magnificent examples of this tribe of animals are to be
found on the southern sides of the Nepaul Mountains. Of
these we have here exhibited the Nepaul stag (Cervus
Wallichii, Plate CCCXL, fig. 1), a species which in
many respects exhibits a resemblance to the red-deer of
our native heath-clad mountains. We scarcely know, as
yet, of any other individual than that brought down by Dr
Wallich to Calcutta. A drawing was made of it in the
living state, by a native artist, and transmitted by M. Du-
vaucel to Paris, where it was published by M. F. Cuvier.
The horns are shorter and less magnificently branched
than in the Scottish species, but they have been supposed
to have been dwarfed, in the individual in question, by the
decrepitude of age. Each has a pair of small brow antlers
at the base, and somewhat more than half way up the
beam, a small snag turns forwards.
The Husa group of stags is entirely Asiatic, and is dis¬
tinguished by rounded horns, with a brow antler, but with¬
out any median or besantler, and the beam terminates in a
single perch, with a snag more or less elongated, placed
midway or higher on its anterior or posterior edge. The
great Rusa (Cervus hippelaphus, Cuv.) almost equals the
height of a horse. It has trifurcated horns, and very coarse
fulvous brown hair, which changes to a greyer hue in win¬
ter. The tail is rather long, and there is no disk on the
buttock. This species seems to correspond to the great
axis of Pennant. It occurs in several of the Asiatic islands,
and in Continental India is found chiefly in the Jungleterry
district of Bengal. The exact nature of the animal de¬
scribed by Aristotle under the name of has been
a subject of some controversy. The term was formerly
applied to a species which occurs in the forests of Ger¬
many ; but, according to the researches of M. Duvaucel, it
is undoubtedly the black deer or black rusa of Bengal
(Cervus Aristotelis, Cuv.). Its horns are forked at the
extremity, and bear only a single branch at the base, simi¬
lar, as Aristotle expressed it, to those of a roe. It inhabits
the Prauss jungles, and is known by the name of Saumer.
1 See the Ossemens Fossiles, t. iv. p. 29.
2 We allude to the animal killed by the king of Prussia in 1G69, and presented to Augustus I. Elector of Saxony and King of
Poland. According to Bechstein, the head is still preserved at Moritzburg.
3 “ The particular periods, therefore, when the wolf and wild boar became extinct in this country cannot with precision be accu¬
rately ascertained; but the history and fall of the roebuck are better known. It continued to be an inhabitant of England till within
the last century, and was not unfrequently met with on the wastes, a small distance from Hexham, in Northumberland. As the
breed, however, became gradually more scarce, it was sought for with greater eagerness; so that after enduring the united attacks of
the dog and gun for a few seasons, it at length dwindled away into one solitary animal, which about forty years since is said to have
been destroyed by  Whitfield, Esq. of Whitfield, in Northumberland.”—The Sportsman's Cabinet, vol. ii. p. 172.
MAMMALIA.
•a. The male is nearly as large as an elk (which name, indeed,
is erroneously applied to it by many Anglo-Indians), and
is represented by British sportsmen in the east as extremely
vicious as well as strong. Its prevailing colour in summer
is dark brown, in v/inter nearly black. The abdomen, and
a ring around the mouth and nostrils, are whitish, the in¬
sides of the legs fawn colour. Captain Williamson de¬
scribes it as attaining to the dimensions of a Lincolnshire
cart-horse (fifteen dr sixteen hands high), of a shining
black colour, with tan points ; the female mouse-coloured.
The spotted axis of India (Cervus axis) resembles the
fallow-deer, but is easily distinguished by the roundness of
its horns, and the want of a terminal palm. The female,
however, greatly resembles the doe of our domesticated
species. This kind is most frequent in Bengal, and on the
banks of the Ganges, although it occurs throughout India,
as well in the Eastern Archipelago. It has been frequently
imported into Europe, and breeds freely both in France
and England. The sense of smell is extremely refined in
the spotted axis,—so much so, that although extremely
fond of bread, it refuses to eat a piece that has been pre¬
viously blown upon,—so at least states M. F. Cuvier, re¬
garding the individual observed in the Paris garden. Its
disposition in the captive state is otherwise remarkably
mild and accommodating.
Passing over the Muntjaks, which are numerous in India
and the Eastern Islands, we come to a very peculiar ani¬
mal, the Giraffe, constituting the
Genus Camelopardalis, Linn. Incisives —, canines
wanting molars ; = 32. Head lengthened, with a
bony tubercle on the middle of the face, and two bony pro¬
jections on the forehead, covered by the fur, and termina¬
ted by a tuft of longer hairs. The fore-quarters are very
high in comparison with the hinder, and the dorsal line is
consequently oblique. The neck is of extraordinary length,
and the limbs are slender, and terminated by cloven hoofs,
resembling those of the ordinary ruminants. There is a
callosity on the sternum. The mammas are four in number.
The giraffe or camelopard, the tallest, and in many other
respects one of the most remarkable of quadrupeds, is en¬
tirely peculiar to the African continent. Its appearance is
too familiar in books of natural history to require a detailed
description. (See Plate CCCXL. fig. 4.) We shall merely
mention that it measures from fifteen to twenty feet in
height, including the lengthened neck. It is a timid and
gentle animal, browsing habitually on the foliage of trees,
especially those of the Acacia and Mimosa tribes. Its gait
or mode of progression is thus described by Mr Lichten¬
stein: “ We had hardly travelled an hour when the Hot¬
tentots called our attention to some object on a hill not far
off on the left hand, which seemed to move. The head of
something appeared almost immediately after, feeding on
the other side of the hill, and it was concluded that it must
be that of a very large animal. This was confirmed, when,
after going scarcely a hundred steps further, two tall swan¬
necked giraffes stood almost directly before us. Our trans¬
ports were indescribable, particularly as the creatures them¬
selves did not perceive us, and therefore gave us full time
to examine them, and to prepare for an earnest and serious
chase. The one was smaller, and of a paler colour than
the other, which Vischer immediately pronounced to be a
colt, the child of the larger. Our horses were saddled, and
our guns loaded in an instant, when the chace commenced.
Since all the wild animals of Africa run against the wind,
so that we were pretty well assured which way the course
of these objects of our ardent wishes would be directed,
161
Yischer, as the most experienced hunter, separated him- Pecora.
self from us, and by a circuit took the animals in front, thatv—v—
he might stop their way, while I was to attack them in the
rear. I had almost got wdthin shot of them when they per¬
ceived me, and began to fly in the direction we expected.
But their flight was beyond all idea so extraordinary, that
between laughter, astonishment, and delight, I almost for¬
got my designs upon the harmless creatures’ lives. From
the extravagant disproportion between the height of the
fore to that of the hinder parts, and of the height to the
length of the animal, great obstacles are presented to its
moving with any degree of swiftness. When Le Vaillant
asserts that he has seen the giraffe trot, he spares me any
farther trouble in proving that this animal never presented
itself alive before him.1 How in the world should an ani¬
mal so disproportioned in height before and behind trot ?
The giraffe can only gallop, as I can affirm from my own
experience, having seen between forty and fifty at differ¬
ent times, both in their slow and hasty movements, for
they only stop when they are feeding quietly. But this
gallop is so heavy and unwieldy, and seems performed with
so much labour, that in a distance of more than a hundred
paces, comparing the ground cleared with the size of the
animal and of the surrounding objects, it might almost be
said that a man goes faster on foot. The heaviness of the
movement is only compensated by the length of the steps,
each one of which clears, on a moderate computation, from
twelve to sixteen feet.” 2 A tolerably good horse overtakes
the giraffe without difficulty, especially over rising ground.
That there is more than a single species of camelopard,
is a point rather surmised than demonstrated by our modern
naturalists. Some are inclined to infer, chiefly we presume
from the difference in their geographical position, that the
southern kind, so frequently alluded to in the travels of Le
Vaillant, Burchell, and others, are probably distinct from
those seen during the expedition of Denham and Clapper-
ton, and more recently described by Ruppel. Camelopards
were well known to the ancients, and were shewn in the
Circaean Games by Caesar the Dictator. The Emperor
Gordian afterwards exhibited ten at a single shew ; and to¬
lerably accurate figures of fhese extraordinary creatures,
both in a browzing and grazing position, have been handed
down by the Praenestine pavement. During the darker
ages, and indeed- for some centuries after the revival of
learning, they seem to have been unknown to Europeans ;
but about the middle of the sixteenth century, the Empe¬
ror of Germany, Fredericus iEnobarbus, received one from
the Sultan of Babylon. Lorenzo de Medicis was also pre¬
sented with a live specimen by the Bey of Tunis. Nearer
our own times, the camelopard is described in a letter from
Captain Carteret to Dr Maty, as having been killed in a
journey from the Cape, in 1761 ;3 * * yet the first statements
of the unfortunate but accurate Vaillant were almost dis¬
credited till he transmitted the giant spoils to Europe.
Very recently several live specimens have been transmit¬
ted from Kordofan to the gardens of the Zoological Society
of London.
Genus Antilope, Cuv. Incisives canines wanting,
O
molars 6 ~ C ; = 32. Bony nucleus of the horns solid like
6 — G
those of deer. Form light, and well adapted for great
swiftness.
This numerous and varied genus has been recently di¬
vided into many minor groups, chiefly in accordance with
the form of the horns. Of the far greater number Africa
is the native country. These creatures are by many re¬
garded as the most lively, graceful, and beautifully propor-
1 We have elsewhere observed, that it would have been more becoming and equally logical in Mr Lichtenstein to have inferred
rather that Le Vaillant misapplied the term which he made use of to designate the movements of the cameleopard, than that he ima¬
gined himself to have seen an animal alive which had never presented itself to him in that condition.
* Voyage au Cap de Bonne Esperance. 3 See E/iii. Trans. 177G.
VOL. XIV.
X
162 MAMMALIA.
Pecora* tioned of the brute creation. They have indeed attracted the
—-'V'—admiration of mankind from the earliest ages, and the
beauty of their dark lustrous liquid eyes has afforded a
constant theme for the imagination of the eastern poets.
Their names are of frequent occurrence in the most an¬
cient mythologies, and their figures are represented among
the oldest of the astronomical symbols. Naturalists are
more or less acquainted with about sixty species,—a few of
which we shall here- briefly notice.1
The antelope, commonly so called {Antilope cervicapra,
Pallas, Plate CCCXL, fig. 5), is an eastern species, distin¬
guished by the triple curve of its annulated horns. These
parts are extremely sharp pointed, and in India offensive
weapons of great power are made, by joining two pair to¬
gether at their bases. “ Thus are they doubly armed.”
The female is hornless.
The gazelle, or Barbary antelope (A. dorcas, Linn.), is
somewhat less than our own roebuck. The horns are
black, round, lyrate, with numerous rings, and measure
about a foot in length. It is widely spread over northern
Africa, and occurs in Persia and the southern parts of Sy¬
ria. It is a gregarious species of great beauty, much es¬
teemed by lions and-other beasts of prey, and although in
many respects well known to naturalists, it is yet difficult to
draw a precise distinctive line between it and several other
closely allied kinds, such as the kevel, the korin, and the
tzeiran of the Persians. The gazelle is accurately de¬
scribed by JLlian under the title of dorcas, a name bestow¬
ed by other ancient writers on the roe. This is the spe¬
cies which, by reason of its exquisite grace and beauty,
affords so continued a subject of comparison, and is so
often used as a poetical image by eastern writers.
u Her eyes dark charms ’twere vain to tell,
But look on those of the gazelle,
They will assist thy fancy well.”
We have figured the head (Plate CCCXL. fig. 3), of a
closely allied species called the corinne {Ant. corinna,
Gmelin). It differs from the gazelle chiefly in having more
slender horns. “ Ce n’est peut etre,” says Cuvier, “ qu’une
variete de sexe.”
The Chinese antelope, or Dzerin, of the Mongolian Tar¬
tars {A. gutturosa, Pallas), is of a heavier form than the
preceding, with short thick horns, reclining backwards, di¬
vergent, wavy, and the points turned inwards. One of its
chief characteristics is a large moveable protuberance on
the throat, occasioned by a dilatation of the larynx,—par¬
ticularly observable in the old males. This is the species
known in China by the name of Hoang-yang, or the yel¬
low goat. It occurs also in the deserts between the celes¬
tial empire and Thibet, and extends eastward into Siberia,
and over that vast expansion so vaguely known under the
name of the Desert of Gobi. It is said to avoid woody
places, and to prefer open plains and barren mountains. It is
an animal of great swiftness, and long endurance of fatigue.
The oryx or algazel {A. leucoryx, Lich. ? A. gazella,
Linn. Plate CCCXL. fig. 2.) measures above three feet
and a half in height at the shoulder. The body is rather
bulky, the limbs slender, the horns of the male horizontal,
bent backwards, obliquely annulated, with smooth tips, and
nearly three feet long. It inhabits sandy districts in Per¬
sia and Arabia, and has been shot on the western side
of the Indus, in the deserts of the Mekran. We may here
notice a remarkable species called the chiru {A. kemas ?
Smith), an inhabitant of those inaccessible and piny regions
of Chandang which verge on the eternal snows of the Him-
maleh Mountains. It sometimes occurs with only a single
horn, and in that accidental or imperfect condition is sup- pecora
posed to have given rise to the belief in tnonocerotes or
unicorns,—animals which all who are conversant with the
structure of skulls, and the position of the frontal sutures,
are well aware cannot exist in any accordance with the ge¬
neral laws of organic form. This species is remarkable also
for an abundant coating of wool,—a provision bountifully
connected with its position as a mountain dweller in a cold
and icy clime. The Caffrarian oryx {A. oryx) is not more
remarkable for beauty of form than for its great strength
and vigour. It dwells in elevated forests, and among rocky
regions in Southern Africa, and is exceedingly fierce du¬
ring the rutting season, especially when wounded. A friend
of Colonel Smith’s having fired at an individual of this spe¬
cies, it immediately turned upon his dogs, and transfixed
one of them upon the spot. They are said to afford the
best venison of any of the antelopes of Southern Africa.
The blue antelope {A. leucophcea) though formerly an
inhabitant of the Cape colony, is now so rare in Southern
Africa, that it is said no specimen has been killed there
for more than thirty years. A very large species called the
roan antelope (A. equina) was found by Mr Burchell among
the mountainous plains in the vicinity of Lattakoo. The
springer antelope (A. euchore) is called spring-bock by the
Dutch. It inhabits the plains of Southern and Central
Africa, and, during its migratory movements, congregates
in such vast flocks as for a time utterly to destroy vegeta¬
tion. The lion has been observed to accompany their on¬
ward journey, walking like a grizzly tyrant in the midst of
a dense phalanx of these beautiful but fearful creatures,
and with only as much space between him and his victims
as the irrepressible terror of those immediately around him
could obtain by pressing outwards. Mr Pringle calculates
that he had sometimes within view not less than 20,000 at
a time.
Among the more remarkable of the African antelopes are
those called guevei (A. pygmcea,) which seem to consist of
two well-marked varieties, if two distinct species have not
been confounded under a single name. Of the smaller va¬
riety we remember a female in Mr Bullock’s museum which
scarcely exceeded the dimensions of a large rat, and its
legs were no thicker than a goose’s quill. The gueveis are
generally brought from the coast of Guinea, although they
have sometimes been observed to occur in the vicinity of
the Cape of Good Hope. In illustration of another beauti¬
ful form of this varied genus, we have represented the
species commonly called, from its peculiar markings, the
harnessed antelope {A. scripta, Pallas, Plate CCCXLI,
fig. 1.) It was seen by M. Adanson in the interior of Se¬
negal, and few additions have been made to its subsequent
history.
In the forests of Hindustan we find the chickara or four¬
horned antelope (A. chickara, see Plate CCCXLI. fig. 4).
General Hardwicke informs us that this species inhabits
woody and hilly tracts along the western provinces of Ben¬
gal, Bahar, and Orissa. It is described as a wild and agile
creature, incapable of being tamed unless when taken
young. It is about twenty inches in height, and two feet
nine inches in length. The larger pair of horns are smooth,
erect, slightly inclined forwards, somewhat divergent, and
about three inches long. About an inch and a half in front
of these arise a short stumpy pair, about an inch and a half
in circumference, and scarcely an inch high.2 A nearly
allied, if not identical species, has been described by M. de
Blainville under the title of A. quadricornis?
The nyl-ghau {Ant. picta and tragocamelus, Gmeh, Plate
CCCXLI, fig. 3.) departs greatly from the form of the true
I or a summary of the species, with indications of the various sub-generic groups, by Colonel Hamilton Smith, see the Synopsis of
Mammaha, forming the fifth volume of Griffith s Animal Kingdom, so frequently before referred to. For numerous important obser¬
vations, and a great c.eal of general information regarding the antelopes, consult also the fifth volume of the same work.
I*xnn. Frans, vol. xivr. 3 Journal de Pkys. Aout, 1818.
MAMMALIA,
163
antelopes, and merges on that of the bovine tribes. Its eastern
/ name signifies blue ox, and it is in fact never considered as an
antelope by native observers, though so classed by European
naturalists. This species was unknown to the ancients, and
one of the first authentic notices of it is that by Dr Parsons.1
Lord Clive transmitted a pair to England from Bombay in
] 767, and these bred regularly for several years. The nyl¬
ghau is not generally distributed over the Peninsula of Hin-
dostan, but it occurs in the districts of Kamaghur in Central
India, and is known to spread from thence to the foot of
the Himmaleh Mountains. Bernier describes it as one of
the objects of the chace which delighted the Mogul Em¬
peror Aurengzebe, during his progress from Delhi to Cash-
mere. It is a treacherous animal, vicious, and full of vi¬
gour, and apt to prove a dangerous neighbour even in the
domestic state. It may, however, be completely tamed.
An antelope of a still more anomalous form is the (/nu
(Ant. gnu, Gmel., Plate CCCXLI, fig. 5). It appears as
if it were compounded of various other species, being maned
like a horse, with the limbs of a stag, and the horns of a
buffalo. It forms, with the brindled gnu and another near¬
ly related species, the genus Catobeplas of Colonel Smith,
by whom it is arranged among the bovine tribes. It as¬
sembles in large herds in the southern deserts of Africa,
but is not now found nearer the Cape than the Great Ka¬
roo district. The other species spread into the country of
the Caffres, and the interior deserts.
We shall conclude our meagre notice of this great genus
with the only species indigenous to the central countries of
the European continent, the celebrated chamois, Ant. ru-
picapra, Linn. (See Plate CCCXLI. fig. 2). This ani¬
mal measures rather more than three feet in length, with a
height of about two feet and a few inches. It is distingtiish-
able from all the other species by its short smooth black
horns, rising perpendicularly from the forehead, and sud¬
denly hooked backwards at their extremities. It inhabits the
lofty mountains of Switzerland, Piedmont, and Savoy, the
Pyrenees, various parts of Germany, Greece, and some of
the Mediterranean islands. The sterile valleys and broken
rocky grounds in the vicinity of regions of perpetual snow,
form the chamois’ favourite places of abode. It is much
sought after for the sake of its excellent flesh, and occasion¬
ally by amateur sportsmen on account of the exciting nature
of its pursuit, carried on amid scenes of great wildness and
sublimity, and not unattended by danger, from the rugged
or precipitous character of the ground, the deceptive ravines
of ice, and the falling masses of mountain snow.
As intermediate between the antelopes and the ensuing
genus, we shall here place a species which has been digni¬
fied by a great variety of names, we mean the Rocky Moun¬
tain goat (Aplocerus lanigera, Smith, Capra Americana,
Richardson), by some called the wool-bearing antelope.
It inhabits the highest and least accessible summits of that
great range of North American mountains from which it
has derived its best known name. It is equal in size to a
large sheep, its colour white, and its whole body, particu¬
larly the back and hinder quarters, covered by an ample
coating of long fine wool, but greatly intermixed with
coarser hair. The importation of this species into the al¬
pine or insular districts of Scotland has been recommend¬
ed as an interesting experiment, not likely to be attended
by much difficulty, and which might probably lead to valu¬
able results.2 The precise extent of its territorial range has
not yet been ascertained, but it is known to occur from the
40 to the 64° or 65° of north latitude. It is scarcely ever
seen at any distance from the mountains, and is said to be
less numerous on the eastern than the western slopes of its
native range. Its flesh is rather hard and dry, and some¬
what unsavoury from its musky odour.
Genus Capra, Linn. Incisives canines wanting, mo- Pecora.
6 _ 6 . -y—-
lars pf g > — 32. Horns directed upwards and backwards,
compressed, transversely furrowed, their nucleus communi¬
cating by means of cells with the frontal sinus. No lachry¬
mal sinus, nor inguinal pores. Chin generally bearded.
Outline of the face straight, or rarely convex. Two in¬
guinal mammae.
The species which constitute the goat genus, although
of less elegant form than many of the antelope tribe, are
yet not undistinguished by considerable ease and graceful¬
ness of movement; and the rocky heights on which they
are so often seen no doubt add to their picturesque and im¬
posing aspect. Although extremely docile, and fond of
being caressed by human associates, they yet cease not to
retain a certain degree of independence not observable in
other cattle. Considered intellectually, they hold a high
station in the animal kingdom. Buffon has greatly em¬
broiled the history of these and the allied genera, by suppos¬
ing that the species called the boquetin ( Capra ibex) was the
origin not only of all our domesticated sheep and goats, but
of the chamois and several other antelopes. His paradoxes
were first exposed by Pallas,3 who traced the separation of
the goats from the antelopes on the one hand, and from the
sheep on the other, and pointing out the various species of
the first named genus, shewed that our domesticated kind
was derived not from the ibex, but from another wild spe¬
cies called ergagrus, an inhabitant of the Caucasian Moun¬
tains. He admits, however, in relation to certain varieties,
the probability of a cross with the ibex.
The wild goat ( Capra cegagrus, Gmelin, Plate CCCXLII,
fig. 2), the admitted source of our domestic kinds, although
believed by some to inhabit the Alps of Europe, is more dis-.
tinctly known as a native of the mountains of Persia and the
Caucasus, where it is known by the name of paseng, and
from whence it spreads through a great extent of northern
Asia to the frontiers of the celestial empire. It is also the be-
zoar goat of the oriental nations, so called from a peculiar
concretion sometimes found in the intestines. The male is
larger than the usual size of our domestic species, and his
horns, which form an acute angle in front, with a rounded
back, and transverse ribs, are nearly three feet long. The
head is black in front, the beard brown, and the general co¬
lour of the body brown and grey, but varying with the season.
The semi-domesticated varieties are too numerous to be
here described. Of these the most famous is the Cashmere
breed, from the coat of which the celebrated shawls and
other articles are manufactured. The fleece is long and of
a silky texture, straight and white. The most esteemed is
the produce of Thibet, from which country it is exported
to Cashmere, where 16,000 looms are constantly employed,
each affording occupation to three men, and yielding to¬
gether about 30,000 shawls per annum. A single fine
shawl, of a rich pattern, requires for itself about a year in
making.4 The Thibet variety is chiefly remarkable for the
excessive length of its silky covering, which falls in ample
clusters from each side of the back, with a dorsal line of
separation, and measures above a foot and a half. Its gene¬
ral colour is brown, with the points of a golden fulvous hue.
The males of both these eastern breeds have very large
flattened wavy horns. They have been introduced alive to
France and England.
A beautiful dwarf variety, originally from western Africa,
and commonly called the Guinea goat, is also well known in
this country. The goat of Angora resembles the Cash-
mere kind in its flowing fleece, the locks of which, however,
instead of being straight, assume the form of beautiful spiral
ringlets, fhe Jemlah goat, an inhabitant of the highest
1 In the Phil. Trans, vol. xliii.
3 Spicilegia Zoologica, fascic. xi.
2 Wernerian Memoirs, vol. iii. p. 30G.
* Tour in the Upper Provinces of Hindostan. By A. D. p. 187.
164 MAMMALIA.
Pecora. range of central Asia, and that called Jahral in the Nepaul
——' country, seem to present the characters of distinct species.
The latter is bold, capricious, and irascible, but it is easily
tamed, and thrives well when transported to other countries.1
The bouquetin of the European Alps (the stein-bock of
the Germans, Capra ibex, Linn.), is a large, powerfid, and
extremely active animal, almost five feet in length, and
nearly three feet high. The colour is greyish fawn-colour
above, whitish below, with a deep brown line along the
dorsal region. The female resembles the male, except in
the diminished size of her horns. This species dwells
among the hignest and most precipitous peaks of the Alps
of Switzerland, Spain, and other lofty ranges, far surpassing
the chamois in the boldness with wdiich it bounds from crag
to crag, and ascending to perilous heights where even that
alpine species is never seen. It is said, when springing
from a great height, to bend its head between its fore-legs,
in such a manner as to break its fall by alighting on its
horns as well as hoofs. It is easily tamed when taken
young, and breeds freely with the domesticated goats. It
is alleged to do so, indeed, even in a state of nature,—for
it is the general opinion of the shepherds of the Alps and
the Pyrenees, that all the great he-goats which act as
leaders to the flocks are either genuine bouquetins, or im¬
mediately descended from that powerful species. We be¬
lieve that all that has been stated as to the occurrence of
the paseng or cegagrus (we mean the true wild-goat) in
Europe, owes its origin to the existence of a cross breed
between the goat and bouquetin. The latter is likewise an
Asiatic animal, and was seen by Pallas in the mountains of
Siberia,2 but the Caucasian ibex, described by Gulden-
staedt is a distinct species.3 * The maned bouquetin of
Africa, erroneously so called, is undoubtedly an antelope,
figured by Mr Daniel under the title of Takhaitze.*
' Qenus Ovis, Linn. Teeth as in the preceding genus.
Horns thick, angular, transversely furrowed, spirally twist¬
ed in a lateral direction, the points more or less recurving
forwards. Chin seldom bearded. Outline of the face arched
or convex.
The leading fact in the geographical history of this ge¬
nus is, that it occurs both in the New and the Old World,
whereas the goat tribe are naturally unknown in America.
We cannot here enter into any detailed, history of the
numerous varieties of the domestic sheep which have re¬
sulted from the almost immemorial subservience of this
animal to the human race, but must confine ourselves to a
slight sketch of the , features and characteristic habits of
the several wild races which inhabit the different regions
of the earth. Although this invaluable species is usually
regarded by naturalists as being not only specifically but
generieally distinguished trom the goat, we incline to think
that the latter, or generic separation, is founded chiefly
upon characters which have arisen from the influential
power of man. In a state of nature, the sheep is scarcely
less active or energetic than the goat,—its dimensions are
fully greater,—its muscular strength at least equal, both in
force and duration. It is also an alpine animal, fearless of
crag and cliff, and dwells indeed by preference among the
steepest and most inaccessible summits of lofty mountains.
Among its native fastnesses it is seen to bound from rock
to rock with inconceivable swiftness and agility.
We need scarcely remind the reader of the very an¬
cient subservience of this species to the domestic uses of
mankind. It is the first recorded creature in the Holy
Scriptures, of such as owned the dominion of the human
race. “ And Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a
tiller of the ground.”5 Sheep-shearing is also mentioned
during very early times : “ And it was told Tamar, say¬
ing, Behold thy father-in-law goeth up to Timnath to shear Pecora.
his sheep;”6 while, at a later period, the festivities of thev>““Y^
season were taken advantage of by Absalom to slay his bro¬
ther Amnon : “ And it came to pass, after two full years,
that Absalom had sheep-shearers in Baal-hazor, which is
beside Ephraim ; and Absalom invited all the king’s sons.”?
The domestication of the sheep thus appears to have been
almost coeval with the creation of our own species, and
continuous with its progressive descent. We may here
mention that the goat appears to be the next in succession,
as applied to the purposes of the human race; then oxen,
asses, camels, and lastly horses. The first mention of the
mule, though prior to that of the horse, is of too casual a
kind to lead to any precise conclusion, as to its being then
known as a beast of burden : “ And these are the children
of Zibeon; both Ajah and Anah: this was that Anah that
found the mules in the wilderness, as he fed the asses of
Zibeon his father.”8
The most remarkable external change which domestica¬
tion has produced on sheep, is the conversion, as it is com¬
monly called, of hair into wool, or, to state the fact more
accurately, the prodigious development of one of the consti¬
tuent portions of the coat, and the decrease or disappearance
of the other. All animals inhabiting a cool or temperate
climate seem supplied with both a woolly and a hairy cover¬
ing,—the former being usually short and close, and entirely
concealed by the latter, on the length, colour, and texture of
which the external appearance of most animals in a great
measure depends. These two kinds of covering are very
observable in bears and wolves, and also in the more peace¬
ful races of wild sheep; and nothing like either a metamor¬
phosis or a new creation is necessary to produce the re¬
markable alteration in the domestic breeds. Of these we
here figure as an example the long-legged sheep of Africa.
(See Plate CCCXLII. fig. 1.)
The principal unsubdued races of the sheep are the fol¬
lowing : the Mouflon or Musmon of Sardinia, Crete, and
Corsica ( Ovis musimon, Pall., O. ammon, Gmelin, O.aries,
Desm.),—the bearded sheep of Africa ( Ovis tragelaphus,
Cuv., Desm.),—the Argali, or wild sheep of Asia ( Ovis am¬
mon, Linn., Desm.), and the Rocky Mountain sheep of Ame¬
rica ( Ovis montana, Richardson). These four quadrupeds
differ greatly, in the first place, in their geographical posi¬
tion ; and, secondly, in several of their external characters.
The distinctive attributes of all the species have not been
detailed with sufficient fulness and precision to enable us to
say with certainty whether each differs specifically from
the other, or is rather its natural representative under a
different modification of climatic influences. However
this may be, it is probable that from one or other of these
unsubdued races our own domestic tribes have been deri¬
ved, and we shall therefore present the reader with a brief
sketch of their natural history.
Ovis musimon, Pallas. The Musmon.9 (See Plate
CCCXL1I. fig. 4.) This species measures about three feet
and a half in length, and its height, at the highest part of the
back, is about two feet six inches. The neck is large, the
body thick, muscular, and of a rounded form. The limbs
are robust, and the hoofs short. The horns of the male are
nearly two feet long. The body is protected by a short, fine,
grey-coloured wool, of w’hich the filaments are spirally twist¬
ed, and by a stiffish silky hair of no great length, yet sufficient
to conceal the wool beneath. The Musmon (under which
name it was known to the ancients) inhabits the loftiest
parts of Crete, Corsica, and Sardinia, the western moun¬
tains of European Turkey, the isle of Cyprus, and probably
other islands of the Grecian Archipelago. It is not, how¬
ever, supposed to occur in more northern countries, unless
1 Proceedings of Zoological Society, part ii. p. 106. 2 Spicilegia Zoologica, fascic. xii. p. 31. 3 Acta Petropolitana, 1770.
4 African Scenery, plote 24. ^ Genesis, eh. iv. v. 2. 6 Ibid, ch. xxxviii. v. 13.
7 2 Samuel, ch. xiii. 23. 8 Genesis, ch. xxxvi. v. 24.
9 Mouflon of Buffon and F. Cuvier,—Outs aries (race sauvage consideree comme le type primatif) of Desm.
MAMMALIA.
Pc,>ra. the identity of the species with the Siberian Argali should
^in time be demonstrated. It is mentioned as an inhabitant
of Spain by Pliny, and according to Bory St Vincent, it
still occurs among the mountainous provinces of the ancient
kingdom of Murcia. It is gregarious in a state of nature,
and seldom descends from the highly elevated portions of
its insular mountains, of which the elevation and latitude,
however, do not admit perpetual snow. About the month
of December or January, the larger troops divide into less
numerous bands, each consisting of a male and a few females.
For a short time after this period, when the males encoun¬
ter each other, fierce battle ensues, and one of the com¬
batants is not unfrequently slain. The females carry their
young for five months, and usually produce twins in April.
We have said that the question is still undetermined re¬
garding the origin of our domestic breeds. The prevailing
sentiment, however, is certainly in favour of the species
just named. We know that the Corsican musmon brought
to Britain by General Paoli, became the parent of a mixed
progeny; and if Pliny is to be regarded in the light of an
authority, the wild sheep of Spain frequently intermingled
with the domestic race. The produce were known by the
name of umbri. We may observe that all wild sheep have
the chaffron greatly arched, and this peculiar form of the
nasal bones is found to increase with the degeneracy of the
domestic breeds.1 Colonel Hamilton Smith seems to suspect
that even the musmon itself may not be a genuine wild
animal, but an African domestic breed once imported, and
partially restored to its primitive characters, by the securi¬
ty afforded by its insular situation after it had accidentally
escaped from the influence of man.
Ovis tragelaphus, Cuv. The bearded sheep of Africa.2
The hair on the lower, part of the cheeks and upper jaws
of this species is extremely long, and forms a double or di¬
vided beard. The hairs on the sides and body are short,
those on the top of the neck somewhat longer, and rather
erect. The whole under parts of the neck and shoulders
are covered by coarse hair, not less than fourteen inches
long; and beneath the hairs on every part there is a short
genuine wool,—the rudiments of a fleecy clothing. The
tail is very short. The horns approach each other at their
base, and are above two feet long, about eleven inches in
circumference at the thickest part, and diverge outwards,
the extremities being nineteen inches from each other.
The size of this animal is differently stated by different au¬
thors, and some confusion has arisen in its history and sy¬
nonymy from the want of accordance between figures and
descriptions. It inhabits the desert steeps of Barbary, and
the mountainous parts of Egypt. The specimen in the Pa¬
ris Museum was shot near Cairo.
Ovis ammon, Linn., Desm. The Argali or wild sheep of
Asia. The general colour of this species is fulvous grey,
and white beneath, with a whitish disk upon the buttock.
The wool lies as it were concealed beneath a close set hair.
The adult male measures about three feet in height at the
shoulder, and five feet in length. His horns are nearly
four feet long, and fourteen inches in circumference at the
base. They are placed on the summit of the head, so as to
cover the occiput, and nearly touch each other in front,
bending backwards and laterally, then forwards and out¬
wards, their base being triangular, and their surface wrin¬
kled. The female is of smaller size, and her horns are
nearly straight. This species seems to have been confound¬
ed by most writers of the earlier portion of last century
with the mouflon, a European species already noticed; and
even Pennant and Shaw, in compiling its history, have
165
amalgamated the accounts of two distinct kinds. Gmelin Pecora.
(the traveller3) and Pallas4 have furnished us with the most
accurate as well as ample details of its actual characters.
It inhabits the mountains of Central Asia, and the elevated
Steppes of Siberia, from the banks of the Irtisch to Kamts-
chatka. In the last named country, its flesh and fat are
much esteemed. The horns are sometimes so large as to ad¬
mit of young foxes taking shelter in their decaying cavities.
The name of Argali applied by Pallas to this species, is the
Mongolic title of the female. The male is called Guldschah.
It is the Weissarsch of the ancient Germans, and in more
modern times appears to have been first noticed by Father
Rubraquis in the thirteenth century. He calls it Artak,
most likely an erroneous reading for Kirtaka, which, ac¬
cording to Hamilton Smith, is one of its Tartaric names.
Ovis montana, Desm., Rich. The Rocky Mountain
sheep, or American Argali. See Plate CCCXXXII, fig. 6.
This animal exceeds the Asiatic kind in size, and is larger
than the largest varieties of our domestic breeds. The horns
of the male are of great dimensions, arising a short way
above the eyes, and occupying almost the entire space be¬
tween the ears, but without touching each other at their
bases. The horns of the female are much smaller, and but
slightly curved. The hair in this species resembles that
of a deer. It is short, fine, and flexible, in its autumn
growth, but becomes coarse, dry, and brittle, as the winter
advances. The colours reside in the ends of the hair, and as
these are rubbed off during the progress of winter, the tints
become paler. The old rams are almost entirely white in
spring. The Rocky Mountain sheep inhabits that lofty and
extended chain of North America from which it derives its
name,—from its most northern point in latitude 68°, to at
least the 40th degree. Its flesh is delicious, exceeding, it
is said, in flavour that of the finest English mutton.
Genus Bos, Linn. Incisives canines wanting, mo-
^arS g _ 7; ’ = 32' Body large, limbs robust, muzzle
broad, the facial outline nearly straight. Horns simple,
conical, lunate, directed laterally, the points raised. Tail
rather long, and terminated by a tuft of lengthened hair.
Four mammae.
Buffon appears to have admitted of only two kinds of
cattle—the bull and the buffalo. A wild bull, the source
of our domestic breeds, the aurochs of Europe, the bison
of America, and the zebu of Africa and Asia, were all re¬
garded by him as varieties of one and the same species,
produced by climate, food, and domestication. The
humped backs of the bison and the zebu, according to
the imaginative views of the eloquent Frenchman, were
signs of slavery produced by grossness and excess of feed¬
ing ; and he sought to escape the dilemma presented by
the existence of wild cattle with humped backs, by at once
asserting that these were either an emancipated tribe, ori¬
ginally descended from an enslaved and deteriorated race,
or constituted in themselves a natural variety, of which the
hump was characteristic. According to the same autho¬
rity, it was a humped variety, which, passing from the
north of Europe to the American continent, gave rise to
the bison breed of that country,—a theory which he deems
strongly confirmed by the fact, that both the aurochs of
the Old World, and its representative in the New, smell
strongly of musk !5 So confused, indeed, were his notions
regarding these animals, that he appears to have confound¬
ed the bison and the musk ox, although Charlevoix, and
other travellers to whom he had access, had previously de-
1 Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. iv. p. 323.
! (TAfriqut, Geof. St Hilaire. Bearded sheep. Pennant and Shaw. Bearded argali. Ham. Smith.
oyage en Siberte,t. 1. p. 368. 4 Spicilegia Zoologiea, fascic. xi. p. 3. tab. 1.
5 Bernard's flight, v. p. 100. 1
MAMMALIA.
166
Pecora. scribed the difference in their external characters, as well
■v——' as in their haunts and habits. He advances the northern
boundaries of the bison almost to the Pole itself; whereas,
in reality, it is only the musk ox that is found there : and
then, forgetting what he had just before stated, he locates
the race of aurochs in the Frigid Zone, and restricts the
bison to the temperate,—while he draws the general con¬
clusion that all domestic cattle without humps are descend¬
ed from the former, and all humped cattle from the latter.1
Though Pallas 2 refutes the mistake committed by Buf-
fon in supposing that the aurochs of Europe consisted of
two varieties—the urus and the bison—he himself falls in¬
to the equally gross error of confounding as identical the
American and European species. He maintains the pro¬
bability of the latter having passed from the Old World to
the New, when the great northern continents were con¬
nected together by vast and continuous tracts of land, of
which the shattered and sunken debris are still represented
by the snow-covered mountains of Iceland, and the isles of
Shetland and Feroe. He regards the aurochs as the ori¬
ginal source of'our domestic cattle, and both as synonymous
with the bison of America,—while the musk ox of the
New World, the grunting ox of the East, and the buffaloes
of Asia and of Africa, are viewed as distinct from those
just named, and from each other.
It thus appears that prior to the time of Cuvier the
larger kinds of horned cattle were considered as amounting
to Jive in number, so far as living species were concerned.
But the great French anatomist speedily distinguished
eight species.3 He separated the aurochs from the bison,
and established two additional kinds, the arnee of Asia, and
the domestic bull, the source of which he traced not to the
aurochs, of which the number of the ribs, the occipital
arch, and the inter-orbital distances of the forehead, are
dissimilar, but to a fossil species (probably by this time ex¬
tinct in the living state), of which the bones occur in va¬
rious alluvial soils of Europe. We shall here briefly no¬
tice the principal species of taurine animals.
Bos taurus, Plin. Bos taurus, domesticus, Linn. The
domestic bull and cow. The most permanent and essen¬
tial specific characters of this animal are the following:
Forehead flat, higher than broad ; horns round, placed at
the two extremities of a projecting line, which separates
the front from the occiput; ribs amounting to thirteen
pair ; teats disposed in the form of a square ; hair of the
anterior parts of the body not more bushy than that of the
other portions. The original of this invaluable species is
supposed to have been the Urus of ancient writers,—the
Thur of the Polish nation, an animal which, from va¬
rious accounts, appears to have borne a much closer re¬
semblance to our domestic breeds, than do either the
modern aurochs (commonly called the European bison) or
the buffalo. It seems to have become almost extinct du¬
ring the middle ages, in consequence of the progress of
civilization among the western nations, and probably ceased
to exist in a living state about the fifteenth century, except
in a few of the royal forests of Poland. Herberstein and
Martin Cromer state that the thur was to be found only
in Massovia, near Warsaw, where it appears to have been
kept as a curiosity, just as (according to Gilibert) the zubr
or modern aurochs continues to be to this day. In the
fossil skulls which seem to represent the urus, the horns
are curved forwards and downwards; but in the countless
varieties which constitute the domestic breed, these parts as¬
sume a great diversity of form and direction, and are some- Pecora.
times altogether wanting. The ordinary races of the torrid
zone (supposing the so called zebus to be descended from
the same root) are generally distinguished by a hump or
large excrescence of fat and flesh upon the shoulders.
We cannot here inquire, however briefly, into the history
of our British cattle. The original introduction of “ horn¬
ed bestial” to our island, is neither known in history, nor
asserted by tradition. Whether they were derived from
abroad, or were descended from wild individuals of the
urus race, native to Britain in former ages, are questions
which the lapse of time will never solve, but rather tend
to shroud in deeper darkness. The climate of the British
Isles is, beyond most others, productive of a great variety
in the nature of our pastures, and of a corresponding variety
in the character and condition of such animals as depend
on those pastures for support. Caesar mentions the abun¬
dance of the British cattle, and adds, that we (that is the
then inhabitants, for the present races, like the descendants
of the animals in question, are a mingled breed) lived much
on milk and flesh, to the neglect of tillage. Strabo praises
our bountiful supply of milk, but denies to us the art of
making cheese. This preference of a pastoral life over one
of agriculture, was handed down to much more modern
times, and prevailed throughout the continuance of our
feudal government, the warlike services of which would
have proved in a great measure incompatible with the pro¬
longed and steady labours of tillage. In regard to the
wild white cattle, commonly so called, which still exist at
Chillingham Castle in Northumberland, at Wollaton in
Nottingham, at Gisburne in Craven, at Chartly in Stafford¬
shire, and at Hamilton in the county of Lanark, we shall
merely mention that no sufficient evidence has ever been
brought forward to prove that these are entitled to the
character of an aboriginal breed. Fitz-Stephen, who lived
in the twelfth century, speaks of the uri sylvestres, which
in his time inhabited great forests in the neighbourhood
of London, and at a later period (fourteenth century) King
Robert Bruce was nearly slain by a wild bull, which at¬
tacked him “ in the Great Caledon Wood,” but from which
he was rescued by an attendant, “ whom he endowed,”
says Hollinshed, “ with great possessions, and his lineage
is to this day called of the Turnbulls, because he overturn¬
ed the beast, and saved the King-’s life by such great prowess
and manhood.”4 There is, however, a link wanting to con¬
nect these fierce creatures with the small and often horn¬
less breed of white cattle still existing in the parks alluded
to ; and although the straightness in the backs of the latter
animals, the fierceness of their dispositions, and their agree¬
ment in some particulars with the ancient unreclaimed
breed of Britain, may afford a reasonable ground for con¬
jecturing that they are identical with the primitive source
of our domestic cattle; yet we are rather inclined to re¬
gard them as descended from the same source, than as
constituting that source itself.
Bos urus, Gmelin, Bos taurus, var. urus, Linn. Euro¬
pean Bison, or Aurochs of the Germans.6 This species is
frequently, though erroneously, regarded as the origin of
our domestic cattle. “ There is, I believe, no doubt,” says
Mr Bingley, “ that the ox is a descendant of the bison, a
large and powerful animal which inhabits the marshy forests
and vales of Poland and Lithuania. In the lapse of many
centuries, however, its general appearance, as well as its
temperament and disposition, have undergone a radical
Bernard’s Buffon, t. v. p. 89. 2 Acta Petropolitana, t. if.
3 Diction, des Sciences Nat. article Bantf. The same amount of species (including the musk ox, Ovibos moschatus) is given in the
last edition of the Regne Animal, but the Arnee of Asia is not there admitted as distinct.
4 See a more detailed account in the Cosmographe and Description of Albion, prefixed to Bellenden’s Translation of Boethius’s His-
wry and Chronicles of Scotland. Tail’s reprint, chap. x. p. 39.
5 This is the bison of the ancients, the Boeuf aurochs of Desmarest. called Zubr by the Poles.
MAMMALIA.
167
* pUra. change. The enormous strength of the body, the great
"  / depth of chest and shoulders, the shagginess and length of
hair which covers the head, neck, and other fore-parts of
the bison, as well as his savage and gloomy disposition, are
in the present animal so altered that the mere variety
would almost seem to constitute a distinct species.”1 This
mistaken view of the subject has arisen from ignorance of
the leading distinctive characters. The aurochs is distin¬
guished by its bulged or convex forehead, which is, more¬
over, broader than high, by the attachment of the horns
below the line of the occipital ridge, by an additional pair
of ribs (fourteen instead of thirteen) by a sort of frizzled
wool, which covers the head and neck, and forms a kind of
beard or small mane upon the throat. The tone and ut¬
terance of its voice is also quite peculiar. It is a wild and
independent animal, now confined to the marshy forests of
Lithuania, of Carpathia, and the Caucasus, though formerly
an inhabitant of the temperate parts of Europe. It is the
largest of all the quadrupeds native to the European conti¬
nent, measuring six feet in height at the shoulder, and be¬
twixt ten and eleven feet in length, from the nose to the
insertion of the tail. According to Gilibert, it far surpasses
the largest of the Hungarian oxen. The horns are black,
and thicker and more compact than those of the domestic
bull. In both sexes the lips, gums, palate, and tongue, are
blue, and the last named part is very rough and tubercu-
lated. Certain portions of the hide have decidedly a musky
smell, especially during the winter season ; and the name
of Bison is supposed to have been bestowed upon it in con¬
sequence of that peculiar odour,—from the German word
wisen or bisem, which signifies musk. The name of Au¬
rochs is probably synonymous with that of Urns, originally
applied to another species.
Bos bison, Linn. Bos Americanus, Gmelin. (Plate
CCCXLII. fig. 3.) The Bison of the New World, or buf¬
falo of the Anglo-Americans. The head of this species
resembles that of the preceding, and the anterior portions
of its body are in like manner covered by a curled woolly
hair, which becomes excessively long during the winter
season ; but its legs are shorter, its hinder extremities com¬
paratively weaker, and its tail not nearly so long. It is
said to have fifteen pair of ribs. It inhabits a great extent
of territory throughout the temperate and northern parts of
North America, and its history is so fully described by many
modern authors, that we need not here dilate upon it.
Bos bubalus, Linn. The Buffalo properly so called.
(Plate CCCXLII. fig. 5.) The forehead of this animal is
convex or bulging, higher than broad, the direction of the
horns is lateral, and they are marked in front by a longi¬
tudinal projecting line. It is originally a native of India,
from whence it was brought into Egypt and Greece. It
was introduced into Italy about the close of the sixth cen¬
tury, and now grazes in numerous herds among the Pon¬
tine Marshes. Its milk is excellent, its hide extremely,
strong, its flesh but slightly esteemed.
Bos gavatus, Ham. Smith. Bos frontalis, Lambert. The
Gayal of the Hindoos. Nearly of the size and form of the
English bull, with a dull and heavy aspect, but in reality
almost equalling the wild buffalo in activity and strength.
Its horns are short, slightly compressed, thick though dis¬
tant at the base, and rise directly outwards and upwards
in a gentle curve. From the upper angles of the forehead
proceed two thick, short, horizontal processes of bone, co¬
vered by a tuft of light coloured hair. There is no hump
upon the back, but a sharp ridge runs along the hinder
part of the neck and shoulders, and anterior portion of the Pecora.
dorsal region. This species inhabits the mountain forests‘"v—-
to the east of Burrampootra, Silhet, and Chatgoon. The
milk, though rich, is neither lasting nor abundant. The
gayal has been domesticated in India, and is venerated by
the Hindoos. The female has been known to produce
with a common zebu bull of the Deswali breed.
Bos grunniens, Pallas. The Yack, or grunting ox, 
Soora Goy of the Hindostanese. Occiput convex, and
covered with frizzled hair ; horns round, smooth, pointed,
lateral, bending forwards and upwards ; withers very high,
but not so decidedly hunched as in the zebus; mammae
four, placed transversely; fourteen pair of ribs; hair on
the neck and back woolly,—very long upon the tail. This
species dwells among the mountainous regions of Central
Asia, and produces the horse-tails (commonly so called),
used as standards by the Turks and Persians. The chow-
ries, or fly-drivers, made use of in India, are likewise formed
from the tail of the grunting-ox. It is dyed red by the
Chinese, and worn as a tuft to their summer bonnets.2
The animal is domesticated by the Mongolians and by the
Tartar tribes. Though not large boned, it looks bulky,
owing to its long and ample coat of hair. It has a downcast
heavy look, is sullen and suspicious, and usually exhibits
considerable impatience on the near approach of strangers.
It is sure-footed, and capable of carrying a great load as a
beast of burden, but is not employed in agriculture.3
Bos Gaffer, Sparmann. The Cape Buffalo,— Qu’Araho
of the Hottentots. This species is characterized by dark
rufous horns, spreading horizontally over the summit of the
head, with the beams bent down laterally, and the points
turned upwards. They measure from eight to ten inches
broad at the base, and are divided from each other only by
a slight groove. They are extremely heavy, cellular near
the root, and measure five feet in extent, following the
curved line from tip to tip. The hide of the Cape buffalo
is black, and, especially in old animals, almost naked. Its
tail bears a tuft of bristles at the end. It is a gregarious
animal, dwelling in small herds in the brushwood and open
forests of Caffraria, and striking accounts of its strength
and ferocity are recorded in the writings of Sparmann and
Thunberg. Like most of the genus, it is sometimes capa¬
ble of being excited almost to madness by any thing of a
red colour. It swims with surprising force and agility.
Bos moschatus, Gm. The Musk Ox,— Ovibos moschatus,
De Blainville. This singular animal inhabits many districts
of America to the north of the sixtieth parallel. We owe
our first systematic knowledge of it to Pennant, who re¬
ceived a specimen of the skin from the traveller Hearne ;4
but it had been previously mentioned, though vaguely, by
several of the early English voyagers, and M. Jeremie had
imported a portion of its woolly covering into France, from
which stockings more beautiful than those of silk were ma¬
nufactured. When full-grown, the musk ox is about the
size of our small Highland breed of cattle. Its carcass, ex¬
clusive of the offal, weighs about 300 pounds. Its flesh,
when in good condition, is well flavoured, resembling that
of the rein-deer, but coarser grained, and smelling strongly
of musk. The horns are remarkably broad at their bases,
and cover the brow and crown of the head, where they
come in contact with each other. The nose is blunt, the
muzzle not naked as usual, but covered with short close-
set hairs, and the head is large and broad. The legs are
naturally rather short, and this dumpy character is increas¬
ed by the great length of the hair upon the body, which
1 British Quadrupeds, p. 391.
5 Turner’s Account of an Embassy to Thibet, p. 86, pi. 10.
This species is no doubt the Poephagus of /Elian. It is curiously described in the old
cer. See The History of Four-footed Beasts and Serpents, collected by Edward Topsel, 1658.
4 Arctic Zoology, vol. i. p. 11. r
English translation of Conrad Ges-
168
Pecora.
hangs down almost to the ground. The horns of the cow
' are smaller than those of the male, and do not touch each
other at their bases, and the hair on her throat and chest
is shorter. The musk ox spreads over a great extent of
the barren arctic regions. It visits Melville Island (north
lat. 75°) in the month of May, but does not, like the rein¬
deer, extend to Greenland and Spitzbergen.
Besides the eight species now enumerated, the Asiatic
arnee {Bos arnee), and several other animals, either dis¬
tinct in kind, or constituting well marked varieties of horn¬
ed cattle, have been described both by travellers and sys¬
tematic writers.1
The following is a summary of the geographical distri¬
bution of the principal species. Two are proper to North
America,—the musk ox (B. moschatm), which dwells within
the polar circle, and the bison {B. Americanus), which in¬
habits from that circle southwards, till between the 40°
and 35° of north latitude. A like number is characteristic
of Europe, viz. the aurochs or European bison {B. bison),
called zubr by the Poles, and the genuine bull {B. taurus),
the thur of the middle ages, and urus of the ancients, now
extinct in the natural state. There are at least four spe¬
cies found in Asia,—the yak or grunting ox (B. grunni-
ens\ the common buffalo {B. bubalus), the arnee {B. arnee),
and the gayal {B. gavceus). Only a single well-determin¬
ed species inhabits Africa, the Cape buffalo {B. caffer).
In relation, then, to the localities of species, it thus appears
that the zone inhabited by the genus Bos stretches oblique¬
ly across all climates ; and that each species, with the ex¬
ception of the bull and buffalo, now reduced to universal
slavery, and widely extended from their original centres
through the dominating influence of man, is confined within
certain circumscribed limits, in which it is retained as well
by natural barriers as by instinctive inclination. The dif¬
ference in the habits of life observable between the Ameri¬
can and European bisons would of itself have sufficed to
establish the specific distinction of these animals. Had
they been identical, the aurochs or European species would
have preserved in America that love of retirement which
induces it to dwell in the central solitudes of forests, where
(in that of Hercyniaj it was found in the days of Caesar, as
it now is in those of Lithuania, or amid the loftier gloom of
the Carpathian Mountains. The American bison, on the
contrary, congregates in large troops, and delights to dwell
in those open plains or prairies which produce a thick and
abundant pasture. The musk ox, without avoiding such
stinted forests as the sterile regions to which it is native
are capable of producing, yet dwells for the greater portion
of the year among the rocky and almost ice-covered moun¬
tains of the extremest north, “ creating an appetite under
the ribs of death,” with, we fear, but little wherewithal to
appease that appetite after it has been created. The buf¬
falo (of Asiatic origin) is an animal of almost amphibious
habits, fond of the long, coarse, rank pasture which springs
up so speedily in moist and undrained lands. Hence its
love of the Pontine marshes, where, according to Scaliger,
it will lie for hours submerged almost to the muzzle,—an
instinctive propensity which it is seen equally to exhibit in
the Island of Timor. The yak inhabits elevated ranges,
and the cool and lofty table lands of central Asia, while the
buffalo of the Cape delights to dwell in the dense forests of
Southern Africa. All these species, with the exception
before named, may be regarded as the aboriginals of the
countries where they now occur.2
MAMMALIA.
Order VIII—CETACEA, Cuv.
Cetacea,
We now come, finally, to the Cetacea, or whale tribe, ’
which has usually been placed as the last in our systematic
works; and very naturally, as these animals differ greatly
from those of the preceding orders, in being inhabitants
not of the land, but solely of the water ; and though form¬
ed internally on the same general plan as quadrupeds, they
have yet been adapted alike admirably and wonderfully, to
all their exigencies as dwellers in the “ great deep.” The
naturalist knows that their structure distinguishes them
widely from the whole of the finny race (or fishes properly
so called), and allies them closely to quadrupeds, and with
these last, therefore, he associates them; whilst mankind
in general, judging from their external appearance, allies,
or rather identifies them with the class of fishes. Their
marked peculiarities, then, arising chiefly from the adapta¬
tion of their structure to the watery element they inhabit,
might well require from us more ample details than our
nearly exhausted space will now allow. The great interest,
however, as well as importance, of this branch of the sub¬
ject, and the acquisition of materials recently derived from
foreign sources, not yet available to the English reader, in¬
duce us to enter into some details. The scientific natu¬
ralist need scarcely be reminded of the extremely superfi¬
cial manner in which this extraordinary order has hitherto
been treated in all our compendiums of general know¬
ledge.
The Cetacea are characterized as Mammalia without
posterior extremities,—even the bones of the pelvis being
scarcely represented by two small rudimentary ones, which
hang suspended in the softer parts ; the body is pisciform,
with the tail cartilaginous and horizontal. The anterior
extremities assume the appearance of fins, or swimming
paws (as they have been more appropriately designated),
having the bones flattened and short. They reside con¬
stantly in the water ; but, as they breathe by lungs, they
are obliged to ascend to the surface at frequent intervals
for the purpose of respiration. Their blood is warm ; they
are viviparous ; their mammae are in some pectoral, though
in most abdominal.
The Cetacea are arranged in two great divisions, viz. the
Herbivorous and the Ordinary Cetacea.3
DIVISION I.—CETACEA HERB IVOR A.
The Herbivorous Cetacea of Cuvier ; also known as the
Sirenia,—and popularly as Tritons, Mermaids, Sea-cows,
See.
The characters of this division are as follows:—Head
not distinguished from the body by a neck; no blowr-
holes on the head, but nostrils on the snout; body pisci¬
form ; no dorsal fin; tail horizontal; pectoral fins resem¬
bling swimming paws; mammae pectoral; skin nearly des¬
titute of hairs ; teeth very peculiar, but adapted only to a
herbivorous regimen.
Until the present century the herbivorous Cetacea were
intermingled with the seals or sea-dogs, and the wralrus or
sea-horse ; but from these they are very decidedly distin¬
guished by the total absence of every vestige of posterior
extremities, so that the inferior half of the body is but little
different from the ordinary Cetacea. From these latter
again they differ in having no blow-holes on the summit of
J See particularly the Memoir by Col. H. Smith in Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. iv.
TOFevr Isif'Smn rnvKTo ^ Di=lnbution mraphiqw its Ammau, Vertebrh, noim to Oman., in Journal de Pk«.
**** '*<*
Hamilton F R *8 y16 i'ffmitleirufn t0 ac^^w|f^Se> in reference to the ensuing portion, the assistance afforded bv Dr Robert
.Hamilton, .R. S. E., a gentleman who has recently devoted his attention to the history of the Cetaceous tribes. u- ^ iV
MAMMALIA.
the head, but nostrils much resembling those of several
quadrupeds. Although wholly aquatic, they do not, like
the majority of the other Cete, feed upon fish, and hunt
them through the wide ocean, but they live solely upon
vegetables, and these such as are supplied by the shal¬
lows of the sea, its estuaries, and the banks of rivers. Hence
it is, and also from a general resemblance in the upper
parts of the body, that they have so generally received the
names of sea-calves and sea-cows.
There can be no doubt that these Cete, in most in¬
stances, formed the type of those ideal objects of ancient
poetry, the tritons, half men and half fish, who had power
to calm the stormy surge ; and probably too of the sirens,
those sea nymphs whose melody charmed the entranced
voyager to his destruction and death. Without, however,
dwelling on these well known figments, we shall, in a few
words, state the more modern fancies, especially those of the
northern races, regarding this peculiar group. “ Beneath
the depths of the ocean, an atmosphere exists adapted to the
respiring organs of certain beings resembling, in form, the
human race, who are possessed of surpassing beauty, of li¬
mited supernatural powers, and liable to the incident of
death. They dwell in a wide territory of the globe far be¬
low the region of fishes, over which the sea, like the cloudy
canopy of our sky, loftily rolls, and there they possess ha¬
bitations constructed of the pearly and coralline produc¬
tions of the ocean. Having lungs not adapted to a watery
medium, but to the nature of atmospheric air, it would be
impossible for them to pass through the volume of waters
that intervenes between the submarine and the suprama-
rine world, if it were not for the extraordinary power of
entering the skin of some animal capable of existing in the
sea. One shape that they put on, is that of an animal hu¬
man above the waist, yet terminating below in the tail of a
fish; and thus possessing an amphibious nature, they are
enabled not only to exist in the ocean, but to land on the
shores, where they frequently lighten themselves of their
sea dress, resume their proper shape, and with much curio¬
sity examine the nature of the upper world that belongs to
the human race.”1
A knowledge of the existence of such legends is almost
necessary to account for the effects which have been usually
produced by an encounter with these far-famed, but slight¬
ly known animals. We shall here adduce only a single re¬
lation of the supposed appearance of a merman, and ano¬
ther of his fair companion. Three sailors being in a boat,
about a mile from the coast of Denmark, near Landscrone,
observed “ something like a dead body floating in the wra-
ter, and rowed towards it. When they came within seven
or eight fathoms, it still appeared as at first, for it had not
stirred; but at that instant it sunk, and came up again al¬
most immediately in the same place. Upon this, out of
fear, they lay still, and then let the boat float, that they
might the better examine the monster, which, by the help
of the current, came nearer and nearer to them. He turned
his face, and stared at the men, which gave them a good
opportunity of examining him narrowly. He stood in the
same place for seven or eight minutes, and was seen above
the water breast-high: at last they grew apprehensive of
some danger, and began to retire; upon which the monster
blew up his cheeks, made a kind of roaring noise, and then
dived from their view. In regard to his form they declare,
in their affidavits, that he appeared like an old man, strong-
limbed, and with broad shoulders; but his arms they could
not see. His head was small in proportion to his body, and
had short curled black hair, which did not reach below his
ears; his eyes lay deep in his head. About the body, and
downwards, the merman was quite pointed like a fish.”2
169
Again, in 1823, “ The crew of a fishing-boat, when at Cetacea,
the deep-sea fishing, above thirty miles from land, upon ^
drawing their lines, were not a little surprised to find that
they had hooked by the back of the neck, and brought
alongside, an animal of a singular aspect. They mustered
resolution enough to take it into the boat, and keep it for
some time: but on perceiving its pectoral mammae, and on
seeing it gasp, certain superstitious fears as to its being un¬
lucky to kill a mermaid prevailed, and in an evil moment
they slipped it overboard. On hearing of the circumstance,
Sir Arthur Nicolson of Lochend, a most intelligent Shet¬
land proprietor, and justice of the peace, called the men,
three in number, put them on oath, and took down their de¬
scription of the animal. The animal seems to have been a
female, the mammae being described as prominent and full.
The skin was smooth and slimy; light grey on the back, and
pure white on the belly. The swimming-paws terminated
in webbed fingers. The eyes were small and of a blue co¬
lour ; the neck remarkably short. The length was esti¬
mated at more than three feet, the largest circumference
about two feet and a half. From the middle, the body ta¬
pered rapidly towards the tail, which was horizontal, and of
a semicircular shape.”3
Some of these animals have a voice, which, in certain
circumstances at least, is interesting. In proof of this we
shall allude to an incident mentioned by Captain Colnett
as having occurred in his voyage to the Pacific, off the coast
of Chili. “When in latitude 24° south,” he says, “ a very
singular circumstance happened, which, as it spread some
alarm among my people, and awakened their superstitious
apprehensions, I shall mention. About eight o’clock in the
evening, an animal rose alongside the ship, and uttered such
shrieks and tones of lamentation, so like those produced by
the female human voice when expressing the deepest distress,
as to occasion no small degree of alarm among those who
first heard it. These cries continued for upwards of three
hours, and seemed to increase as the ship sailed from it. I
never heard any noise whatever that approached so near
those sounds which proceed from the organs of utterance
in the human species.”4 It is, of course, such occurrences
as these that have given origin to the many poetical effusions
which we so often hear conjoined with all the charms of
song.
“ What fairy-like music steals over the sea.
Entrancing the senses with charm’d melody,
’Tis the voice of the mermaid that floats o’er the main,
As she mingles her song with the gondolier’s strain.”
But it is now time to leave the regions of fiction and of
superstitious exaggeration, and to present a sober, and, so
far as ascertained, a correct view of this interesting group.
It is now divided into three genera, and about twice as many
species. There is first the genus Manatus,—the manatee
of the West Indies; then the HaUcore, or Dugong of
the East Indies ; and, thirdly, the Stellerus, an inhabitant
of the polar regions. Of each of these genera it is on good
ground supposed, that there are several species, which,
however, still remain to be demonstrated. Of the Mana¬
tus there are not above two or three living species accu¬
rately ascertained, and as many which belonged to a former
era of the world’s history. Of the Dugong, so highly
prized in the Eastern World, only one species is correctly
known, and this chiefly through the zeal and energy of the
late Sir T. S. Raffles when Governor of Batavia. For our
knowledge of the manatus we are mainly indebted to the
Duke of Manchester, who held the corresponding station
in Jamaica. Of the Stellerus also, a name derived from
the indefatigable naturalist of the expedition of the cele-
1 Hibbert’s Shetland Islands, 4to, ]). .%'<>. 2 Pontoppidan’s Nat. Hist, of Norway, p. 154.
s Edin. New Phil. Journal, voL vi. p. 57. 4 A Voyaye to the South Atlantic, §c. Lend. 1792.
VOL. XIV. Y
170 M A M MALI A.
Cetacea, brated Behring, only one ascertained species is known, and the avidity with which they were pursued, led ere long Cetacea,
 ^ But let us proceed to the details. to a vast thinning of their numbers, in those countries which
Genus Manatus, Cuv. Trichechus, Linn. The mana- are thickly inhabited. They have retreated before the tide
tus, as its name implies, derives its principal generic charac- of population ; and, wherever men are numerous, there
ter from its swimming paws. These, as in the other gene- they become scarce and shy, and, it is alleged, more fierce
ra, are formed of soft parts and a membrane, which enve- and vindictive in their disposition.
lope the bones of the hands and fingers ; but in the mana- M. Senegalensis, Adanson, Cuv., Desm. This species,
tus four flat nails are also seen, which are attached to the which frequents the rivers and shores of Western Africa,
edge of the fin. The tail is no less characteristic ; it is long, so much resembles the former in general appearance, and
V-V/* ***** ^ **'“' K**** *^ **^ ~   7    O II  7 *'«**'-«.
extending to about one-fourth of the body, and oval-shaped, so little is explicitly known about its habits, that we shall
which gives the animal some resemblance to an otter. merely adduce its characters. The bony cranium is some-
The first species we notice is the Man. Americanos of what shorter, in proportion to its breadth, than that of the
Cuvier, Desmarest, &c. Plate CCCXLIII, fig. 1. Head J 15 1 r 'Ll ^
conical; no neck; muzzle large and fleshy, semicircular at
its upper part, where are the nostrils; upper lip full and
cleft in the middle ; two tufts of stiff bristles are situated
at its sides ; lower lip much shorter; mouth not very large;
skin of a greyish colour, with a few slender hairs scattered
here and there ; pectorals long, large, and oval, terminated
by four flat nails. Length twenty feet. Vertebrae, accord¬
ing to Baron Cuvier, six (cervical), sixteen (dorsal), twen¬
ty-four (lumbar and caudal), in all forty-six. According
to the late Sir E. Home, seven, seventeen, twenty-four,
in all forty-eight. There is a corresponding difference be¬
tween these authors as to the number of the ribs, which
are peculiar, being almost round, and very large and thick.
So also with the teeth, which, according to Cuvier, are
= 36; and to Home
6 — 6
= 24. Two incisives
0 —9 — 6 — 6
appear in the very young, but speedily drop out.1
Their manners and dispositions are stated by voyagers to
be inoffensive, mild, and even amiable. Buffon states that
they are both intelligent and sociable, not naturally afraid
of man, but rather free to approach him, and to follow him
with confidence and promptitude. But they have especially
a kindly feeling for their fellows. They usually associate
in troops, and crowd together with the young in the centre,
as if to preserve them from all harm; and, when danger
besets them, each is willing to bear his share in mutual de¬
fence or attack. When one has been struck with the har¬
poon, it has been noticed that the others will attempt to
tear the dreadful weapon from the wounded flesh. When
the cubs are captured, the mother becomes careless of her
own preservation; and, should the mother be the victim,
the young follow her fondly to the shore, where they are
speedily secured and slain. Buffon also tells us that Go-
mara reared one in a lake in St Domingo, and preserved it
for the long period of twenty-six years. It became so tame
and familiar as to answer to its name, and took pleasantly
whatever nourishment was offered.
The manatus is not found in deep waters. It frequents
the shallow bays among the West Indian islands, and the
sheltered creeks of the South American continent, particu¬
larly of Guiana and the Brazils. It was chiefly at the
mouths of those vast rivers the Oronooko and the Ama¬
zons, “ where ocean trembles for her green domain,” that
innumerable flocks of these cetacea were in use to dwell.
They also ascended the fresh-waters for many hundred
miles, entered many of their tributary streams, and peopled
the interior lakes with their fantastic forms. The histo-
nan Binet has remarked, that, in his time, there were cer¬
tain places within ten or twelve leagues of Cayenne where
preceding. Breadth of nasal foramina three-fourths of their
length; the inferior margin of the lower jaw is curved, while
it is straight in the Americanus. Length seldom more than
eight feet. Dr Harlan has published an account of what
he considers another Manatus (he names it latirostris), the
bones of which were found in great numbers on the banks
of the rivers of the Floridas.2 Cuvier has discovered several
fossil bones belonging to this genus, on which we do not
now insist; and shall only further add, that the best in¬
formed naturalists suppose that several other living species
still remain to be described.
Genus Halicore, Illiger, Cuvier, Desm. Dugungus,
Lacep. There seems little doubt that of this genus also
several species, inhabitants of the Eastern Seas, exist. It
is a popular belief of the Malays that two species frequent
their coasts ; and M. Fr. Cuvier states, that there are con¬
siderable differences between the Malay varieties, and one
which had been procured from the Philipines. It would
appear also that an analogous animal is known on the coast
ot New Holland, which is supposed by MM. Quoy and
Gaimard to differ from those of the Indian Archipelago ;3
and finally, a species which has been recently observed by
Dr Ruppel in the Red Sea, does not agree with any of the
preceding. But concerning all these species (with one
exception), we have little, or rather no accurate informa¬
tion.
Indians or Dugong, Desm. ; Trichechus Dugong,
Linn.; Halicore dugong, Cuv. As late as the year 1820,
it was stated by Sir E. Home in the Royal Society, and
correctly, that no specimen of the Dugong of full size had
ever been seen by any one who was conversant with com¬
parative anatomy. In the year above named Sir Everard
read tv, o papers upon it, and Sir Thomas S. Raffles trans¬
mitted an interesting memoir from Sumatra. About the
same time Messrs Diard and Duvaucel sent both accounts
and specimens to France, which brought it under the in¬
spection of Baron Cuvier, who gave the result of his ob¬
servations in his Oss. Fossil, t. v. p. 261. From these
sources we supply the following description.
The head is small; the nostrils are situated in the sum¬
mit oi the upper jaw, where it makes a curvature down¬
wards, and they penetrate in such a manner that the upper
semilunar edge, pressing upon the lower surface, forms a per¬
fect valve, which is shut when the animal is feeding at the
bottom of the sea. The eye is very small, and is supplied
with a third eyelid ; the aperture of the ear is so minute
that it is with difficulty perceived. The upper lip is large,
orming a vertical kind of snout, like a short proboscis,
w nch is studded over with a few bristles ; the lower lip is
much smaller, and the interior of the cheeks is covered
with coarse hair. I he skin is smooth and thick, and yields
, ... . . ^
these creatures so abounded that a large boatful could be mur. me skin is smooth and thick and
Unu omyenneyie“<inX0rh«b®t ‘f ““I”1’ h* inl;abi' '’0 0il’ the COl°Ur bluish above “d white underneath. The
to vL^us loSes to buv Lm ,Shen^nf bng w"* S™Tg'paWS F^ent no appearance of nails, but are
. . “ localities^ to buy them from the Indians, who, for somewhat verrucose on their anterior margin. The tail is
But broad, horizontal and crescent-shaped. The total length
is twelve feet reaching to twenty when fully grown. The
Naturelle des V01' U1‘ ^esson s Manusl de Mammal, and Fr. Cuvier’s recent work entitled De I'Histoire
Aoologie du Voyage de I'Uranie.
beads and toys, and iron tools, wrould fill their vessels,
the high estimation in which their flesh was generally held,
See Ossemens Fossilcs, t. v, and Phil. Trans, for 1821.
'MAMMALIA.
eta;‘a. skull is remarkable for the very peculiar manner in which
the anterior part of the upper jaw is bent downwards, al¬
most at a right angle, so as to form a kind of beak ; tlie
lower jaw is truncated so as to correspond with the upper.
These peculiarities are well seen in the skeleton, which
on this and other accounts is worthy of examination (see
Plate CCCXLIII, fig. 2). The dental apparatus is very
peculiar. Besides the incisors and molars, there are two
great tusks in the upper jaw, which are scarcely covered
by the lip. Concerning the true history of the teeth, there
is still considerable discrepancy. It would appear that the
first incisors soon fall out, and that the second set remain
rudimentary, having their place supplied by an extremely
firm horny-looking substance in both jaws. The number of
molars varies from five or six in the young, to two in the old,
and these do not drop out and disappear as in most other
animals, but, on the contrary, those nearest the front are ne¬
cessarily pushed forward, and when nearly worn away, are
pushed out by those behind, as occurs in the elephant. The
vertebrae are seven cervical, eighteen dorsal, and twenty-
seven caudal, in all fifty-two ; ribs eighteen pair.
“ The greatest peculiarity,” says Sir E. Home, “ in the
structure of this animal, is that of the ventricles of the
heart being completely detached from one another. This
is not met with in any other animal.”1 Though this
last statement is not strictly true, yet the structure is so
peculiar that we have copied the excellent representation
of it which Sir E. supplied to the Royal Society (see Plate
CCCXLIII, fig. 4). This sketch will represent the form
which is common to the Dugong and the Stellerus, as will
presently be seen; and wdnch, so far as we know, has not
been observed in any other animals. The following con¬
siderations, supplied by Sir E., are also interesting. “ The
skeleton may be compared to a boat without a keel, with the
bottom uppermost, so that in the sea the middle part of
the back is the highest point in the water ; and as the lungs
are extended to a great length close to the spine, they make
the animal buoyant, so that when no muscular exertion is
made the body will naturally float in a horizontal position.
When we consider that this is the only animal yet known
(with its congeners) that browses at the bottom of the sea
unsupported by four legs, we must admit it will require a
particular mode of balancing its body over the weeds on
which it feeds; and in this way the centre of the back forms a
point of suspension, similar to the fulcrum of a pair of scales,
and the jaws are bent to correspond with this formation.”2
The food of the Dugong appears to consist exclusively
of the fuci and submarine algae, which it finds at the bot¬
tom of the inlets of the sea. It browses on these vege¬
tables precisely as a cow in a meadow, rising every now
’ and then to respire. Its flesh resembles young beef, and
is very delicate and palatable.
The Ikan Dugong is considered by the Malays as a royal
fish, and the king is entitled to all that are taken. The
flesh is by them considered as superior to that of the buffalo
or ox. They distinguish two varieties. The breasts of
the adult females are said to be large. The affection of
the mother for its young is strongly marked ; and the Ma- Cetacea,
lays make frequent allusion to this animal as an example of•
maternal affection. When they succeed in taking the off-
springtheyfeelthemselvescertam of the mother. The young
have a short sharp cry, which they frequently repeat, and
it is said that they shed tears. These tears are carefully
preserved by the common people as a charm, the posses¬
sion of which is supposed to secure the affections of those
to whom they are attached, in the same manner as they
attract the mother to her young. This idea, says Sir T. S.
Raffles, is at least as poetical, and certainly more natural,
than the fable of the Siren’s Song.3
The last genus of the Herbivorous Cetacea is that called
Stellerus. The only knowm species was met with in the
Northern Pacific, and being regarded by Steller as a species
of Manatus, it received the appellation of TricliechusMana-
tus borealis. Cuvier, however, soon perceived that it was
necessary to distinguish it as a distinct and peculiar form.
Stellerus borealis, Cuv., Desm.; Manatus, Steller, Pen¬
nant ; Trichechus Manatus borealis, Linn.; JRytina, Illi-
ger. This is a huge animal, reaching to the length of 26
or 28 feet. The skin is black, like the bark of an old
oak ; the head is small, and of an elongated form, with
white moustaches, four or five inches long; the nostrils are
situate at the end of the snout; the swimming-pawTs are
beneath the neck, and serve for grasping as well as loco¬
motion ; they are terminated by a callosity, and have no
nails; the tail is very broad but not long; the eyes are
small, and can be covered by a cartilaginous membrane,
which forms a third eyelid; the mouth is small, and has no
proper teeth, but is furnished with two considerable bony-
looking, but really horny masses, in their nature approxi¬
mating to whalebone, one in the upper, the other in the
lower jaw, not implanted into the maxillaries, but adhering
to them. The vertebrae are 6, 19, 35, = in all 60.
The skin of this extraordinary creature is ragged and
knotty. In fact, according to Cuvier, the scarf-skin is a
kind of bark composed of fibres or tubes closely packed,
perpendicular to the skin. These fibres are implanted
into the true skin by small bulbs, so that when the epider¬
mis is pulled off, the skin is remarkably rough and almost
shaggy. As may be supposed, it has no hairs upon it, for
the fibres themselves are nothing less than the hairs solder¬
ed together, forming a kind of cuirass. In a word, the
animal is completely clad in a substance similar to the hoof
of cattle. This hide is an inch thick, and so hard as scarce¬
ly to be cut with an axe; and when cut, it appeal's in the
inside like ebony. This skin is of singular use to the ani¬
mal during the winter, in protecting it against the ice,
among which it feeds, and the sharp-pointed rocks, against
which it is often dashed by the dreary tempest; and, dur¬
ing summer, in screening it from the rays of the never
setting sun. The lips are double, that is to say, there
are external and internal lips; and when approximated
the space they circumscribe is filled by a thick mass of
strong bristles, which are white, and an inch and a half
long. These bristles in their nature, and still more in their
1 Phil. Trans. 1820, p. 319. 2 Ibid. 1821, p. 2G9.
3 The Dugong of the lied Sea was observed by M. M. Hemprich and Ehrenberg, but we owe its more detailed description to
Edward lluppel—(Mwsewm Senekenbergianum, i. i. tab. 6). He deems it different from that of the Indian Seas, and has named it
Halicore tabernaculus. in consequence of his historical researches having led him to the conclusion, that it was with the skin of this spe¬
cies that the Jews of old were compelled by the Mosaic law to veil their tabernacle. The Hebrews named it Thaachasch. The Ara¬
bians still esteem it for its flesh, its teeth, and skin, and name it Naqua el baher. There can be little doubt that the strange de¬
scribed by Forskal under the name of was in truth this very dugong—(Descrip. Animulium, §c. quai in itinere orientali ob~
servavit). Ruppel observed it swimming among the coral banks which border the Dalac Isles on the coast of Abyssinia, between the
15° and 16° South Lat. The fishermen call it Dauila. They harpooned a female ten feet long, which our traveller dissected and
described. He was further informed by the Arabs, that these Dugongs live in pairs or small families; that their voices are very
feeble; that they feed on algEe; and that, in the months of February and March, bloody combats take place among the males. The
females produce in November and December. The former sex attains to the length of eighteen feet,—the latter never equals that
extent. We may add that M. Sommering (merely, however, from a comparison of the writings of Home with those of liuppel),
doubts the fact that the supposed species of the lied Sea is specifically distinct from that of the Indian Archipelago.
172 M A M M
Cetacea, function, agree with the baleen of the whalebone whales,
-v'""'"' serving as a sieve through which they can strain the water
in which they feed, whilst they retain the food itself. The
masticating apparatus is not less singular, and seems pecu¬
liar to this animal. It is not composed of teeth (of which
we have already said there are none), but of two large white
horny substances, forming dental masses, one of which ad¬
heres to the upper, and the other to the lower jaw. Even
their insertion is peculiar, for they are not implanted into
the bones beneath, after the manner of teeth, but only adhere
to them by numerous pores and rugosities, corresponding
to other projections and cavities in these bones. The sub¬
stance itself has lately been discovered to be wholly horny,
or composed of fibres agglutinated to each other, like the
horn of the rhinoceros, and, when examined by the micro¬
scope, it is seen to consist of tubes. This structure is so
singular that wre have exhibited on Plate CCCXLIII, fig. 3,
the so styled tooth. A is the tooth itself, and a, b, c, d, e
are the fibres or hairs, variously magnified, and viewed hori¬
zontally and vertically. These investigations have been made
by M. Brandt, from a preparation in the Petersburgh Mu¬
seum, and they are narrated in the Memoirs of its Academy,
sixth series, vol. ii. But we must conclude these interesting
details by Steller’s account of the heart. This organ does not
taper from the base to the apex, there to terminate in a single
point, but it ends in two distinct and separate apices, corres¬
ponding to the two ventricles; the separation reaches to about
one-third of their extent, at which place they unite, and then
assume the usual appearance exhibited by the organ.
The Stellers are most voracious creatures, and feed
with their heads under water, quite inattentive to boats or
whatever else may be passing around them. They swim
gently one after another, sometimes with a great portion of
the back out of the w’ater, and every now and then they
elevate their muzzles for the sake of respiration, making a
noise like the snorting of a troop of horses. They were
captured at Behring’s Island by a great hook fastened to a
long rope. This was taken into a boat, which was rowed
amidst the herd. When struck into the animal, the rope
was conveyed on shore, where about thirty people took
hold, and drew it on shore with great difficulty. The poor
creatures made the strongest resistance, assisted by their
faithful and attached companions, and they clung to the
rocks with the greatest pertinacity.1
DIVISION II.—ORDINARY CETACEA.
In passing from the herbivorous to the ordinary Cetacea,
we may remark, that the former take the precedence in
our systematic works, not from their superior importance,
but merely because they approximate more closely to those
Mammalia which dwell upon the surface of the earth, and
thus link more continuously with our preceding orders.
I his remark applies with equal force to the sequence in
which the more pisciform Cete are discussed. We are in
the habit of commencing not with those which are the
most imposing of the Order, and the most important in an
economical or national point of view, but with those which
approach the nearest to the division we have left; and this
mode of progression, it must be admitted, possesses an in¬
terest peculiarly its own. We begin, accordingly, with the
lower and more insignificant links of the scale, and gradually
ascend till we reach the great monarch of the deep, which, as
to dimensions at least, is the great monarch also of crea¬
tion.
ALIA.
Subdivision I.—Delphini^;. Head of ordinary proper- Cetacea,
tion, with numerous teeth. Blow-hole single.
A. those which have a dorsalJin.
This subdivision comprehends a very great number of
species and even genera, which it has been found neces¬
sary to distinguish from each other. Baron Cuvier threw
out the idea of employing the facial line in their arrange¬
ment, and this view has been further extended by M. de
Blainville. We regard the suggestion as valuable and con¬
venient, and shall therefore adopt it. Five distinctive va¬
riations of the line alluded to have already been selected
as useful in the classification of these lesser Cete. These we
have sketched on Plate CCCXLIII. at figs. 6, 7> % 9, 10;
to w hich we shall have occasion subsequently to refer.
Genus (a.)2 Inia, D’Orbigny. The beak is long like
that of the dolphin, but cylindrical, and bristled with strong
hairs; it has many teeth, incisives anteriorly, molars pos¬
teriorly. The temporal fossa and crest are also peculiar.
There is but one knowm species in the genus, the /. J3oli-
viensis, D’Orbigny and F. Cuv. (See Plate CCCXLIII,
fig. 11.) It is to the first named of these eminent natura¬
lists that we are indebted for our acquaintance with this
curious animal (very properly made by him to constitute
a new genus), which establishes a link between the Stel-
lerus and the Soosoo. This last frequents the Ganges,
an hundred miles from the ocean ; but the I. Bolivic?isis
is met with thousands of miles from the sea, and is an
inhabitant solely of rivers and ffesh-water lakes. It is
the only species of the whale tribe characterized by such
peculiar localities. M. D’Orbigny found it in the early tri¬
butaries of the Amazons, 2100 miles from the ocean, at
the foot of the Eastern Cordilleras, and was not a little
astonished at his discovery. We must condense his de¬
scription into the following formulary: Snout resembling
a prolonged and very slender beak, almost cylindrical, obtuse
at the point, and bristled with long strong coarse hair;
the commissure of the lips reaching very far back, so as to
be over the pectorals; pectorals very far forward, broad,
long, and obtuse; dorsal-fin very low, two-thirds down the
back; tail large, length 12 or 14 feet. Colour usually
pale-blue above, passing into a rosy hue beneath; the tail
and fins are bluish. Teeth ^ = 134 ; many of
them marked with deep and interrupted grooves. The au¬
ditory opening is larger than in most of its congeners ; and
we are not aware that the bristles on the beak have been
seen in any of the other Cetacea. The appearance of the
teeth is singular; they resemble incisors anteriorly, and
posteriorly have an irregular mammary shape. This pecu¬
liarity, illustrated on Plate CCCXLIII, fig. 5, somewhat ap¬
proximates the Boliviensis to the herbivorous Cete, which
it also resembles in its brilliant colouring.
I his Inia, comes more frequently to the surface of the
water than its marine congeners, and appears less remark¬
able for agility and power. It habitually unites in little troops
of three or four individuals, which are observed to raise
their snouts from the water whilst devouring their prey,
which appears to consist entirely of fish. In Bolivia they
are hunted for their oil.3
Genus (6.) Soosoo, Lesson. The bony frame-work,
moi e (nan any other part, forms the peculiarity of this genus,
especially the long symphysis, and the great maxillary crests
which rise above the walls of the spiracles. Besides, there
is no furrow between the head and beak ; the latter is very
ong, and slender, compressed at the sides, and expanded
2 Df Bestiis Mar- in Nov- Comment. Acad. Petrov, t. ii. n 204
hibit3 See SUbdiViSi0n ^ t0 the abstraCt CX'
MAMMALIA.
!etacea.
J73
  i /
✓ i^The^middler1'61111'7, S° ^ ^ br0ader at Part t^an vision, and it has been adopted by Desmarest, the Baron Cetacea
S. Gangeticus, Less.; Delphinus Gangeticus, Lebeck, th^dL^nguishin^chara^tere ^re^uffic^ °?erS’ ThoilSh
rrrXWTT See P1fe fr°m the recent ^^ction of the generic tex-m'and Sll
CCCXL , g. 3. all the beaked dolphins, says the more from our want of knowledge of the species’ most of
Baron Cuvier, the most extraordinary and that perhaps which have been only partially described,Tere ^011
ch!.!h^!um^lb!ingTfoIm!d !n-0'* dlfin,ct gen,us’ .is the do^t as to the ascertained number com^reliended in the
genus. Desmarest enumerated four, Lesson five, and M.
t. Cuvier in his Cetaces only three. One of the last
named author’s species (D. micropterus) we reject, because
it had many years before his proposed arrangement, been
elsewhere and more accurately placed. His other two cor-
respond witn two of M. Lesson’s. But of the five described
Soosoo of the Ganges. Lesson accordingly formed it into a
genus distinguished by the name under which the only esta¬
blished species is known to the natives of Bengal. Cuvier
thinks it is probably the Platanista of Pliny. The osteology
of the cranium, he states, approximates it to the sperm whales.
The length is about twelve feet; the head is obtuse,
^ a n v i n rr frv o i/-vv-»nr ^ H ^ 1 a. 
- -  ^ 10 ^"i-use, respona witn two ol M. Lesson’s. But of the five describpd
re"LTrafela“ ;^“ a^^^;iyr„neS &ITo?JeieCthi^^
sixU, of J length of the^whole animal, /he “peSaTe
of an oblique fan-shape ; there is no distinct dorsal fin, but because it has never been rnninr^ T c hesitatl0n’
an angular projection nearer the tall than the snout. The ed, though observed with cafe froi a vessX decTTo
these four of M. Lesson we shall now direct our attention.
= 120.
—  ~   UU1 clLLUIl LIUIl.
JJ. Bredanensis, Less.; 1). rostratus, Cuv.,2 Fr. Cuv.
(in his Mem.);3 Delphinus rostratus, Cuv.,4 Desm. ;5Z>. i
bee mince, Desm., Fr. Cuv., Less, (see Plate CCCXLIII.
Tier 1 J. A  * ^ • a 1 V „ ,
colour is a shining pearly white. Teeth
30 — 30
Spiracle linear, of the shape of an j", running backwards.
Vertebrae, cervical 7, dorsal 11 or 12, lumbar 28. We may uec mince, uesm., Fr. Cuv., Less (see Plate CCCXT ITT
add that the form of the spiracle is unlike that of most of fi«- 14 ^ In thi* (see Fiate LFCXLJli
the lesser Cete, and corresponds with that of the Cachalot flip nf thn n • i ,as rest °f the genus, the pro-
or sperm whale. The tai/s curtously festooned and he Length ofTTi “ ^,nsens “S'^ <>{ the beak,
pectoral fin scalloped. The eyes are Led “ be e"ceed- SL „2L frL^r“dTm,f.iei!.ht,feeti d°rSal
SngHael’ colour!’0111 ^ diameter’aDd °f “ bright “™L“'our sooty-black1 abLf rese-clul CS
shining black colour.
The Soosoos, says Dr Roxburgh, are found in great
numbers in the Ganges, even so far up as it is navigable
but seem to delight most in th7 ^'iab^^ mid ‘ nart 'fT
rivers and creeks, which intersect the Delta of that river, The citv of Brest s„Lied s™/—t f f .(of,_the .aran’al
, o -      xcikj j i ill Lll ui
rivers and creeks, which intersect the Delta of that river,
to the south and east of Calcutta. When in pursuit of the
fish on which it feeds, it moves with great activity and un¬
common swiftness, but at all other times, so far as noticed
by the last named naturalist, its motions are slow and heavy ;
and it often rises to the surface to breathe. Between the
skin and flesh is a coat of pale-coloured fat, more or less
thick, on which the Hindoos set a high value, as a remedy
of great efficacy in external pains. The flesh resembles
lean beef, but is never eaten by the natives. Though this
Teeth 21— 21 ’ ~ 84* As frequently happens, the osteology,
and especially that of the cranium, has been known longer,
and mnrF*   ^i „ , .0 _
I he city of Brest supplied some crania for the investigation
of Baron Cuvier, as did M. Van Breda, Professor of Natural
History at Gand; and accurate drawings of an individual
thrown ashore on the coast of France, reached Paris, and re¬
moved all doubts as to its peculiar features. The colouring
we may remark, is singularly beautiful. All the upper parts
are of a deep sooty-black, and the lower of a rich rosy
hue. Ihese portions are not separated by a distinct and
uniform line; on the contrary, their junction is quite irre¬
gular, and many small black patches are figured upon the
5c fiv^ 1 1 i- . ““nvco. Jiiuugu LUIS guiar, ana m
^ the only known living species, it may be mentioned that fairer colour. This snecies would *nn ~ 7^
Baron Cuvier has established the existence of several fossil tant of the Atlantic ; but we behL it has not been seen
whidi6 frequeTonly'the" shaflow^blyrofTheT CetaCeta
;ex;obtuse; jaws a ')oi"ted’b“k’tbe ^
Ihe haunts of many of these are of course less known; the largest- Teetl1 ^pointed and acute; general
tificall'y (!xamirbn7themUare^iraadlv1dimhi^h0^d^ f0rT e',°ngfed d°rSal ^ ^ than the head;
Genus (c.) Delphinorhynctts Snout uroloun- 1 vu m^nviUe’ a distinguished naturalist, and officer of marine,
beak not distinguishable from the foreheldb! aferew or 7finfiCTT / .t” cxPedlti“ ,owards the North Pole in
in other words, with the facial line almost oout' ’ , a 11 ’ 1 01 t ie PurPose of geographical investigation,
the extremity of the muzzle (see Plate CCCXLHr'h'!^ \ tl sJ1Js^cluent accounts have been derived from that au-
A dorsal fin. ( LCCXLHI. fig. 7.). thovJ He remarks that the only kind of whale he can
It was M. De Blainville who introduced this o-pner,V V 1 eSCnbe with confidence, is a species which appears to have
—   wno introduced this generic di- been previously unobserved. After supplying the description
J Wiatic Searches, vol. vii. 170. ' ~ 2 Ittq An t i ^ = 
See Mem, de la Soc. Philom, for 1810, and Fr. Cuvier’s Cetaces.
17-i
Cetacea.
MAMMALIA.
of its external characters, he adds, “ the coronatus is com¬
mon in the Polar Seas. I first met with it about / 4° N.,
but it is chiefly between 77° and 80°, among the ice-islands
near Spitzbergen, that it is found in numerous troops. F re-
quently during calms we were quite surrounded by it.
These animals were so little shy that the water which they
spouted fell on the deck. Their spouting was attended by
considerable noise, and was effected with such force, that
the water was immediately dispersed, and had the appear¬
ance only of a slight vapour; the jet itself did not rise
above six feet.”
,7). Geoffroyi ?, Desm., Less. ; Delphinus Geoffroyi,
Blainv.; 7). frontalis, Cuv. and F. Cuv. Ihe fall of the
frontal convexity is rapid ; the beak marked and compress¬
ed ; the specimen in Paris measured seven feet; the beak
about ten inches; the horns of the spiracle are pointed
backwards; the dorsal-fin very low; the pectorals well de¬
veloped, and inserted flow in the side. The specimen is
painted grey on the back, white on the belly and round the
eyes, the fins rosy-white. These are thought to be the co¬
lours of the living animal. The only specimen now known
was brought from the Museum of Natural History of Lis¬
bon to Paris by M. Geoffroy, in 1810. The colours indi¬
cated cannot with certainty be depended upon. It is sup¬
posed to have been brought from the Brazils.
D. maculatus?, Less. ; Delphinus maculatus, Fr. Cuv.
Head slender, terminated by a long beak; body elongated,
reaching to about six feet; dorsal fin placed in the middle;
tail large. The colour in the water appeared a bright
green, but out of it, the tint of the back was azure, of the
belly grey, dappled with round spots bordered with red;
the edges of the jaws, and especially of the upper one, were
pure white. This species was seen, but not captured, in
18° S. and 137° W.
In advancing from the recently established genus Del-
phinorhyncus to that which is the oldest, perhaps, of
any, viz. Delphinus, we wish we could inform our readers
that we leave a region of hesitation and doubt for one of
Certainty and precision. This, however, is not the case ;
and the cause is evidently to be found in the many and
great difficulties by which the subject is encompassed.
These animals, residing in haunts so different from those
frequented by man, are but rarely encountered, and when
met with, are seen under circumstances in which examina¬
tion is difficult, and capture almost impracticable ; for they
pass us by, and vanish, almost like the vessel’s track upon
the rolling waves. It is only then, by some very fortuitous
circumstance, or by great and peculiar labour, that when
seen they are secured,—and the chances are still more re¬
mote of their being rendered available to the advancement
of science. But instead of dilating upon these difficulties,
we shall simply state a striking proof of their magnitude.
In 1822 Desmarest enumerated sixty-two species as be¬
longing to the whale order ; but he considered no fewer than
twenty-nine of them doubtful and not established; and
Lesson, in 1828, out of eighty-four species which he classi¬
fied, could vouch for the accuracy and existence of not
more than fifty. With regard, again, to the genus now
before us, M. F. Cuvier, in his history of the Cetacea, re¬
cently published (in 183G), while he regards sixteen spe¬
cies of proper dolphins as pretty well ascertained, describes
seventeen, the existence of which is still doubtful. Lin¬
naeus had three species in his genus Delphinus ; the num¬
ber has now been multiplied more than tenfold. The
greatest discrimination, however, is required; for, while
some are to be regarded as unquestionably established,
and others rest upon a high probability, or it may be,
on a very low one, yet even the slightest notice may be
valuable, and should not be lost to science. On the other
hand, there are instances in which species which were at
first erroneously admitted, have long passed current as
established in the records of Cetology, and some of these
can scarcely be excluded without a reason being assigned
for doing so. As the authors we have named indicated the
different degrees of probability on which the species rest,
we shall follow their example, and shall distinguish, 1st,
Those which appear to be established ; 2dly, Those which
are probable, though not free from doubt; and, 3dly,
Those which are not only doubtful, but highly question¬
able.
Genus (<7.) Delphinus, Cuv., Desm., Blain., Less., Fr.
Cuv., Gray. Forehead convex ; snout in the form of a beak,
and distinguished from the forehead by a marked furrow.
(See Plate CCCXLIII. fig. 8.)
D. Delphis, Linn., Bon., Lacepede, Desm., Cuv., &c.
popularly, Oie de Mer. Dolphin. (See Plate CCCXLIII.
fig. 12.) This animal is perhaps more generally known
through the fictions of ancient poetry, than by its soberer
name of goose of the sea. It is universally considered as the
dolphin of antiquity, or at least as the only actual origin
of that fabled being, though assuredly unendowed with
those extraordinary attributes and charms with which it
has been so fancifully clothed. It is the Hieros Ichihys,
or sacred fish of the heroic Greeks, and was awarded di¬
vine honours by that imaginative people. It was more
particularly sacred to their god Apollo; the reason as¬
signed for which is this,—that when Apollo appeared to
the Cretans, and obliged them to settle on the coast of
Delphis, where he founded that oracle so famous through¬
out antiquity, he did so under the form of a dolphin. Apollo
was thus, according to Visconti, adored not only in con¬
nection with the Delphine province, but with the Delphi¬
nus fish. He wras worshipped at Delphi, with dolphins for
his symbols. The ancients respected the dolphin as a be¬
nefactor of mankind ; they cherished the tale of Phalanthus,
the founder of Tarentum, being carried ashore by a dolphin
wrhen wrecked on the coast of Italy ; and fondly believed
in the story of the musician Arion, who, when about to be
thrown overboard by the sailors that they might appropriate
his wealth, begged that he might be permitted to play some
melodious tune, and then throwing himself into the sea, was
received by one of the many dolphins which had been at¬
tracted by his music, and carried on its back in safety to
Trenarus. It is also recorded, that the shield of Ulysses
bore an image of the dolphin, and it is certainly found on
very ancient coins and medals. It early appeared on the
shield of some of the princes of France ; and gave a name
to a fair province of that empire, and hence a title to the
heir-apparent of the crown.
Scarcely less fabulous are those other narratives which
have been transmitted on the testimony of early naturalists.
They tell us that the dolphin made itself familiar with man,
and conceived a warm attachment for him. Pliny narrates
thai in Barbara, near the town of Hippo, a dolphin used to
frequent the shore, and accept of food from any hand which
supplied it; it would mix among those who wrere bathing,
would allow them to mount its back, would consign itself
with docility to their direction, and obey them with as much
celerity as precision.1 Still more extraordinary is that other
tale narrated to illustrate the assertion that the dolphin is
more partial to children than to adults. Thus, according
to Pliny, it was recorded in several chronicles that a dolphin
which had penetrated the Lake of Lucrinus, in Campania,
every day received bread from the hand of a child, answer¬
ed to his call, and transported him to the other side of the
lake, on its back, to school. This intimacy continued for
several years, when the boy dying, the affectionate dolphin,
overwhelmed with grief, sunk under its bereavement. But
1 Lib. ix. c. 43.
MAMMALIA.
175
tacea.
with such Stories as these, which might easily be multiplied ters of the ocean in more or less numerous troons and their J
Sx oTreS' ’ anC,entS’ " e Sl,al‘ n0t St,Tge Kamb"ls/ni1 raPid which are Liy observ!
further tax our readers. . ed by voyagers (with sometimes little else within their ranee
The common dolphin (Z>. delphis) is usually five or six of vision), has long made them famous. The common dol
feet long, but sometimes measures eight or nine. For its phin is peculiarly signalized by these qualities which how
general appearance we ^fer to our representation in lieu ever, it enjoys only in common with the majority of it’s col
of ^ny deta^L (see Plate CCCXLIII. fig. 12). The bnts, geners. To swim with the rapidity of an arrow, to shoot
though not gay, are attractive. It is black on the back’
and white underneath, with a peculiar glistening when in,
or newly taken from, the water. It may be well, however,
to remark, that “ the dolphin, with its many dying hues, ” as
mentioned in many books, and sung by modern poets, is
not this creature, but another of a different nature, belong¬
ing even to a separate great division of the animal kingdom.
It is a true fish, the beautifully coloured Coryphama Hip
ahead of vessels which are scudding before the breeze, to
spring out of the water and over the waves, are qualifica¬
tions possessed alike by all the smaller Cetacea w’hich live
in the ocean.
The one we shall next allude to is almost the most per¬
plexed of the genus. It is the v
D. Tursio, Fab. 31, Bon., Desm. 761, Cuv., Less.; D.
Nesnarnak of the Greenlanders, Fab., Bon., Lacep., Fr
puns, the Dorado of the Portuguese, and it would be well Cuv.; IX Oudre, Belon, &c. ; Grand Soufluer an^Great
if its popular name (involving as it does a double application) Dolphin of the French; Capidoglio of the Italians and
were ent,rely dropped The eyes of the common dolphin msso; Bottle-nosed Whale, Hunte?, Plate 18?wlichhecon
are small and supplied w.tl, eyehds: the pupil is in the founded with D. Delphis. D. oica» Linn Desm
form of a heart. Mr Rapp has minutely described the Head and beakof the genus; the lower jaw Smertatton»-e7
lachrymal gland, tire peculiarities of which Mr Hunter, in- and having a slight bend upwards; doisal near the middle!
deed, had previously pointed out. There is no olfactory
nerve, nor ethmoidal foramina. The meatus auditorius is
apparent, though very small. The jaws are equal; teeth
47 —— 47 ,
:= pointed, slender, and somewhat curved, at
equal distances from each other, and locking together when
the mouth is closed. There are seven cervical, twelve
pectorals oblong, pointed. Length stated from ten to twenty-
four feet. Colour black above, whitish beneath, merging
into each other on the sides. Vertebrae (six), seven, seven¬
teen, twenty-seven = sixty (Hunter). Teeth ^ ~>23; 0f
one form, straight, cylindrical, and blunt at the summit.
Inhabits Northern Seas, Atlantic, and Mediterranean. The
docsai, and fifty-two other vertebrae. Finally, the brain —■
of the dolphin K very large, and developed to an extent cies, would lead us into a very intricate and not verv So‘
which is quite extraordinary among the lower animals. Its fitable discussion. Y P
weight, in relation to that of the whole body, has been
stated as one to twenty-five, which is the same as that in
man. The average of four accounts given in Cuvier’s
comparative anatomy is one-fiftieth of the whole; and
Tiedemann, the highest living authority in this depart¬
ment, remarks, “ that the brain of the dolphin, next to that
of the orang-outang, approaches nearest, in respect of size,
to the human brain. This would lead to the supposition
that its intelligence and mental capacity are considerable,
H. Nesarnak fX Cuv.3 Desm. 762. The principal alleg¬
ed difference dwelt upon by these eminent men is the
number and arrangement of the teeth. We are disposed
wholly to reject this as a distinct species.
-D. Boryi, Desm. 757, Desmoulins,4 Less., Fr. Cuv.
Beak longish, much compressed, and very broad near the
head, which is rather elevated; dorsal in the centre; length
about eight feet. Colour mouse-grey above, bright grey
beneath, and there striped with light blue. Known at once
toiTopfniom0118 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ a ^ f -ory-wdiite o^the sides of'the he^veryT
toisuch opinion.
lew if any of the order appear to be more voracious than
the dolphins. They live upon medusas and fishes, espe¬
cially upon flat fish, and cod, mullets, pilchards, and her¬
rings. It used to be held that the common dolphin was an
inhabitant of every sea throughout the world. This ap¬
peared the more credible, since the strength of the animal,
and the velocity of its swimming, exceeding that of a ship
m full sail, would readily account for its appearance in all
seas, and even at the opposite poles.1 A very different opi¬
nion, however, is now gaining ground, confirmatory of a
sentiment of Buffon’s in relation to land animals, more than
tinct from the grey underneath it.
Twice seen, near Madagascar, by Col. Bory de St Vin¬
cent, a learned and zealous naturalist, who communicated
the particulars to Desmarest. On being captured the blue
stripes underneath speedily disappeared^
-D. frontalis, Dussumier, Cuv. ;5 D. dubius, Fr. Cuv.
Head and beak of the genus; length of the specimen ex-
amined four and a half feet; dorsal somewhat behind the
middle ; pectoi als attached one-fourth of the distance of the
whole length from the anterior extremity, and one-sixth of
the whole length, pointed. All the upper part of the body,
sides, and tail a deep black; belly white, with a leaden-co¬
treatise, viz. that every distinct snecies has a.  1- ...i.- ?. ,, . „um 10 me
treatise, viz. that every distinct species has a characteristic
and, with few exceptions, circumscribed locality. IfTis
more difficult, of course, to ascertain the truth of this pro¬
position, as it regards the inhabitants of the water, although
many facts would seem to establish its truth with regard
to the cetaceous tribes
base of the pectorals, which are quite black.
36 — 36 Till
= 144.
Teeth about
36 — 36
1 his species was captured by M. Dussumier near the
mi • j Gape-de-Verd Islands. M. F. Cuvier has identified it in
freouents iT The species now under review his Mammiferes, and Cetaces with the Dubius- but so did
a=“i-»“t ssns."“
ica, sia, an America. They navigate the wa- D. Pernettyi, Pernetty,6 Desm. No. 756, F. Cuv. Re-
chi'eS^: dSXSte fl,a"n 6 ”ef 4 ”““ds I» heure, comme „„ volt to
quefois un tout seal sexercer kfutteTde vitesse Pubh(lues. On voit ainsideux, trois, ou quatre Dauphins, quel-
!P^rS^£lcrro?atio° “spedes'
176
MAMMALIA.
Cetacea, garded as a variety of the Delphis by Bonnaterre and Baron
Cuvier. Head and beak of the genus ; lower jaw somewhat
longer than the upper ; dorsal pointed, and placed behind
the middle ; colour black above, pearly grey below, and
mottled with dark spots; teeth acute, and somewhat like
those of the pike.
The vessel of Bougainville, in which Pernetty sailed,
when near the Cape-de-Verd Islands was surrounded by
about 100 of these dolphins, which approached very near
it. They appeared, says Pernetty, to have come only for
the purpose of diverting us ; they made extraordinary leaps
out of the water, some of them vaulting four feet high, and
turning over two or three times in the air. The one taken
weighed 100 pounds. To the common characters, which
we have specified, Pernetty adds another, which we be¬
lieve may be referred to many of the order, viz. that it ex¬
haled an odour which was so strong and penetrating, that
whatever substance was once impregnated with it, retained
it for many days, in spite of all that could be done to over¬
come it.
D. Malay anus, Cuv.,1 F. Cuv.; DelpMnorhyncus ma-
layanus. Lesson and Garnot. Head large, forehead con¬
vex, falling suddenly, and presenting a marked furrow at
the origin of the beak, which is prolonged and thin ; upper
jaw somewhat larger than the lower ; teeth numerous ;
length of the specimen taken six feet; dorsal in the mid¬
dle ; of a uniform ash-colour. This species was taken in
the middle of the Indian Seas. In common with Mr F.
Cuvier, we do not understand how M. Lesson should have
ranked it with the Dclphinorhynci. Baron Cuvier suspects
it may be the same with the following species.
D. plumbeus, Dussumier, F. Cuv. General proportions
of the genus ; length eight feet; the dorsal starts from
about a third of the anterior extremity ; colour uniform
leaden-grey, with the exception of the extremity and lower
portion of the beak, which are whitish; teeth , =
136. This species was detected off the Malabar coast by
M. Dussumier, who states that they frequent the shores,
and pursue the shoals of pilchards. Their motions are less
rapid than those of their congeners, which are found in the
midst of the ocean. The natives capture them in nets, but
with much difficulty, because they seem to suspect their
intentions, and very cautiously avoid the snare. The noise
of a musket makes them flee in all directions; and after
having sunk beneath, they take a direction different from
that which their plunge indicated. These circumstances
manifest something of that mental capacity with which the
dolphin is generally supposed to be endowed.
Z>. frcenatus, Duss., F. Cuv. Four and a half feet long;
dorsal in the middle,—its length one-fifth of the whole
body,—its form triangular and pointed ; pectorals long and
slender; colour black on the back, pale on the flanks, white
on the belly, as is the lower half of the tail, the upper half
being quite black ; head black above, and of an ash tint on
its sides, with a streak of a deeper hue, forming on the
cheek a kind of bridle, extending from the commissure of
the lips, under the eyes ; teeth numerous, but their precise
amount not ascertained. Taken by Dussumier to the south
of the Cape-de-Verd Islands.
D. w/oar, Duss., Cuv.,2 F. Cuv. ;3 D. leger, F. Cuv. ;4 the
swift dolphin. Head and beak of the genus ; beak long ;
length five feet; all the fins long and broad; dorsal over
the middle; colour wholly black; teeth 41 ~41, — 164
„ . , . . 41 — 41’ —
Dussumxer met this species between Ceylon and the Equa-
1 Regne Animal, 268.
3 Cet. 154.
c Nm\ Act. Cur. Nat.
8 Mem. du Mus., t. xix.
4 Mam.mife.res.
Regne Animal, 288.
tor. When one wras harpooned the whole group instantly Cetac
disappeared. They swam with extraordinary rapidity;
hence their name.
D. longirostris, Duss., Cuv.5 Our only information re¬
garding this species is that in the Regne Animal taken
from Dussumier’s manuscripts. This gentleman captured
it off the coast of Malabar. The number of its teeth ex¬
ceeds that of most of the genus ; the formulary is ^
= 240.
D. superciliosus, Less, and Garnot, F. Cuv. Total
length between four and five feet; dorsal somewhat be¬
yond the middle; upper part of the body of a brilliant
bluish-black colour, sides and under parts of a silvery white¬
ness ; pectorals brown, on a white ground ; but what espe¬
cially characterizes this dolphin is a large white spot over
the eye in front; another long white mark occurs on the
sides of the body near the tail. Teeth, 30 30 ; z= 118
It was captured by Garnot off Van Diemen’s Land.
Z>. Novae Zelandice, Quoy and Gaimard, F. Cuv. Head
and beak of the genus; lower jaw somewhat longer than
the upper ; dorsal large, triangular, rounded at top ; pec¬
torals of average size, falciform; tail small. Length be¬
tween five and six feet. Colour dark brown above, lower
part of beak and body dull white; a large yellow stripe
commences at the eye, and terminates, growing narrower
on the flanks, beneath the dorsal; tail of a slate colour,
pale underneath ; pectorals of the colour of white-lead, also
the dorsal, both tipt all round with black; there is a black
line over the snout, becoming larger towards the eye, which
it surrounds; this line is accompanied on either side with
a white line. Teeth, 43-~-43; = 180.
B. ceeruleo-albiis, Meyen, F. Cuv. Facial line of the
genus; snout more curved and compressed than in the
common dolphin ; pectorals more pointed; colour above, a
deep steel -blue, as are the pectorals; a marking begins
large at the dorsal, descends towards the commissure of the
lips, and comes to a point half way between them ; another
commences at the pectorals and terminates in the black
marking which surrounds the eye ; this latter extends pos¬
teriorly, widening as far as the vent; the rest of the body
is of a pure and brilliant white. M. Meyen observed this
species on the east coast of South America. The specimen
he examined was taken at the mouth of the Plata.6
B. Capensis, Gray.7 The entire length of this animal is
81 inches ; his widest girth 42. The back, lips, and fins
are black; the belly white. Teeth about =r 100.
From the tip of the nose to the angle of the mouth he
measures 13 inches; to the angle of the forehead 7; to
the blower ; to the dorsal fin 38; to the pectoral 21.
.he length of the dorsal fin is 12 ; along the curve 12, and
its perpendicular height 10; the length of the pectoral
along the curve 13 ; the breadth of its base 5. The breadth
of the tail is 18 ; and the length of each of its lobes along
the curve 13 inches. This dolphin, says Mr Gray, is at
once distinguished by the shortness of its beak. Its habi¬
tat is the Cape of Good Hope, whence it was sent to the
Museum of the Royal College of Surgeons, London, by Cap-
ain Heaviside. Considerable discrepancy exists between
t le c escnption and the plate by which it is accompanied.
D. dubius?, Cuv.,8 Desm., No. 760. Less., F. Cuv.
ramum shaped like that of B. delphis, though somewhat
smaller; beak more slender and pointed; upper jaw slight-
2 Regne Animal, 288.
5 Regne Animal, 288.
7 Spic. Zool. pari i. plate ii. fig. 1,
MAMMALIA.
taeea. V conical, but not bent upwards ; altogether smaller than
/the common dolphin. Teeth ; = 148. This spe¬
cies (still entitled to the name of dubius) was proposed
by Cuvier from the examination of specimens, chiefly of
crania, transmitted from the western coast of France.
D.niger?, Abel Remusat., Lacep.,1 Desm., No. 763.
F. Cuv. Beak flat and very long; dorsal very small, and
nearer the tail than the pectorals ; colour mostly black, but
white on the commissures of the lips, and margin of the
pectorals, and part of the tail. Teeth more than 24 in
each jaw. Introduced by Lacepede, on the faith of Chinese
paintings procured in China by M. A. Remusat. This
species requires confirmation.
D. lunatus. Less., F. Cuv.; Funenas of the Chilians.
Massive in its form; about three feet in length ; beak
slender; dorsal round at top ; colour, a clear fawn shade
above, gradually passing into white beneath ; a brown and
accurately defined cross is seen on the back on a line with
the pectorals, and anterior to the dorsal. This small dol¬
phin, according to Lesson, destroys an immense number of
fish; and every morning at sunrise he noticed numerous
troops of them, unceasingly diving in search of prey. By
ten o’clock in the morning, when they had well break¬
fasted, they devoted themselves to play, and seemed de¬
lighted while striving which should rise the highest. He
adds, that he saw this species only in the Bay of Talca-
guana, in the province of Conception, where, however, it
is extremely common.
D. minimus. Less., F. Cuv. About two feet in length ;
colour generally brown, with a white spot on the snout,—
the latter slender. This species was seen by Lesson near
the Moluccas, where they existed in thousands, frequently
following each other in a uniform course forming two lines,
in which they were arranged checquer-wdse.
D. cruciger ? Quoy and Gaimard, Less., F. Cuv. The
flank is white, with a black line nearly throughout its whole
extent; the dorsal is acute; total length but a few feet.
This species was seen (but not taken) between New Hol¬
land and Cape Horn. It is suspected by M. F. Cuvier to
be the same as the Ph. bivittatus.
D. albigena ? Quoy and Gaimard, Less., F. Cuv. Colour
generally black, with a white band on each side of the
head, extending from the eyes as far back on the flanks as
the dorsal-fin, which was of small dimensions. Observ¬
ed (but not captured) by Quoy and Gaimard in the Antarctic
Seas, and often seen by M. Lesson in the neighbourhood
of New Holland.
Bayeri? Risso, Less., F. Cuv. Head equal to one-
third the size of the whole body ; snout much prolonged,
obtusely pointed, and but little elevated, of the same form
as in the dolphin. The opening of the mouth very large ;
teet^ 34_34> = 136; pectorals very broad; dorsal small
and triangular; length forty-two feet; colour dull blue
above, and whitish below. This species is doubtful and re¬
quires renewed examination. It was first noticed by Bayer,
who considered it a cachalot ;2 but Risso having procured
a drawing of what he believed to be the same animal,
stranded at Nice in 1726, described it anew, and gave it
Bayer’s name. The characters stated above are from Risso’s
description. Baron Cuvier and his brother, with their eye
fixed on Bayer’s description, lean to the opinion that it was
a cachalot.
177
D. Canadensis? Desm., No. 767, Duhamel,3 Blain., F. CeUcea.
Cuv.; Dauphin hlanc, Desm. Head round, forehead ele-
vated ; beak pointed, and clearly distinguished from the
forehead; length of specimen referred to twelve feet; colour
white. Duhamel’s description of this more than doubtful
species is derived from information received from Canada.
Whilst Desmarest regards it as a Delphinus, Baron Cuvier
is disposed to refer it to the Delphinorhyncus Geoffroyi,
and F. Cuvier to identify it with the Beluga.
D. Chinensis? Osbeck ;4 D. Sinensis, Desm. No. 759,
F. Cuv. In the wmrds of Osbeck, “it was like the com¬
mon dolphin, but wholly of a white shining colour.” He
only saw this animal in the China seas. Bonnaterre5 con¬
sidered it a variety of D. delphis, Desmarest as a distinct
species, and Baron Cuvier was disposed to regard it as
a Delph inapterus. ■’
D. Bertoni ? Desm. 768, Duhamel, Blain., F. Cuv.
Forehead prominent; beak long and thick; upper jaw
longer than lower ; teeth confined to the latter ; pectorals
high in the body ; the dorsal very small. Introduced by
Desmarest on the imperfect data supplied by Duhamel.
Habitat unknown ; existence very doubtful.
B. Kingii ? Gray.7 “When the cranium is compared
with the Beluga, the beak is found shorter by a half, and
narrower in the exposed part of the maxilla, which edges
the point of the blowers; the cavity of the cranium more
globular, and the blower more anterior ; teeth ---r-i0
99
small conical and recurved.” Obtained on the coast of New
Holland, and sent by Captain King to the British Museum.
Z>. longirostris Gray.9 The existence of this our
final species, is founded upon a cranium only, in Brooke’s
Museum. The beak, says Mr Gray, is more slender and
depressed than that of the D. Delphis ; the palate-bone is
more strongly keeled; and the elevated central process of
the upper surface of the beak is broad and convex. The
length of the head is 6 inches; the beak 11£; breadth of
the, latter, at the base, 3 inches. Teeth 48 to 50 in each
jaw.
The Porpoises, to which tve now proceed, in their habits
and dispositions very closely resemble the dolphins ; and it
is for the convenience of classification only that distinction
is desirable.
Genus (e.) Phoc^na, Cuv., Less., Gray. Head and snout
short and gibbous, no beak, the facial line descending in a
uniform connexity to the end of the snout; numerous teeth
in both jaws; a dorsal-fin. (See Plate CCCLXIII. fig. 9.)
P. communis, Cuv., Less., &c.; Delphinus phoccena,
Linn., Bon., Lacep., Desm., &c. The Porpoise, or Por-
pess of the English ; also Pellock or Sea pork. The Su-
inhual, and Springwhal, and Tumbler of the Danes. Maris
Sus,—Marsouin of the French. (See Plate CCCLXIII.
fig. 15.)10 Head typical of that of the genus; lower jaw
somewhat more projecting than the upper ; dorsal nearly
in the middle of the body, triangular; pectorals oblong;
length from four to five feet ; colour bluish-black above,
fading on the sides to white underneath ; pectorals dark
brown; vertebra;, according to Lesson, 7, 14, 45, = 66;
Tyson numbers them 60. Ribs, according to Lacepede,
Tyson, Cuvier, and Lesson, 13, according to Hunter and
Jacob,11 16; teeth ~ ~ = 96. Tyson.
The porpoise is found in all the seas of Europe, and in
the Atlantic. In some parts of North America its skin, like
j Mem. du Mus. iv.
5 Encyc. Meth.
2 Act. Cces. Leap. Cur. Nat, t. iii. 3 TV. des Peches, Part ii. Plate X. fig. 4. 4 Voy. a la Chine.
i 'rG3'" "“"t' 6 Oss. Foss., tom. v. 1st part, 2ti9. 7 Man. 1827.
the /) 'LTV3 “f S unfortunately chosen, and should certainly be changed by the learned author. It cannot be synonymous with
9 SpicZooTp&Tt i ^UjSUmier and the ReSne Animal (see our p. 176) which is quite entitled to maintain its appellation.
ii aro indebted for this original and very correct representation to our able friend Mr Macgillivrav.
Dublin Phil. Jour., voL i. °
VOL. XIV
Z
178
Cetacea.
MAMMALIA.
that of the Beluga, is tanned and dressed with considerable
care. It is shaved down from its natural thickness till it
becomes transparent, and is then manufactured into articles
of wearing apparel; it also affords excellent coverings for
carriages. In a late report of a committee of the House of
Commons on the public works of Ireland, it is stated “ that
porpoises abound in almost innumerable shoals on the wes¬
tern shores of Ireland.” It is desirable that they should be
converted to the same economic purposes as in Canada.
P. Grampus ;l Delphinus grampus, Desm. 774, Hun¬
ter ; D. Orca, Fab., Linn., Bon., Lacep., Shaw ; also the
D. Gladiator of Bon. and Lacep. ; the Grampus of the
English ; Epaulardof the French; especially the Buttskoff
of northern nations ; the Killer and Thrasher of the Ame¬
ricans ; the Sword-fish of the Greenlander ; Epee de Mer
of Bon., &c. ; conjectured to be the Aries marinus of the
ancients ; Cuv. Oss. Fossil, t. v. p. 282. Head and snout of
the genus; upper jaw somewhat larger than the lower; lower
rather broader than upper; body elongated ; from twenty
to thirty feet in length ; dorsal-fin central and very large,
—four feet high ; pectorals also very large, broad, and
oval; colour black above, and white beneath, with a well
marked line of junction ; a white mark over the eye, and
a black streak running forwards from the tail into the white
portion; teeth ——^, == 44. Inhabits high northern la¬
titudes, descending frequently into the Atlantic and Ger¬
man Ocean, and frequenting the coasts and friths.2
The grampus has the character of being exceedingly
voracious and warlike. It devours vast quantities of fishes
of all sizes, especially the larger ones. When pressed
with hunger it is said to throw itself on every thing it
meets with, not sparing the smaller Cetacea. Hunter found
a portion of a porpoise in one which he examined. It is
also said to make war on seals, and that when it espies
them on the ice, it endeavours to drive them into the sea,
where they become an easy prey. This species is often
seen m small herds of six or eight, apparently amusing
themselves, and chasing each other; and it is alleged, that
when thus assembled they frequently attack the great Green¬
land whale. During this unprovoked and outrageous onset
they are said to resemble so many furious mastiffs fighting
with a wild bull: some seizing the tail and endeavouring to
impede its murderous blows, whilst others attack the head,
lay hold of the lips, or tear away the tongue. They have
thus received the appellation of Balcenarum tyrannus from
the accurate Fabricius ; and hence too the popular names of
Thrasher and Killer? We apprehend, however, that these
bloody fights, recorded with such minute accuracy in many
works on the Cetacea, stand in need of confirmation.
P. ventricosus ? Hunter’s “ second species of grampus.”
Plate 18. Delphinus ventricosus, Bon., Lacep., Blain.,
Desm., F. Cuv. Head and snout of the genus ; jaws pro¬
jecting equally; dorsal fin of moderate size, situate some¬
what behind the middle ; pectorals long, not remarkably
broad. Hunter’s specimen was eighteen feet long ; colour
black above and whitish underneath, gradually merging in¬
to each other; no white or black markings. Cuvier and
others have conjoined this with the preceding, and perhaps
correctly; but, from the differences above indicated, we
prefer for the present to follow the respectable authorities
juot named, and to keep it distinct. Hunter’s specimen
was caught in the Thames.
P. griseus, Less,, F. Cuv.; Delphinus griseus, Cuv.4
Desm., No. 775 ; Paimpolporpoise of Less. ; D' Orbigmjs
porpoise of F. Cuv. Head and snout of the genus, though
prominent; dorsal very elevated and pointed; pectorals
enormously developed ; total length ten feet; upper parts
of the body and fins of a deep bluish-black, fading as it de¬
scends the sides, and giving place beneath to a dull white ;
no mark over the eye ; vertebrae ~l, 12, 42, == 61; ribs
12; teeth ^truncated ; has been frequently strand¬
ed on the west coast of France.
P. compressicauda, Less, and Garnot, F. Cuv. Head round
and prominent, terminating in a short obtuse point; upper
jaw projecting slightly beyond the lower; length eight feet;
dorsal somewhat behind the middle, triangular ; pectorals
small, attached low, form rather straight, and terminating
in a point; tail rather small; leaden colour above, and
22 22
whitish beneath; teeth g3 — 90; lining of the mouth
black. Captured by the crew of the Coquille, in latitude
4° S., longitude 26° W.
P.truncatus, Delphinus truncatus, Montague,5 F. Cuv.
Length twelve feet, circumference eight; black above, a
purplish tinge gradually becoming dusky on the flanks, and
sullied white beneath ; lower jaw somewhat larger than the
20 —20
upper ; teeth 93> = 86, placed close together, circu¬
lar, perfectly flat; some of the teeth nearly double the size
of others, with no spaces between them ; they were much
truncated, some obliquely, and some at right angles. This
species was taken in July, five miles up the Dart. Dr
Fleming identifies it with the Tursio of Fabricius. We
think his opinion is erroneous.
P. Capensis, Duss., Cuv.,6 F. Cuv.7 Head and snout
of the genus, though somewhat flat; length four feet;
dorsal somewhat beyond the centre, more than half a foot
high; pectorals six inches long, three broad, rounded at
their extremity; colour all over black, with exception of a
white spot on each side, somewhat behind the dorsal;
teeth, according to Baron Cuvier,   , = 112; accord-
28 — 28
/•'i • 26 —26 „ ,
mg to b. Cuvier, ^3__23> = 98 ; cylindrical, pointed, and
not compressed as in the common porpoise. M. F. Cuvier
names it D. cephalorhyncus,—apparently an unnecessary
innovation.
P- Homeii, Gray.8 Colour above pure black ; sides of
the head and body clouded black and white ; belly white ;
on each side an indistinct band commences immediately
muler the dorsal fin, and descends obliquely and backwards;
till it terminates on the under and posterior part of the
body ; a dusky-coloured circle also surrounds the eye ; be¬
low, the anterior part of the jaw, and a space of nearly a foot
and a half before the tail, dusky ; snout thick, pointed, and
not readily distinguished from the anterior part of the head;
40 — 40
teetl1 se se’ — 152, slightly curved with the convexity
outwards; pectorals long and pointed; dorsal fin placed
behind the centre, large, high, and pointed, its hinder edge
falciform ; tail semilunar ; usual length six feet. Mr Gray
states that this species is often caught in Table Bay. Is it
distinct from the preceding ?
P, (Grampus') Heavisidii, Gray ;9 Delphinus hastatus,
> bi7?L0f “:z,f T 'Je dlT’ h0'vever- Per“ive the ““-V propriety of this.
by some as the Orca of the ancients According to CWier^ft es<Tlb<',cfi names a Z). Orca (No. 705), noticed by Eelon, and regarded
^ThTJem? ""IitS TStTe is ve^ doubtfuL ' ItTs said toTnhaMt the'MedU^nean.b18 b0™’ ^ UP°n "
^tr^ in common with the
7 Mammiferes- ’ 8 Zoll^iZloZtlX \ Srz10t7art2h piate if
?tarea. Fr. Cuv.1 Beak in a uniform line with the cranium
moderate length, and large;2 jaws equally projecting;
“ teeth 26 in upper and 25 in lower jaw;” dorsal fin not much
elevated, placed somewhat beyond the middle ; tail laro-e •
pectorals shoit. Bength above five feet; colour generally
black, head of a slate-colour, four markings underneath, 
one in front of the pectorals, lozenge-shaped, two oval ones
immediately behind them, and then a much larger one, cover-
;ng a great part of the abdomen. The specimen which fur¬
nished Mr Giay with this description is in the Museum of the
Royal College of Surgeons in London, and was sent thither
by Captain Heaviside from the Cape, where M. Quoy a^ain
examined the species, in the cabinet of M. Verveaux a
naturalist settled in southern Africa. Their descriptions
generally accord, though not in all particulars. Its habi¬
tat is presumed to be the neighbourhood of the Cape of
Good Hope. 1
P. (Grampus) obscurus, Gray,3 F. Cuv., Quoy.4 Fore¬
head and beak in a continuous line ; teeth in the upper jaw
52, in lower 48, small and conical; dorsal fin two-fifths from
the end of the snout. Length six feet. The back and upper
part or the head black, the flanks and lower parts of the body
white, with the exception of two bands running obliquely
backwards,—one proceeding from the sides of the head, and
teimmating upon the pectorals, the other from under the dor¬
sal, and terminating upon the belly. It is singular that
these markings vary in different individuals, and are more
apparent upon young than old animals. Mr Gray drew his
desciiption of this species also from a specimen in the
Royal College of Surgeons, London. It had been sent
_rom the Cape of Good Hope. M. Quoy, as in the former
instance, found it in Mr Verveaux’s museum.
P. Feres? Delphinus feres, Bon., Lacep., Desm., 766,
b. Cuv. Head almost as high as long, much rounded on
the summit, and suddenly sloping away anteriorly, where
it terminates by a short round snout; jaws equal, covered
with membranous lips; teeth = 40, some large,
others small,—tlie former about an inch long, the project-
mammalia.
179
witl a white lateral streak passing from the commissure of Ce.acea
the lips to below the pectorals, and another commencing
before the dorsal, and proceeding obliquely underneath to¬
wards the origin of the tail.
P. intermedins? F. Cuv.; Delphinus intermedins, Gray.5
This species is proposed by Mr Gray from an examination
of a cranium m the British Museum, of the origin of which
he knows nothing. He remarks that the cranium is very
like that of P. griseus. The teeth, however, are — 1 ^
42, whilst-the last named species has seldom more than
two or three in the lower jaw. This approximates the for¬
mer to the Orca of Fabricius, from which, however, it dif-
ters in the small size of the temporal fossa, in the width of
tne temporal ridge, and the greater size of the space for
the attachment of the occipital muscles.
Genus (/) Globicephalus, Less. Characterized by
having no visible snout ; the head being nearly globular, the
mouth towards the under portion. (See Plate CCCXLIII
fig. 10.)
xj G-Deductor, Less.; Delphinus globiceps, Cuv.,6 Desm.
J5; . * ’ , Melas, I raill ; D. Deductor, Scoresby;
Going whale of Orkney; Uyea whale, Neill; Grind whale
of heioe; Butshead of the Danes. (See Plate CCCXLIII.
i . He;ad obtuse, upper part very much rounded;
body thick; dorsal small; pectorals very long and narrow ;
colour generally black, with a white mark under the throat,
extending along the belly ; length about twenty-two feet;
teeth , = 56, conical, sharp, somewhat curved at
' ^ Llic UIUJtrCL-
ing portion oval, round at the summit, and as it were di¬
vided into two lobes by a groove extending throughout
their whole length,—the smaller teeth about half the size
of the others. Length about fifteen feet; the whole body
covered with a fine black skin.
This species rests solely on the authority of Bonnaterre
who received from the Abbe Turles of Frejus, a drawing
of the skeleton, and a description of the external aspect.
A shoal of about 100 were captured, after a hard struggle
by the Provencals. 5b
P. bivittatus ? Lesson, F. Cuv. Snout short and coni-
eal; dorsal moderately high, black, and placed over the
middle of the animal; pectorals thin, white, with the an¬
terior edge back ; tail brown, sloped in the middle; two
teet and a half long ; slender in its form ; upper part of the
,° 7 ° a deeP shining black; belly and lower jaw white ;
iere is a large slash of satiny white running along each
side of the body, but interrupted in the middle, opposite
the dorsal, where the two portions of the band thus sepa¬
rated are enlarged. Suspected by F. Cuvier to be the same
Cape Ilorn^* by LeSSOn in Srcat numbers off
P. Agluk ? Pallas, Chamisso, Less. Length thirteen
met; dorsal large ; teeth small and numerous; colour black,
14 —14’
their summit, and very apt to disappear; vertebra 7,
in ah 55; ribs 11. Inhabits the northern shore
ot Europe, Iceland, Feroe, Shetland, Orkney, and the Bri¬
tish and French coasts. Egede is perhaps the first au-
thor who makes mention of the Deductor under the name
of Butshead; and he was soon followed by Duhamel, who
gave a figure of one taken at Havre, under the name of
“ the porpoise with the round snout.” In 1806 Dr Neill
gave a more extended and interesting account of the spe¬
cies, under the name of Uyea Sound or Ca’ing whale, than
any which had previously appeared ;7 and three years after
Dr I rail! published its first accurate description, under the
name of Delphinus melas* with a drawing, afterwards re¬
published with additional details by Mr Scoresby.9 In
1812 an interesting memoir concerning the same animal
appeared from the pen of Cuvier. He bestowed upon it
the name of Delphinus globiceps ™
Of all the Cetacea this would appear to be the most sociable,
often herding together in innumerable flocks. We may sup¬
ply a few facts which establish this point. From an old his¬
tory of the Feroe Islands, quoted by Mr Scoresby, it w ould
appear that the inhabitants had long been in the habit of
hunting and capturing them in great numbers. In the year
1664, on two excursions only, they killed about 1000; in
the year 1748,40 individuals of this species were seen in Tor
Bay, and one seventeen feet long was captured ; in 1799,
about 200 ran ashore in Fetler, one of the Shetland Isles’;
and, in 1805, as mentioned by Dr Neill, in February 190,’
and in March 120 more, out of a herd of about 500, were
forced ashore in Uyea Sound, in Unst; in 1806, 92 were
stranded in Scalpa Bay, Orkney; in 1809 and 1810, 1100
of these animals approached the shore of Hvalfiord, Iceland
and were captured ; in 1812, 70 were chased ashore near
F. Cuvier’s Cetacts, p. 1G2.
Ann. du Mus.
Account of the Arctic Regions.
Tour through Orkney and Shetland.
Ann. du Mus. t. ix.
180
MAMMALIA.
Cetacea, the village of Bloubalzbance, on the coast of Bretagne;
“v'-""'and, in 1814, 150 were driven into Balta Sound, Shet¬
land, and were there despatched. These are only a few
of the instances in which, in modern times, an extensive
capture of the Deductor has taken place ; and we may add,
that it is alleged to have been seen both off the American
coast, and in high latitudes in the Pacific.
It would be interesting to ascertain from what mental
peculiarity it results that this animal is so frequently strand¬
ed, so easily hunted, and so readily made a prey. We have
seen enough to demonstrate that they are most sociable in
their habits ; and we may now remark that they seem
moreover to be endowed by an instinct very useful, doubt¬
less, on the whole, whereby they are almost irresistibly in¬
duced to follow the guidance of the oldest and most ex¬
perienced of their number. In the words of Dr Traill, they
seem generally to follow one as a leader with blind confi¬
dence ; and Dr Neill remarks, that the main body of the
drove follows the leading whales as a flock of sheep follows
the wedders. Hence the natives of Shetland well know
that if they are able to guide the leaders, they are sure like¬
wise of entangling multitudes of their followers. This trait
is strikingly illustrated by a circumstance of which Dr
Traill was a witness. “ I once,” says he, “ was in a boat
when an attempt was made to drive a shoal of them ashore ;
but when they had approached very near the land, the fore¬
most turned round with a sudden leap, and the whole rush¬
ed past the boat.” It is from this peculiarity in their men¬
tal constitution, that Mr Scoresby, it would appear, applied
to them the appellation of deductor.
G. Rissoanus, Less. Delphinus Rissoanus, Cuv. Head
large and round, upper jaw longer than the lower, dorsal
high, in form of a sealine triangle, situated near the middle;
pectorals large, broad and thick. Length nine or ten feet.
Colour of the males a bluish-white, of the females a uniform
brown, and both marked with irregular white lines, and
brown spots. It inhabits the Mediterranean. (See Plate
CCCXLIII. flg. 8.)
G. leucocephalus ? Less., Fr. Cuv. Head short, coni¬
cal and truncated; dorsal very narrow, and acute at the
summit. Length about six feet; body of a deep grey co¬
lour ; head and neck of a dazzling whiteness. Lesson saw
this species in the Archipelago of Pomotous, but did not
capture any of the shoal.1 He likewise mentions another
observed in similar circumstances. It may be called the
G. fuscus ? Less. Head completely truncated ; dorsal
high, falciform. Length ten or twelve feet. Colour a uni¬
form brownish-black. The French naturalist was inform¬
ed by the captain of an English whaler, that this was the
black fish of the whalers, which, though very active, they
were anxious to catch, because they found in its head a
matter analogous to spermaceti.
We now proceed to a genus as yet but slightly known,
though interesting and peculiar. It consists of those Ce¬
tacea which have two dorsal fins. This character, more
curious than important, does probably not produce any
marked difference between the habits of this little group
and those of its congeners. It was established by M. Ra-
finesque Smaltz, and contains at present only two species.
R. Those which have two dorsal Jins.
Genus (g.') Oxypterus, Rafinesque Smaltz, Less., F.
Cuv. Two dorsal fins.
O. Mongitori, Rafinesque Smaltz, F. Cuv. Named but
not described by Smaltz in his Precis de Semiologie, p. 13.
He observed the animal in the Sicilian seas.
O. Rhinoceros ; Delphinus Rhinoceros, Quoy and Gai-
mard, Less., F. Cuv. (See Plate CCCXLIII. fig. 18.) A
fin on the head iuclined backwards, like that on the back ;
length ten or twelve feet; upper part of the body as far Ceta
as the dorsal fin spotted with black and white. —
“ In 1819,” say these interesting writers (Quoy and
Gaimard), “ in going from the Sandwich Islands to New
South Wales, many dolphins, in troops, performed rapid
evolutions about our vessel. Every one on board was sur¬
prised to perceive that they had a fin upon their head, bent
backwards, the same as that on their backs. The size of
this animal was about double the size of the common por¬
poise ; and the upper part of its body to the dorsal fin was
spotted black and white. We did our best to examine
them all the time they accompanied us; but although they
often passed the prow of the vessel, with the highest part
of the back out of water, yet their head was so submerged,
that neither M. Arago nor we could discover whether their
snout was long or short; and their habits did not assist us
on this point, because they never sprang above the wave,
as is common with other species. From this very singular
structure we have given them the name of Rhinoceros.*2
Though, from the circumstances detailed, our authors could
not supply an accurate drawing, yet Messrs Quoy and
Gaimard have furnished a sketch of the appearance of the
species, which we copy from their atlas.
C. Those which have no dorsalJin.
Genus (^.) Beluga, Less. Gray. The osteology of the
cranium, according to Baron Cuvier, supplies generic charac¬
ters which distinguish this from the neighbouring genera.
The form of the head is obtuse, conical, and rounded.
The genus is moreover distinguished from the Globice-
phalus by having no dorsal fin ; and from the Delphinap-
terus by having no prolonged snout-like flattened beak.
Beluga arctica, Less. Delphinapterm beluga, Lacep.
Beluga, Shaw. D. Leucas, Linn. D. albicans, Fab. Bon.
White whale of English whalers. See Plate CCCXLIII. fig.
17. Head obtuse and rounded; mouth small; teeth short and
9 9
blunt q 9 ; no dorsal fin ; pectorals large, thick, and
oval; tail large and powerful. Total length from twelve
to eighteen feet. Colour, of a light cream-colour. The
shape of this animal rs highly symmetrical, and at once sug¬
gests the idea of perfect adaptation to rapid progressive
motion in water. Its head is small and somewhat lengthened,
and over the forehead there is a thick cushion of fat; the
body continues to swell as far as the pectoral fins, and from
this point gradually diminishes to the setting on of the tail.
The tail is powerful, bent under the body in swimming, and
worked with such force that it impels the beluga forward,
says Giesecke, with the velocity of an arrow. The colour is
usually a uniform and beautiful cream-colour, whilst the
younger ones are marked with brownish spots, and are
somewhat of a blue or slaty colour. Mr Scoresby remarks
that he has seen some of a yellowish hue, approaching to
orange ; and this agrees with the statement of Fabricius,
who says ihey are white, sometimes tinged with red. Many
contradictory accounts are given of the number of teeth,
in consequence, no doubt, of the fact, that in the beluga,
as in most of the other whales, these parts have the greatest
tendency to drop out as the animal becomes aged. An¬
derson states that it has no teeth in the upper jaw, and that
this is the universal opinion of the Greenland fishers, while
there are eight on each side in the lower;—thus, —g.
• - 9 8 9
Dr Neill gives 6 6, and Crantz    . Cuvier, however,
9 9
states them as y, = 36; so agreeing with Fabricius.
But if we are so slow in arriving at certainty respecting
1 Voyage de la Coquille, t. i. p. 184.
Voyage de M. Freycinet. Zoologie, p. 3G.
MAMS
Cetacea, the dental apparatus of the beluga, when are we, by this
—' means, to determine species in any of the other Cetacea ?
Sir Charles Giesecke describes the white whale as a mi¬
gratory animal, which visits Greenland every year regular¬
ly about the end of November. He remarks that, next to
the seal, it is the most useful animal captured by the na¬
tives, as it comes at a season when their provisions are ex¬
tremely scanty. It arrives in herds, in stormy weather. It
is taken by harpoons and strong nets ; in the latter case the
nets are extended across the narrow sounds between the
islands, and when a shoal is thus interrupted in its course
seaward, the individuals are attacked with lances, and great
numbers are frequently killed. The flesh is somewhat si¬
milar to that of beef, of a bright red colour, though some¬
what oily. According to Hans Egede, “ when it is mari¬
nated with vinegar and salt, it is as well tasted as any pork
whatever; the fins also, and the tail, pickled or sauced, are
very good eating, so that he is very good cheer. The oil
is of the whitest, best, and finest quality.”1 Some of the in¬
ternal membranes are used for windows, and some as bed-
curtains ; the sinews furnish the best sort of strong thread.
Genus (i.) Delphinapterus, Cuv. Less. Distinguished
from the dolphins by having no dorsal-fin, and from the be¬
luga by having a slender beak, flattened transversely, and
separated from the head by a marked furrow.
D. Peronii, Cuv. Less. Delphinus Peronii, Lacep.
Desm., No. 771, D. Leuco-grampus, Per on. D.Chilii of
Kotzebue. See Plate CCCXLIII fig. 19. Snout obtuse,
depressed at the extremities and edge, thus forming a short
beak; pectorals and tail large; colour above of a deep
bluish-black, beneath brilliant white, except the edge of the
pectorals, which is black. Length between five and six
39 _ 39
feet. Teeth ^ 3g- = 156, all slender and very pointed.
High southern latitudes are the resort of this species. The
historian of the voyage of Baudin met with them to the
south of Van Diemen’s Land; Dr Quoy saw them near
New Guinea, as did M. Lesson, off Magellan’s Straits and
tlie Falkland Islands. Many of them, according to the last
named author, surrounded the corvette in January 1823,
on the vessel entering the Southern Ocean, and one was
harpooned by the sailors, which enabled him to give a more
accurate account than any previously supplied. It is elegant
in its form, regular in its proportions, sleek, and especially
remarkable from appearing to be covered with a black cloak.
Its snout, as far as the eye, is of a silky and silvery whiteness,
so are the sides and pectorals, the abdomen, and part of the
tad. A large scapulary of a deep bluish-black colour, ris¬
ing at the eyes, where the white appears like a cross, is
pointed and bent on the flanks so as to cover the upper
part of the back only. The iris is of an emerald-green.
D. Commersonii, Cuv. Less. Delphinus Commersonii,
Lacep. Desm. 772. The Jacobite of the French. Snout flat
and slender; body generally silvery-white ; the snout, tail,
and pectorals tipt with black ; about the size of the com¬
mon porpoise. Commerson, who regards this as one of the
most beautiful inhabitants of the ocean, encountered it in
the Straits of Magellan. Lesson met with it at fire Falk¬
land Islands.
• ^2 ^ene(^e^a ? Lacep. This species is rejected by Cu-
D. Epiodon ? Rafinesque Smaltz, Desm., 786, F. Cuv.
Body elongated, attenuated posteriorly ; snout rounded ;
lower jaw shorter than the upper; many obtuse teeth, which
are all alike in the upper jaw ; none in the lower. No dor¬
sal-fin. This animal w'as taken in the Sicilian Seas in 1790,
and Rafinesque seems to have described it from a drawing.
'' e have no further information respecting it.
It may here be remarked, that we have now discussed
ALIA.
to the extent our limits will allow our first subdivision, con¬
sisting of Cete with ordinarily proportioned heads, and nu¬
merous teeth ; it includes nine genera, and about fifty
species. 1 he direction of the facial line has chiefly, though
not solely, regulated us in this avowedly artificial, and,&it
should not be forgotten, not very important arrangement
of genera. We shall here supply a tabular view of the
classification of the whole of the preceding subdivision : 
A includes those which have a dorsal fin.
Genus a. Beak long, cylindrical, with molar-like
teeth, _ ... Inia.
b. Facial line of nearly uniform
slope, beak peculiarly long, Soosoo.
c. Facial line of nearly uniform
slope, beak or snout short, Delphinorhyncus.
d. Facial line marked by a sud¬
den fall, beak short, . Delphinus.
e. Facial line of uniform slope,
no beak, snout short, . Phoccena.
f Head globe-shaped. No beak,
no snout, . . . Globicephalus.
B Those which have two dorsal fins.
Oxypterus.
C Those wdiich have no dorsal fin.
k. Head globe-shape (from only
a single species, called) . Beluga.
i. Having a beak, from
“ without a fin.” . . Delphinapterus.
Subdivision II—Heterodontes. Head of ordinary pro¬
portion. Teeth few, and of various forms,—sometimes
wanting. Blow-hole single.
Ever since Cetology has been studied as a science, the
teeth, as in the other orders of Mammalia, have received the
most marked attention. The two great orders into which
Lacepede divides the ordinary Cete (which alone he con¬
siders), are founded on the fact, that some possess teeth,
while others want them; and three of his ten genera re¬
pose solely on the peculiarities of the dentition. Since his
time increased attention has been paid to these important
parts. Blainville introduced the term Heterodox, in
which subdivision he includes those genera of which the
teeth, in number, form, and situation, are various and in
some respects anomalous. Sometimes, as in the Narwhal,
they are scarcely in the mouth at all; and several genera
are believed to be still more destitute of teeth. Desmarest
and Lesson have followed in Blainville’s track, and pursuing
the same course we shall now discuss, under the name of
Heterodontes, a perplexing and somewhat anomalous
group. It includes the Narwhal, the Diodon, the Hy-
peroodon, the Aodon, and the Ziphias,—which last com¬
prehends some of the most important fossils which have
been discovered.
Genus Narwhalus, Lacep., Cuv., Desm. Monodon,
Lin., Bon. Sea Unicorn of whalers. This genus has no
teeth properly so called, but only two long tusks straight
and pointed, implanted into the outer maxillary bones, and
projecting forwards in the axis of the body. It has no
dorsal fin.
This long established genus was formerly made to in¬
clude several species. Bonnaterre had two, and Lacepede
and Desmarest three; the first and last of these, viz N.
vulgaris ? Lacep., Desm. No. 707, Monodon monoceros,
Fab^, Linn., Narwhal, Bon.; and the N. Andersonii F
Lacep., Desm. No. 789, are now rejected as having been
181
Cetacea.
Description of Greenland.
^ Regne Animal, 291.
182
MAMMALIA.
Cetacea, introduced on insufficient grounds. There remains, there-
fore, only one species, viz.
N. microcephalus, Lacep., Desm. No. 788, Dr Fleming.
Monodon monoceros, Linn., Cuv., &c. Sea Unicorn. (See
Plate CCCXLIV, fig. 2.) This singular creature has rarely
two tusks developed at the same time ; the single tusk or
horn (as it is called) has usually spiral markings, though
these are sometimes absent; its length is from seven to ten
feet; and that of the whole animal twice or thrice as much.
The head is round and suddenly truncated; body slender;
no dorsal fin ; pectorals short; eye small; colour generally
light-grey, variegated with darker spots. Vertebrae 7, 12,
35, 54 (Scoresby); ribs twelve pair. The length of the
narwhal is usually stated to be about fifteen or sixteen feet,
which is to be understood exclusive of the tusk; so that,
with this striking appendage, it reaches to from twenty to
twenty-seven feet. Besides the elongated tusk, like a spi¬
rally twisted spear, there is literally no other teeth. When
very young, the germ of a tooth can be discovered on each
side of the mesial line, the subsequent elongation of one
of which produces the sharp weapon of the adult. Some¬
times both germs are developed, and produce two horizon¬
tal and diverging spears. Among a considerable number
of instances which might be adduced, we mention only one
of this more perfect development, which is preserved in
the Museum of Roeding at Hamburgh. In this specimen,
when they start from the bone (see Plate CCCXLIV,
fig. 1.), the tusks are only two inches apart; but they stea¬
dily diverge till their points are thirteen inches asunder.
The left tusk is seven feet five inches and the right seven
feet long. It much more frequently happens, however, that
only one of the germs grows, while the other becomes al¬
most obliterated, or remains shut up in the bone, like an
inert osseous nut. It is curious that the tusk is usually
found on the left side,—a fact for which we believe that
no sufficient reason has yet been assigned. At one time it
was stated that the tusks were peculiar to the males ; this,
however, is now found to be incorrect, and it seems doubt¬
ful whether they are not as common in the one sex as the
other. Fabricius’ account is probably the correct one,
1 ‘ Cceterum, tamfemince, quam mares dentatce.” Two uses
of the horn may be inferred from the statements of Mr
Scoresby ft one, that it is occasionally employed in breaking
the thinner ice, whereby the narwhal can more easily carry
on respiration than it otherwise could; and the other, that,
by the horn, it attacks its prey, first killing the great fish
on which it is to feed, because, from the smallness of the
mouth, it could not possibly devour them until it had put an
end to all resistance.
The sea-unicorn is regarded by the Greenlanders as a
migrating animal. Its favourite resorts seem to be amon^
the ice-islands of the pole, and the creeks and bays of Greem
and, Davis Straits, and Iceland. The natives regard it as
the precursor ot the great Mysticetus, and, as soon as it is
noticed, they prepare in earnest for the fishing of that vast
monster. Narwhals are quick, active, usually inoffensive
animals, which swim with considerable velocity/ When har¬
pooned they dive in the same manner, and almost with as
much rapidity, as the true whale, but not to the same depth.
I hey generally descend about 200 fathoms, then return to the
surface, and are despatched with the lance in a few minutes.
Ihe blubber supplies about half a ton of oil, which is re¬
garded of first-rate quality. The Greenlanders consider
loth the oil and flesh as very delicious nourishment. At
a time when the origin of the horns of these animals was
less known, and when they were more rare than now, they
wTere considered as invaluable. The physician, and still
more the charlatan, employed them, and superstition con¬
verted them to its use; for it is stated that the monks in
various convents procured the true horn of the unicorn,
which was believed to be endowed with unheard-of powers,
and obtained for them far and near the credit of curing the
most inveterate diseases. The ivory is esteemed superior
to that of the elephant; in the words of Giesecke, it far
surpasses it in all its qualities. It is said that the kings of
Denmark possess a magnificent throne made of these pre¬
cious horns, which is preserved with great care in the cas¬
tle of Rosenberg. They still form a highly valued article
of trade.
Anarnacus, ? Lacep. We shall here notice the An-
arnak, the fourth genus of Lacepede, the fifth of Lesson,
the nineteenth species of Fabricius,—a kind of Monodon
according to Bonnaterre, and of Heterodon according to
Desmarest. The characters are, two small teeth at the ex¬
tremity of the upper jaw, and no traces of any other teeth
in either jaw.
Anarnacus Groenlandicus f Lacep. Less. Monodon
spurius, Fab. Bon. Delphinns Anarnak, Desm. No. 780.
The two teeth are scarcely an inch in length, obtusely coni¬
cal, slender, and curved at their summit; body elongated;
whole size inconsiderable ; a dorsal-fin ; colour black ; the
flesh said to possess a laxative property. This genus rests
solely upon the authority of Fabricius. He says it frequents
the high northern seas, and seldom approaches the coast.
Genus Diodon, Lesson. The lower jaw supplied with
two teeth only, the upper having none; the lower jaw the
longer and stronger, somewhat convex; forehead depressed.
D. Sowerbyi, Less. Delphinus Sowerhyi, Blain., Desm.,
No. 785, hr. Cuv. Physeter bidens, Sowerby. (See Plate
CCCXLIV, fig. 5.) Lower jaw longer than the upper and
stronger, with two short lateral teeth ; upper jaw sharp, let
into the lower, having two impressions corresponding to the
teeth ; eye small; spiracle lunated, horns pointed forward ;
colour black above, nearly white beneath, marked with
streaks. Sowerby’s specimen was sixteen feet long and eleven
in circumference at the thickest part. Dorsal fin over the
vent. This animal was cast ashore near Brodie-House,
Elginshire.2 Its ordinary habitat and habits are wholly
unknown.
P. Desmaresti, Risso. Less. Fr. Cuv. Upper jaw short
and without teeth, lower much longer, convex, and having
near its extremity two large conical teeth, three inches
long, one broad ; eye small; pectorals short; dorsal fin
over toe vent; tail large and festooned; upper portion of
the body of the colour of polished steel, with a number
of white streaks arranged without regularity ; belly white ;
inside of the mouth bluish-black. Risso’s specimen was
fifteen feet long. According to the naturalist of Nice, who
alone has described and drawn this animal,3 it affects the
deep waters of the Mediterranean, and comes towards the
coast in the months of May and September. It very much
resembles the preceding.
Genus Hyperoodon, Lacep. Cuv. Less. Fr. Cuv. Three
great bony maxillary and occipital crests, separated by deep
arrows, w nch rise over the cranium and occasion a remark-
a > y rounded and prominent forehead ; beak short and very
s rong , palate supplied with a number of small false and
tuberculated teeth ? blow-hole crescent-shaped, horns point¬
ing forward. 1 1
Tyr Honjioriensis, Less. Delphinus Ilyperoodon, Desm.
No. 784. H. Butskof Bon. Lac6p.; including also
D. bidentatus, Bonnat. D. Diodons, Lacep. D.IIunterii,
’ ^ Northern Whale-Fisticry, 1823.
been long ago applied by all naturalists tofa genurof plectnognafhous ^ Dl°D0N iS extremeIJ iU-chosen,-seeing that it has
' Naturelle de VEurope Mind. Nice. 1826. T. iii.pL 3.
M A M M A L I A.
(‘acea. Desm. 782: called Bottle-nosed whale by Hunter, plate
- ~y—"10. Bottle-headed whale of Dale. (See Plate CCCXLIV,
fig. 8). False teeth in the upper jaw, and, allowing these
have no existence, still the name has been affixed by Cuvier to
a genus which undoubtedly exists, and which possesses mark¬
ed peculiarities in the prominence of the forehead, and
the shortness and flatness of the beak, produced by the
maxillary crest. The head is higher than it is broad; the
pectorals are very small; the dorsal fin, but little develop¬
ed, is within a fifth of the length from the tail. Colour
brownish-black above, verging towards white beneath.
Usual dimensions from sixteen to forty feet. Vertebrre
7, 9, 26, in all 42 (Jacob); ribs 9 pair. Two strong teeth
at the extremity of the lower jaw.
This genus was admitted upon the authority of M. Baus-
sard, an officer of marine, who examined two individuals,
mother and cub, which were stranded near Honfleur, and
who, with laudable zeal, published an account of them in
the year 1789.1 The circumstance on which rested the
claim of these specimens to be considered generic was the
total want of teeth in either jaw, and their having the up¬
per jaw and palate furnished with small unequal and hard
points, which were about half an inch long in the cub, and
somewhat larger in the mother. Baussard’s memoir ap¬
peared two years later than Mr Hunter’s description of his
B. bidentatusj1 which was admitted as distinct by Bonna-
terre, Lacepede, &c. Hunter says nothing of false teeth in
the palate, and mentions that two strong and robust teeth
existed at the extremity of the lower jaw. These, then,
were long regarded as two species. Bonnaterre, in descri¬
bing Baussard’s specimens, very unaccountably assigned to
them two teeth in the lower jaw,3 and thus very naturally
misled Lacepede, Illiger, and for a time even Baron Cu¬
vier.4 It was probably when holding this opinion, that
Cuvier, in visiting Mr Hunter’s museum, and examining
the head^ of his Bidentatus, came to the conclusion that
Baussard’s and Hunter’s specimens were one and the same
species, belonging, however, to a genus distinct from all
others. He attached the title of Hyperoodon to both.
H. Chemnitzianus ? D. Chemmtzianus, Desm., Blainv.
Length twenty-five feet; two teeth at the extremity of the
moveable or lower (but Desmarest has it upper) jaw; upper
jaw, much less thick and strong; body wholly black. A
considerable quantity of spermaceti was taken from the head
of this species which was captured near Spitzbergen in 1777.
It is the Balama rostrata? of Chemnitz, which Blainville and
Desmarest have classed among the Heterodons, and which
Cuvier suggests would be better united with the present
genus. But in truth the description is so short that no¬
thing satisfactory can be made of it.5
Genus Aodon, Lesson. No teeth; no tubercles on the
pa ate ; no whalebone ; body fusiform; forehead prominent;
jaw in a continuous line with the forehead.
A. Dalei, Less.; Delphinus Dalei, Blain., F. Cuv -6
. edentiduS) Schreber, Desm. 783; Delphinorhyncus
mcropterus, CuvJ (See Plate CCCXLIV. fig. 6.) Body
tusiform; some appearance of a neck; forehead prominent;
spiracle curved forwards; jaws prolonged in form of a
..cylindrical beak’ and in the same plane with the facial
une, the upper somewhat shorter than the lower; no teeth,
or only rudimentary; no rugosities on the palate; pecto-
ra s and dorsal very small; tail broad; colour shining-grey,'
dark above, light beneath; vertebrae seven, nine, and from
fifteen to twenty more; ribs nine; maxillary and inter¬
maxillary bones rising high above the frontal. This beau¬
tiful animal stranded itself near Havre; its resorts, ha¬
bits, &c. are wholly unknown. The species was originally
founded on the Botllehead of Dale, and designated as D.
edentulus by Schreber, Blainville, and Desmarest. The
name was applied afresh to a specimen stranded near Ha¬
vre in 1825, and examined by Drs Surirray and Blainville.
If Hunter wras right in saying that his Bidentatus was the
same as Dale’s, then the authors last quoted were incorrect
in associating that name with the Havre specimen. This
was Cuvier’s opinion, who says (in Beg. An.) that the name
was “ tres imp,ropre.n Nevertheless we retain it, as we be¬
lieve the species has been accurately described under that
designation.
Jhe Genus Ziphias being fossil, we omit. Cuvier
states that their craniums ally them to the Cachalots, and
still more to the Hyperoodons. He has distinguished three
species, all of which appear to be destitute of teeth.
Subdivision III. Great-headed Whales.
We now advance to the last subdivision of the ordinary
W’hales, which is distinguished from the others by having
the head much larger than the usual proportions, amount¬
ing to one-fourth, or even to one-third of the whole bulk.
J hough this section includes by far the most important ani¬
mals of the order, yet the number it contains is small, ex¬
tending to but three genera, and about twice as many as¬
certained species. All of these, from their extraordinary
magnitude, and the majority from their extreme value, have
from time immemorial engaged the liveliest and most ge-
neral inteiest; and hence, notwithstanding their gigantic
size, their structure is better known, and their habits and
disposition better ascertained, than those of most others of
the race.
Genus Cachalot,8 Bon. Desm. Cuv. Physeter, Linn.
Head neaily one-third of the whole size ; blow-hole single ;
no baleen ; no teeth, or only rudimentary, in the upper
jaw; lower jaw narrow, elongated, received into a furrow
in the upper one, armed on each side with a range of strong
teeth. Produces the spermaceti and ambergris of com¬
merce.
C. macrocephalus, Cuv. Bon. Lacep. Physeter catodon,
Linn. The Spermaceti Whale. (See Plate CCCXLIV-
fig. 11.) One or more humps on the back; lower jaw
having from 20 to 23 teeth on each side, a few rudimen¬
tary ones hid under the gums in the upper jaw; length 80
feet; colour greenish-black above, whitish beneath. Ver
tebrse, 7, 14, 38, = 59.
Some of our readers may perhaps be surprised, that un¬
der the generic term Cachalot we introduce to their notice
only a single species. This we do, not because we deny
the existence of others, but because these have not hitherto
been accurately described or established. Desmarest but
a few years ago admitted three subgenera and eight species ;
and Lacepede has three genera and eight species, including
his cachalots, physalus, and physeter.9 Every one who, pre-
183
Cetacea.
™ ST’;7,!?-- , , ’PM. 7V«m. 178J.
ciJ. p.lSo ‘18 ***’ aS5erted by LeSSOn>we *-“ ,the "e to the Ena/ct. MHhoi. It is very apparent in
s See <te. Fm. t. v. 325.' T.e,,. ten If. r-.... o., * A™"a‘> I817> »• ^ ,281-,
Mammiferes. 7 Rigne Animal, t. i. 2118.
I See Oss. Foss. t. v. 325. Less. 120. Fr. Cuv. 244.
1 vJ0™! a 'n the Basque tongue.
e shall here exhibit the older classification by copying that of I.aeepede.
i Cwhalot. Having blow-hole at the extremity of the snout.
2.* Submenus." Jth^p3 bUmP ^ bUmpS ^ baCL lstsFC- macrocephalus. 2d, C. Trumpo.
11 Con'thebaA?^‘ Havins blow-hole on the head, not at the extremity of the snout. 5th sp. P. cylindricus.
HI. Genus Physeterus. A fin on the back. 6th sp. P. Mkrops. 7th, P. Orthodon. 8th, P. Mular.
3d, C. Swinwhal.
Having a bump
M A M M A L I A.
184
Cetacea, vious to our own days, had attempted to reconcile the
' v-'—' many contradictory accounts which have been given of this
extraordinary animal, seems in his turn to have been foiled;
and it was reserved for Cuvier to cut at all events, if not
to unravel, the entangled knot. He remarks : “ The his¬
tory of this animal is so perplexed, so many beings have
been confounded with it, and the species have been so
wantonly multiplied, that to obtain more precision on the
subject, I have been obliged to review, chronologically, every
thing that naturalists have written concerning it.” And
after making this review, he concludes, “ Will it now be
regarded as great temerity in me, after having produced
the ideas of so many learned men, to maintain that up to
the present time, there is no ground to suppose that there
is more than a single species of Cachalot ?”
We take our description very much from that supplied
by Cuvier.1 It is one of the largest Cetacea, attaining the
length of 70 and 80 feet; its head is very large in all its
dimensions, and the length of that part does not appear to
have been much exaggerated when stated to be about a
third of the whole body; the snout is very obtuse, and
apparently truncated; the lower jaw, very narrow, is re¬
ceived between the upper lips as in a furrow, the teeth en¬
tering, when the mouth is shut, into cavities on the edge
of the palate. The blow-hole, 12 inches long, in the form
of an jT, is on the anterior extremity of the head, in the
centre of a round protuberance, formed of thick fibres,
which act as a sphincter. The pectorals are small and ob¬
tuse ; there is a small dorsal protuberance only, far down
the back, and sometimes two or three smaller ones; the
tail is very large. The colour above is a blackish and
somewhat greenish-grey ; below it is whitish, as also round
the eyes. The immense cavity at the upper part of the
head, covered only by a tendinous but very resisting inte¬
gument, is divided interiorly into compartments, also ten¬
dinous, which communicate with one another, and into great
cells filled with oil, which is fluid when the animal is alive,
but after death assumes the concrete form with which we
are familiar under the name of spermaceti. This substance
was long absurdly regarded as the brain, which, in truth,
occupies a very small space in the interior of the cranium.
The ambergris again, is found in the intestinal canal, but
in what precise part, and under what exact circumstances,
has not yet been ascertained.2
From the popular and highly interesting statement of Mr
Beale,3 we learn that the blubber on the breast of a large
whale is about 14 inches thick, and on most other parts of the
body from 8 to 11. This covering the southern whalers call
the blanket; it is of a yellow colour, and when melted down
yields the sperm oil. He states, that the opening of the ear is
oi sufficient size to admit a small quill. The throat is capa¬
cious enough to give passage to the body of a man, in this re¬
spect presenting a strong contrast to the contracted gullet of
the Greenland whale. According to Mr Beale, the peculiarity
of the sperm-whale which strikes every beholder, is the un¬
wieldy bulk of the head ; but this, instead of being an im¬
pediment, is conducive to its agility, for the greatest part
of it containing oil, the head receives a tendency to rise so
far above the surface, as to elevate the blow-hole for the
purposes of respiration ; and should the animal wish to in-
ciease its speed to the utmost, the narrow lower portion of
the head, which bears some resemblance to the cut-water
of a ship, is the only part exposed to the resistance of the
water, and it is thus enabled to press its ponderous way,
With the greatest ease, along the ocean.. “ Lord, how
manifold are thy works ! in wisdom thou hast made them
all.” “ They that ^go down to the sea in ships, that do Cerate-
business in the great waters ; these see the works of the ^
Lord, and his wonders in the deep.”
Mr Beale’s observations on the swimming of this whale
are curious. He states that, when undisturbed, it passes
tranquilly along, just below the surface of the water, at the
rate of about three or four miles an hour, its progress being
effected by a gentle oblique motion of the tail from side to
side. When proceeding at this rate, the body lies horizon¬
tally ; the water, somewhat disturbed by its progress, is
known by the whalers under the name of “ white-water,”
and from its appearance, an experienced eye can, from a
distance of several miles, judge of the rate at which the
whale is advancing. In this mode of swimming, it is able
to attain a velocity of about seven miles an hour. When
it swims at a more rapid rate, the action of the tail is alter¬
ed, the water is struck directly upwards and downwards,
and each time the blow is made with the low er surface, the
head sinks down eight or ten feet; and when the blow is
reversed, it rises out of the water, presenting to it only the
sharp cut-water portion.- This mode of sw imming is what
is called going-head-out, and in this way the whale can at¬
tain a speed of 10 or 12 miles an hour, which is probably
its greatest velocity.
f The sperm-whale is remarkably distinguished from its
congeners by its blowing. If the water is smooth, the first
part observed is the hump, projecting two or three feet
above the surface; at very regular intervals of time, the snout
emerges, at the distance of forty or fifty feet; from the
extremity of the snout the jet is thrown up, and when seen
from a distance, appears thick, low, bushy, and of a white
colour. It is formed, according to Mr Beale, by the air
expelled forcibly through the spiracle, acquiring its white
colour from minute particles of water previously lodged in
the external fissure. It is projected at an angle of 45°, in a
slow and continuous manner, for about three seconds, and
may be discovered at the distance of 4 or 5 miles. This le¬
viathan is, like the mysticetus, remarkably timid, and is rea-
ddy alarmed by the approach of any unlooked-for object.
When frightened it is said by the sailors to be “ gallied,”
probably galled ; and in this state it performs many actions
in a manner very different from the usual mode. One of
these is what is called “ sweeping,” which consists in mov¬
ing the tail slowly from side to side on the surface of the
water, as if feeling for any object that might be near.
This whale has also an extraordinary fashion of rolling over
and over on the surface, especially when harpooned; in
which case it will occasionally coil an amazing length of
rope around it. But one of its most surprising feats—as
it is of those of all the larger genera—is leaping completely
out of the wrater, or “ breaching,” as it is called ;—a prac¬
tice which, from its dangerous results to those around, is
regarded by mariners as far “ more honoured in the breach
than the observance.” The mode in which this appears
to be done is by descending to a certain depth, and then
making several powerful strokes with its tail, thus impart-
ing great velocity to the body before it reaches the surface,
when it darts completely out of the water. It seldom
breaches more than twice or thrice at a time, and in quick
succession ; the performance may be seen at the distance
of six miles from the mast head. We once witnessed a
Scotch whale performing a similar feat in Loch-fine, be¬
tween the loved shores of Minard and Castle Lachlan.
The sperm-whale seems now to have nearly vanished
from the northern hemisphere, though it is frequent in nu¬
merous places in the southern. In the year 1791, seventy-
1 Oss. Fossil, t. v. p. 339.
Observations on the Natural History of the Sperm- Whale. Lond. 1835. ^ L 6oc’
MAMMALIA.
ttacea. five vessels belonging to Britain were engaged in the trade,
^whilst in 1830 only thirty-one ships were sent out, all from
the port of London, with an aggregate burden of 11,000
tons, and 937 men. On its introduction into commerce
spermaceti was chiefly employed in medicine, in which its
use is still continued ; and it is also freely used in the cos¬
metic art. Its largest and most valuable application, how¬
ever, has long been in the manufacture of candles, in which
it maintains a rivalry with wax, as cheaper and not less ele-
1S5
gant.
Ambergris, according to its quantity, is a peculiarly va¬
luable product of the sperm-whale. The majority of sperm-
whales, however, do not yield it. Sometimes it sells in Lon¬
don at about L. 1 an ounce, but frequently two or three voya¬
ges are accomplished, and successfully too, without any am¬
bergris being obtained. It is seldom or never found in young
fish, but only in those of full size, or rather of great age. It
is generally considered the result of some diseased process
in the intestinal canal; the quantity obtained, therefore, is
very various. Sometimes 50 lb. have been extracted from
a single individual. Ambergris is frequently found in con¬
siderable quantities on the sea-shore, especially in the In¬
dian seas. It is highly esteemed by the orientalists. With
us its use is confined almost wholly to the perfumer.
C. sulcatus ? Abel Remusat. Lacepede. Reported to
have a furrow below the lower jaw, and to frequent the
Chinese seas.1
Aggadachgik ? Tschicduk ? Tschumtschugagah ? Pal¬
las and Chamisso. These are alleged Kamtschatkan va¬
rieties. See Less, and Fr. Cuv.
Genus Bal^na, Lacep. Cuv. Less. The right-whale
of northern fishers. No teeth ; blow-holes double; no
dorsal fin ; long whalebone or baleen in the upper jaw;
blubber thick and highly productive of oil.
B. mysticetus, Linn. Desm. (No. 798.) True whale,
Bon. Lacep. Greenland whale of Fab. and of fishers.
B. borealis, Klein. (See Plate CCCXLIV. fig. 12.)
Length about 60 feet; body of vast circumference ; fanons
more than 300 on each side of upper jaw, extending from
10 to 15 feet in length; colour black above, and partly
white beneath. Vertebrae 7, 13,— ? 2
In former times there was much exaggeration as to the
dimensions of this whale, 80 and 100 feet being assigned
as a frequent size, and 150 and 200 feet as not uncommon.
Some of the ancients stated, that it attained even a much
greater length. From the researches, however, of Mr
Scoresby, it seems irrefragably established, that the mys¬
ticetus never exceeds nor has exceeded 65 or 70 feet.3
That excellent observer was personally concerned in the cap¬
ture of 322 whales, not one of which exceeded 60 feet. It is
thickest a little behind the fins, whence it gradually tapers in
a conical form towards the tail, and slightly towards the head.
The head is remarkably large, forming nearly one-third of
the whole bulk. Its under part is flat, and measures from
16 to 20 feet in length, and from 10 to 12 in breadth.
When the mouth is open it presents a cavity as large as a
small apartment, and capable of containing a ship’s jolly-
boat full of men.
The mysticetus has no dorsal; fin, the pectoral fins are
about nine feet long and five broad. The tail is semilunar,
indented in the middle. On the most elevated part of the
head, about sixteen feet from the extremity of the jaw, are
situated the blow-holes, consisting of two longitudinal aper¬
tures, similar to the holes in the body of a violin, from eight
to twelve inches in length. The mouth, in place of teeth,
contains two extensive rows of baleen, commonly called
whalebone, suspended from the upper jaw and sides of the
crown bone. The plates are generally curved longitudi¬
nally, and give to the roof of the mouth the form of an Cetacea.
arch. They enclose the tongue between their lower ex Y—
tremities, and are themselves covered by the lower lip.
There are upwards of 300 of these plates on each side of
the jaw; they are longest in the middle, whence they o-ra-
dually diminish away to nothing both in front and behind.
The tongue is incapable of protrusion ; and the throat is
remarkably narrow,—according to Sir C. Giesecke, not ex¬
ceeding an inch and a half in width. The colour of the
true whale is mostly velvet-black, with white in some parts
underneath, and a tinge of yellow. The blubber, consti¬
tuting the most valuable part of the animal, forms a com¬
plete wrapper round the whole body from eight to twenty
inches thick.
Being somewhat lighter than the medium in which it
swims, the Greenland whale can remain on the surface with
its spiracles above water, without any effort or motion ; and
it is thus sometimes found asleep upon the waves. Though
bulky and clumsy, it is capable of making great exertion.
A whale extended motionless on the surface can sink, in
the space of five or six seconds, beyond the reach of its
human enemies. Mr Scoresby has observed a whale de¬
scending, after it had been harpooned, to the depth of a
quarter of a mile, with the average velocity of seven or
eight miles an hour. The usual rate, however, at which
they swim when on their passage from one station to ano¬
ther, seldom exceeds four miles an hour. Sometimes they
leap entirely out of the water, and sometimes they throw
themselves into a perpendicular position, with their heads
downwards, and waving their tremendous tails on high in
the air, beat the water with awful violence,—the sound re¬
verberating to the distance of two or three miles. This
feat is denominated “ lob-tailing.” They usually remain
at the surface to breathe, about two minutes—seldom longer;
and during this time they blow eight or nine times, and
then descend for an interval usually of five or ten minutes,
although sometimes, when feeding, of fifteen or twenty.
When harpooned or apprehending danger, the period is
greatly prolonged. The food of these animals, so vast and
strong, is too remarkable not to claim a moment’s attention.
They have no teeth, and hence we at once perceive that
they cannot prey either on the smaller of their own kind
or on fishes ; and their throat is so narrow that they could
scarcely dispose of such a morsel as might be swallowed
by an ox. Their well provided pasture grounds, however,
exhibit to the contemplation of the curious one of the most
wonderful manifestations of beneficence and power. Vast
portions of those spaces in which the whale is found, con¬
sist of what is called green-water ; as there is yellow and red
water, in other parts of the ocean. This was examined by
Captain Scoresby in 1816, and to his astonishment he
found that it obtained its colour from the presence of
countless millions of animalcules, most of them invisible
without the aid of the microscope, and of which the greater
number consisted of a species of medusa. These minute
creatures are not the immediate food of the whale; they
form, however, the prey of the various shrimps, small Crusta¬
cea, cuttle-fish, &c. upon which the monster of the deep is
supported. When this whale feeds it swims with considerable
velocity below the surface, with its jaws widely extended.
A stream of water consequently enters its mouth, and along
with it large quantities of minute crustaceous and mollus ¬
cous animals; the water flows out again at the sides, but
the food is entangled by the baleen or whalebone, which,
from its compact arrangement, and thick internal covering
of hair, does not allow a particle to escape, even of the size
of the smallest grain. The mysticetus, though often found
in great numbers, can scarcely be said to be gregarious ;
vol. xiv.
See Mem. du Museum, t. iv.
2 Giesecke.
3 Edin. Phil. Journ. vol. i.
2 A
I8G
MAMMALIA.
Cetacea, for it generally occurs either solitary or in pairs, except
when attracted to the same spot by an abundance of pala¬
table food, or a choice situation among polar icebergs.1
B. Nordcnper ?, Anderson, Bon., Lacep., Desm.
(No. 799.) B. fflacialis ?, Klein. We reject this species,
as established by mistake on insufficient grounds.2
B. antarctica, Delalande, Cuv., Desmoul., Lacep., Fr.
Cuv. Usually from forty to fifty feet long ; colour wholly
black; line of the forehead more depressed than in the
mysticetus ; pectorals longer and more pointed. Vertebrae
7, cervical, ail anchylosed, 15 dorsal, others 37, in all 59.
This species, nearly up to the present period, has been con¬
founded with the preceding and probably we might have
been still ignorant of the difference, had not M. Delalande,
during his residence at the Cape of Good Hope, prepared
one of these animals, and transmitted its skeleton to France,
where Cuvier soon detected its specific characters. The
whale of the Southern Seas is decidedly smaller than that
of the north, measuring only from thirty-five to forty-five
feet, though sometimes extending to fifty. Its baleen, owing
to the great curve of the upper jaw, appears to be relatively
longer, usually reaching to about nine feet in a fish of forty
feet. Whilst the pectoral fins appear longer and more
pointed, the lobes of the tail are less marked than in the
preceding species. This whale is found in the bays of
Terra del Fuego, and on the western coast of South Ame¬
rica ; it also occurs around New Holland, as well as along
the African shore. It visits the Cape of Good principally
in June. Its capture is more easily achieved than that of
the great Greenland species.
The ensuing quotations seem to us to indicate the exist¬
ence of other still undetermined species in the Arctic Re¬
gions. “ The whales,” says Mr Scoresby, “ seen in the
spring in lat. 80° N., which are usually full grown animals,
disappear generally by the end of April. Those in 78°
are of a mixed size ; such as resort to fields in May and
June are generally young animals. Those seen in 76° are
almost always of a very large kind. In some the head
measures four-tenths of the whole length, in others scarce¬
ly three-tenths ; in some the circumference is upwards of
seven-tenths of the length, in others less than six-tenths.
It is probable the difference in the appearance of the heads,
and the difference of proportion existing between the heads
and bodies of some mysticetae, are characteristic of differ¬
ent species or subspecies. Those inhabiting lower lati¬
tudes have commonly long heads and bodies compared to
their circumference, moderately thick blubber and long
whalebone: those of the mean fishing latitudes, that is
78° or 79°, have more commonly short broad heads, com¬
pared with the size of the body.”3 “ It is certain,” ob¬
serves M. Fremenville, “ that the fishers confound many
species which are still unknown. On my expedition to¬
wards the North Pole, in 1806, I remarked there were
great differences in the shape of the tails of the whales
which were taken, and which, without doubt, belonged to
species not yet accurately ascertained.” It is also more
than probable that another occurs in the southern seas.
I am certain, says Baron Cuvier, “ that at least a third
species exists at the Cape of Good Hope, seeing we have
satisfactory knowledge of vertebrae, which, with the cha¬
racters of the subgenus (without dorsal-fin), present also
distinct specific characters.”4
B. Gibbosa? Bon., Lacep., Desm., No. 801. Scrag-
whale and Hunchback of Dudley and the English ; B. a
bosses of the French; Knoten-Jisch of the Germans, and
of Anderson.
B. Nodosa ? Gmel., Bon., Lacep., Desm., No. 800.
Humpback whale of Dudley and the English ; Pflockfisch,
Anderson, Crantz, &c.
We cannot pass by these alleged species, so long and
widely recognised, without a few remarks. They are
classed together as subgenera of the true ivhale by Lace-
pede, Desmarest, and many others, whilst Bonnaterre asso¬
ciates them with the Gibbar. Cuvier throws doubts on the
existence of all these species, remarking that their right to
a place is founded upon some obscure passages of Mr Dud¬
ley’s paper in the Philosophical Transactions. The hump¬
back of Dudley {B. nodosa) should evidently be removed
from the true whales, because, according to Dudley him¬
self, it is a rorqual: “ the humpbacks have longitudinal
reeves from head to tail on their bodies and sides, as far as
their fins, halfway down their body.” 5 The Gibbosa, again,
he remarks, comes nearest the true whale in figure and for
quantity of oil; and, according to Anderson, it produces as
much oil as the Greenland whale. Though we cannot ac¬
curately characterize this Gibbosa, neither can we alto¬
gether reject it; and the following facts supply something
like additional evidence of its existence. Captain Day, a
most respectable southern fisher, mentions that he occa¬
sionally took humpbacks as well as sperm whales and fin-
ners;6 and Captain Weddell also states that he met with
humpbacks, besides sperm whales and finners.7 Captain
Colnett, likewise, whose voyage was undertaken to increase
our knowledge of the southern fishery, and who had many
whalers among his crew, familiarly speaks of the hump¬
back, as well as of the other kinds ; and humps are describ¬
ed by M. Abel Remusat and Lacepede as occurring on
the heads of the Punctata and Nigra, two alleged Japanese
species. We hence infer that attention should still be di¬
rected to the kind called Gibbosa.
B. Japonica ? Remus., Lacep., Desm., No. 802. Less.
B. Lunulata ? Remus., Lacep., Desm., No. 803. Less.
These species are described by Lacepede in a paper read
to the Institute in 1818, from Japanese designs communi¬
cated by Remusat, and the characters are detailed in the
Mem. de Mus. d'Hist. Nat. t. iv. 473. Their existence,
however, is very doubtful.
B. Kulcomoch ? Pallas, Chamisso, Less., Fr. Cuv.
B. Ischikagluch ? Pallas, Chamisso, Less., Fr. Cuv.
Pallas describes these species of the Kamschatkan Seas
with apparent accuracy in his Zoograph. JRosso Asiatica,
as does also Chamisso, the naturalist of the Rurick.8 They
are, however, far from being satisfactorily established.
B. Physalus ? Lin. B. Gibbar, Bon., Desm., No. 804.
Physalis, Scoresby. Balccnoptera Gibbar, Lacepede.
Finfisch, Anderson ; Razor-back of whalers. Fin on
the back, and no pectoral folds. There are no sufficient
grounds for the admission of this supposed species, which
seems to have arisen from some confusion with the ror¬
quals.9
Genus Rorqualus,10 Cuvier., Less., F. Cuv. (See
Plate CCCXLIV. fig. 13.)u No teeth ; a dorsal-fin ; folds
under the throat and chest; fanons in upper jaw, but short;
Cet?.c(
tise on the Arctic Regions which contains a t- ■1 < imP°rtai?t species, without referring the reader to Mr Scoresby’s elaborate trea-
first volume of the Edinburqh Cabinet T Hr ost history and description of the northern whale-fishery. Consult also the
Edition, 1835. rary, entitled Narrative of Discovery and Adventure in the Polar Seas and Regions. Fourth
3 J 2 Oss. Fossil, t. v. 360-5.
5 Phil Trans. No’. 387 n* 258 re- •• * °SS' Fossil‘ tt v- P- 368.
* Kotzebue's Expedition. P‘ ’ 9 Fq^ U> 530, ,0 „ 7. \Yoy^e to the South Pole’ PP- 2!), 34, 182.
:i For our representation of this animal , U " . i",, Rorqual in the Norwegian tongue means whale with folds.
ginal and highly characteristic sketch. ' ^ mdebte(1 to the kinclness oi Dr and Mr F. Knox, who furnished us with an ori-
MAMMALIA.
jtacea. blubber not thick, nor yielding much oil; blow-hole
-v"""'''double.1
R. borealis, Less. R. Boops, Fr. Cuv. The Great
Northern Rorqual, Balama Rorqualus. Bon., Desm. No.
806. The general form of the body is that of an im¬
mense cylinder, largest at the head, and gradually dimi¬
nishing to the tail; dorsal small, obtuse at the summit,
placed opposite the vent; pectorals thin, straight, and point-
187
ed at the extremity; blow-holes not situated on the mo t Hun erXscriLd itwhh ^ J°hn
elevated part of the head, but in advance of the pernen- and observed
elevated part of the head, but in advance of the perpen¬
dicular over the eye ; the upper jaw descends rapidly to¬
wards the lower, is not so long, and much weaker; the
baleen much shorter than in the mysticetus. Nume¬
rous folds cover the throat and chest, and extend to the
f, vai;!o.us fishes- devour them in quantities Cetacea,
which it w ould not be easy to conceive. Thus M. Desmou¬
lins states that szx hundred great cod, and an immense
quantity of pilchards, have been found in the stomach of
a single rorqual.
The plicae or folds from which the genus derives its
name constitute a singular structure, the precise use of
winch has not hitherto been very clearly stated. John
, . j? aiiu. uuatJIveu
that it must increase the elasticity of the integuments of
the part, but confessed he could not perceive wherefore
this should be, or how it was made useful. Lacepede also
particularly describes it, and it has since been generally
noticed by subsequent authors. It consists of a number of
abdomen. Colour black above, whitish underneath • inside OTt rV f r mq authors; It consists of a number of
of the folds pale red. Length from 100 to 110 feet' Ver thel UC ^ ° s’ nearly parallel, which commence under
tebra? 7, 15, 42; = 64. ^ to 110 feet. Ver- the lower hp, occupying the space between the two branches
The northern rorqual is the largest of the whale tribe tent- ^fSSf e°Wn tbe diroab covering the whole ex-
tlie mightiest giant of the “ great deep ” and nrobahlv the f. i fiC ieSu v10™ one h.11 tbe °ther, and terminate
most powerful and bulky of all created beings. Its head is folds iTof the pnin0me?‘tL rhe. e^ernal portion of these
to its entire length as one to four. It differs from the mm mrt« wir • cTi0^ t lG nei»hbouring skin, whilst the
ticelus in i,s body being proportionably tager and 2re ^* ”ore.ddi^ h"*- gene-
slender, in its form being less cylindrical, in possessing rnW Tbi fd \n S°T .SPecies of a beautiful red
dorsal-fin, in its skin or blubber being much thinner fsel the use of tbece 7 Tv Pr®bably the true account of
dom exceeding six inches), and in its^peed being heater inner ia7 tW 1 18 ^ : r°Tal has not’ in the
its action quicker, and more restless, and its condifctbolder! collects itTfood^hm^ °f ** CUC 6 m T1"01.1 the m?/S'
The blowing also is more violent, and its baleen much uTn /bf l. c d,; but to compensate for this it has
shorter and less valuable. The caus^of this last import he J i ^ ^ ^ °PenS its Prodi^^ mouth,
ant difference is very plain, and may be best illustrat- well, in whTcfkf Su^
rrrxnvT- l6 bC^mpan,,"?aen?ravinoSfsee P,ate contractog 2 Mdsthe Wato is exmfle?
f£<rLLIILln..'V!;,ch •here.»» ?•> of the whilst the strainer fonfed by the baleen retains theP can’
cranium of the mysticetus and (fig. 10.) of that of the ror¬
qual. It will at once be seen that the upper jaw of the
former is relatively larger, and much more curved; the in¬
tervening space in both is filled with baleen, which accord¬
ingly must be long in the mysticetus, and short in the ror¬
qual, the longest laminae seldom measuring four feet.
In Mr F. Knox’s account of the great rorqual, we are
informed that 314 plates were counted on each side; and
that, on further examination, it was found that these inva¬
riably extended mesially only about fifteen inches, and were
then succeeded by a vast number of smaller plates, which
gradually became less and less, till finally they were con¬
verted into bristles ; so that, correctly speaking, there were
probably nr* r ~ ~ ~ .. .
whalebone.
tured fish, which, entangled as it were within the folds of
an enormous net, become an easy prey.
This animal attains the vast length of from 100 to 110
feet,—Sir A. de Capel Brooke says 120,2—with a circum¬
ference of between 30 and 40, which is the same as that of
the mysticetus. Mr Scoresby remarks, “ that it seems ap¬
parently of the length of a ship, that is, from 90 to 110
m°re than once been actually measured
at 105 feet. Its blowing is very violent, and may be heard
m calm weather at a great distance. Though the species
ot this genus are sometimes at a distance mistaken for the
mysticetus, yet their appearance and action are so different
probably not fewer than 4000 or 5000 distinct nlates^nf *7 nia^.bc generahy distinguished. They seldom
b-
and soft, the fringed edge being as pliable as the hair on
the human head, and thus forming a sieve of the most per¬
fect kind. From the same source we also learn that the
posterior arch of the palate was so large that it could ad¬
mit a man, being thus like a great vestibule to the wind¬
pipe and gullet, which last was quite closed when first seen
and appeared as if it would admit with difficulty even the
human hand.
The proper nourishment of this genus is not only the
small medusae, shrimps, &c. which form the food of the
mysticetus, but also the medusae of larger size, and sub-
descend they very rarely throw up their tails into the air,
which is the general practice of the other.
The rorqual occurs in great numbers in the Arctic Seas
especially along the edge of the ice between Cherie Island
and Nova Zembla. Persons trading to Archangel have
often mistaken it for the right whole. It is seldom seen
amid much ice, and seems to be avoided by the mysticetus ;
and the whalers accordingly view its appearance with con¬
cern. It swims with a velocity, at the greatest, of about
twefve miles an hour. It is by no means a timid animal
YV hen closely pursued by boats it manifests little fear, does
=^Ks»SL-5i£L2te sssriisSSfSaSc:
l4«ehe °f *he i"diV“I'1!'1S inClude[' ,his h“ ^ te- to ofioii'naterre and
2 Bn JntZieSi' 1 nein'’ Rr;; Bala:mr>ter. Jubart, Lacep., Desm., 805 ; B. Boops, Lin.
. B. Rorqualw^Ron.; Balamopter. Rorqual. Lacep., Desm. 806; B. Musculns, Ian.
Cufi'pfrnn a’ Ha”ter : fal^pter. AcuUi-rostrata, Lacdp., Desm., No. 807.
Pear, we retain the WJate aTdisthSTbmrc^Ss'"in3^^^’tQSthT F°r reasoas which will presently ap-
exaimne the figures and descriptions on which these specie rest it will he fm.nd 316 extremel-v judicious. “ When we
them distinctive characters. When we come also to examine in detail ^ 1 ther6 are n° means b.v wbicb we can assign
*een more than one of them, I do not sav aTthe sa^e tTnm hnt even in .fi! ™168 ^em, we find no person who has
upon the testimony of another. Almost the only distinction we can mate^nfV'tVi ’ 3nd autbor is obliged to support himself
are disposed to doubt and deny their existence i 7 TsiT ^ be the reSUlt °f ^ 80 that -
i ravels in Lapland, p. 141. «
0 Ihomson’s Annals of Phil. vi. 314.
MAMMALIA.
133
Cetacsa. If harpooned, or otherwise wounded, it exerts all its ener-
v'—y—gies, flies off with the utmost velocity, and usually escapes.
This great speed and activity render it a dangerous object
of attack, whilst the small quantity of oil it yields makes it un¬
worthy of the particular attention of the fishers. But though
regular whalers usually decline the encounter, it is not so
with the natives of the polar regions, whose wants compel
them to make every exertion which promises the least suc¬
cess, and whose opportunities are frequently peculiarly fa¬
vourable.’* Sir C. Giesecke states, in regard to the Green¬
landers, that both men and women engage in the adven¬
ture,—the former in their keyacks, the latter in their bo-
miaks. The men in their light skiffs pursue the whale as
closely as possible, and continue to throw as many har¬
poons and lances into him as they can, until he dies of loss
of blood; and then all join their canoes, fasten to their
spoil, and carry it home, when it is faithfully divided. In
the words of the poet:
Trained with inimitable art to float,
Each balanced in his bubble of a boat;
With dexterous paddle steering through the spray,
With poised harpoon to strike his plunging prey;
As if the skiff, the seaman, oar, and dart,
Were one compacted body, by one heart
With instinct, motion, pulse, empow’red to ride
A human Nautilus upon the tide.
R. rostratus (see Plate CCCXLIV. fig. 13.), Knox.
Lesson. Balcena Rostrata, Fab., Lin., Hunter, Des., 8075
Balcenoptera acuto-rostrata, Lacep., Scoresby.
This is the smallest of the genus, twenty-five feet being
assigned as its extreme limits ; fanons short and white,
pectorals ovate, margins obtuse ; dorsal over the vent;
many deep folds under the throat and chest; colour black
above, white beneath ; interior of the folds red. For the
undisputed establishment of this species we are indebted to
the zeal and assiduity of Dr Knox. It is true that Fabri-
cius described it with his accustomed elegance and preci¬
sion ; that Mr Hunter likewise met with and delineated it;
and that Mr Scoresby’s work contains an exact represen¬
tation, supplied through Dr Traill. But notwithstanding all
this, the details which were collected were so slight and
meagre, that not only were much ignorance and error pre¬
valent concerning it, but many naturalists (of whom Ba¬
ron Cuvier, in 1823, was one, and Mr F. Cuvier, in 1836,
is another) were led to doubt even its existence.
Dr Knox’s specimen was taken in February 1834, near
Queensferry, Frith of Forth. It was a young one, measur¬
ing only ten feet. On obtaining possession of it, Dr K.
thought of suspending it horizontally, as in the posture of
swimming. “ By this means,” he remarks, “ the proper
character of the head and mouth were given, and this so
much altered the appearance of the animal, that the author
thinks all previous views extremely incorrect, besides tend¬
ing to mislead the naturalist as to the real capacity of the
mouth of the genus, which is really very great. The lower
part of the mouth is an enormous pouch or bag which, in
the great northern rorqual, must at times contain an in¬
credible volume of water.”1 We have yet to state how Dr
Knox established the fact that the lesser rorqual ought to
be considered as distinct. It was by means of the com¬
parative osteology of the two species, which exhibited the
following discrepancies:—
■Vertebha:.
Cervical. Dorsal. Remaining. Total.
Great rorqual, 7 15 43 65
Lesser do. 7 11 30 48
Before laying aside Dr K.’s brief notice, we must intro¬
duce a few of his remarks. “ Two bolster-like substances
filled the blowing canals, which are ’drawn from them at Cetac
the moment of breathing, by muscles provided for that pur- U
pose; the mechanism is admirable, and would sustain a
pressure from above, though the animal were to descend
thousands of fathoms.” Again : “ The cavity of the cra¬
nium, besides containing the brain and its membranes, in¬
closed also a very large mass of a vascular substance, close¬
ly resembling the erectile tissue : it filled a very large pro¬
portion of the interior of the cranium, extending from thence
into the interior of the spinal column, three-fourths of
whose cavity it also occupied, surrounding the spinal mar¬
row and nerves.” The olfactory nerves “ were at least as
large as those of man.”
The R. rostratus frequents the rocky bays of Greenland,
especially during summer, and also the coasts of Iceland
and Norway ; sometimes, though rarely, coming into lower
latitudes. In its habits it is very active, and its food con¬
sists of arctic salmon and of other fishes.
R. Mediterraniensis, Cuv.; BalasnopteraMediterraniensis,
Less.; R.musculus,\Arm., Lacep. Head remarkably round¬
ed ; upper jaw shorter than the lower; dorsal fin smaller,
situated four-fifths down the body, and much beyond the
vent; the folds extend to the vent; upper parts of the
body bluish-black, gradually declining on the flanks, and
giving place to a dull white beneath. Vertebrae, 7. 14. 40 ?
= 61? For the specific character drawn from the osteo¬
logy, see Oss. Fossil, t. v. 370. This species is not uncom¬
mon in the Mediterranean. One, seventy-five feet long,
was stranded near St. Cyprien, Eastern Pyrenees, in 1828.
R. antarcticus, Cuv., Fr. Cuv., Delalande ; Balcenop-
tera australis, Less.; Poeskop of the Dutch at the Cape.
Dorsal long and situated directly over the pectorals; a
hump upon the occiput; the colour black above, and pure
white beneath; the furrows under the throat and chest of
a lively rosy hue. Vertebrae. 7, 14, 31 ; = 52. For spe¬
cific characters of bones of the cranium, see Oss. Fossil,
v. 372.
" As we have seen that there is a mysticetus of the south¬
ern as well as northern seas, so within the last few years it
has been established that there is an antarctic as well as an
arctic rorqual. These discoveries recall to mind an obser¬
vation of Buffon’s, already more than once referred to, that
every great division of the globe has animals peculiar to itself.
It is true this law has not often been demonstrated in re¬
ference to the inhabitants of the ocean, although it has
been alleged that the intertropical zone includes the same
species throughout its whole circumference, and that as we
remove from it, both northwards and southwards, each
parallel has its peculiar kinds, of which the limits are ter¬
minated by the different meridians of the globe. In the
present state of our knowledge, it would be going too far
to affirm that none of the Cetacea plough their watery way
through every clime; but Mr Scoresby decidedly states
that the true Greenland whale has never been seen in Eu¬
ropean seas; and since the time that this startling statement
was made, all later discoveries have greatly tended to
confirm the views of the eloquent though not always accu¬
rate Buffon.
The southern rorqual but rarely approaches the coasts
at the Cape, since it is stated that only two or three are
observed there during the year; nor does any one think
of pursuing it, since its great power and velocity make it
not only difficult but dangerous of capture, and its produce
by no means repays either the risk or labour.
Balamoptera Abugulich ? ; B. Mangidach ? ; B. Aga-
machthick ? ; B. Aliomoch ? Pallas and Chamisso. These
four are alleged species of Kamschatka. See Lesson and
Fr. Cuvier’s works.
1 Proceedings of the Jloyal Society of Edinburgh, 1834.
MAMMALIA.
189
tacea. Balcmoptera punctulata?; B. nigra? ; B. ccerules-
• y ccns ?; B. maculata? Remusat, Lacep. The species
just named are supposed Japanese whales, of which we cer¬
tainly know little else than the names.1 Less., Fr. Cuv.
We have now reviewed forty-nine species which appear
to be established, eighteen which are probable, and thirty-
three which are extremely doubtful; and having thus com¬
pleted our proposed summary of the Cetaceous tribes, we
shall conclude by presenting such observations on their
comparative anatomy as may not be inconsistent with the
plan of the present treatise. We shall confine ourselves
to a few of the most important and peculiar parts of struc¬
ture.2
The most striking feature in the economy of the Cetacea
is, that they are Mammalia, and yet inhabitants of the
ocean. We do not now refer solely to their being vivipa¬
rous, whilst fish on the contrary are oviparous, though this,
unquestionably, forms a very marked distinction ; but, more
especially, to their being warm-blooded animals, and to
their discharging the all-important functions of the sangui¬
ferous system not through branchiae, but by means of lungs,
—thus breathing like quadrupeds, whilst their appropriate
element is the watery deep. Hence it is that they occupy
so singular a position in the classification of the animal king¬
dom. Whilst they inhabit the water like fishes, and while
in their mode of progression through their common element,
and in some of their more obvious external characters, they
seem to claim kindred with the other inhabitants of the
deep, yet in every essential respect they are unequivocally
marked as members, not of the last class of the Vertebratae
—that of fish, but of the first and most remote class—that
of the Mammalia. Fish are produced from spawn, and after
the lapse of weeks or months, emerge from their slimy beds
of weed or gravel, where they had long lain neglected by
their oblivious parents; but whales are brought alive into
the world, and the cub is nourished for months by its mo¬
ther’s milk, and disports itself around her in playful affec¬
tion, gambolling through the green translucent sea, like the
fawn or the lambkin rejoicing in their sunny glades. Fish,
again, are cold-blooded, their circulating fluid being only
exposed to the water through the medium of the gills; but
the whale has no gills, nor any thing resembling these or¬
gans ; on the contrary, it has true lungs, in a great bony
chest, into which the air is freely admitted, not indeed by
the mouth, but by a peculiar apparatus to be presently ex¬
plained, and through which it breathes the pure air of hea¬
ven like other Mammalia, and is thus enabled to maintain
an extremely high temperature of body even in the midst
of icy seas. Finally, fish never breathe, and if removed
from water, and brought into air, they almost immediately
expire; whereas the Cetacea, if deprived of air, and confined
beneath the surface, are speedily and literally drowned.
It is this constant demand for vital air, and the conse¬
quent necessity under which they labour of coming to the
surface to perform the function of respiration, which have
procured for them the distinctive appellation of Blowers :
and it is this same necessity which affords, in fact, the ex¬
planation of all the peculiarities of their structure. In most
of the Mammalia, the inhalations succeed each other with
great rapidity, and cannot be suspended for more than a
few instants. In man, for example, even when at rest,
they occur every three seconds, whilst the interval in the
Cetacea is augmented many hundred and even thousand
fold; for nearly all the whales can remain under water for
a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, and the larger
genera for an hour and sometimes nearer two. But re- Cetacea.
spiration is subservient mainly to the circulation of the'—^ 
blood; and the singular and anomalous fact just alluded to,
is enough to prove that there must be some grand peculia¬
rity in their sanguiferous system. This peculiarity has in¬
deed for many years been recognised, but without its true
use having been stated or understood. We may remark, then,
that in the Cete there exists a great reservoir for arterial
blood; and that when they come to respire on the surface,
besides simply filling the chest with air, they likewise fill
this reservoir with highly purified and arterialized blood.
This reservoir consists of an innumerable congeries, a vast
plexus of great arteries, which is lodged beneath the pleurae,
between the ribs, all round the spinal column, and even
within it, as within the cranium itself. The vessels form¬
ing this plexus rise chiefly from the upper intercostal, and
other great vessels near the heart; and they are found not
connected by close and frequent ramifications, which anas¬
tomose freely with each other, but to a great extent they
may generally be followed out and unravelled, as if they
were a set of vessels twisted a thousand times upon them¬
selves : nor do they appear to communicate directly with
any veins; and hence it is inferred that after the blood
from the lungs is vitiated, the pure fluid from this reservoir
finds its way gradually into the general circulation, and thus
for a long period maintains life. This structure was first
noticed and accurately described by John Hunter.3 Dr
Barclay then described it as existing within the spinal canal
of the beluga,4 and Dr Knox has more recently observed it
within the cranial cavity itself of the rorqual ;5 Messrs Des¬
moulins and Breschet have lately noticed it in France; and
to these latter gentlemen, we believe, belongs the merit of
associating this very peculiar structure with the no less ex¬
traordinary anomaly in the respiratory function of the or¬
der, in the manner we have now attempted to explain.6
Desmoulins likewise states that the temperature of the
blood in whales is 104°, which is considerably higher than
in most of the Mammalia.7
But while the Cetacea breathe on the surface of the wa¬
ter, it is equally true that they feed beneath it, and as the
access of water into the lungs would be as destructive to
them as to ourselves, we at once perceive that some pecu¬
liar apparatus is required whereby, when freely swallowing,
water may be prevented from entering the lungs. This is
effected by the peculiar structure of the wind-pipe. In man
and the other Mammalia, the mouth and nostrils terminate
posteriorly in a common pouch or bag, called the pharynx,
from which both the windpipe and gullet take their origin;
—the former and anterior, through an aperture called the
glottis, covered by the epiglottis as a valve, which usually
stands erect, but upon the passage of the food shuts down
like a lid, and so leaves the posterior opening free. In
the Cete, the blow-holes admit free ingress and egress of
air into and from the lungs; but as the mouth is at the
same time usually filled with water, a mechanism is pro¬
vided to prevent the fluid from rushing with the air into
the chest. The epiglottis, then, instead of being a simple
and usually unshut lid, is in the Cetacea a projecting tube.
In the shape of this tube there is great variety in the indi¬
vidual species; and as an example merely, we refer to
sketches (Plate CCCXLIV, figs. 3 and 4), which exhibit
the larynx in the common dolphin (as shewn in the Bn-
cyclop. Methodique), and in the narwhal (as represented by
Dr Fleming) ;8 in both of which it will be observed that the
rima glottidis is on the summit of a projecting cone or
‘ ^ee Mem- du Mus. iv. Desmarest’s Mammalogie, No. 808, 809, 810, 811, and Lesson’s Cetaces.
the at p^eTSlto!0 'he CoMI''I"TIVI: A*‘AT0My °f lhi» Encyclopedia (vol iii. p. 1.), and to
« Mm. 27211%, Science, ' ^ ^ V01- ^ ’ Priding, »/ Royal Sociely of Edinburgh, 1834.
7 Diet. Class, d’llisi. Nut., art. Cetaces.
8 Wern. Mem. vol. i.
MAMMALIA.
• pyramid. This cone is received into the lower end of the
blowing-£tt6<?, a circular aperture, surrounded with a strong
sphincter muscle which includes the glottis in its grasp,
thus uniting the wind-pipe and blow-tube, which cross the
fauces and divide it into a kind of double vestibule. This
union, however, does not appear to be fixed and perma¬
nent, so that we see no reason to conclude, as has been
done, that the parts are not under the power of the will,
and that the larynx cannot at pleasure be withdrawn from
the blowing canal.
This is a physiological point of considerable importance,
as on it depends the solution of the question now agitated
regarding what forms the proper substance of the jets d’eau
of the whale. We have already stated that the larynx en¬
ters into the lower aperture of the blowing-tube, the spiracle
considerably enlarges immediately above this aperture, and
proceeds upwards and forwards, through the bones and soft
parts, till it reaches the summit of the head. The tube is
usually divided by a septum into two canals, which in the
greatest whales open by two blow-holes, whilst in all the
smaller the septum ceases, and the spiracle terminates as
it begins by a single aperture. It was long supposed that
the liquid discharge of the spouting, was chiefly owing
to the water which the Cete take in with their food, and
which, if swallowed, would only incommode them. But in
opposition to this, it has recently been maintained, that
the pioper egress of the water is the same as its ingress,
and that by contracting the surrounding muscles, the throat
and mouth can easily be cleared of fluid. The spiracles,
moreover, have a secretion peculiar to themselves, and it is
now the prevailing opinion among naturalists, that it is
chiefly this secretion, together with the superfluous vapour
of the lungs, which, along with the expired breath, forms
the pioper substance of the projected column. We venture,
however, to express our doubts whether this point is either
definitely or satisfactorily established. It would appear that
there is an allowed difficulty arising from the great quantity
of tiie fluid frequently expelled. This is met by the state-
inent, that sometimes the ejected air comes in contact with
the supernatant water, and raises quantities along with it.
\\ ith perfect cognisance of these opinions, however, we find
that M. Lesson, from much personal observation, dissents
from the recently prevailing view, and, as late as 1828, main¬
tains the old and now often-scouted opinion. He states
that from having often seen the phenomenon, and frequent^
ly within the distance of a few yards, he feels constrained to
oppose the modern hypothesis. Drs Quoy and Gaimard,
though they allow that sometimes no water is expelled dur¬
ing expiration, yet having often observed that during stormy
weather the jets took place both more frequently and more
abundantly, account for the fact on the supposition that, as
it is then the Cetacea feed most freely, the projection of
the water takes place chiefly when they are engaged in this
important process. Desmoulins expresses his opinion thus-
It is not water, but mucosity, which is expelled by the
blow-holes during expiration ; the animal spouts water only
after deglutition, or in moments of rage.” This twofold
view of the matter we are disposed to consider as rather fea¬
sible; and in the meanwhile we may remark, that as the
mechanism is different in almost every genus, so the cha¬
racter of the blowing also differs greatly,—indeed to such
an extent, that an experienced observer can, we believe
even at a distance determine the species at any time during
day -light; the utility of which to the whalers need not be
insisted upon.
The blow-holes are very extensive apertures, being not
less in the larger genera than a foot in length. This is not
more than sufficient when the animal is breathing upon the
surface of the water; but a new train of thought is suggested
when we reflect that the whale often descends to the depths
of the ocean, and thus endures a pressure which can scarcely
be conceived, amounting according to Mr Scoresby to 154
atmospheres, or about a ton upon every square inch. How
then is this pressure to be resisted, and the water prevented
from entering the lungs, and thus destroying life ? This is
effected mainly by a set of valves which act upon the same
principle in all the genera, but which are varied in each by
a number of contrivances equally beautiful and efficient.
We shall illustrate this remark, by epitomizing a short por¬
tion of Pallas’s excellent account of the apparatus in the
white whale. The blow-hole opens in the most elevated
part of the head, and this opening is circumscribed by a
double arch. The skin is drawn towards the orifice, and
foims upon it a soft papillary valve, which prevents the en¬
trance of all foreign matters. The skin over the valve is
scarcely two lines thick, but internally it envelopes a pro¬
jecting body, which is about two inches thick, and is com¬
posed of a net-work of tendinous fibres hard as wood,
and scarcely capable of being cut with a knife. A similar
net-work of tendinous fibres, arranged in circles, forms, in
this situation, the external wall of the spiracle; and two
strong muscles rising from the frontal bone, and peculiar
to the tube, acting on these bodies, most effectually shut
them down, and so secure the canal. A similar valvular
apparatus exists over the meatus auditorius in those species
in which it is open, and not covered, as it is in most, with
a strong and impenetrable membrane.
This leads to a few remarks on the skin, or general ex¬
ternal covering, which is often subjected to such inconcei¬
vable pressure. The integuments, though soft and flexible
like the finest velvet, are so curiously constructed as to en¬
able them to present the most effectual resistance. We say
nothing of the epidermis, with its mucous-oily covering, nor
of the rete mucosum, but proceed to what are regarded as
two layers, viz. the cutis vera and the lard or blubber, the for¬
mer of which is represented as thick and strong, and the lat¬
ter is held to correspond with the subcutaneous fat in other
animals. This is the view that naturalists in general, influ¬
enced probably by analogy, have taken; it is espoused
by Ray, Tyson, Pennant, Hunter, Scoresby, Cuvier, &c.
But we believe that, according to this account, the great
peculiarity of the structure is disregarded, and the essen¬
tial character, so much desiderated, is overlooked. Ac¬
cording to Pallas, Giesecke, and Professor Jacob, there is
no distinction between the true skin and the blubber, and
the whole is nothing more than modified skin. The struc¬
ture, upon close examination, is found to consist through¬
out of an interlacement of tough fibres, crossing each other
m every direction, as in the cutis vera, but having a some¬
what more open texture, to afford room for the oil. Had
the integuments consisted chiefly, as is usually stated, of a
soft wrapper of common fat, though it had been double in
thickness to that usually found in whales, yet it could not
have so well resisted the superincumbent pressure; whereas,
by its being wholly a modification of the true skin, always firm
and elastic, and in this case never less than several inches,
a,nd sometimes between one and two feet thick, it operates
ike so much caoutchouc, and possesses such density and
elasticity that the more it is pressed it resists the more.1
Other uses of this peculiarity of the skin will readily sug¬
gest themselves. The order is warm-blooded, and yet is
exposed to the keenest cold, in the most remote recesses of
the trozen seas. Hence this v/rapper or blanket, as it is ap¬
propriately called, being a bad conductor of caloric, will at
a^^X5l“:LBr^andIl0mSet'SaCC0Un‘ structure of the iutegume„,» of ,he „ha]e, «.**»**„&*»,
(tacea. once resist the surrounding cold, and retain the animal heat,
w-y—^ On this account, such an integument would seem to be es¬
sential; but its bulk and quantity are enormous,—sometimes
weighing thirty tons. This might appear sufficient to over¬
whelm the animal; but, on the contrary, the fatty mass
being specifically lighter than water, instead of oppressing
its owner, buoys it up,—thus making it relatively lighter
and more active.
But we must conclude these interesting generalities by
a short reference to the brain. It would appear that the
ooservations made on this organ are by much too few to
enable us to come to any thing like general results ; and
in systematic writers, we meet with the utmost contrariety
of statement. Thus Cuvier, judging from the limited op¬
portunities he had then enjoyed, speaks of the brain of the
Cetacea generally as distinguished for its great breadth
and heighth ; whilst 1M. Lesson, on the other hand, states
that it is always very small in relation to the size of the
animals.2 Mr Scoresby states, that in a young B. mysticetus
which weighed 11,200 lb., the brain weighed only 3 lb. 12
ounces, which is only jgp gth part of the whole animal. In
a young R. rostratus which measured 17 feet, Mr Hunter
found that the brain weighed 4 lb. 8 ounces; and M. De-
lalande reports, that in a Rorqual nearly 80 feet long, the
brain only measured 13 inches by 9. On the other hand,
MAMMALIA.
191
Ciivier states, from five examinations of the porpoise and Cetaeea
doJphm, that, on the average, the brain weighed-Cd partC!^
of the whole. 1 his statement regarding these smaller
groups is corroborated by Tyson and Ray; and Tiede-
mann, the highest living authority in this department, re¬
marks : ‘ That the brain of the dolphin is distinguished
from that of monkeys by its great size and development,
and next to the brain of the orang-outang, approaches
nearest m this respect to that of man.” From these data it
would follow, that the organ is very large in the smaller
PWvttt? ICryAma11 in the larger. We insert (Plate
CCCXL1V. fig. 7.) a sketch of Tiedemann’s plate of the
base of the brain in the dolphin; and may add that, consider¬
ing the marked effect which the relative size of this impor -
tant organ generally produces on the character of the ani¬
mal, it seems desirable that every opportunity should be
embraced to accumulate accurate information on the sub¬
ject.
. Let it: be borne in mind by the rising race, that in rela¬
tion to the cetaceous tribes, an enterprising naturalist of
accurate habits, well versed in the recorded observations of
is predecessors, and at the same time inclined to original
investigation, has still before him a vast, and in several of
its departments, an almost unexamined field. We here
close our account of the class Mammalia. (x.)
Achius,
Agoutis,
At, . .
Ailurus,
Algazel,
Alouattes,
Alpaca,
Amphibia,
Anarnacus,
Ant-eaters,
Antelope, .
Antilope, .
Aodon, . .
Apes, . .
Arctomys, .
Argali,
Armadillo,
Arnee, .
Arvicola, .
Ashkoko, .
Ass, . . .
Ateles, . .
Atherura, .
Auchenia, .
Aurochs, .
Axis,
Aye-aye, .
Baboons, .
Babyrussa,
Badger,
Balaena,
Bats, . ,
Bathiergus,
Bear, . .
Beaver,
Beluga,
Bison, . .
Page
142
141
142
106
162
94
157
123
182
143, 144
162
161
183
89
131
165
143
168
135
151
153
93
139
157
166
161
131
93
149
107
185
98
137
105
137
180
166
1 Lee, d’Anat. Compares, ii, 2G5.
Blowers, .
Bobac, .
Bos, . .
Bouquetin,
Bradypus, .
Buffalo,
Bull, . .
Cachalot, .
Callithrix,
Camel, .
Camelus, .
Camelopard,
Camelopardalis,
Canis, . .
Cape-cavy,
Capromys, ,
Capybara,.
Caracal, .
Carnivora,
Castor,
Cat, . .
Cavia, . .
Cavy, . .
Cebus, . .
Centenes, .
Cephalotes,
Cercocebus,
Cercopithecus,
Cervus,
CETACEA,
Anatomy of,
Blow-holes of,
Blubber of,
Chamois, .
Chati, . . .
Cheiromys,
Cheiroptera,
INDEX.
Page Page
183 Chickara, . . . . 162
131 Chimpanzee, ... 89
165 Chinchilla, . 135 & 141
164 Chiru, 162
141 Chittah, .... 121
167 Chlamyphorus, . . 143
160 Chrysochloris, . . 103
Civets, . . . . HQ
183 Coatis,. .... 107
92 Coipu, 138
156 Condylura, . . . 104
156 Cow, 166
161 Cricetus, .... 134
161 Cynocephalus, . . 93
111
151 Daman, .... 151
132 Dasyprocta, . . . 141
140 Dasypus, . . . . 143
123 Dasyurus, .... 127
105 Deer, . . . 157 & 158
137 Delundung, . . . H8
122 Delphinine, . . . 172
140 Delphinorhynchus, . 173
141 Delphinapterus, . . 181
94 Delphinus, . . . 174
104 Didelphis, . . . 126
100 Digitigrada, . . 108
92 Diodon, .... 182
91 Diplostoma, . . . 137
157 Dipus, 136
168 Dogs, 112
189 Dolphin, . . . . 174
190 Dormouse, . . . 132
190 Dromedary, . . . 157
163 Duck-billed Platypus, 145
122 Dycoteles, . . . 149
130 Dynops, .... 100
98 Dziggithai, . . . 152
n Page
Dugong, .... 170
Echidna, . . . . 145
Echimys, . . , , 132
EDENTATA, . . 141
Effodentia, . . 142
Elephants, . . . 147
Elephas, .... 146
 158
Encoubert, . . . 143
Erinaceus, .... 102
Equus,  
Ereteson, . . . . 137
Fallow-deer, . . . 160
Eelis, 120
Fennec, .... 117
FERJE, .... 98
Ferret,   oq
Fiber, 135
Flying Lemur, . . 102
Fox> 116
Foumart, .... 109
Galago, .... 97
Galeopithecidne, . 102
Galeopithecus, . . 102
Gayal, 257
Gazelle, . . . . j 62
Gennets, . . . . j 18
Genetta, . . . . H8
Georychus, . . , 135
Geomys, .... 137
Gerbillus, .... 134
Gibbons, .... 91
Giraffe, . . . . 161
GLIRES, .... 129
Globicephalus, . . 179
Glossophaga, . . . 101
Hint. Nat. des Cetac'v, 23.
192
MAMMALIA.
Index.
/ Glutton, .
GNAWERS,
Gnu,
Goats, . . .
Grampus, . ,
Greenland Whale
Grison, . .
Guenon,
Guinea-pig, .
Guevei, , .
Gulo, . . .
Halicore, . .
Hamster, . .
Hares, . . .
Hedgehogs,
Herpestes, . .
Heterodontes,
Hippopotamus,
Hogs, . .
Horse, .
Hyaena,
Hydrochaerus,
Hydromys,
Hylobates,
Hyperoodontes,
Hypoderma,
Hyrax,
Hystrix,
Ichneumon,
Ictides,
Indris, . .
Inia, . .
Innuus, . .
Insectivora,
Jacchus,
Jackals,
Jaguar,
Jerboa,
Kangaroos,
Koala, .
Kinkajou, .
Lagomys, .
Lagothrix, .
Lama, . .
Lemming, .
Lemurida:,
Lemur,
Lemurs,
Leopard, .
Lepus, . .
Lerot, . .
Lion, . .
Loris, . .
Lutra, . .
Lynx, . .
Macacus, .... 93
Macroglossus, . . 100
Macropus, . . . 125
Macrorhinus, » . 124
Malbrouc, ... 92
MAMMALIA,
Definition of the term, 73
Page
108
129
163
163
178
187
108
92
140
162
108
170
134
139
102
118
181
148
149
152
119
140
132
91
182
100
151
139
118
107
97
172
93
102
96
116
121
136
128
129
107
140
94
157
135
96
97
97
121
139
132
121
97
111
123
Page.
MAMMALIA,
History of the science, 74
Linnaeus’s arrange¬
ment of,
Illiger’s do.
Temminck’s do.
Cuvier’s do.
Manatus, .
Mandrills,
Mangouste,
Manis, . .
Marimonda,
Marmots, .
MARSUPIALIA,
Marten,
Megaderma,
Megalotis,
Meles, . .
Mephitis, .
Meriones, .
Mice, . .
Mink, . .
Moles, . .
Molossus, .
Monkeys, .
Monotrema,
Morse, . .
Moschus, .
Mus, . .
Muscardine,
Musk-deer,
Musk-ox, .
Muntjaks,
Musmon,
Mustela,
Mycetes,
Mydaus,
Mygale,
Myopotamus,
Myopteris,
Myoxis,
Myrmecophaga,
Narwhalus,
Narwhal, . .
Nasua, . . .
Noctilio, . .
Nycteris, . .
Nyctonomus,
Nyl-ghau, . .
Ocelot, . .
Opossums,
Orang-outang,
Ornithorhynchus,
Orycteropus,
Oryx, .
Otaria, .
Ouistitis,
Otters, .
Ovis,
Ox, . .
Oxypterus,
Pacos, . .
Pachysoma,
PACHYDERM AT A, 146
Panther, , . . , 121
78
80
82
87
170
93
119
144
94
131
125
109
101
117
107
109
134
133
109
104
100
92
144
125
157
132
132
157
167
161
164
109
94
110
103
139
101
132
143
181
182
107
100
101
100
162
122
126
90
145
143
162
124
96
111
164
167
180
141
100
Pangolins,
Paradoxurus,
Peccaries, .
PECORA,
Pedetes,
Pekan,
Pelagius, .
Perameles,
Petaurus, .
Phacochoerus,
Phalangers,
Phalangista,
Phascogale,
Phoca, . .
Phocaena, .
Phyllostoma,
Pika,
Pilori, .
Pinnipedia,
Pithecus, .
Pithecia,
Plantigrada
Polecats,
Porcupine,
Porpoise, .
Potaroo,
Potos, . .
Priodontes,
Prionodon,
Proboscidea,
Procyon, .
Pteromys, .
P ter opus, .
Puma, . .
Page.
. 144
. 118
. 150
. 154
. 137
. 109
. 124
. 127
. 128
. 149
. 128
. 127
. 127
. 123
. 177
. 100
. 140
. 133
. 105
. 90
. 96
. 105
. 109
. 139
. 177
. 128
. 107
. 143
. 118
. 146
. 106
. 130
. 99
. 122
QUAD RUM AN A, 88
Quagga, .... 153
Rabbit, .
Racoon,
Rasse, .
Rats,
Ratel, .
Red-deer,
Rein-deer,
Rhinoceros,
Rhinopoma,
Rhinolophus,
RODENTIA,
Roe,
Rorqual,
Rorqualus,
Roussettes,
ruminating
MALS, .
Rusa, . .
Ryzaena, .
Sable, .
Sagouins, .
Saguinus, .
Saimiri,
Saki,
Sapajous, .
Scalops,
Scaly-lizards,
Sciurus,
Sea-lion, .
140
106
118
133
108
160
157
150
101
101
129
160
186
186
99
154
160
119
109
95
95
95
96
93 & 95
103
144
130
124
NI-
Page
Sea-horse, . . . . 124
Sea-unicorn, . . . 181
Seals, 123
Semnopithecus, . . 92
Sheep, 164
Shrews, . . . . 102
Simiadae,, ... 89
SlMIAE CATARRHINI, 89
SlMIAE PLATYRRHINI, 93
Skwik, 110
Sloths, 142
SoLlDUNGULA, . . 151
Soosoo, 172
Sorex, 102
Spalanx, .... 137
Spectre bat, . . . 100
Spermac H whale, . 183
Squirrels, . . . . 130
Stag, 160
Stein-bock, . . . 164
Stellers, . . . . 172
Stellerus, . . . . 171
Stenorhynchus, . . 124
Surikate, . . . . 119
Sus, 149
Swine, 149
Synetheres, . . . 139
Talpa, 104
Tamandua, . . . 144
Tamarins, ... 96
Tanrecs, .... 105
Taphozous, . . . 101
Tapir, 151
Tardigrada, . . 142
Tai’sius, .... 97
Teledu, . . . . HO
Thrasher, . . . . 178
Thylacinus, . . . 127
Tiger, 121
Trichechus, . . . 125
Troglodytes, ... 89
Tupaia, .... 103
Unau, 142
Ursus, 105
Urus, 166
Vampires, . . . . 100
Vespertilip, ... 101
Vespertilionid/E, . 98
Vigogna, . . . . 157
Yiverra, . . . . 118
Wanderou, ... 93
Walrus, . . . . 125
Wapiti, .... 159
Whales, . . . . 182
Wild boar, . . . 149
Wolverine, . . . 108
Wolves, . . . . 115
Wombat, . . . . 129
Yack, 167
Youze, 121
Zebra, 154
Ziphias, .... 183
193
M A X
Xn. Of all the objects which nature presents to our observa-
v—^~^tion, there is none that so powerfully demands our atten-
the ti°n’ none ^nc^ee^ which it 80 much concerns us to
*T't> 1Cbe intimately acquainted, as man. If we admit that he is
the only being possessed of reason, there is no other crea¬
ture which can for a moment be brought into competi¬
tion with him. It must be allowed, indeed, that, whether
we consider him as a solitary being, superior in form, struc¬
ture, and intelligence, to all the other classes of animated
nature; or in his social character, as possessing the senti¬
ments of affection, friendship, gratitude, benevolence, and
so constituted as to be capable of accommodating himself
to every variety of external circumstances, as well as of
making continual advances in knowledge and in wisdom ;
his position is such, that to his fellow-men he certainly pre¬
sents the most interesting object to which they can direct
their attention. Hence a full examination of everything
relating to the human species would include nearly all that
is curious in nature, or interesting and useful in science,
tts uture, The present work, for instance, embodying a laborious
iEtc,,an(l digeSt of the vast mass of human knowledge, is in fact lit¬
tle else than a collection of details and reasonings, which,
either mediately or immediately, relate to man. In the first
place, he may be considered as constituting a tribe or spe¬
cies of animals differing from all others in his structure,
functions, and diseases, and, above all, as possessing the
faculty of reason. Now the structure and organization of
man constitute the subject of one science ; his functions
that of another ; the diseases and accidents to which he is
exposed belong to a third; whilst the nature and exercise
of his reasoning powers are treated of under distinct heads,
as separate branches of human knowledge, the respective
boundaries of which have been clearly defined. Secondly,
man may be considered as differing from others of the same
species or tribe, in height, in features, in colour, in disposi¬
tion, and in manners ; and these secondary varieties may be
viewed as either original and indelible, or as superinduced
by the gradual operation of external circumstances, whe¬
ther physical or moral; in short, as the effects of a number
of minute causes, acting continually during a long tract of
ages, and ultimately rendered apparent in the differences
observable amongst the inhabitants of different parts of the
earth. Thirdly, man may be considered as a dependent
and an accountable being, in relation to his Creator, his
neighbour, and himself; in which view, his appetites and
passions, as well as his moral and religious duties, the na¬
ture and history of his social condition, the peculiar cha¬
racter of his civil and political institutions, and the senti¬
ments connected with the relation in which he stands to
the Supreme Being, the author of his existence, and upon
whom he continually depends, form respectively the sub¬
jects of another class of sciences, having for their princi¬
pal object and end to teach him how to employ to the
best advantage those high powers and faculties with which
it has pleased God to endow him, for promoting his own
welfare and that of his fellow-creatures. Lastly, man may
be considered with respect to the relations which subsist
between him and the inferior classes of the creation, as
these minister to his necessities, supply his wants, abridge
his comforts, or oppose his progress. In his relations to
the external world, he is prompted, first by necessity, and
afterwards by curiosity, as well as by a desire to extend
his dominion, improve his condition, and advance the well¬
being of his kind, to explore the different kingdoms and
compartments of nature, and to ascertain the laws by which
they are governed, by examining and classing the various
VOL. XIV.
phenomena therein observed ; and hence spring the natu- Man.
ral sciences in all their complicated variety, yet mutual re-'''“""‘v-—'
lation and dependence.
In a word, of those writers who treat directly of man, Sciences
the philosopher and the moralist consider him in the ab- which have
struct ; the geographer describes him as he exists in com-man for
munities; the historian traces the origin of society, the^hetirob'
progress of man in arts, civilization, and refinement, and^eC *
the changes which have taken place amongst the human
species, either from the operation of physical causes, or
from the folly, wickedness, and ambition of princes and
rulers; the biographer treats of man as an individual, and
exhibits the effects of exalted virtue, eminent abilities, or
striking vices, both on their possessor and on the commu¬
nity at large. It is the business of the naturalist to de¬
scribe the external form of man, as it differs from that of
other animals ; to consider the varieties thereof which ob¬
tain amongst different nations, and the more striking pe¬
culiarities which are occasionally found in individuals; and
to describe the habits and manners of the human species,
the progress of man from infancy to death, the duration of
life and its causes, and the effects produced upon the body
by death. The natural history of man, in its most com¬
prehensive sense, constitutes a subject of immense extent
and endless variety ; one, indeed, which would demand a
familiar acquaintance with almost the whole circle of human
knowledge, and a combination of the most opposite talents
and pursuits. But this labour, much too extensive to be
executed by any individual, is divided into several subor¬
dinate branches. The anatomist and the physiologist un¬
fold the uses of the corporeal mechanism ; the surgeon and
the physician describe its diseases ; the metaphysician and
moralist occupy themselves with the functions of mind and
with the moral sentiments. Man in society, his progress
in the various countries and ages of the world, his multi¬
plication and extension, form the province of the historian
and the political economist.
Our principal object at present is to consider him chiefly Object of
as an object of zoology, to describe him as a subject of the tb*s ar.^'
animal kingdom, to examine the distinctions between him cle.’ dl®'
and other animals, and to attempt to account for the prin- subject 6
cipal differences observable between the various races of J
mankind. But, even in this comparatively limited view of
the subject, the questions which arise are of the very high¬
est interest and importance ; whilst the difficulties by which
the inquiry is beset are such as to require the greatest cau¬
tion in the examination of evidence, and a watchful anxiety
to avoid rash or hasty generalization. “ Les influences
physiques des climats et des temperatures,” says M. Virey,
“ celles des territoires dans toutes les regions habitees de
la terre, faction prolongee des nourritures, les maladies, et
les vanetes de race apportees dans les constitutions hu-
maines, fempire des habitudes sociales conservees durant
plusieurs ages, et qui ne modifient pas moins les intelli¬
gences que les corps, enfin les effets reunis de tant de
causes long-temps agissantes, imposent de laborieuses com-
binaisons pour en apprecier les resultats, et les epurer par
une judicieuse critique.” In fact, the inquiries which
claim our attention in a mere zoological survey of the hu¬
man species are numerous and intricate. What climates,
what degrees of heat, can man endure ? How is he en¬
abled to bear all the diversified influences of such different
abodes as those in which he is found ? Is he indebted for
this power of adaptation to the strength and flexibility of
his organization, or to his mental functions, his reason, and
the arts which he has thence derived? Is he a species
2 B
194
M A N.
Man.
Definition
of Lin-
nseus.
Anthropo¬
morphous
animals.
broadly and clearly distinguished from all others, or is he
specifically allied to the orang-utang and other monkeys ?
What are his corporeal, what his mental distinctions ? Are
the latter different in kind, or only superior in degree, to
those of the higher animals? Is there one species of men
only, or are there several distinct species ? What particu¬
lars of external form and inward structure characterize the
several races? What relation is observed between the dif¬
ferences of structure and those of moral feeling, mental
capability, and actual progress in arts, sciences, literature,
government, and social condition ? How is man affected,
and to what extent, by the external influences of climate,
food, and mode of life ? Are these, or any other, operat¬
ing on beings originally alike, sufficient to account for all
the diyersities hitherto observed ; or must we suppose that
several kinds of men were created originally, each for its
own peculiar situation ? If we adopt the supposition of a
single species, what country did it first inhabit, and what
was the appearance of the original type ? Did he go erect
or upon all fours; was he a Patagonian or a Laplander, a
Negro or a Georgian? To suppose that it is in our power
to furnish satisfactory replies to all, or even the greater
part of these questions, would imply a degree of presump¬
tion which it is scarcely necessary for us to disclaim. We
mention them only as examples, partly to convey some idea
of the extent and difficulty of the subject, and partly to ac¬
count for the comparatively small progress which has yet
oeen made in this complicated investigation ; requiring, as
it does, a thorough acquaintance with the anatomy°and
physiology of our frame, with comparative anatomy, and
with the principles of general physiology, as well as the
analogies derivable from the whole of living nature. In fact,
it is only in our time, and principally through the labours’
and writings of Blumenbach, that the natural history of
man has begun to receive its due share of attention. The
example of Buffon and Blumenbach, however, has been
followed by some others, as Zimmerman, Meiners, Soem¬
mering, and Ludwig in Germany; Smith in America;
Prichaid and Lawrence in England; and Hunter and
Karnes in Scotland. The two most important works which
have as yet appeared on the subject are Dr Prichard’s Re¬
searches into the Physical History of Mankind, and Mr Law¬
rence’s Lectures on the Natural History of Man ; the for¬
mer chaiacteiized by clear statement, varied information,
and convincing reasoning ; and the latter distinguished for
profound and extensive scientific knowledge, united with
much vigour and originality in discussing and appreciat¬
ing the speculations and hypotheses of preceding writers.
Linnaeus places man in the order primates of the class*
Mammalia, and gives him as companions the monkeys,
lemuis, and bats, the last of which must be somewhat sur¬
prised, we should think, at finding themselves in such a
situation. The characters of this order are, “ Front teeth
incisors; the superior, four; parallel; two pectoral mam¬
ma;.’ But surely the principles must be incorrect which
lead to such an extraordinary approximation.
The only animals which bear any striking resemblance
to man in point of structure are the monkeys, especially
the orang-utang and chimpanse, which have hence been
denominated anthropomorphous ; but there are some prin¬
cipal circumstances which particularly distinguish man
fiom these animals. One of these consists in the strength
of the muscles of the legs, by which the body is supported
m a vertical position, and in the articulation of the head
with the neck by the middle of its base. We stand up¬
right, bend our body, and walk, without thinking of the
power by which we are supported in these several posi¬
tions, and which resides chiefly in the muscles, constitut¬
ing the principal part of the calf of the leg. The exertion
of these muscles is felt, and their motion is visible exter¬
nally, when we stand upright and bend our body backwards
or forwards. Nor is the peculiar power which we thus pos- Mai
sessless considerable when we walk upon a horizontal plane; '—'v
but in ascending a height, the weight of the body is more
sensibly felt than in descending. All these motions are na¬
tural to man. Other animals, however, when placed upon
their hind legs, are either incapable of performing them at
all, or do it partially, with great difficulty, and only for a
short time. The orang-utang (simia satyrus) and chim¬
panse (simia troglodytes) can stand upright with much less
difficulty than other brutes; but the restraint they 'are
under in this attitude plainly shows that it is not natural
to them. From their peculiar structure, they have the
pow er of imitating many human actions, and they are also
excellent climbers; but they cannot easily stand or walk
upright, because the foot rests on its outer edge, the heel
does not touch the ground, and the narrowness of the pel¬
vis renders the trunk unsteady. Hence they are neither
biped, nor, though quadrumanous, strictly quadruped. They
resemble man in the general form of the cranium, and in
the configuration of the brain, the two hemispheres of
which are hovyever greatly reduced; but there is a con¬
stantly increasing deviation from the human structure, by
the elongation of the muzzle, and the advances towards the
attitude and progression of quadrupeds. Another of those
circumstances which distinguish man from the other an¬
thropomorphous animals, is the want of the intermaxillary
bone. The superior maxillary bones of the human subject
are united to each other, and contain the whole of the up¬
per series of teeth ; but in the other mammalia they are
separated by a third bone of a cuneiform shape, which
contains the incisor teeth, and has therefore been called
the os incisivum. This bone is moreover found where
there are no incisor teeth, as in the horned ruminants, and
also where there are no teeth at all, as in the ant-eater and
some of 'the whale species. Man, however, possesses no¬
thing analogous to the intermaxillary bone of brutes.
M. Daubenton has shown, that the attitudes proper to man Attitudes
and to other animals are pointed out by the very different proper to
modes in which the head is articulated with the neck. The man an^
two points by which the osseous part of the head is con-otlierani'
nected with the first joint of the neck, and on which every mals'
movement of the head is made with the greatest facility,
are placed at the edge of the great hole of the occipital
bone, which in man is situated near the centre of the base
of the skull (affording a passage for the medullary sub¬
stance into the vertebral canal), as upon a pivot or point
of support. The face is in a vertical line, almost parallel
to that of the body and the neck ; and the jaws, which are
very short when compared with those of most other ani¬
mals, extend very little farther forwards than the fore¬
head. There is almost no animal but man which has its
hind legs as long as the head and the trunk taken to¬
gether, measuring from the vertex to the os pubis. In all
the monkey tribe they fall far short of this proportion; even
in the orang-utang and the chimpanse they are short
and weak, and manifestly inadequate to sustain the body
erect. I his circumstance alone effectually disqualifies the
most anthropiomorphous monkey for participating with man
in the grand attribute of upright stature, and would of it¬
self be a sufficient ground of specific distinction between
the former and the latter.
In the frame of the human body the principal parts are Relative
nearly the same with those of other animals; but in the structure
connection and form of the bones there is as great a dif-0^16^11
ference as in the attitudes proper to each. Were a manll,an
to assume the natural posture of quadrupeds, and to try
to walk by the help of his hands and feet, he would find
himself in a most unnatural situation; he could not move
his feet and hands except with the greatest difficulty and
pain; and, let him make what exertions he pleased, he would
find it impossible to attain a steady and continued pace.
Thel-ain.
[an.
Pe'iliari-
fties
M A N.
The principal obstacles he would meet with arise from thp rplntmnc ^ -
peculiar structure of the pelvis, as well as from that of the effects and V-ie c?n^atenatl0i:is of causes and
hands, the feet, and the head. he verSP ^ I” hlS mmd the Systern of the uni-
The plane of the great occipital hole, which in man is al- directs his iLhp1 § ^ ' expanse of .^e heavens, and
most horizontal, places the head in a kind of equilibrium upon p ^ even lnto the starry regions.
M,c neck when we stand erect in our natural attitude; but oX^W^SStTTi^vi’dere
when we assume the attitude of quadrupeds, it prevents us Jussit, et erectos tollere ad sidera lultus
from raising the head so as to look forwards, because the • e ,
movement of the head is stopped by the protuberance of thm-itv fexPressiou of the poet is corroborated by the au-
the occiput, which then approaches Jo ne/the" erteb J rf Cuv J ■■ ^ are>”
the neck. In most animals, the great hole of the ocebita turl nf mfln ' 1° T-8^068 m tl]e anatomical struc-
bone is situated at the back part of the head : the iaws are tenrl l i -C 11C,? su^ciently prove that nature never in-
very long ; and the occiput has no protuberance bevond would u ^ 0 wa^ on lours. In this situation his eyes
the aperture, the plane of which is in a vertical direction, sessed ofth^ ^ t]°^ards t,ie earth ; but not being pos-
or inclined a little forwards or backwards, so that the head he would C!?rvica5 ^garment that is found in quadrupeds,
is dependent, and joined to the neck by its posterior art p!J v 1 t0 SUpp0rt his head* His inferior
This position of the head enables quadrupeds though their bis 6mi 168 c to° elevated in proportion to
bodies are in a horizontal direction to presen he"r muzde v -oT8’/.1!, ll“Jeet T ,ho" t0 enable '’im convenient-
forwards, and to raise it so as to reach above Jen””'o oe, h! b"1. 6 ^ ™ls who tread only on their
touch the earth witlt the extremity of their jaws when they motion of hi-'68* 18 S° iT86 ' ’ff " ''''0U ' lmPede tl<e free
hrinor their neck nnd heed i rJ? t , m0tl.°n °f lli3 armS- He COLlld not even climb with SO
bring their neck and head down to their feet. In the atti¬
tude of a quadruped man could touch the earth only with
the fore part of the top of the head. To these differences
of structure we may add, that when a man is standing, his
heel rests upon the earth as well as the other parts of his
foot; when he walks it is the first part which touches the
ground ; and he cannot stand upon one foot. These are pe-
much facility as apes, because he has not, like them, the
gieat toe separated from the rest; nor could he climb like
the cats, on account of the weakness of his nails.”
The body of a well-shaped man ought to be square, the Body,
muscles strongly marked, the general contour of the mem¬
bers boldly delineated, and the features of the face well de¬
nned. In women, all the parts are more rounded and softer,
culiarities in structure and in the manner of moving wbirh tb^ fl * tn’ aU tnir.Parts are more rounded and softer,
are not to be found in other animX It is “idem there! To iTbl ”* m.0re de,hcatJ’and the complexion brighter,
fore that man cannot be ranked in the class of Quadninerls , * ,e °n^ f reoSl?1 and majesty ; whilst gracefulness
We may add, that in man the hr in ”1^?? *heJK^“ of ** ^ «*• The structure
We may add, that in man the brain is much larger, and
the jaws are much shorter, than in any other animal. The
brain, by its great extent, forms the protuberance of the
occipital bone, the forehead, and all that part of the head
which is above the ears. In the inferior animals, the brain
is so small that most of them have no occiput, and the front
essential to each will be found explained in the description
of the human skeleton. (See Anatomy.) Indeed every¬
thing in both sexes points them out as the sovereigns of the
earth ; even the external appearance of man declares his
superiority to other creatures. His body is erect; his atti¬
tude is that of command; and his august countenance, which
is either wanting or but little raised TVTcm i-vni-nbinat! k c • ‘rllJU 1115 augus[ countenance, winch
the largest cranfumwith he smal est f“e and animaKf bears the impression of his dig.
tiie face placed perpendicularly under the front of the cra¬
nium. The face of animals is placed in front of the cra¬
nium rather than under it; and that cavity is so diminish¬
ed in size that its anterior expanded portion or forehead is
soon lost as we recede from man. The animals to which
ilCt
■e n; 1
touches the earth only with his extremity ; he views it
at a distance, and seems to despise it. In a word, the erect
stature is suited to the organization of the human subject,
and it is exclusively peculiar to man.
to^lmSmallnessthe Win " TheT ]T 1° ^ ^'-P^o^wil TuTynTelia'des«-
varies in ^ Gngt 1 °f the muzzle and gradations, as in those of man. We know that innance’
and in man it ! 1 “T3 S-5 ^ ls11shorfc ^ the orang-utang, certain emotions of the mind the blood rises to the face
line is eWatnK Z tiie contraiy, when the facial a man in good health is white, with a lively red suffused
Jnac tv rf ? „ y y T wh,ch,does not mcrease ‘be upon the cheeks. Paleness of the countenance is always
air of intelligence anTiaim credi? SSf a su?P.,ciou? That colour which is shaded with
probably doe^’J rei"e9s. ^ ^ ^ ^ “jr“0'y; -d constant and universal
lectness is a proof that the blood is carried with too much
““f1* acauaintp^ne.ctllen’ Z a1/ tlie anin?als Wltl1 which we- are impetuosity to the brain. A livid colour is a morbid and
!“,n in die erec’t posture* “hfsls hisnaTaUtSe1 “h*^ V'T* ’ and,that whicI> •»» » tint of yellow
only being fitted bv 1 nrVjf“, “Jj ‘“j!;. HL“ "P** “f bila' The colou/of the
i , • 1    0 nat-uiai iUUlUUe.
I 01]1 y ^eing fitted by his organization to go erect. En
iovmiS le‘: l!.I!!e.S;a,nd.parvaki"g Pbpioal en
skin is frequently altered by want of sleep or of nourish-
joyments, other animals have their be-iTls "a1' ment’by diarrl11°ea, and other diseases. But notwithstand-
the earth; theybelon<>- to the snecies mue n t ovvards tbe general similitude of countenance in nations.and
atque ventri obedientia fijdt ”P M™ Pr0”a' ,amlbes’ there is a wonderful diversity of features. No
ed nature is connec d to surroSg Zrh eleVa'; T- h°”JVer’ 18 “5 a loss “> ‘“oiinnt the person to whom
onnecteu to surrounding objects by moral he intends to speak, provided he has once fully seen him
196
MAN.
Man. One man has liveliness and gaiety painted in his counte-
nance, and, by the cheerfulness of his appearance, an¬
nounces beforehand the character which he is to support
in society. The tears which bedew the cheeks of another
man excite compassion even in the most unfeeling heart.
Thus, in the face of man are represented the types or
symptoms of his moral and physical affections ; tranquillity,
anger, menace, joy, smiles, laughter, malice, love, envy,
jealousy, pride, contempt, disdain or indignation, scorn,
arrogance, tears, terror, astonishment, horror, fear, shame
or humiliation, sorrow and affliction, compassion, medi¬
tation, particular convulsions, sleep, death. The differ¬
ence of these characters indeed appears of sufficient im¬
portance to constitute a principal article in the natural
history of man.
The eyes, When the mind is at ease, all the features of the face
&c* are in a state of profound tranquillity, and by their pro¬
portion, harmony, and union, point out the serenity of the
thoughts. But when the soul is greatly agitated, the human
countenance becomes a living canvass, upon which the
passions are represented with equal delicacy and energy;
where every emotion of the soul is expressed by some fea¬
ture, and every action by some mark, the lively impres¬
sion of which anticipates the will, and reveals by pathetic
signs our secret emotions, and those intentions which we
are anxious to conceal. It is in the eyes that the soul is
pictured in the strongest colours, and also with the nicest
shades. The different colours of the eyes are, dark hazel,
light hazel, green, blue, gray, and whitish gray; but the
most common of these colours are hazel and blue, both of
which are often found in the same eye. Eyes which are
commonly called black, are only dark hazel; they appear
black in consequence of being contrasted with the white
of the eye. YVherever there is a tint of blue, however
slight, it becomes the prevailing colour, and outshines the
hazel, with which it is intermixed, to such a degree indeed
that the mixture cannot be perceived without a very narrow
examination. The most.beautiful eyes are those which ap¬
pear black or blue. In the former there is more of expres¬
sion and vivacity ; in the latter more of sweetness, and per¬
haps of delicacy. Next to the eyes, the parts of the face by
which the physiognomy is most strongly marked are the
eyebrows. They are like shadow in a picture, which gives
relief to the other colours and forms. The forehead is one
of the largest parts of the face, and contributes the most
to its beauty. Everybody knows that the hair is import¬
ant in the physiognomy, and that baldness is a great de¬
fect. When old age approaches, the hair which first falls
off is that which covers the crown of the head and the parts
above the temples. We seldom see the hair of the lower
part of the temples, or of the back of the head, completely
fall off. The nose is the most prominent feature of the
face; but as it has very little motion, it contributes less to
the expression than to the beauty of the countenance. The
nose is seldom perpendicular to the middle of the face, but
is for the most part slightly turned towards the one side or
the other; an irregularity which, according to painters, is
perfectly consistent with beauty. Next to the eyes, the
mouth and lips have the greatest motion and expression.
The mouth, set off by the vermilion of the lips and the
enamel of the teeth, marks, by the various forms it as¬
sumes, their different characters ; and this feature receives
animation from the organ of the voice, which communi¬
cates to it more life and expression than is possessed by
any other feature. The cheeks are uniform features, hav¬
ing no motion, and little expression, excepting what arises
from the involuntary redness or paleness with which they
are covered in different passions; such as shame, anger,
pride, and joy, producing redness, and fear, terror, and sor¬
row, producing paleness.
In different passions, the whole head assumes different
positions, and is affected with different motions. It hangs Ma
forward when we are affected with shame, humility, andv'—y
sorrow; it inclines to one side in languor and compassion;Theh
it is elevated in pride or haughtiness, erect and fixed in^'
obstinacy and self-conceit. In astonishment, it is thrown
backwards ; and it moves from side to side in contempt,
ridicule, anger, and indignation. In grief, joy, love, shame,
and compassion, the eyes swell and the tears flow. The
effusion of tears is always accompanied with an extension
of the muscles of the face, which opens the mouth. In
sorrow, the corners of the mouth are depressed, the under
lip rises, the eyelids become depressed, the pupil of the
eye is round and half concealed by the eyelid. The other
muscles of the face are relaxed, so that the distance be¬
tween the eyes and the mouth is greater than ordinary,
and hence the countenance appears to be lengthened. In
fear, terror, consternation, and horror, the forehead is
wrinkled, the eyebrows are raised, the eyelids open as wide
as possible, and the upper lid uncovers a part of the white
above the pupil, which is depressed and partly concealed
by the under lid. At the same time the mouth opens, and
the lips recede from each other, discovering the teeth both
above and below. In contempt and derision, the upper lip
is raised to one side, exposing the teeth, whilst the other
side of the lip moves a little, and wears the appearance of
a smile. The nostril on the elevated side of the lip shrivels
up, and the corner of the mouth falls down. The eye on
the same side is almost shut, whilst the other is open as
usual; but the pupils of both are depressed, as when one
looks down from a height. In jealousy, envy, and malice,
the eyebrows are depressed. The upper lip is elevated on
both sides, whilst the corners of the mouth are a little low¬
ered, and the under lip rises to join the middle of the
upper. In laughter the corners of the mouth are drawn
back, and a little elevated; the upper parts of the cheeks
rise ; the eyes are more or less closed; the upper lip rises,
and the under one falls ; the mouth opens, and, in cases of
immoderate laughter, the skin of the nose wrinkles. That
gentler and more gracious kind of laughter which is called
smiling, is seated wholly in the parts of the mouth. The
under lip rises ; the angles of the mouth are drawn back,
the cheeks are puffed up, the eyelids approach one another,
and a small twinkling is observed in the eyes. It is remark¬
able, that laughter may be excited either by a moral cause
without the immediate action of external objects, or by a
particular irritation of the nerves without any feeling of
joy. Thus an involuntary laugh is excited by a slight
tickling of the lips, the palm of the hand, the sole of the foot,
or the armpits, and, indeed, below the middle of the ribs.
We generally laugh when two dissimilar ideas, the union of
which was unexpected, are simultaneously presented to
the mind, and when.one or both of these ideas, or their
union, includes some absurdity which excites an emotion
of disdain mingled with joy. In general, striking contrasts
never fail to produce laughter. A change is produced in
the features of the countenance by weeping as well as by
laughing. In w eeping, the under lip is separated from the
teeth ; the forehead is wrinkled ; the eyebrows are depress¬
ed ; the dimple, which gives a gracefulness to laughter, for¬
sakes the cheek ; the eyes are unusually compressed, and
bathed in tears. In laughter, tears not unfrequently ap¬
pear, but they flow more seldom and less copiously. The
arms, hands, and every part of the body, contribute to the
expression of the passions. In joy, for instance, all the
members of the body are agitated with quick and varied
motions. In languor and sorrow, the arms hang down, and
the whole body remains fixed and immoveable. In admi¬
ration and surprise, a similar suspension of motion is like¬
wise observed. In love and hope, the head and eyes are
raised to heaven, as if to solicit the wished-for good; the
body inclines forward, as if to approach it; and the arms
' an. are stretched out, as if to seize beforehand on the desired
'—✓—''object. On the other hand, in fear, in hatred, and in hor¬
ror, the arms seem to push backwards, and repel the ob¬
ject of aversion. We turn away our head and eyes, as if to
avoid the sight of it; and we start back, as if to shun it.
|n Mi:form- At his birth, man is the most feeble of all animals; he
ed r so- cannot subsist, even for a short period, except by the care
cie • of his parents, which he has occasion for during a much
longer period than any other animal. Hence the natural
continuance of conjugal affection, and the intimate ties
which bind the pai’ents to each other and to their children.
As the father shares with his companion the care of edu¬
cating their children, man ought more than any other ani¬
mal to live in a state of monogamy, the propriety of which
is besides demonstrated by the nearly equal numbers of male
and female children that on an average come into the world.
Man indeed is formed for society, which is rendered essen¬
tially necessary to him from his natural weakness, and with¬
out which he would not be able to resist the wild beasts of
the forest, or to procure for himself the necessaries of life.
He has no arms offensive or defensive, such as horns, claws,
scales; nor indeed any thing that resembles the faculty
called instinct, which many species of animals derive from
nature herself, and by which they construct themselves ha¬
bitations, or change their climate, according to the diver¬
sity of the season. But still he is by no means left without
resource. At first evils assail him on every side, whilst the
remedies remain hidden ; but having received from his
Creator the gift of inventive genius, he is soon enabled to
discover them. His exertions are roused by the various
wants of food, clothing, and dwelling; by the infinite va¬
riety of climate, soil, and other circumstances. This prero¬
gative of invention appeared so important in the earlier
periods of society, that it was impersonated in the Thoth
of Egypt and the Hermes of Greece; it received divine
honours, and became an object of popular worship.
■ ^anpige; All gregarious animals have a certain language, by which
they can in some measure communicate their thoughts to
each other. But man enjoys in this respect two remarkable
prerogatives, viz. first, the faculty of articulating sounds,
which no quadruped possesses in common with him, and
which gives to his language an infinite variety and preci¬
sion ; and, secondly, an unlimited power of generalizing his
ideas, and of fixing and retaining abstract notions by means
of words. Upon this depend memory and judgment, which
constitute the foundation of reason, or of that faculty of
comparing and combining or analysing ideas, which is con¬
sidered as the peculiar attribute of man. Language neces¬
sarily implies a train or sequence of thought, and for this
reason brute animals are incapable of speech. Their exter¬
nal senses are not inferior to our own, and some of them
appear to possess a faint glimmering of comparison, reflec¬
tion, and judgment; yet with all this they are incapable of
forming that association of ideas in which alone the essence
of thought consists. The possession of speech, therefore,
corresponds to the more numerous, diversified, and ex¬
alted intellectual and moral endowments of man, and is a
necessary aid to their exercise and their full development,
the ruder faculties and simpler feelings of animals do not
require such assistance, because the natural language of in¬
articulate sounds, and gestures, and actions, is sufficient for
their purposes. But it is otherwise with man, whose en¬
dowments would have been bestowed on him in vain, had
ie aid of language been denied him as an instrument for
their improvement. The wonderful discovery of alphabe¬
tical writing, and the invention of printing, complete the
i ve( )enefits derived from the noble prerogative of speech.
of c ^ *s bY jneans of language that man communicates to
ii ery the rest of his species the observations and discoveries made
1) by individuals; and this communication is the source of
t] the almost indefinite perfectibility of the human race. The
197
first savages collected in the forests a few nourishing fruits Man.
or salutary herbs, and thus supplied their most immediate v—^
wants. The first shepherds observed that the stars move .
in a regular course, and made use of them to guide their
journeys through the pathless desert. Such was the origin
of the mathematical and physical sciences. Genius, once
convinced that it could combat nature by its own resources,
commenced its active career ; it watched without relaxation
natural phenomena, and incessantly made new discoveries,
all of them distinguished by some improvement in the con¬
dition of our race. “ From that time,” says Cuvier, “ a suc¬
cession of conducting minds, faithful depositaries of the
attainments already made, constantly occupied in connect¬
ing them, and in vivifying them by means of each other,
have led us, in less than forty ages, from the first essays
of rude observers, to the profound calculations of Newton
and Laplace, to the learned classifications of Linnaeus and
Jussieu. This precious inheritance perpetually increasing ;
brought from Chaldaea into Egypt, from Egypt into Greece ;
concealed during ages of disaster and darkness, recovered
in more fortunate times, unequally spread amongst the na¬
tions of Europe ; has everywhere been followed by wealth
and power. The nations which have reaped it are become
the mistresses of the world, whilst those who have neglect¬
ed it are fallen into weakness and obscurity.” Such is the
progression in science resulting from the intercommunica¬
tions of “ conducting minds.”
As to the arts, they are the offspring of science, produ- The arts,
ced by the combination of such recorded observations and
discoveries as we have described, and by that address which
results from the peculiar conformation, as well as the con¬
stitution, of man. By means of the arts man has learned to
procure for himself subsistence, and to provide against the
inclemencies of the weather in all the climates of the earth.
Thus he has established himself everywhere, whilst the rest
of the animal creation have each a determinate sphere,
beyond which they cannot pass without the protection of
man.
The nations who established themselves in the frozen Effect of
regions of the north, not finding there enough of vegetable external
nourishment, nor pasture sufficiently abundant for cattle, circum-
derived all their subsistence from the chase or from fishing.stances-
Obliged to devote all their time to the great object of pro¬
curing this subsistence, and multiplying but slowly, from
the destruction of the game which surrounded them, it is
not surprising that amongst them man has made less pro¬
gress in arts and civilization than in other and more favour¬
ed regions. In such situations, the arts are confined to the
construction of huts, to the preparation of skins for cover¬
ing, and to the manufacture of spears and other weapons.
The inhabitants of the northern and eastern parts of Sibe¬
ria, and the savages of North America, are almost the only
people who are still to be found in this primitive state.
Other nations learned to secure for themselves certain sub¬
sistence in the possession of numerous herds, and to find
sufficient leisure for increasing their knowledge ; but their
wandering life, in search of new pastures and more agree¬
able climates, kept them still within very narrow limits in
respect of civilization. They, however, acquired more skill
in the construction of their habitations, and formed the
idea of property; the natural consequences of which were
riches, and an inequality of condition. The Laplanders
in the north of Europe, the Tartars who inhabit the vast
regions in the interior of Asia; the Bedouin Arabs who
occupy the sands of Arabia and the north of Africa, and
the Caffres and Hottentots in Southern Africa, are the prin¬
cipal wandering tribes with which we are acquainted. Man¬
kind did not multiply to any considerable extent, nor at¬
tain to any great perfection in the arts and sciences, till
landed property allowed them to pay attention to agricul¬
ture, by means of which the labour of one part of the com-
M A N.
198
M A N.
Man.
munity could procure subsistence for the rest, and leave
them sufficient leisure to employ themselves in the study of
arts less necessary than ornamental. Finally, the invention
of money, by facilitating the transfer of commodities, en¬
couraged industry, luxury, and inequality of fortune, and,
by a natural consequence, engendered effeminacy in some,
and avarice or ambition in others.
Features It is chiefly by the features of the countenance and the
and colour, colour of the skin that the different varieties of the human
species are distinguished. Independently of particular or
individual differences, the human race may be distinguish¬
ed into a number of principal varieties, the distinctive cha¬
racters of which are so strongly stamped, as apparently to
resist even the powerful influence of climate. In fact we see
co-existing for ages, under the same parallel of latitude, and
in the same country, the dark Hungarian or gipsy, and the
fairest people of Europe ; whilst the copper-coloured Peru¬
vian, the brown Malay, and the almost white Abyssinian,
are found in the same zone which is inhabited by the black¬
est people in the universe. The inhabitants of Van Die¬
men’s Land are black, whilst the Europeans of the same
degree of north latitude are white ; and the inhabitants of
the Malabar coast, though placed beneath a sky much hot¬
ter than the natives of Siberia, are nevertheless not of a
browner hue. The Dutch who colonized the Cape of Good
Hope have not, during two centuries, acquired the same
colom with the Hottentots; and the Parsees remain white in
the midst of the olive-coloured Hindus. At the same time,
it is to be observed, that every permanent and character-
istical variety of the human species must be effected by
slow and almost imperceptible degrees. Great and sud¬
den changes produce violent disturbance, and tend to de-
stroy iathei than to alter the system. But changes which
become incorporated therewith,‘and form the character of a
nation or a race, are progressively carried on, through a lono-
series of generations, until the causes which produce them
have generated their maximum of effect. In this way the
minutest causes, acting constantly for a long tract of ao'es,
will necessarily produce conspicuous differences amongst
mankind.
But of these causes the principal is undoubtedly cli¬
mate, modified in its operation by the state, condition,
circumstances, habits, and manners of society. Hence
every zone is more or less marked by its distinctive colour.
The black prevails under the equator, and the dark cop-
pei-colour under the tropics; from the tropic of Cancer to
the seventieth degree, of north latitude, may be succes¬
sively discerned the olive, the brown, the fair, and the
sanguine complexion; and of each of these there are se¬
veral tints or shades. Does not this uniformity of effect,
we ask, indicate an influence of climate which, under the
same circumstances, will always produce the same, or near¬
ly the same, results ? In the different regions of the globe
•may no doubt be discovered apparent deviations from this
law; but such seeming anomalies, when closely examin¬
ed, will be found to confirm it, and, instead of forming
exceptions, will rather range themselves under the head of
secondary illustrations. In fact, the power of climate is
established by undeniable facts within the memory of his¬
tory. From the Baltic to the Mediterranean, the dif¬
ferent latitudes may almost be traced by varying shades
of colour, from the same general stock, or from nations
nearly resembling each other, are derived the fair Ger-
rnan, the dark frenchman, and the swarthy Spaniard and
Sicilian. I he south of Spain is distinguished by com¬
plexion from the north. The same observation may be
applied to most of the other countries of Europe; and
it we extend it beyond Europe, to the great nations of
the East, it is applicable to lurkey, to Arabia, to Persia,
and to China. The inhabitants of Pekin are fair; those
of Canton are nearly black. The Persians near the Cas-
Climate.
pian are amongst the fairest people in the world; but Mi
near the Gulf of Ormus they are of a dark olive. Simi-v
lar differences of colour may be observed in the inhabi¬
tants of Arabia Petrsea, Arabia Deserta, and Arabia Fe¬
lix ; in the first and second they are tawny, in the third as
black as Ethiopians. In these ancient nations, colour seems
to follow a regular progression from the equator. But no
example can carry with it greater force than that of the
Jews. Descended from one stock, prohibited by their in¬
stitutions from intermarrying with other nations, yet dis¬
persed throughout every country of the globe, this single
people is marked with the colours of all: they are fair^in
Britain and in Germany, brown in France and in Turkey,
swarthy in Spain and in Portugal, tawny or copper-coloured
in Arabia and in Egypt.
But the colouring matter in the mucous membrane be-Struct
low the skin is not the only distinctive character that and cos
marks the varieties of the human species. In each ofmafoc
them there is a peculiar form, distinguished by constant
marks, depending upon the general structure and confor¬
mation of the skeleton. One variety has an oval and
straight face, with the different parts moderately distinct
from one another; a high and expanded forehead; the
nose narrow and slightly aquiline, or at least with the
bridge somewhat convex; no prominence of the cheek¬
bones ; a small mouth, with lips slightly turned out, par¬
ticularly the lower one, and a full rounded chin. Another
is distinguished for a broad and flattened face, with the
parts slightly distinguished, and, as it were, running to¬
gether ; the space between the eyes flat and broad, flat
nose, and rounded projecting cheeks; narrow and linear
aperture of the eye-lids extending towards the temples
{yeux brides) ; the internal angle of the eye depressed to¬
wards the nose, and the superior eye-lid continued at that
part into the inferior by a rounded sweep; and the chin
slightly prominent. The third variety has the face broad,
but not flat and depressed, with prominent cheek-bones, and
the parts, when viewed in profile, as it were more distinct¬
ly and deeply carved ; short forehead, eyes deeply seated,
and nose flattish but prominent. This is the type of the
American countenance. The fourth is marked by a narrow
face projecting towards the lower parts; narrow, slanting,
and arched forehead ; eyes prominent; a thick nose con¬
fused on either side with the projecting cheeks ; the lips,
particularly the upper one, very thick; the jaws prominent,
and the chin retracted. This is the Guinea face, or the
negro countenance. The last variety has the face not so
narrow as in the preceding, rather projecting downwards,
with the different parts, in a side view, rising more freely
and distinctly ; the nose rather flat and broad, and thicker
towards its apex; with the mouth large. This is the face
of the Malays, particularly of the South-Sea Islanders.
This distribution, however, is only meant to indicate the
leading traits, and hence details and minute particulars
are not taken into consideration. In features, as in colour,
indeed, the different races of men are connected to each
other by the nicest gradations; so that, although any two
extremes, when contrasted, appear strikingly dift'erent, yet
they are joined together by numerous intermediate and
shghtly-differing degrees, and no formation is exhibited so
constantly as not to admit of numerous exceptions. When
we place an ugly negro beside a specimen of the Greek
ideal model, we perceive an astonishing difference; but
when we trace all the intermediate gradations, with their
almost insensible transitions, this striking diversity va¬
nishes.
Agreeably to this or some other analogous view of the Classifies
lhiprf\ notnroliofo   ^,1  j*nr' . • flnti nt
subject, naturalists have classed the dift’erent varieties offi°n
the human race. Of these Linnaeus makes five, viz. I. Ame- ^‘nriSUi
ricans, of copper-coloured complexion, choleric constitu¬
tion, and remarkably erect; II. Europeans, of fair com-
Anpge-
mei of
Cnjin.
Enu >ra-
plexion, sanguine temperament, and brawny form ; III.
-^Asiatics, of sooty complexion, melancholic temperament,
and rigid fibre; IV. Africans, of black complexion, phleg¬
matic temperament, and relaxed fibre; and, V. Monsters.
Under this last head are comprehended, 1. Alpini, or the
inhabitants! of the northern mountains, who are small in
stature, active, and timid in their disposition; 2.Patagonici,
or the Patagonians of South America, of large size, and
indolent habits; Monorchides, or the Hottentots, having
one testicle extirpated ; 4. Imberbes, or most of the Ame^
rican nations, who eradicate their beards and the hair from
every part of the body except the scalp ; 5. Macrocephali ;
and, 6. Plagiocephali, or the Canadian Indians, who, when
young, have the fore part of their heads flattened by com¬
pression."
The next arrangement of the varieties of the human
species is that offered by Gmelin as more convenient than
the division of Linnaeus. This classification is likewise
fivefold, and includes, I. White (Homo Albus), formed by
the rules of symmetrical elegance and beauty, or at least
what we consider as such. This division includes almost
all the inhabitants of Europe ; those of Asia on this side
of the Obi, the Caspian, Mount Imaus, and the Ganges •
likewise the natives of the north of Africa, of Greenland,’
and the Esquimaux. II. Brown (Homo Badius), of a
yellowish brown colour, with scanty hairs, flat features,
and small eyes. This variety includes the whole inhabi¬
tants of Asia not included in the preceding division. III.
Black (Homo Niger), of black complexion, with frizly
hair, a flat nose, and thick lips. This variety compre¬
hends the inhabitants of Africa, excepting those of its
more northern parts. IV. Copper-coloured (Homo Cu-
preus), in which the complexion of the skin resembles the
colour of copper not burnished. This includes the inhabi-
tants of America, except the Greenlanders and Esquimaux.
V. lawny (Homo Fuscus), chiefly of a dark blackish-brown
colour, having a broad nose, and harsh coarse straight
hair. I his variety embraces the inhabitants of the South
Sea Islands, and of most of those in the Indian archi¬
pelago.
Buffon enumerates six varieties, namely, the polar or
in am] !\/T 1 ,1 .1 . .
man.
uvi( .
ivisij,
1 1 i A vancLica, namely, tne polar oi
Bull: and n Prm th,e I^rtar 0r Mongol> the Southern Asiatic
VW ttie European, the Ethiopian, and the American. An ac¬
count of these varieties will be found in the great work of
this eminent naturalist and eloquent writer, and also in
ii ey s Histoire Naturelle du Genre Humain, as well as in
Herders Outlines of the Philosophy of the History of Man.
irey, the disciple of Buffon, has distributed man into five
vaneties, namely, the Celtic race, containing most of the
uropeans; the Mongol and Lapland; the Malay; the
Negro and Hottentot; and the Caribb. But this arrange¬
ment has been considerably altered and modified in the
in 1824 3nd improved edltlon of the same work published
Another division is that proposed by Cuvier in his Ta-
bleau Elementaire de VHistoire Naturelle des Animaux, and
winch be ,t observed, is founded chiefly on the secondary
chstmct'on of colour. This enumeration is as follows : J
nos: 1 T i;ac1e> Wlth oval vlsage, long hair, and pointed
cnnnto/ k h‘S b,e °ng the Polished natives of Europe, ac-
ai“y U-S tlr TSt C0™ely of a11 the varieties, and
also far superior to the rest in strength of genius, courage
XeSTU !he Tai“f’ caffed>
nhabit n* Ie depscended ’ thf Circassians, and other tribes
imn g dle Caucasus, who are the fairest of the hu-
tan Sp 1 the Persians, the native inhabitants ofHindus-
Afr’icn f,nr arlianAKthe —00rs wh° inhabit the north of
from ?he Ar«?e Aby^lmans’ who appear to be derived
in the north b?n-' v The.sernatlons are larger and fairer
north, their hair is fair and their eves are blue •
ideas in the south they are dark, and often very brown’
tanrltnflhair a?d ejeS T biack> There are intermix- Man.
tures of hese colours m the more temperate regions.
I. All the north of the two continents is peopled with
men who are very dark, with flat visage, black hair and
eyes, and with a body thick and extremely short. To this
belong the Laplanders in Europe, the Samoiedes, Ostiaks,
Tschutski m Asia, the Greenlanders and the Esquimaux in
America. The inhabitants of Finland resemble these al-
most in every circumstance, excepting that their stature
is of the European standard. The Hungarians and seve¬
ral wandering tribes of Asia have a similar form, and simi¬
lar language and manners, with the Finns.
III. I he Mongol race, to which belong most of the people
whom we call Tartars, as the Mongols, the Mantchoos,
the Calmucks, who have extended their conquests from
Lbina to Hindustan, and are even advanced as far as the
frontiers of Europe, is characterized by a flat forehead, a
sma nose, prominent cheek-bones, black hair, thin beard
small oblique eyes, thick lips, and a colour more or less
yellow. Ihe Chinese and Japanese, and the Indians be¬
yond the Ganges, to whom we give the name of Malays,
appear to bear a close resemblance to the Mongols. The
islands of the South Sea, and the great continent of New
Holland, are inhabited by original Malays. Those who
ive nearest the equator have the skin almost as black as
tne negroes.
IV. The Negroes inhabit all the coasts on the south of
Afnca, from the river Senegal to the Red Sea. Besides
the blackness of their skin, they are distinguished by a
flat nose and forehead, long muzzle, prominent cheek-bones,
and fnzJed hair. They are blacker [than the inhabitants
ot Huinea, and have the nose excessively long. Those of
Congo are the most comely. Towards the tropic of Cap¬
ricorn they become a little paler, and take the name of
Cafires. Almost all the inhabitants of the eastern coast
of Africa are of this sub-variety. The Hottentots form
another subdivision, which is found in the most south¬
ern point, and they have cheek-bones so prominent that
their visage appears triangular. Their colour is a brown
olive.
X' America was peopled with men of a copper colour,
laving long and coarse hair, who, according to most tra¬
vellers, generally want the beard, and even the hair on
the body, whilst others assure us that they eradicate these
It is also said that the fanciful form of their heads arises
from the compression which these undergo in infancy. This
race comprehends the savage nations of America, and the
remaining inhabitants of Mexico and Peru. It is towards
the southern point of this continent that we find the tall
race of men of whom so many fables have been related ;
but their height, which the earlier travellers represented as
gigantic, scarcely exceeds six feet. These are the people
so celebrated under the name of Patagonians, a tall but
not a gigantic race of men.
Another distribution, however, has been proposed by Distribn
Blumenbach, which, though not wholly free from objection, tion pro.
is perhaps the best that has yet been suggested ; notwith- posed by
standing that, according to some, the five varieties under Bhmien-
which he has arranged the several tribes of our species bach‘
ought rather to be regarded as principal divisions, each
of them including several varieties. This acute and in^e-
mous naturalist divides the single species which the ge- •
nus Homo contains, into the Caucasian, Mongolian, Ethi¬
opian American, and Malay varieties. The Caucasian he
regards as the primitive stock, which, however, deviates
into two extremes most remote from each other; the Mon¬
go lan on one side, and the Ethiopian on the other. The
other two varieties hold the middle places, or, if we may
so express it, are mean terms between the Caucasian and
tie two extremes; that is, the American comes in be¬
tween the Caucasian and Mongolian, and the Malay be-
199
200
MAN.
Man. tween the Caucasian and Ethiopian. The following marks
—“V"--'' and descriptions will serve to define these five varieties :■—
I. The Caucasian Variety. The characters of this va¬
riety are, a white skin, either with a fair rosy tint, or in¬
clining to brown; red cheeks; hair black, or of the various
lighter colours, copious, soft, and generally more or less
curled or waving; iridesdarkin those of brown skin, light,
blue, gray, or greenish, in the fair or rosy complexioned;
large cranium, with small face, the upper or anterior re¬
gions of the former particularly developed, and the latter
falling perpendicularly under them ; face oval and straight,
with features distinct from each other; expanded forehead,
narrow and rather aquiline nose, and small mouth ; front
teeth of both jaws perpendicular; lips, particularly the
lower, gently turned out; chin full and rounded. In this
variety, the moral feelings and intellectual powers are
most energetic, being susceptible of the highest develop¬
ment and culture. It includes all the ancient and modern
Europeans, except the Laplanders and the rest of the
Finnish race ; the former and present inhabitants of West¬
ern Asia, as far as the river Obi, the Caspian Sea, and the
Ganges, that is, the Assyrians, Medes, and Chaldaeans; the
Sarmatians, Scythians, and Parthians; the Philistines,
Phoenicians, Jews, and inhabitants of Syria generally; the
Tartars, properly so called; the several tribes actually oc¬
cupying the chain of the Caucasus; the Georgians, Cir¬
cassians, Mingrelians, and Armenians; the Turks, Persians,
Arabians, Afghans, and Hindus of high caste ; the north¬
ern Africans, including not only those north of the Saha¬
ra, but even some tribes placed in more southern regions;
the Egyptians, Abyssinians, and Guanches.
II. The Mongolian Variety is characterized by olive co¬
lour, which in many cases is very light, and black eyes ;
black, straight, strong, and thin hair; little or no beard ;
head of a square form, with small and low forehead ; broad
and flattened face, with the features running together;
the glabella flat and very broad ; nose small and flat, cheeks
projecting externally and narrow, linear aperture of the
eyelids; eyes placed very obliquely; slight projection of the
chin; with the ears large, and the lips thick. The stature,
particularly in the countries within the arctic circle, is in¬
ferior to that of Europeans. This variety includes the
Mongols, Calmucks, and Burats ; the Mantchoos or Mand-
shurs, Daourians, Tongusses, and Coreans; the Samoiedes,
Yukagirs, Coriacks, Tschutski, and Kamtschadales; the
Chinese and Japanese ; the inhabitants of Thibet and Boo-
tan ; those of Tonquin, Cochin-China, Ava, Pegu, Cambo¬
dia, Laos, and Siam; the Finnish races of Northern Europe,
as the Laplanders; and the tribes of Esquimaux, extending
over the northern parts of America, from Behring’s Strait
to the extremity of Greenland.
III. In the Ethiopian Variety, the skin and the eyes are
black; the hair black and woolly; the skull compressed la¬
terally, and elongated towards the front; the forehead low,
narrow, and slanting; the cheek-bones are prominent; the
jaws narrow and projecting ; the upper front teeth oblique,
and the chin receding; the eyes are prominent; the nose
is broad, thick, flat, and confused with the extended jaw;
the lips, particularly the upper one, are thick; and the knees,
in many instances, turn inwards. All the natives of Africa
not included in the first belong to this variety. The strik¬
ing peculiarities of the African organization, especially the
great difference between its colour and our own, have led
many persons to adopt the opinion of Voltaire, that the
Africans belong to a distinct species. But Mr Lawrence
has clearly shown that there is no one character peculiar
or common to the Africans, which is not frequently found
in the other varieties; that negroes often want this cha¬
racter ; and that the distinguishing marks of this variety
pass, by insensible gradations, into those of the neighbour¬
ing races, as may be perceived by comparing together dif¬
ferent tribes of this race, the Foulahs, Jaloffs, Mandingos, Ma
Caffres, and Hottentots, and observing how in these sub-'—
varieties they approach to the Moors, New Hollanders,
Chinese, and other tribes or races of men.
IV. The American Variety is characterized by a dark
skin, of a tint more or less red; black, straight, and strong
hair ; small beard, which is generally eradicated ; with a
countenance and skull very similar to those of the Mon¬
golian tribes. The forehead is low, the eyes are deep,
and the face is broad, particularly across the cheeks, which
are prominent and rounded ; but it is not so flattened as in
the Mongols, the nose and other features being more dis¬
tinct and projecting. The mouth is large, and the lips
are rather thick, whilst the forehead and vertex are in
some cases deformed by art. This variety includes all
the Americans, with the exception of the Esquimaux. It
may be observed here, that the redness of the skin is not
constant; in many instances it varies towards a brown,
and in some situations approaches to the white colour.
V. The Malay Variety is distinguished by a brown co¬
lour, varying from a light tawny tint, not deeper than that
of the Spaniards and Portuguese, to a deep brown ap¬
proaching to black; black hair, more or less curled, and
abundant; head rather narrow; bones of the face large
and prominent; nose full and broad towards the apex;
and mouth large. To this division belong the inhabitants
of the peninsula of Malacca, of Sumatra, Java, Borneo,
Celebes, and the adjacent Asiatic islands; of New Hol¬
land, Van Diemen’s Land, New Guinea, New Zealand,
and the numberless islands scattered throughout the whole
of the South Sea. It is called the Malay, because most
of the tribes speak the Malay language, which, in the va¬
rious ramifications of this race, may be traced from Mada¬
gascar to Easter Island. Under this variety, to which, in
fact, no well-marked common characters can be assigned,
are included races very different in organization and dis¬
tinctive qualities ; too different indeed to be arranged
with propriety under one head or division, but as yet too
imperfectly known for the purposes of satisfactory arrange¬
ment.
Such is the distribution of the varieties of the human Limita-
species proposed by Blumenbach as a general scheme oftionsof
classification. It is to be understood as subject to limita-d,isar-
tion in some cases, and to modification or extension
others. When numerous races are assigned to one va¬
riety, the assemblage of these under the same general
head must not be held to indicate that they are all alike
in physical conformation and moral qualities. In fact,
the distribution of one species into five divisions must be
regarded as merely approximative, or as proceeding on
the assumption of a general conformity, which is not in¬
consistent with various and strongly-marked modifications.
These are more numerous in the Caucasian than in the
other varieties, arising perhaps from greater natural soft¬
ness, delicacy, and flexibility of organization, combined
with the influence of more ancient and complete civiliza¬
tion. Blumenbach is inclined to think that the primitive
form of the human race was that which belongs to the Cau¬
casian variety, the most beautiful specimens of which are
now exhibited by the Georgians, Turks, Greeks, and some
Europeans ; and, in support of this opinion, it may be stat¬
ed, that the part of Asia which seems to have been the cra¬
dle of the race has always been, and still is, inhabited by
tribes of the same general formation, and that the inhabi¬
tants of Europe may, in great part, trace back their origin
to the west of Asia. The highest mental powers have
ever distinguished this variety, which has discovered near¬
ly all the sciences and arts, and from which have been de¬
rived our richest treasures of literature and knowledge.
All these different varieties of men are capable of inter¬
mixing and procreating children, which are found to hold
MAN. . 201
an. a sort of mean between the forms and colours of their pa-
rents; and such crosses may again mix with the original
f AUhesc races, and produce approaches to these races according to
* va ties degree of mixture. We cannot enter into the details
teazle of jjjustrative 0f this statement, but its truth is nevertheless
mi mix- un(jeniab]e. If, when two varieties copulate, the offspring
resembles neither parent wholly, but partakes of the form
and other properties of both (and this law holds uni¬
versally), such an intermixture cannot with propriety be
termed hybrid generation, as the term is applied to the
animals produced by the copulation of different species, as
of the horse and the ass, or the canary-bird and the gold¬
finch. In this sense hybrids are never produced in the
human species. The offspring of every imaginable inter¬
mixture of the varieties above mentioned is as prolific as
the parents from whom they spring.
Ca esof But a question here presents itself, namely, Whence
the arie- have arisen all the varieties above enumerated, with the
! hu 0 divei’s*t'es an^ modifications which are to be found in
it rar each ? Have they been produced by accidental circum¬
stances? or were their prototypes originally created with
all those diversities in the colour and texture of the skin,
hair, and iris, the features of the face, the skull and brain,
the form and proportions of the body, the stature and ani¬
mal economy, the moral and intellectual powers, by which
they are still more or less distinguished? There have not
been wanting philosophers who have multiplied the spe¬
cies in exact proportion to the varieties of men, and 'main¬
tained that the characteristical distinctions of the latter
are coeval with the origin of the human race. But al¬
though considerations of climate, food, and social condi¬
tion, may not satisfactorily account for the permanence of
the differences above alluded to, yet the numerous gra¬
dations which we meet with in each of the races above
mentioned, form an insuperable objection to the notion of
specific difference ; whilst, on the other hand, the analogies
derived from the animal kingdom demonstrate that the
characteristics of the various human tribes must, like the
corresponding diversities in other animals, be referred to
variation. Nor is this all. Nature herself has provided
against the confusion of different species by a conserva¬
tive law, according to which all hybrids are barren. But
hybrids are never produced by the intermixture of differ¬
ent races of men ; and hence, as all the varieties sexually
unite, and produce an offspring which is also progenitive,
it follows that, though external agencies, whether physi¬
cal or moral, may not account for the bodily and mental dif¬
ferences which characterize the several tribes of mankind,
the latter constitute but one species, diversified, according
to the analogy of nature, by various races or breeds. Some
physiologists, indeed, appear to doubt whether the differ¬
ent races of men should be considered as mere varieties
which have arisen from degeneration, or as so many spe¬
cies altogether distinct. The cause of this seems to be,
that having taken too narrow a view in their researches,
they perhaps selected two races the most different from
each other possible, and, overlooking the intermediate races
which formed the connecting links between them, com¬
pared these two together ; or that they fixed their atten¬
tion too exclusively on man, without examining other species
of animals, and comparing their varieties and degeneration
w ith those of the human species. The first error is, when,
for example, they compare a Senegal negro and a model of
European beauty, and at the same time neglect to attend
to the circumstance, that there is not one of the bodily
differences of these two beings, whatever it be, which does
not gradually run into that of the other, by such an im¬
perceptible variety of shades, that no physiologist or na¬
turalist is able to draw a line of demarcation between the
different gradations, or to estimate the sum and effect of
all, as exemplified in the extremes. The second error is,
VOL. XIV.
when physiologists reason as if man were the only orga- Man.
nized being in nature, and consider the varieties in his spe- s'—‘v-'"—'
cies as strange and problematical; without reflecting that
all these varieties are not more striking or more uncommon
than those which so many thousands of other species of or¬
ganized beings exhibit in degenerating, as it were, before
our eyes.
This position Blumenbach illustrates by a curious compa- Blumen-
rison of the human race and swine, intended to refute the ba^’s com*
second error above mentioned, into which he conceives se.Panson’
veral naturalists to have fallen in treating of the varieties
of the human race.
“ More reasons than one,” says he, “ have induced me to
make choice of swine for this comparison; but, in particu¬
lar, because they have a great similarity, in many respects,
to man ; not, however, in the form of their entrails, as peo¬
ple formerly believed, and therefore studied the anatomy
of the human body purposely in swine ; so that, even in
the seventeenth century, a celebrated dispute, which arose
between the physicians of Heidelberg and those of Dur-
lach, respecting the position of the heart in man, was de¬
termined, in consequence of orders from government, by
inspecting a sow, to the great triumph of the party which
was really in the wrong. Nor is it because in the time of
Galen, according to repeated assertions, human flesh was
said to have a taste perfectly similar to that of swine; nor
because the fat and the tanned hides of both are very like
to each other ; but because both, in regard to the economy
of their bodily structure, taken upon the whole, show un¬
expectedly, on the first view, as well as on closer exami¬
nation, a very striking similitude.
“ Both, for example, are domestic animals, both omni¬
vorous ; both are dispersed throughout all the four quar¬
ters of the world; and both consequently are exposed, in
numerous ways, to the principal causes of degeneration
arising from climate, mode of life, nourishment, &c. Both,
for the same reason, are subject to many diseases rarely
found amongst other animals than men and swine, such as
the stone in the bladder ; or to diseases exclusively peculiar
to these two, such as the worms found in measled swine.
“ Another reason why I have made choice of swine for
the present comparison is, because the degeneration and
descent from the original race are far more certain in these
animals, and can be better traced, than in the varieties of
other domestic animals. No naturalist, I believe, has car¬
ried his scepticism so far as to doubt the descent of do¬
mestic swine from the wild boar; which is much the more
evident, as it is well known that wild pigs, when caught,
may be easily rendered as tame and familiar as domestic
swine. And the contrary is also the case ; for if the latter,
by any accident, get into the woods, they as readily be¬
come wild again ; so that there are instances of such ani¬
mals being shot for wild swine, and it has not been till
they were opened, and found castrated, that people were
led to a discovery of their origin, and how, and at what
time, they ran away. It is well ascertained that, before the
discovery of America by the Spaniards, swine were un¬
known in that quarter of the world, and that they were af¬
terwards carried thither from Europe. All the varieties,
therefore, through which this animal has since degenerated,
belong, with the original European race, to one and the
same species ; and since no bodily difference is found in
the human race, either in regard to stature, colour, the
form of the skull, or in other respects, as will presently ap¬
pear, which is not observed in the same proportion in the
swine race, this comparison, it is to be hoped, will silence
those sceptics who have thought proper, on account of
those varieties of the human species, to admit more than
one species.
“ With regard to stature or height, the Patagonians, as is
well known, have afforded the greatest employment to an-
2 c
202
M A N.
Man. ^ thropologists. The romantic tales, however, of the old tra-
vellers, who give to these inhabitants of the southern extre¬
mity of America a stature of ten feet and more, are scarce¬
ly worth notice ; and even the more modest relations of later
English navigators, who make their height from six to
seven feet, have been doubted by other travellers, who on
the same coast sought in vain for such children of Anak.
But even admitting everything that has been said of the
size of these Patagonians, by Byron, Wallis, and Carteret
(the first of whom assigns to their chief and several of his
attendants a height of not less than seven feet, as far as
could be determined by the eye; whilst the second, who
asserts that he actually measured them, gives to the great¬
er part a height of from five feet ten inches to six feet, to
some six feet five or six inches, and to the tallest of them
six feet seven), there is not amongst them nearly such an
excess of stature as that observed in many parts of Ame¬
rica amongst the swine originally carried thither from Eu¬
rope, particularly those of Cuba, which are more than dou¬
ble the size of the original Europeans.
“ The natives of Guinea, Madagascar, New Holland, New
Guinea, &c. are black ; many American tribes are reddish
brown, and the Europeans are white. An equal difference
is observed amongst swine in different countries. In Pied¬
mont, for example, they are black. When I passed through
that country during the great fair for swine at Salenge, I
did not see a single one of any other colour. In Bavaria
they are reddish brown; in Normandy they are all white.
“Human hair is indeed somewhat different from swine’s
bristles, yet, in the present point of view, they may be
compared with each other. Fair hair is soft, and of a silky
texture ; black hair is coarser, and amongst several tribes,
such as the Abyssinians, Negroes, and the inhabitants of
New Holland, it is woolly, and most so amongst the Hotten¬
tots. In like manner, amongst the white swine in Norman¬
dy, as I was assured by an incomparable observer, Sulzer of
Bonneburg, the hair on the whole body is longer and soft¬
er than amongst other swine ; and even the bristles on the
back are very little different, but lie flat, and are only
longer than the hair on the other parts of the body. They
cannot, therefore, be employed by the brush-makers. The
difference between the hair of the wild boar and the do¬
mestic swine, particularly in regard to the softer part be¬
tween the strong bristles, is, as is well known, still greater.
“ The whole difference between the cranium of a ne¬
gro and that of an European is not in the least degree
greater than that equally striking difference which exists
between the cranium of the wild boar and that of the do¬
mestic swine. Those who have not observed this in the
animals themselves need only to cast their eye on the
figure which Daubenton has given of both.
“ I shall pass over less national varieties, which may be
found amongst swine as well as amongst men, and only
mention, that I have been assured by Mr Sulzer, that the
peculiarity of having the bone of the leg remarkably long,
as is the case amongst the Hindus, has been remarked
with regard to the swine in Normandy. ‘ They stand very
long on their hind legs; their back, therefore, is highest
at the rump, forming a kind of inclined plane; and the
head proceeds in the same direction, so that the snout is
not far from the ground.’ I shall here add, that the swine
in some countries have degenerated into races which in
singularity far exceed everything that has been found
strange in bodily variety amongst the human race. Swine
with solid hoofs were known to the ancients, and large
herds of them are still found in Hungary, Sweden, &c. In
like manner, the European swine, first carried by the Spa¬
niards, in lo09, to the island of Cuba, at that time cele¬
brated for its pearl fishery, degenerated into a monstrous
race, with hoofs which were half a span in length.”
From these facts Blumenbach concludes, that as it is ab¬
surd to maintain that the vast variety of swine have not de- ina,
scended from one original pair, so it is not less unreason-'1'—v
able to contend that the varieties of men constitute so many biffere
distinct species. Indeed the latter notion is now very ge. °piDion
nerally abandoned by writers of eminence on the subject of
anthropology. Great differences of opinion no doubt pre-SU ^Ct
vail as to the causes of the varieties of the human species,
both in complexion (see the article Complexion, in which
the nature and causes of the different colours of the skin
amongst different races are particularly treated of) and in
physical conformation ; but in regard to the main question,
namely, as to the unity of the species, all writers of any
name are agreed. On this subject, Dr Prichard and Mr
Lawrence are atone with Dr Smith of New Jersey and M.
Blumenbach. The two former, indeed, deny that climate,
food, and social habits are capable of producing those va¬
rieties in complexion and structure which are exclusively
attributed to these causes by the two latter ; but it is ad¬
mitted on both sides, that, however these diversities may
be accounted for or explained, the idea of distinct species
is preposterous and untenable.
“ In tracing the globe from the pole to the equator,” Smith,
says Dr Smith, “ we observe a gradation in the complexionFawrenc
nearly in proportion to the latitude of the country. Imme-BlumeD-
diately below the arctic circle a high and sanguine colourbach■
prevails. From this you descend to the mixture of red
and white. Afterwards succeed the brown, the olive, the
tawny, and at length the black, as you proceed to the line.
The same distance from the sun, however, does not, in
every region, indicate the same temperature or climate,
oome secondary causes must be taken into consideration,
as correcting and limiting its influence. The elevation of
the land, its vicinity to the sea, the nature of the soil, the
state of cultivation, the course of winds, and many other
ciicumstances, enter into this view# Elevated and moun¬
tainous countries are cool in proportion to their altitude
above the sea. Vicinity to the ocean produces opposite
eftqcts in northern and southern latitudes ; for the ocean be¬
ing of more equal temperature than the land, in the onecase
corrects the cold, in the other modifies the heat, llanges
of mountains, by interrupting the course of winds, render the
protected countries below them warmer, and the countries
above them colder, than is equivalent to the proportional dif-
feience of latitude. I he frigid zone in Asia is much wider
than it is in Europe ; and that continent hardly knows a tem¬
perate zone. From the northern ocean to the Caucasus,
says Montesquieu, Asia may be considered as aflat mountain.
1 hence to the ocean that washes Persia and India, it is a
low' and level country, without seas, and protected by this
immense range of hills from the polar winds. The Asiatic
is therefore warmer than the European continent below
the fortieth degree of latitude, and above that latitude it is
much colder.” Climate, according to the same writer, also
receives some difference from the nature of the soil, the
degree of cultivation, and other modifying circumstances;
and, upon the whole, he concludes that there is a general
latio of heat and cold, called climate, and a general resem¬
blance of nations, according to the latitude from the equa¬
tor ; subject, however, to innumerable varieties, arising
fiorn combinations of the circumstances already suggested.
But this doctrine is disputed both by Mr Lawrence and
others. I he uniform colour of all parts of the body is, ac¬
cording to him, a strong argument against those wdio as¬
cribe the blackness of the negro to the same cause as that
which produces tanning in white people, namely, the sun’s
lays. “ f he glans penis, the cavity of the axilla, the inside
of the thigh, says he, “ are just as black as any other part;
indeed the organs of generation, which are always covered,
are amongst the blackest parts of the body.” In a word,
he is of opinion that climate does not cause the diversities
of mankind. I he same difference of opinion prevails in
fc-1'Gen'il
M A N.
Jin
regard to varieties of structure, which, according to Smith
—'''and Blumenbach, are all superinduced by the long-conti¬
nued action of climate, food, and external condition or ha¬
bits of life ; whilst, on the other hand, Prichard and Law¬
rence contend that acquired peculiarities, or characters im¬
pressed by adventitious circumstances, and not arising in
the spontaneous development of the bodily structure, are
never transmitted to progeny. “ Nothing,” says the former,
“ seems to hold true more generally, than that all acquired
conditions of body, whether produced by art or accident,
end with the life of the individual in whom they are pro¬
duced.” The real question however is, whether this salu¬
tary law, but for which almost every race of animals would
exhibit a frightful spectacle, applies not to mutilations, or
artificial mouldings, or conformations, but to those changes
produced by the imperceptible operation of minute causes,
long continued; and whether the latter, which only become
visible in their effects after a great interval of time, coalesce
with the variety, and are thus transmitted to progeny.
But, without dwelling longer on differences of opinion re¬
specting points which do not seem, in the present state of
our knowledge, to admit of a satisfactory solution, we shall
content ourselves with exhibiting a view of the general re¬
sults deducible from the most comprehensive views which
have yet been taken of the natural history of man. And,
first, in reference to the problem, whether, in each particu¬
lar species of the animal and vegetable creation, it is pro¬
bable that there exists only one stock or family ; or whether,
in general, it may be supposed that the same species was at
once spread over distant countries from many different cen¬
tres ; Dr Prichard investigated this question by observing
the distribution of genera and species over different parts of
the earth, and he inferred that the whole number in each
species respectively has probably descended from a single
primitive stock;—an inference which seems to be strengthen¬
ed by a consideration of the wonderful means provided by
nature for the extension and dispersion of species. Se¬
condly, this fact being established in regard to organized
beings in general, it remained to inquire whether there
existed amongst mankind any specific varieties, or any phy¬
sical differences of such a description as to constitute origi¬
nal chaiacters and form distinct species. This inquiry Dr
Prichard commenced by pointing out the different methods
of determining the limits of species, and of discovering what
races are of the same and what of distinct species. He then
pursued it, first, physiologically, by a comparison of the prin¬
cipal facts relating to the animal economy, such as the du¬
ration of life proper to each kind of animals, the circum¬
stances connected with their breeding, the periods of utero-
gestation, the number of progeny, the laws of the natural
functions, the diseases to which each tribe is exposed, and
the character of its faculties, instincts, and habits ;—se¬
condly, a criterion for determining the unity or diversity of
species was sought in the capability of propagating, or ste¬
rility, of the animal which is the mixed progeny of two races,
there being evidently in nature a principle by which the
permanent intermixture of species is guarded against;—
thirdly, the analogical or comparative method was employed
to ascertain whether the particular diversities which require
to e accounted for are analogous to those deviations which
are known to make their appearance as varieties in a single
raceand, lastly, by examining the history of different
races of men, and noticing the instances of variety in form
an complexion which appear to have arisen from the same
stock, and the most remarkable differences in physical cha¬
racter which exist amongst tribes nearly allied to each other
•n kindred, he found that there is no clearly-traced and de-
mite line which the tendency to deviation or variety cannot
pass, and therefore no specific distinction. The character
o one race passes, by insensible deviation and transition,
nto mat of another; nay, even within the limits of a parti-
203
Man.
cular race, it is sometimes possible to point out a.wide range
of varieties, and in some instances it may be shown that the
most different complexions, and the greatest diversities of
figure, are to be found amongst tribes which appear to be¬
long to the same nation or family of nations. These con¬
clusions have resulted from surveying the physical history
of the most extensively diffused nations, indeed of all the
principal races or divisions of mankind ; and, upon the
whole, it appears that the human kind, however seeming¬
ly diversified, contains but one species, and therefore but
one race. In fact, the real sum of all the varieties observ¬
able amongst mankind is by no means so great as the appa¬
rent. For, as the eye takes in at one view, not only the
actual change made in each feature, but their multiplied
relations to one another, and to the whole, and as each new
relation gives to the same feature a different aspect by com¬
parison, the final result appears prodigious, though the real
diversity may be inconsiderable. A change made in the
eye, for instance, produces a change in the whole counte¬
nance ; and a change in the complexion presents not only
its own difference, but a much greater effect by a similar
combination with the whole.
It thus appears, that the general deductions of science, Harmony
guided by an enlightened philosophy, are not at variance °f science,
with the statements of Scripture respecting the origin and
diffusion of the human race ; and that the Mosaic account, a?d reli"
which, notwithstanding all that has been said by Mr Law-S1°n‘
rence, makes it quite clear that the inhabitants of the world
are all descended from one pair, is corroborated by the most
comprehensive and laborious investigation of physical facts.
The question is not, as Mr Lawrence has strangely sup¬
posed, whether “ the entire or even partial inspiration of the
various writings comprehended in the Old Testament has
been and is doubted by many persons, including learned
divines, and distinguished oriental and biblical scholars
but whether the natural history of man, when studied in
a truly philosophical spirit, embraces facts, or leads to con¬
clusions, inconsistent with or adverse to the account con¬
tained in Genesis of the creation of man and animals, and
their dispersion over the face of the earth. And to this im¬
portant question Dr Prichard’s elaborate Researches into the
Physical History of Mankind may be considered, in as far
at least as regards anthropology, to afford a scientific answer
in the negative. It is in vain to pretend that “ the account
of the creation and subsequent events has the allegorical figu¬
rative character common to eastern compositions.” This is a
principle which, if it evades some difficulties, at the same
time destroys all belief and annihilates all authority. Mr
Lawrence admits that this account is distinguished amongst
the cosmogonies by a simple grandeur and natural subli-
mity ; but if it is neither dictated by inspiration nor support¬
ed by truth, and if it is to be construed, not as a plain, direct
nanative, but as a sort of cosmological allegory or romance,
the esoteric import of which no one has determined, or per¬
haps cares to investigate, its qualities as a mere composition
are of very little avail. In our view, however, the latter are
altogether inseparable from the contrary supposition ; and
it is distinguished by a simple grandeur and natural subli-
mity, because, in the most simple and concise language, it
conveys the grandest and most sublime truths. &
But the conclusion that all the races or varieties of men Objections
are the offspring of a single family, has been met by an-founded on
other objection, of which no notice has yet been taken, diver,
though it is perhaps of not less moment than*those which sit-v of lan‘
have already been considered. I his objection is founded ^ua^ts’
upon the,diversity of languages. “ On the supposition of
one i ace, says Lord Karnes, “ there never could have ex¬
isted a diversity of languages.” But if there were any
thing in the objection here stated, it would prove a great
deal too much for the purpose of those who employ it. For
if it be maintained that the diversity of languages presents
MAN.
204
Man. an insuperable objection to the opinion that all mankind are
descended from one original, this argument plainly implies
that there must have been as many distinct races of men
as there are distinct languages in the world. Assuming
that the supposition of one race is untenable because there
are many languages, it follows that, by this principle, the
supposition of one language only is compatible with the
supposition of but one race ; yet instead of one universal
language, there are many idioms in the world, and hence
there must have been as many different races of men as
there are distinct forms of speech. The objection of Lord
Karnes and others, therefore, by proving too much, indeed
a great deal more than the most fanciful sceptic ever con¬
tended for, proves in reality nothing at all. Either there
must be as many races as there are languages; or, from
the diversity of languages, no inference whatever can be
drawn, affecting the question at issue, namely, whether
the various races of men are distinct species, or merely
varieties of one and the same species.
Number of There are not data sufficient for estimating with any
languages, degree of accuracy the number of existing languages ; but
we know that it mustbe very considerable. Amongst savage
nations in different parts of the world great diversity pre¬
vails in the forms of speech. In New Holland, and amongst
the Papua tribes, an infinite variety of jargons are to be
found, each petty horde differing entirely in speech from
its nearest neighbours; in South America the languages
of the native tribes are very numerous; and in Africa,
although there are some nations of greater physical and
moral energy than the rest, who have spread their dialects
through a great extent of country, yet there is also a
multitude of small and insulated tribes, whose languages
are said to be altogether peculiar to themselves. But
whatever may be the number of distinct languages now
extant, it is probable that this number would at least be
doubled were the idioms of all the nations who have been
exterminated in the continual wars of savage races to be
taken into the account. If, then, it be maintained (as on
the hypothesis we are considering it must be) that each
distinct idiom marks the limits of a particular race, with
what a vast number of separate families must we suppose
the earth to have been covered at the beginning! Multi¬
tudes of distinct families must have been created at once ;
and this must have been equally the case, whether we al¬
low that the whole human race contains but one natural
species, or maintain, with some naturalists, that there ex¬
ist four or five distinct species of men. All this might agree
very well with the supposition that, from the beginning, or¬
ganized beings of each tribe have been generally diffused
over the world, and that, at the hour of their creation, they
were nearly as numerous as at present; but (to say no¬
thing of the statement of Scripture) it is quite irreconcile-
able with the conclusions which have been found to result
from the facts already brought together for illustrating
the natural history of man; and unless these conclusions
are altogether fallacious, indeed the very reverse of the
truth, such a representation must be contrary to the nature
and the reality of things.
Compari- . (< ^ comparison of languages,” says M. Klaproth, “fur-
son of lan- nishes, in default of history, the only method of distin-
guages. guishing correctly from each other the different races of
people who are spread over the earth. It is much to be
regretted, he adds, “ that attempts which have been made
by many persons to avail themselves of this resource have
not been directed by the wisest principles, nor productive
of any solid advantage.” He then states that, according
to the opinion he has formed, there are two different sorts
of affinity amongst human languages; one of which may
be termed the general relation, and the other the particu¬
lar relation, or resemblance, existing between those lan¬
guages which are of the same stock or family. M. Klaproth
illustrates the general relation or affinity of languages by jja]
showing that there are numerous words to be found, in the v
idioms of nations the most unconnected with each other,
which are similar in sound and meaning; and that many
of those nations in whose vocabularies corresponding terms
have been observed, not only inhabit countries far sepa¬
rated, but are distinguished from each other by striking va¬
rieties of physical conformation. The second or particular
relation of languages, being that alone which concerns
our present purpose, is exemplified by the striking affinity
discovered between the Indian, Persian, German, and
other Indo-European idioms, as they are called. “ This
family relation of languages,” says M. Klaproth, “ subsists
in the idioms of nations allied by physical structure and
historical traditions, when in those idioms a multitude of
similar wTords can be traced, together with a striking and
manifest analogy in grammatical forms.” Now this ap¬
plies to the whole Indo-European family, including under
that denomination Sanscrit, Zend, Greek, Latin, Gothic,
Slavonic, Lithuanian, and their descendants. In fact, it is
now as certain that Greek, Gothic, and Slavonic are the
descendants of some ancient dialect nearly allied to the
Sanscrit, as that Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese are
chiefly derived from the Latin.
The first or general relation of languages is, according,
to M. Klaproth, from antediluvian times, and hitherto un-ofian!”
explained. The second is postdiluvian, and its causes areguages.
much less hidden from our view, so that we have, it seems,
“ no need of availing ourselves of the story of Babel, which,
like many others in the history of Western Asia, seems
to have been invented to suit the meaning of a local
name.” Without concerning ourselves, however, about
this strange hypothesis, or the conjectures upon which it
is built, and without attempting to give any explanation
of the phenomena which indicate a remote connection be¬
tween idioms otherwise entirely, distinct from each other,
we may observe, that the comparison of languages displays
four principal relations between them. 1. There are cer¬
tain classes of languages which have no connection in their
vocabularies, or next to none, that is, few or no words in
common, but which, when carefully examined, neverthe¬
less exhibit a remarkable and extensive analogy in the
laws of their grammatical construction. The resemblance
here is in the general scheme and structure, not in the ma¬
terials or words; and it may be so close as, notwithstand¬
ing the difference of vocabularies, to prove that the lan¬
guages in which it appears are connected in their origin,
or have been formed from a common model. As ex¬
amples of this i-elation may be mentioned, first, the idioms
of all the native American races, which obviously belong
to one family of languages ; and, secondly, the monosyl¬
labic class of languages spoken by the Chinese and Indo-
Chinese nations. 2. A second relation between languages
is observed in those instances where there is little or no
resemblance in grammatical structure, but an extensive
coincidence in their vocabularies. The most remarkable
instance of this species of relation is found on comparing
the vocabularies of the Semitic and Indo-European idioms;
classes of languages which have scarcely anything common
in their grammatical formation. In fact, a large proportion
of Hebrew words (we say nothing of roots, which are often
the creation of lexicographers) may be recognised and
identified in one or other of the Indo-European dialects.
3. But a still nearer and closer relation than either of those
just mentioned is to be found when both of them are
combined, or, in other words, when languages are connect¬
ed by the double tie of grammatical structure and exten¬
sive coincidence in their vocabularies. This is the de¬
scription of affinity which subsists between the different
languages of the Indo-European family, viz. Sanscrit, Zend,
Greek, Latin, Gothic, Slavonic, Lithuanian, with their de-
MAN.
205
jji. scenclants, or affiliated dialects. 4 A fourth result arising
s—'from the comparison of languages is where none of these
marks of resemblance can be discovered; where there is
neither any analogy in grammatical forms nor any corre¬
spondence in terms sufficient to indicate connection or af¬
finity. Languages thus distinguished are not of the same
class or family, and generally belong to nations which in
point of situation are remote from each other. Few idioms,
however, are entirely insulated from all others; indeed
most of them are connected by those widely-spread coin¬
cidences which M. Klaproth hypothetically regards as an¬
tediluvian.
Gen al To attempt to explain, upon any general principle, all
resun. these phenomena of diversity and resemblance, would be
a very difficult, if not, in the actual state of our know¬
ledge, a hopeless task. The theory of languages, and the
laws which govern their deflections, are so imperfectly
known, and facts recently brought to light are so much at
variance with all previously-entertained opinions, that no
reliance can be placed upon probable conjectures or pre¬
mature generalizations. How such diversities have arisen
in the languages of nations descended from one race, it is
not easy to determine; nor, on the other hand, are we war¬
ranted to hold that the mere fact of the existence of these
diversities affords any valid argument to prove that all man¬
kind are descended from one stock or family. But since it
appears that, under certain circumstances, languages which
are constructed on the same principles must have had one
origin, though they have lost all resemblance in their voca¬
bularies; and that, under different circumstances, languages
connected by the possession of a common stock of words
have different laws of grammar, and are entirely distinct
from each other in their general principles of formation;
it is probable that, in other instances, both these indica¬
tions of ancient affinity have been lost, and that nations
who now speak languages having no resemblance, either
in grammatical structure or in vocabularies, may never¬
theless at some remote period have employed a common
dialect. Again, it may be observed that, in general, the
number and diversity of languages is nearly in proportion
to the barbarism of nations. Where we find the human
race most degraded, physically and morally, there we dis¬
cover the greatest difference of languages. But amongst
nations whose civilization dates from a remote antiquity,
the features of resemblance in the languages have been
in a corresponding degree permanent. This is strikingly
exemplified in all the idioms of the Indo-European family,
whose double affinity has been established by the clearest
evidence. On the other hand, such marks of affinity gra¬
dually disappear in proportion to the degree of barbarism
to which various nations are known to have been reduced
in early times, and ultimately become evanescent. These
considerations, suggested by a general survey of the sub¬
ject, appear to sanction the opinion, that the diversity of hu¬
man languages has arisen from the minute division and dis¬
persion of families, and from their having been, at an early
period, reduced to a barbarous and destitute condition.
I here is no part of the natural history of man which is
[mu 0^more interesting than that which describes the progressive
e- tg advancement and decay of human life, from the cradle to
ma: a t^le grave. Nothing exhibits such a striking picture of our
s bii . weakness, as the condition of an infant immediately after
birth. Incapable of employing its organs, it requires as¬
sistance of every kind. In the first moments of existence,
it presents an image of pain and misery, and is weaker and
more helpless than the young of any other animal. At
birth, the infant parses from one element to another; when
it leaves the gentle warmth of the tranquil fluid by which
U was completely surrounded in the womb of the mother,
it becomes exposed to the impressions of the air, and in¬
stantly feels the effects of that active element. The air, act-
Man.
ing upon the olfactory nerves, and also upon the organs of
respiration, produces a shock something like that of sneez¬
ing, by which the breast is expanded, and the air admitted
into the lungs. In the mean time, the agitation of the dia¬
phragm presses upon the bowels, and the excrements are
thus for the first time discharged from the intestines, as well
as the urine from the bladder. The air dilates the vesicles
of the lungs, and, after being rarefied to a certain degree,
is expelled by the spring of the dilated fibres re-acting
upon this rarefied fluid. The infant now respires, and be¬
gins to utter sounds or cries. Most animals are blind for
some days after their birth. Infants behold the light the
moment they come into the world; but their eyes are dull
and fixed, and commonly blue. The new-born child cannot
distinguish objects, because it is incapable of fixing its eyes
upon them. The organ of vision is as yet imperfect; the
cornea is wrinkled; and perhaps the retina is too soft for
receiving the images of external objects, and for communi¬
cating the sensation of distinct vision. At the end of forty
days the infant begins to hear and to smile. About the
same time it directs its eyes towards bright objects, and
frequently turns,them towards the window, a candle, or any
other light. Now likewise it begins to weep ; for its former
cries and groans were not accompanied with tears. About
the fortieth day from its birth, it begins to smile, and to
recognise the features of those who approach it. “ Incipe,
parve puer, risu cognoscere matrem.” Smiles and tears
are the effect of two internal sensations, both of which de¬
pend upon the action of the mind; they are peculiar to
the human race, and serve to express mental pain or plea¬
sure; whilst the cries, motions, and other marks of bodily
pain and pleasure, are common to man and most of the
other animals. Indeed pain and pleasure form the univer¬
sal power which sets all our passions in motion.
An infant born at the full time commonly measures about infancy
twenty-one inches in height; and that foetus, which nine
months before was but an imperceptible bubble, now weighs
about ten or twelve pounds, and sometimes more. The
head is large in proportion to the body ; and this dispro¬
portion, which is still greater in the first stage of the fcetus,
continues during the period of infancy. The skin of a new¬
born child is of a reddish colour, because it is so fine and
transparent as to allow a slight tint of the colour of the blood
to shine through it. The form of the body and members is
by no means perfect in a child soon after birth; indeed all
the parts appear to be swollen. At the end of three days, a
kind of jaundice generally appears, and about the same time
milk is found in the breasts of the infant, which may be
squeezed out by the fingers. But the swelling decreases as
the child grows up. The liquor contained in the amnios leaves
a viscid whitish matter upon the body of the child. In this
country we take the precaution to wash the new-born in¬
fant with warm water ; but it is the custom amongst seve¬
ral nations inhabiting the coldest climates to plunge their
infants into cold water as soon as they are born. It is even
said that the Laplanders leave their children in the snow
till the cold has almost stopped their respiration, and then
plunge them into a warm bath. Amongst these people,
the children are also washed thrice a day during the first
year of their life. The inhabitants of northern countries
are persuaded that the cold bath tends to make men stronger
and more robust, and on that account they accustom their
children to the use of it from their infancy. The truth is,
that we are totally ignorant of the power of habit, or how
far it can render our bodies capable of suffering, acquiring,
or losing strength.
The child is not presented to the breast as soon as it is Food and
born ; but time is allowed for the discharge of the liquor treatment
and slime from the stomach, and of the meconium or ex-°f uifants.
crement, which is of a black colour, from the intestines.
As these substances might sour the milk on the stomach,
206
M A N.
Man. a little diluted wine mixed with sugar is first given to the
infant, and the breast is not presented to it before ten or
twelve hours have elapsed. I lie young of quadrupeds can
of themselves find the way to the teat of the mother; but it
is not so with man. The mother, in order to suckle her
child, must raise it to her breasts ; and, at this feeble period
of life, the infant can express its vrants only by its cries.
i\ew-born children have need of frequent nourishment.
During the day the breast ought to be given them every
two hours, and during the night as often as they aw7ake.
At first they sleep almost continually ; and they seem never
to awrake but when pressed by hunger and pain. Sleep is
useful and refreshing to them; and it is sometimes consi¬
dered as necessary to employ narcotic doses, proportioned
to the age and constitution of the child, for the purpose of
procuring it repose. I he common method of appeasing
the cries of children is by rocking them in a cradle; but
this agitation must be very gentle, otherwise there is a great
risk of confusing the infant’s brain, and producing a total
derangement. It is necessary to their enjoying good health,
that theii sleep should be long and natural. It is possible,
however, that they may sleep too much, and thereby endan¬
ger their constitution. In such a case, it is proper to take
them out of the cradle, and to awaken them by a gentle
motion, or by presenting some bright object to their eyes.
At this age infants receive the first impressions from the
senses, which, without doubt, are more important during
the rest of life than is generally imagined. For the first
six or seven months, no other food should be given to the
child but the milk of the nurse ; and when it is of a
weak and delicate constitution, this nourishment exclusive¬
ly should be continued for some time longer. A child,
however robust and healthy, may be exposed to great dan-
gei and inconvenience if any other aliment be administered
before the end of the first month. In Holland, Italy, Tur¬
key, and the whole of the Levant, the food of children is
limited to the milk of the nurse for about a year. The sa¬
vages of Canada give their children suck for four, five, six,
and sometimes even seven years. In this country, as nurses
generally have not a sufficient quantity of milk to satisfy
the appetite of their children, they commonly supply the
want of it by panada, or other light preparations.
I he teeth usually begin to appear about the age of seven
months. Hie cutting of the teeth, though a natural opera¬
tion, does not follow the common course of nature, which
acts continually on the human body without occasioning
the smallest pain, or even producing any sensation. Here
a violent and painful effort is made, accompanied with cries
and tears. Children at first lose their sprightliness and
gaiety; they become sad, restless, and fretful. The gums
are red and swelled; but they afterwards become white,
when the pressure of the teeth increases so as to stop the
circulation of the blood. Children apply their fingers to
then mouths, that they may remove the irritation which
they feel there ; and some relief is afforded, by putting into
their hands a bit of ivory or coral, or of some other hard
and smooth substance with which they may rub the gums at
^efite(1 Pf1'1, ,rhls Pressure, being opposed to that of
rpnr/ d!1’ Ca T the pam ior a momenb contributes to
rnrfnip 16 of the gum thinner, and facilitates its
ptuie. Nature here acts m opposition to herself; and
an incision of the gum must sometimes take place, to al¬
low a passage to the tooth. The eight incisive teeth, of
which four are placed in each jaw, usually make their ap¬
pearance in eight or ten months; the four canine, or eye-
6 ST au°Ut the tenth month ; and in the
tvvelfth or fourteenth, the jaw-teeth, or grinders, are gene¬
ra y protruded, to the number of sixteen, thus making
twenty-eight teeth in all. At the age of twenty-six or
if°Ur jailers, generally two at the bottom of
each jaw, and commonly called dentes sapientia?, on account
dentition
of their tardy appearance, are developed, and complete the J[a
entire number. The last, however, are not always present''*—\
in the female subject. Whoever is much conversant with
the condition of infancy must also have observed, that the
periods, modes, and symptoms of dentition, vary consider¬
ably in different individuals. Towards the age of six or
seven years, a new impulse is given to the nutritive system
of the child, which not only acquires an accession of vigour,
but sheds its incisive milk teeth, which are replaced by
others of larger dimensions and stronger texture. The four
canine, and the first four grinders, are in like manner sup¬
planted by others. But children have been occasionally
born with the incisive teeth already cut.
When children are allowed to cry too long, or too fre-Accide
quently, ruptures are sometimes occasioned by the efforts and dis
which they in consequence make. These accidents, how-eases,
ever, may easily be cured by the speedy application of band¬
ages ; but if this remedy be too long delayed,, the disease
may continue throughout life. Children are likewise very
subject to worms. Some of the evil effects occasioned by
these animals might, according to Buffon, be prevented by
giving them now and then a little wine or fermented liquors,
which have a tendency to prevent their generation. Though
the body is very delicate in the state of infancy, it is then
less sensible of cold than at any other period of life, be¬
cause the internal heat generated appears to be greater.
The pulse in children is much quicker than in adults, and
from this it may certainly be inferred that the internal heat
is in the same proportion greater. Till three years of age,
the life of a child is exceedingly precarious. In two or three
years after it becomes more certain, and at seven years of
age a child has a better chance of living than at any other
period of life. A table of the progressive decrement of
life amongst a thousand infants of each sex born together
has been constructed by Mr Finlaison, from his observa¬
tions on the mortality of the nominees in the government
tontines and life annuities. The rate of mortality which
this table exhibits is, as might be expected, decidedly less
than in tne Carlisle table ; the lives in the latter being the
average of the population, whereas those in the former are
all picked. Still, however, it is curious, inasmuch as it
sets the superiority of female life in a very striking point
of view. Children begin learning to speak about the age
of twelve or fifteen months. In all languages, and amongst
every people, the first syllables they utter are the sounds
most natural to man, consisting of that vowel (a) and those
consonants (p, 6, and d) the pronunciation of which requires
the smallest exertion of the organs of speech. Some chil¬
dren at two years of age articulate distinctly, and repeat
whatever is said to them ; but most children do not speak
till the age of two and a half, or three years, and often
later. I he period of infancy, extending from the moment
of birth to about twelve years of age, has already been con¬
sidered.
I he period of infancy is followed by that of adolescence. Puberty
11ns commences, together with puberty, at the age ofan(la^‘
twelve or fourteen, and commonly ends in girls at fifteen, ^escer]ce
and in boys at eighteen, but sometimes not till twenty-one,
twenty-three, and twenty-five years of age. According
to its etymology (adolescentid), it is completed when the
body has attained its full height. Thus puberty becomes
adolescence, and precedes youth. This is the spring of
life ; this is the time of pleasures, of loves, and of graces;
but this smiling season is of short duration. Soon after
the age of puberty the body of man attains its full stature.
Some young people cease to grow after fifteen or sixteen;
whilst others continue to increase in height till twenty, or
even twenty-three. During this interval they are usually
slender, but by degrees the limbs swell out, and assume
their proper shape; and before the age of thirty, the body
las genet ally attained its greatest perfection with regard ttf
M A N.
A n. strength, and consistence, and symmetry. Adolescence is
-^^considered as terminating at the age of twenty or twenty-
five; and at this period, according to the usual division of
man’s life into ages, youth begins. This continues till the
age of thirty or thirty-five.
Stat e. The stature of man varies considerably in different cli¬
mates, and under different external circumstances; and
hence authors are by no means agreed as to what should
be considered as the medium height of the human body.
Buffon states it at from five feet or five feet and an inch, to
five feet four inches, thus making the medium height about
five feet two inches. Haller, on the contrary, reckons the
true medium height of men in the temperate climates of
Europe at about five feet five or five feet six inches.
In general, women are several inches shorter than men.
It has also been remarked by Haller, that in mountainous
countries, such as Switzerland, the inhabitants of the plains
are commonly much taller than those of the higher situa¬
tions. It is difficult to ascertain with precision the actual
limits of the human stature ; but we may observe, that in
surveying the inhabited parts of the earth, we find more
remarkable differences in the stature of different indivi¬
duals of the same nation, than in the general height of
different nations. In the same climate, amongst the same
people, and often even in the same family, we find some
individuals who are far above the medium standard, and
others as far below it. But though there be no fixed law
determining invariably the human stature, yet there is a
standard, as in other species of animals, from which the
deviations, independently of accident or disease, are not
very considerable on either side. In the temperate cli¬
mates of Europe the height of the human race varies
from four feet and a half to six feet. Individuals of six
feet and some inches are not uncommon in this and other
European countries ; and occasional instances have been
known in various parts of the world, of individuals reach¬
ing the height of seven, eight, or even nine feet; whilst
some ancient and modern authors speak of the human sta¬
ture as having reached ten and even eighteen feet. The
latter representations are grounded on the large bones
dug out of the earth, and which have been erroneously
supposed to form parts of human skeletons, whereas, bv
the accurate examinations of science, they have been
discovered to belong to extinct species of animals of the
elephant and other cognate species. These, however, with
the ordinary propensity to believe and report the marvel¬
lous, and the notion that mankind have undergone a phy¬
sical as well as moral degeneracy since their first forma¬
tion, have led to a common belief that the human stature
m general is less now than it was in remote ages. But
that men in general were taller in the early ages of the
world than at present, or that examples of very tall men
were much more frequent then than now, has been asserted
without any proof, and is even contrary to well-ascertained
tacts, f he remains of human bones, and particularly the
teeth, which are found unchanged in the most ancient
urns and burial-places, the mummies, and the sarcophagus
ot the great pyramid of Egypt, not to mention others, de¬
monstrate this point clearly ; and every fact which we can
collect from ancient works of art, from armour, as helmets,
Breastplates, haubergeons, mailed gloves, and cuisses, or
iom buddings designed for the abode and accommodation
o man, concurs in strengthening the proof. That man can-
'mt have degenerated in consequence of the habits of ci¬
vilized life is evident, because the individuals of nations
jvmg m the savage state, such as the native Americans,
I* ncans, and South-Sea Islanders, do not exceed us in sta-
ure; indeed it has been generally observed of these races,
207
ti,-f    vuoci vtu oi uiese races
,1,00 tj i a.re’1uP?n the average, shorter than Europeans,
i "f “ody having acquired its full height during the
period of adolescence, and its full dimensions in youth,
remains for some years in the same state before it begins Man.
to decay. This is the period of manhood, which extends v    
from the age of thirty or thirty-five to that of forty or
forty-five years. During this stage of life the powers
of the body continue in full vigour, and the principal
change which takes place in the human figure arises from
the formation of adipose matter in different parts.
Physiologists give the name of old age to that period of Decline of
fife which commences immediately after the age of man-life,
mod and ends at death, and they distinguish green old
age from the age of decrepitude. But such an extensive
signification of the word ought not to be admitted. Men
are not old at the age of forty or forty-five years, and
though the body then gives signs of decay, it has not vet
arrived at the period of old age. M. Daubenton observes,
that it would be more proper to call it “ the declining age ”
because nature then becomes retrograde; the fatness and
good plight of the body diminish ; and certain parts of it
do not perform their functions with equal vigour. The
age of decline is from forty or forty-five, to sixty or sixty-
five years of age. At this time of life, the diminution of
tat is the cause of those wrinkles which begin to appear in
the face and in other parts of the body. The skin, not
being supported by the same quantity of fat, and being
incapable, for want of elasticity, of contracting, sinks down
and forms folds. In the decline of life, a remarkable
change also takes place in vision. In the vigour of a«-e
the crystalline lens, being thicker and more diaphanous
than the humours of the eye, enables us to read letters of a
very small character at the distance of eight or ten inches.
But when the period of decline arrives, the quantity of
the humours of the eye diminishes ; they lose their clear¬
ness, and the transparent cornea becomes less convex
Another mark of the decline of life is a weakness of the
stomach, and indigestion, in most people who do not take
sufhaent exercise in proportion to the quantity and quality
of their food. At sixtjr, sixty-three, or sixty-five years of
age, the signs ot decline become more and more visible and
indicate old age. Phis period commonly extends to the
age ot seventy, sometimes to seventy-five, but seldom to
eighty. I he eyes and stomach then become weaker and
weaker, leanness increases the number of the wrinkles
the beard and the hair become white, and the strength and'
the memory begin to fail.
After seventy, or at most at eighty years of age, the life OH age,
oi man is, as the royal bard of Israel observed, nothino-and death,
but labour and sorrow. Some men of strong constitutions
enjoy old age tor a long time without decrepitude; but
such instances are not very common. Infirmities and de¬
crepitude continually increase, and at length death closes
the scene. Ihe signs which announce the approaching
dissolution of the body are humiliating to the pride and
vain-glory ot man. The memory fails, the fibres become
hard, and the nerves blunted; deafness and blindness take
place; the senses ot smell, of touch, and of taste, are de¬
stroyed ; the appetite fails; the necessity of eating, and
more frequently that ot drinking, are alone felt; after the
teeth have fallen out, mastication is imperfectly perform¬
ed, and the digestion is bad ; the lips shrink inwards • the
edges of the jaws can no longer approach each other/and
the muscles of the lower jaw become so weak that they
are unable to raise and support it. The body sinks down -
the spine is bent outward, and the vertebra; grow together’
at the interior part; the body becomes extremely&lean ;
and the strength fails. Ihe decrepid wretch is unable to
support himself; he is obliged to remain on a seat, or lie
stretched on his bed; the bladder becomes paralytic; the
intestines lose their spring; the circulation of the blood
becomes slower ; the strokes of the pulse become fewer
and feebler to the extent of more than two thirds; respi¬
ration is slower; the body loses its heat; the circulation
M A N.
208
Man. of the blood ceases ; death follows; and the dream of life
is at an end.
Duration Man has no right to complain of the shortness of life.
of life. Throughout the whole range of living beings, there are few
who unite in a greater degree all the internal causes which
tend to prolong its different periods. The term of gesta¬
tion is very considerable; the rudiments of the teeth are
late in unfolding themselves; the growth of the body is
slow, and is not completed before about twenty years have
elapsed. The age of puberty, also, is much later in man
than in any other animal. In short, the parts of his body
are composed of a much softer and more flexible substance,
and are not so soon indurated as those of inferior animals.
Man, therefore, seems to receive at his birth the seeds of
a long life ; and if he reach not the distant period which na¬
ture seemed to promise him, it must be owing to accidental
causes foreign to himself. The total duration of life is in
some measure proportioned to the period of growth. A
tree or an animal which soon acquires its full size, decays
much sooner than another which continues to grow for a
longer time. If it be true that the life of animals is eight
times longer than the period of their growth, the duration
of human life might be extended to a century and a half.
M. Daubenton has given a table of the probabilities of
the duration of life, of which the following is an abridg¬
ment. Of 23,994 children born at the same time, there
will probably die,
In one year   7,998
Remaining §, or 15,996.
In eight years 11,997
Remaining l, or 11,997.
In 38 years 15,996
Remaining or 7998.
In 50 years 17,994
Remaining or 5998.
In 61 years 19,995
Remaining or 3999.
In 70 years 21,595
Remaining ^ or 2399.
In 80 years 22,395
Remaining or 599.
In 90 years   23,914
Remaining or 79.
In 100 years 23,992
Remaining yoooUi or
In further illustration of this subject, we shall here in¬
troduce Mr Finlaison’s table (already referred to) of the
decrement of life amongst a thousand infants of each sex,
founded upon his observations on the mortality of the no¬
minees of the government tontines and life annuities in
Great Britain.
Age.
0
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
Males.
1000
981
963
949
937
927
919
912
906
901
896
891
886
881
876
872
Females.
1000
981
967
955
945
935
926
919
913
908
903
899
895
892
887
883
Age.
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
Males. ! Females.
866
860
854
846
837
827
816
804
793
782
771
761
751
742
732
723
876
870
863
856
848
841
834
827
820
813
805
798
791
784
777
770
Age.
Males.
Females.
Age.
Males.
Females.
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
714
705
696
687
679
670
662
653
644
636
627
619
610
602
594
586
578
570
561
552
542
531
520
508
495
482
468
454
440
426
413
399
385
370
355
763
755
748
740
732
724
716
708
700
693
685
677
669
661
654
646
638
631
623
616
608
601
593
585
576
568
559
549
539
529
519
508
496
484
471
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
339
322
305
288
270
253
235
218
202
185
171
156
141
125
110
95
81
68
56
44
34
24
17
11
7
4
3
1
457
443
428
412
395
377
358
339
319
298
277
255
233
210
189
168
149
132
117
103
89
76
64
52
41
30
21
14
8
5
2
1
Ms
»(
It thus appears that, even in favourable circumstances,Genera!
a small number of men pass through all the periods ofobserva.
life, and arrive at extreme old age. This is strikinglytion5
exemplified, even in Mr Finlaison’s table. In fact, innu¬
merable causes accelerate the dissolution of the body. The
life of man consists in the activity and exercise of his or¬
gans, which grow up and acquire strength during infancy,
adolescence, and youth. But no sooner has the body at¬
tained its utmost perfection than it begins to decline. Its
decay is at first imperceptible, yet, as age advances, the
membranes become cartilaginous, and the cartilages ac¬
quire the consistence of bone; the fibres are hardened; and
the venous system of circulation prevails over the arterial.
The glands are contracted in volume and action ; the hu¬
mours assume greater consistence, and become more acrid ;
the secretions are less abundant; the senses, especially
those of sight and hearing, fail; “ the grinders cease because
they are few, and those that look out of the windows be
darkened;” a state of second childhood supervenes, when
even “ the grasshopper becomes a burden;” and dissolution
at length consigns us to that narrow but hospitable home
which nature has provided for all her children. In the vision
of Mirza, the passengers along the bridge of life are conti¬
nually dropping off, and as they advance towards the further
extremity, one or two only are seen trembling and tottering
amongst the broken arches, until at length all disappear,
and are swallowed up in the boundless ocean of eternity.
This, however, is “ the period few attain, the death of na¬
ture ;”
 And could these laws have changed,
Nestor might now the fates of Troy relate,
And Homer live immortal as his song.
r^r
Mi,
IsLof.
'
MAN, ISLE OF.
MAN, Isle of, lies between 54° and 55° N. lat., and
4° and 5° W. long., in the middle of the Irish Sea, and
''nearly equidistant from the shores of England, Scotland,
and Ireland. It is about thirty miles in extreme length,
and eleven miles at its greatest breadth; but the latter
varies considerably, as its coasts are in many places deeply
indented by the sea, and converge at their northern and
southern extremities into narrow points. Whilst some,
therefore, estimate its superficial contents at only 220
square miles, others make it a little less, or 130,000 acres.
At its southern extremity, and separated from it by a
narrow channel of only a few hundred yards across, is a
little island called the Calf. It is about three miles in cir¬
cumference ; its precipitous coasts rise high above the
level of the sea, and its scanty vegetation does little more
than afford food for a few sheep and rabbits; and a shep¬
herd’s family, and the keepers of the two light-houses, are
its only human inhabitants. These light-houses were erect¬
ed by the Commissioners of Northern Lights, from the
same humane concern for the safety of the storm-tossed
mariner which induced them to raise a similar structure,
equal in elegance and utility, on the most northerly point
of the main island. Like the Calf, the greater part of
Man presents to the sea a bold and rocky coast. Its bays,
however, are both numerous and spacious, and the anchor¬
age in many of them is extremely good; but as none of
them is land-locked, or even completely protected by ele¬
vated headlands, vessels ride there in safety only in off¬
shore gales ; and the sailor must too frequently shun them
when the winter’s tempests sweep that dangerous sea.
For certain civil and ecclesiastical purposes, it is divid¬
ed into a northern and a southern district: each of these
contains three sheadings, and the whole island is again
thrown into seventeen parishes. Its towns are Castletown,
Douglas, Peel, and Ramsay. The first of these is a clean
and neat town, being the capital of the island, the residence
of the lieutenant-governor, the seat of the legislature and
courts of law, and adorned in its centre by a fine old Go-'
thic fortress, round which are entwined many heart-stirr¬
ing associations. Douglas is the chief seat of commerce ;
it is larger than Castletown, and the stile of its buildino-s
is finer, where they have risen within the last two years.
Close to it is Castle Mona, once the princely residence
of the Duke of Atholl, but now a very spacious and
elegant hotel. In feudal times Peel was a place of con¬
siderable note; and, till very lately, the herring fishery
was briskly carried on there; but it is now remarkable
only for its ancient castle, which it too much resembles in
its own ruinous condition. Ramsay is also much less than
Douglas ; but it is a thriving and spirited little town, and
would be no despicable rival to the other, were it less re¬
stricted in its trade. All the towns are built on the allu¬
vial deposit at the mouths of the principal rivers, where
they flow into the sea at very nearly opposite parts of the
island. They have all tide-harbours, piers, and harbour-
lights ; and they are connected by excellent roads with
each other, and with the villas, villages, and little hamlets
which thickly enliven and adorn the scenery of the adja¬
cent country.
The climate of the Isle of Man is rather variable, moist,
and windy. Compared with the countries around it, its
winters are mild and open, and its summers cool. Snow
seldom lies many hours. Its fields during the whole of
winter generally wear a spring-like appearance ; and the
extreme cold of an English winter is never felt. A me¬
teorological journal was long kept by the late Receiver-
General Stuart, at his residence, Villa Marina, situated on
the shore of the Bay of Douglas ; and the annexed tables
were prepared and circulated amongst his private friends,
by that truly upright officer and accomplished gentleman.
General State of the Weather for 1831.
Months.
January....
February..,
March 
April 
May 
June 
July 
August 
September
October...
November.
December.
General medium  50
Medium of
Thermometer.
37
39
44
48
54
60
60
62
56
55
45
45
37
42
45
45
50
53
57
58
53
56
44
45
49
Wind,
Number of Days.
7
5
6
9
5
4
9
12
5
3
15
13
93
7
13
4
5
4
21
9
5
13
14
7
16
16
2
8
14
22
2
8
5
7
13
1
1
1
8
13
2
3
5
9
15
11
7
1
Weather,
Number of Days.
Rain. Snow. Pair.
8
11
12
8
4
4
8
8
12
16
12
11
Rain
Fallen.
Inches. 100 Parts.
21
13
18
22
26
26
23
23
18
15
12
20
118
99
75 114
14 237
37
55
27
21
72
36
30
31
81
24
22
78
80
57
Highest state of thermometer 77
Lowest 26
REMARKS, 1831.
March 11. Strong aurora borealis.
13. Violent lightning, 8 jp. m.
Sept. 29; Thunder and lightning.
Nov. 15 and 16. Extraordinary thunder and lightning.
Several sheep destroyed in the island.
Dec. 9. Lightning,—no thunder.
10. Ditto, with thunder.
VOL. xiv.
2 D
209
Man,
Isle of.
210
1
MAN, ISLE OR
Man,
Isle of.
General Average for Eight Years, from 1824 to 1831 inclusive, the fractional parts being omitted.
Years.
1824.
1825.
1826.
1827.
1828.
1829.,
1830..
1831.
Medium of
Thermometer.
Medium for 8 years...,
49-9
51-9
53-3
50
51
48
48-8
50
50
P. M.
49-9
48- 6
49- 3
48
49
46
46-9
49
48
Wind,
Number of Days.
93
80
82
105
64
102
83
93
61
62
86
93
113
91
104
118
87
82
92
97
87
102
107
110
84
99
97
120
126
110
65
82
62
94
75
92
Weather,
Number of Days.
Rain. Snow. Fair
150
145
126
152
147
135
167
114
142
15
7
12
15
9
13
15
14
12
201
213
227
198
210
217
183
237
210
Rain
Fallen.
Inches. 100 Parts.
40
38
29
43
35
33
38
37
37
75
68
52
41
r90
89
55
57
28
Ma
Isle
General Remarks.—Fahrenheit’s thermometer was situated on a northern exposure, and always out. The observa¬
tions were taken at nine o’clock a. m., and at eleven o’clock p. m. With reference to the wind, “ the prevailing point
of the day is taken.” If any rain, snow, or sleet fell during the day, it was not considered fair.
The Manx mountains have rather an imposing appear¬
ance, whether as seen from the sea, or as viewed from the
highest summits. They almost bisect the island diago¬
nally in a line running from its north-east to its south¬
west shore. One of them rises to upwards of 20,00 feet
above the level of the sea. They are green to their tops ;
for the most part gently rounded towards the south, but
sinking abruptly on the alluvial plains of the northern dis¬
trict. To the south and north of this mountain range the
country has a very different appearance. Plills prevail in
the former part, and the land is generally better adapted for
feeding than for cropping. The surface of the latter is
nearly level, or gently undulating ; and the sand, marl, and
morass of which it is composed, resting on a substratum
of gravel and diluvial boulders, is, to a very great extent,
covered with crops that do equal honour to the soil and to
the farmer.
In the stratification of its rocks there is nothing uncom¬
mon, and the variety of its minerals is far from being con¬
siderable. Of the primary rocks, granite in some places may
be seen rising to the surface, whilst masses of quartz and
hornblende are to be met with frequently both above and
below it. Slate, gray wacke, and gray wacke slate, passing
into old red sandstone; black and gray limestone, green¬
stone, and clinkstone, passing into basalt, comprehend
its transitionary formations. The slate is often found of a
quality that fits it for the covering of houses; and is met
with, too, of such a fibrous structure, as to make, in lengths
of six and eight feet, excellent piles, posts, and lintels.
The steps at the great entrance to St Paul’s are of the
black limestone of Man. It admits of a fine polish, and is
much used for tomb-stones and chimney-pieces. Its gray
limestone is also good ; it abounds in organic remains; and,
happily for the interests of Manx agriculture, its beds oc¬
cupy as much of the southern extremity of the island as the
strata of its marl do of the opposite one. Copper and lead
are the only metals which have yet been discovered in its
mines. Three of these are in full operation. One is conduct¬
ed at the risk of several public-spirited individuals belong¬
ing to the island; the others by an English company; and all
of them are carried on with much enterprise and success.
T-here are no lakes in Man. Its larger morasses, too,
have been all reclaimed. Springs and rivulets of the purest
water everywhere abound. The largest of its rivers, how¬
ever, like the island itself, is only a small one, short in its
course, and very variable in size, as drought or rain hap¬
pens to prevail. Plenty of trout are still to be found in
its streams; but the salmon and salmon-trout have almost
ceased to frequent them.
Only one little brassica, called the simbrium JSIonensis,
distinguishes the Manx from the British Flora. Owing to
the extreme mildness of the climate, many plants thrive
exposed all the year in the open shrubberies, that can be
preserved only in the greenhouses of countries in a much
lower latitude. Trees are scarce in Man, and the deficiency
forcibly attracts the notice of every stranger. Thriving
plantations, however, are rising fast round every villa ; hor¬
ticulture is much attended to; and the fruits of its graperies
and pineries are both excellent and abundant.
The animal kingdom has nothing in it peculiar to the
island. Horses of an active and hardy breed ; sheep, small,
coarse wmolled, and well flavoured ; pigs and black cattle;
are there, as in England, the common stock of every farmer.
Hares are rather scarce. The Calf and many parts of the
island abound in rabbits. Beasts of prey, and venomous
reptiles, if ever indigenous, are now never seen.
Manxmen are tinctured a little with the pride of ancestry.
They do not, indeed, lay claim to that extreme antiquity
for their race which is demanded by some nations ; nor are
their traditions interwoven with any of those beautiful my¬
thologies by which the absence of truth is almost atoned for
in the histories of others. There are of their writers, how¬
ever, who have amply availed themselves of the legendary
tale; and, if credit is to be given to their recitals, a long
succession of magicians, druids, saints, and seakings, ruled
in Man many ages before the time at which this brief
sketch of its history begins.
Caesar speaks of Mona, Pliny of Monobia, Ptolemy of
Monaoeda or Monoida, Orosius and Beda of Menavia, and
Nennius of Eubonia, in a manner distinctly indicating that
the island was known in their days by each and all of these
different names. Whether Man, its present appellation,
be a contraction or a corruption of any of these, or more
immediately derived from the ancient British words Mon,
isolated, or Manaw, a little island; from the Saxon mang,
among ; from Maune, the surname of St Patrick ; from the
Manx moany, solitary, rough, uncultivated; or from Mannin
Macler, the name of the greatest of its traditionary kings;
is still one of those questions which remain for its antiqua¬
ries to investigate and decide.
It is likely that long before the tenth century Man par¬
ticipated largely in all the chances and changes of the bar¬
barous septs around it; that its people were alternately the
friends, the foes, and the subjects of the Scottish and Irish
chiefs, and the petty princes of the heptarchy; but it is
then only that a gleam of its true and continued history
first breaks upon us, as the conquest and the residence of
some of the Scandinavian seakings. A series of these, to
the number of twenty-four, were undoubtedly its sovereigns
until beyond the middle of the thirteenth century. About
MAN, ISLE OF.
:fan,
' e of.
that time Alexander of Scotland obtained possession of it
by force of arms ; and after his death, and during the reigns
— of the Edwards and the first Bruce, it was alternately pos¬
sessed by the English and Scottish monarchs. From an
early part of the fourteenth until the beginning of the fif¬
teenth century, the sovereignty of Man passed through the
hands of various English and Scottish nobles, who held it
as the vassals of their respective kings ; and it was at last
bestowed by Henry IV. under the same conditions, on Sir
John Stanley. It remained with his descendants until to¬
wards the middle of the eighteenth century, when it pass¬
ed by the female line from the Derby into the Atholl fa¬
mily. Between that period and 1829 it was gradually shorn
of many of its feudal honours ; but it was then that govern¬
ment purchased from the late Duke of Atholl the whole of
his remaining rights, titles, revenue, and patronage, in his
lordship of Man, for L.430,000.
It was in 1726 that the first act of parliament was pass¬
ed to purchase the island from the Earl of Derby. Power¬
ful influence, however, put off the sale until 1764, when a
Duke of Atholl disposed of his sovereign rights in the island,
all his civil patronage, and the two castles of Peel and
Ilushin, for LAO,000, to which sum was afterwards added
an annuity of L.2000 to his duchess. His title of Lord of
Man, his manorial rights, his patronage of the bishopric
and parish livings, mines and minerals, treasure-trove, and
other privileges, were all reserved. From a conviction,
also, on the part of government, that a hard bargain had
been driven with his predecessor, the late duke obtained a
perpetual grant of the fourth of the nett customs revenue
ol the island, and was also appointed its governor-general.
Little more than another score of years had passed when
further changes took place. The large sum already men¬
tioned was paid down ; every vestige of its lord’s rights were
bought up ; and the Isle ot Man was elevated from the state
of a feudal appanage, to the prouder, and, we hope, happier
condition of a British colony.
The executive department of the government of the Isle
of Man is carried on by a lieutenant-governor, who is the
captain-general of the island, and also presides in the upper
chamber of its legislature, and in most of its judicial as¬
semblies. He acts on all important occasions by advice of
the council, which consists of the bishop, attorney-general,
the two deemsters, receiver-general, water-bailiff, clerk of
the rolls, archdeacon, the two vicars-general, and its clerk.
Deemsters are of great antiquity and high authority in Man.
I ormerly depositaries of the lex non scripta, they are still the
interpreters of the lawof the land, in doubtful cases, to all the
other authorities. The receiver-general is also an ancient
and important officer. He was the lord’s treasurer, the chief
receiver of rents and revenues, and paid all the salaries and
wages of the lord’s retainers. Water-bailiff is an officer
synonymous with judge of admiralty; he was at one time
a so collector of the customs under the receiver-general.
y j.ie dork of the rolls were entered all pleas and pro¬
ceedings before the lord ; and he is the keeper of the most
important records of the courts and the government. Be¬
sides the officers now enumerated, there is a high bailiff in
each of the four towns; a seneschal, who looks after the
enrolments of all the lord’s tenants ; a coroner in each of
us sheadings, who performs many of the duties of a she¬
ll , a moar, who is a kind of parish officer; and from a
°zen to twenty constables. All these appointments ema¬
nate directly or indirectly from the Home Office.
act ot the imperial parliament, however applicable
nicy e to every part of the united kingdom, extends to
tin \ • ° Man’ excePt that island be expressly men-
. eu m it. Its own legislature consists of two cham-
nen,; the council, and the house of keys. The latter is a
i a.ssembly> consisting of twenty-four members,
0 ^leir seats for life. They are in no way respon-
211
sible to the people. The presence of thirteen is required
to give validity to their acts. It discharges both legisla¬
tive and judicial functions ; and, whilst sitting in the latter
capacity, its members often decide, as judges, in appeal
cases of their own, brought up to it from the lower courts.
Luckily for the unfortunate litigant who has not a seat or
friends in the house of keys, a further hearing, and a re¬
versal of their judgment, may be obtained from the king
in council. As a legislative assembly, it originates laws;
and, if thirteen or upwards of its number approve, the bill
is transmitted to the council. There it may be thrown
out; but if favourably received, it is laid before the king,
whose assent is seldom refused. Last of all, it must be
promulgated by the lieutenant-governor, who does so, seat¬
ed in great state, on the top of an ancient tumulus called
the Tynwald Mount, round which are collected, at the
same time, the council, the key's, the officers of govern¬
ment, and, generally, a numerous concourse of the people.
Hence its laws are commonly called Acts of Tynwald.
One small volume contains the whole of these laws; and
the lawyers of the island practise in the double capacity
of attorneys and barristers. Where their own laws are si-
lent, the judges are much influenced by the decisions of
the English courts. Lord Coke says, that “ its laws are
such as scarce to be found anywhere else.” The drift of
the remark is not very obvious. It is true that there are
Manx enactments still in force which prevent a tailor from
leaving the island without permission of his lord, and
wlnch thieaten banishment, as vagrants, to all Scotch me?i
and Iiish women found in it; but it is equally certain that
these, and many such like elements of folly and injustice,
which its code undoubtedly contains, had then too many
and too faithful counterparts in a statute-book with which
the learned lord was still better acquainted. It is also gra-
tifying to think that most of the absurd laws have fallen
into desuetude in Man, and are to be regarded as proofs
of a state of manners no longer existing in that island.
The proper revenue of the island consists of three
branches ; of customs, harbour-dues, and insular taxes.
Duties levied on certain goods imported are the sources
of the first; charges on vessels and boats that have en¬
joyed the benefit of its harbours, form the second ; and
the last consists of small taxes levied on dogs, carriages,
and public houses. Ihe customs average from L.20,000
to L.25,000 per annum: out of them all the government
officers’ salaries are paid; and a yearly surplus of from
L.12,000 to L.15,000 is remitted to England. It is
in the repairs of harbours, roads, and bridges, that the
money collected under the other two heads is expended;
and the outlay is regulated by commissioners and com¬
mittee-men appointed for the purpose. In each of the four
towns there is a customhouse; but they are all subor¬
dinate to the one in Douglas. The treasury nominates
the officers of customs; the collectors of the local taxes
are appointed by insular influence. Since the Duke of
Atholl’s remaining rights in the island were entirely bought
up by government, there are also certain lord’s land and
mine rents, tithes, and fines and forfeitures, which are
collected and managed by the crown agent, a gentleman
who represents there the commissioners of woods and
forests.
AH religious sects are tolerated in Man; but its establish¬
ment is connected with the Church of England. It is a
diocese in the province of York; but its bishop has not a
seat in the house of peers. His double title of Sodor and
Man has its origin in one of those ages so fertile in ma¬
terials for antiquarian guess-work. Some will have it that
Sodor is derived from Sotor, the ancient name of a village
in Iona ; others allege that it is a contraction of the Dan¬
ish word Sodoroe, significant of the Hebrides, which the
Scandinavian rovers approached generally from the north.
Man,
Isle of.
212
MAN, ISLE OF.
Man,
Isle of.
and said to have been at one time under the spiritual juris¬
diction of the Manx bishops; whilst more than one, with
' equal propriety, maintain that it was applicable only to a
little island off Peel, and formerly called Sodor, on which
a lordly castle once stood, containing the cathedral in
which many of its bishops were consecrated, and the ceme¬
tery where the dust of most of the wise, and the brave, and
the noble of the land was deposited.
The bishop is assisted in ecclesiastical matters by an
archdeacon, two vicars-general, a registrar, and a sumner-
general. The livings of the clergy ai ise chiefly from tithes;
the patronage, from the bishopric downwards, with the
exception of three in the gift of the diocesan, is vested in
the crown. The revenue of the church of Man is a good
one, and amply sufficient to maintain all its clergy com¬
fortably, were it only a little more equitably divided. At
present, some of its parish ministers, in humility, simplici¬
ty, zeal, piety, and poverty, are not a little like the fisher¬
men of Galilee. A respectable and numerous body of the
islanders are Wesleyan Methodists. Whitefield has also
a few followers. The Church of Scotland has a chapel in
Douglas ; the English Independents or Congregationalists
have also one; and the Roman Catholics have one there,
and another in Castletown. Before the present bishop
was consecrated to the see of the Isle of Man, not a few
of its churches were miserably dark, and damp, and ruinous.
Under his auspices several churches have been rebuilt,
and all of them greatly improved. Dr Ward has been the
chief mover, too, in the erection of a college in the neigh¬
bourhood of Castletown, which is now attracting pupils
from all parts of the empire.
Its parish schools are likewise improving. Too many of
them, like its churches, have long been wretched hovels,
unskilfully taught, ill attended, and the teachers badly paid.
Such a state of things is to be ascribed chiefly to the ifa
bulk of the peasantry of Man not yet feeling sufficient- Isleo
ly the importance of education. In the towns, however,
and in their neighbourhood, there are many excellent semi¬
naries. Classical and commercial education, drawing
dancing, and singing, are there taught to the children of
the wealthy by well-qualified masters ; and the children of
the poorer classes are not less ably and amply provided
for by day schools, Sunday schools, charity schools, and
schools of industry. Reading-rooms, circulating and pub¬
lic libraries ; book, music, and missionary associations;
temperance societies; and not less than four spiritedly
conducted newspapers; testify that religion, literature,
and politics, are not left amongst the Manx mountains
without their organs.
The population of the island has no doubt varied great¬
ly at different periods of its^history ; but whilst some wri¬
ters, even in sober prose, tell us of halcyon days, “ when
every rood of ground maintained its man,” and when its
fleets and armies were the terror of all the surrounding
nations, others allege that its families, so lately as the six¬
teenth century, amounted to only six or seven hundred;
and that, in the following one, the sum total of its inha¬
bitants was considerably below three thousand. Perhaps
equal disregard should be paid to all these statements.
Subsequent returns, on much better authority, assign for
1726, 14,027 ; 1757, 19,144 ; 1784, 24,924 ; 1791, 27,913;
and the census of 1831, on which alone any dependence can
be placed, rates it at 40,958. That census was obtained,
at the expense of government, by persons disposed and
qualified to make a correct one; and it is probable that the
only alteration it admits of, in 1836, is a considerable in¬
crease in the population, and in the number, size, and ele¬
gance of their dwellings.
Towns and Parishes.
Douglas....
Castletown.
Ramsay 
Peel 
German 
Patrick  
Marown....
Conchan....
Braddan....
Santon 
Malew 
Arbory 
Rushen 
Michael 
Jurby 
Ballaugh....
Bride 
Ayre 
Maughold...
Lonan 
Andreas 
Inha¬
bited
Houses.
794
318
303
288
295
390
242
251
318
138
482
261
520
246
198
279
183
386
259
318
395
Families.
1458
469
419
412
314
412
258
276
340
145
519
271
560
260
199
279
190
412
313
350
403
Houses
Build¬
ing.
Houses
not in¬
habited.
12
30
16
30
27
42
12
19
8
8
44
4
22
20
2
6
6
12
3
14
15
Families in
Agricul¬
ture.
40
19
1
7
216
238
153
135
255
107
238
136
182
113
177
89
102
182
104
180
379
Trade, All
&c. Others.
455
209
172
146
57
63
57
44
58
28
93
62
111
8
8
100
34
136
54
66
15
In a land so situated, so frequently conquered, devas¬
tated, and ruled, by the marauding bands of other coun¬
tries, it is vain to seek for traces of its earliest inhabitants.
There cannot be a doubt, however, that those who have at
present the best claims to be considered as the aborigines
of its soil are a small branch of that great Celtic family, the
scattered remains of which are now to be found only in
the remote islands and the mountain fastnesses of king¬
doms perhaps once their own. For a dialect of the Gaehc
963
241
246
259
41
111
48
97
27
10
188
73
267
139
14
90
54
94
155
104
9
Males.
Females.
Total.
2985
961
765
' 787
907
1096
581
705
925
398
1342
750
1363
612
526
685
536
928
657
917
1122
3801
1101
989
942
884
1099
635
777
1002
400
1436
761
1369
705
571
726
503
1051
684
906
1095
6786
2062
1754
1729
1791
2195
1216
1482
1927
798
2778
1511
2732
1317
1097
1411
.1039
1979
1341
1823
2217
is still the ordinary language of the peasantry of Man;
and there are many amongst them who are strangers
to every other tongue. In their persons the men are ge¬
nerally stout and well made. During the late war, it was
observed that, whilst the Manx soldier was surpassed in
height by the British and Irish troops, any company of its
fencibles covered a greater space of ground than the same
number of men belonging to the other regiments. The
ancient attire of blue cloaks and felt hats has given place
MAN, ISLE OF.
213
Mi,
Isl >f.
amongst the Manx females to a more becoming dress; and,
whether at home or abroad, they need feel no apprehen-
sion from a comparison with the same ranks in the neigh¬
bouring countries. The Manx peasant is lively, honest, fru¬
gal, obliging; he is well lodged, clothed, and fed; and he
might be much happier were he less addicted to strong li¬
quors and litigation. His fondness for the latter, however,
arises far more from a prodigious anxiety to be thought al¬
ways in the right, than from a disposition to overreach his
neighbour. The small farmers, who are also, in most in¬
stances, the proprietors of the fields they cultivate, greatly
impair their means of comfort by too early marriages : it is
not uncommon for three or four generations of a family
to be located and supported upon the same little property.
Amongst the gentry, the manners, the hospitality, and the
elegancies of English life prevail to an extent which a stran¬
ger to them and their country could not easily imagine.
The gas-light, steam-boat, and water companies, and the
joint-stock and savings banks of the capital, have all their
humble representatives in the towns of Man. Nor are
even the medical and soup dispensaries of England with¬
out their well-supported counterparts in her little imitator.
It is only in recent times that the Manxman’s attention
has been turned to agriculture. The distracted state of
his country under its own kings and feudal superiors; the
small and uncertain holdings into which it was divided ;
his predilections for other and apparently more lucrative
pursuits; his entire ignorance of all the new and more
approved modes of management; and perhaps, too, that
sloth which appears to be the common inheritance, in all
countries and ages, of uncivilized man ; prevented him from
reaping those advantages from it which nature, or rather
the God of nature, had placed within his reach. An al¬
teration wonderfully for the better has since taken place
in his views and his condition. For many years past a
spirit of improvement has been rapidly‘diffusing itself
amongst the Manx farmers. By the daily intercourse they
enjoy with England, they now see and become impressed
with the importance of better breeds of cattle, and more
approved systems of cropping, than were known to their
fathers; and many respectable farmers from England and
Scotland are now settled in Man, who, along with their
capitals, have imported into it an amount of agricultural
experience and information still more valuable to their
adopted country. It has thus happened, that although the
soil of the island is generally very far from being rich,
and its farms much smaller than is compatible with the
fullest development of the agricultural capabilities of a
country, still it is in a very thriving state ; more than two-
thirds of its surface are under cultivation ; every year the
corn-fields are making encroachments on the waste land,
and the plantations creeping farther up the mountain side;
and the cattle and corn it exports in considerable number
and quantity are considered as second only to the best in
the Liverpool market.
The salmon-fishings in the rivers of Man were at one
time so productive as to form a considerable article of
direct trade to the Mediterranean. It is long since they
ceased to be of any importance, and the supplies for the
inhabitants come from Scotland and Ireland. Nor is the
herring-fishery so productive as it was even at the begin¬
ning of the present century. It employs about two bun¬
dled and fifty boats of from fifteen to thirty tons burden,
and born 2000 to 3000 men. In some years, however, their
failure is complete, and the loss to their families is a great
and severe one. More successful years yield from 40,000
to 50,000 barrels. From a third to a half of these is con¬
sumed upon the island, and the remainder, in salted and
smoked states, is exported. Owing to the falling off in
the produce of the fishery, its uncertainty, its calling away
the farmers from their rural occupations, when their pre¬
sence is most needed in their fields, to the dissolute lives
they too frequently lead whilst they are engaged as fisher¬
men, many of the most intelligent and best friends of
Man wish that the herrings would for ever take leave
of its coasts. The same truly patriotic persons are equally
urgent for the advancement of its deep-sea fishing, which
has long been mismanaged and neglected.
For their manufactured goods, the inhabitants of the Isle
of Man look principally to the workshops of England. The
Manx linen has long borne a high character, and there is
one establishment in the vicinity of Douglas where it is
manufactured in considerable quantities. There are also
a paper and a woollen-cloth manufactory, and several
breweries. Many obstacles, however, prevent the rise of
manufactures in Man; and it is still to be seen whether
they are to be surmounted by those vigorous and laudable
efforts which its people are now making to better both
their moral and physical condition. The most obvious of
these impediments are its fiscal regulations, and the proba¬
bility that coal does not exist amongst its minerals. By an
apparent excess of legislative interference in the former, the
erection of distilleries in the island is strictly forbidden ;
and whilst the Manx manufacturer must pay, on the greater
number of the articles he imports from England for the
purposes of his business, a two and a half per cent, ad va¬
lorem duty, over and above all that is paid by the English
merchant, he is annoyed with prohibitions, restrictions,
and countervailing duties, when he attempts to carry the
produce of his own industry into the British markets; and,
owing to the entire absence of native coal-fields, the lead
and copper of its mines must all be sent in the state of ores
to the Welsh smelting furnaces.
The trade of the Isle of Man is regulated chiefly by the act
3 and 4 Guliel. IV. cap. 60. Its exports are corn, cattle,
and other farm produce, lead and copper ores, herrings,
and linen, to the English markets, where they are admit¬
ted free of duty, as if from any part of the united kingdom.
-The imports are coals and flax, cotton and woollen stuffs,
hardware, wearing apparel, and household furniture; hemp,
iron, and timber; spirits, coffee, tea, sugar, tobacco, and
wines. The articles composing the first of these classes
are duty-free on importation ; those of the second, even
when brought from England, pay a two and a half per cent.
ad valorem duty ; and the greater number of the third and
fourth are liable to only about a fifth of the English duties,
but they are much restricted in respect of quantity, time,
and place of importation. It is thus that its import trade
admits of no great augmentation ; the foreign articles are
intended to be confined entirely to the use of the island ;
they cannot be legally exported to the united kingdom ;
and the spirits, coffee, tea, sugars, tobacco, and wines, can
be imported for the use of its families only under a license
granted by the board of customs. These licenses are dis¬
tributed annually by the lieutenant-governor; and although
little errors may occasionally find their way into the appor¬
tionments, and the object of the law is occasionally defeat¬
ed by those into whose possession they have fallen, still the
system works well, and, with a few slight amendments that
could easily be made, it is perhaps infinitely better both
for the revenue and the island, than any other of the many
that are every day suggested. All the trade of the island
is carried on by a paper issue from three respectable banks;
by a circulating medium of English gold, silver, and cop¬
per coinage ; and by a copper currency peculiar to itself,
amongst which are frequently to be seen the pence and half¬
pence of the once regal houses of Derby and Atholl. In
the present year, 1836, one of these banking establishments
has merged into an extensive joint-stock company bank,
from which the most beneficial results are anticipated to
both the commercial and agricultural interests of the island.
To him who delights in speculations on the early his
Man,
Isle of.
214
M A N
Manaar. tory of the earth and its inhabitants, there are many ob-
' “■■■''jects of the deepest interest in the Isle of Man. In its
peat-bogs and marl-pits there are frequently discovered,
under a few feet of alluvial deposit, the trunks of sturdy
oaks and fir trees, of a size no longer to be found growing
on its surface ; and entombed beside these vigorous me¬
morials of other days, are the bones of those gigantic elks
which had formerly browsed below their branches. These
venerable groves have indeed ceased to exist; but the cir¬
cle and the temple still remain, where the druids performed
their sylvan rites; and the humble graves of the misletoe
worshippers can still be easily traced. Tumuli, barrows,
cairns, mounts, mounds, and Runic monuments, are to be
seen in all directions, either pointing out the spot where
the warrior fought, or where the affections of roving Norse¬
men marked the last resting-place of their gallant chieftain.
Monasteries and nunneries, too, have left vestiges of their
existence and their grandeur; whilst the ruins of one noble
baronial castle, and the massive battlements of another
frowning unscathed by the storms of nearly a dozen cen¬
turies, still more strikingly attest, that amongst the former
families of this little island the best and worst feelings of
our nature had all their usual manifestations. In such a land,
and amongst the descendants of such a people, it might
-fairly be expected that imagination would be found taking
some ofher loftiest flights, and that songs and poems would
abound, in which the chivalrous deeds of its heroes were
perpetuated and embalmed. But if any such productions
of Manx bards ever existed, they have long since perished.
This little island is surrounded by a dangerous sea, which
is hourly traversed by a very valuable portion of our mer¬
cantile marine ; and not a winter passes that its shores are
not strewed with the wrecks of many noble vessels, and its
waters do not become the untimely graves of many gal¬
lant men, whose lives might have been preserved to their
country, had there been constructed there a great central
harbour accessible in the worst weather and at the lowest
tides. That central harbour the genius and benevolence
of Sir William Hillary has devised ; and the conception
has obtained the sanction of the highest practical science
in the warm approval of Sir John Rennie. For such a
project the sum required is indeed a very large one ; but a
small tonnage duty, restricted to the passing vessel, would
be fully commensurate for its completion; and the pro¬
perty saved by it in half a century would abundantly re¬
pay the outlay, and vindicate the w isdom of the measure.
1 o England the Isle of Man would then become a cheap
purchase and a truly valuable territorial acquisition, not
more in the protection afforded to her commerce, than by
rising, under her benign influence, from a once compara¬
tively desert waste, the abode of the serf, the smuggler,
and the profligate refugee, to be the rival of the average
ofher own counties in wealth, beauty, and intelligence.
Descriptions of the island have been published by Wal¬
dron, l eltham, Fownley, Wood, and Bullock. The most
recent and the best, however, are those by Dr Oswald and
the Rev. Samuel Haining of Douglas.
MANAAR, an island situated on the north-west coast
of Ceylon, giving name to the gulf which separates Hindus¬
tan from Ceylon. I he island, which is about fifteen miles
in length by three in average breadth, is separated from
Ceylon by an arm of the sea about two miles broad, and
at low water almost dry, excepting a small channel in the
middle, of no greater breadth than about thirty or forty
yaids. I he distance from the western point of this island
to that of Ramiseram is twelve leagues, and the inter¬
vening space is occupied by a line of sand banks, called
Adam’s Bridge, but which, according to a tradition of
the Hindus, was constructed by their demigod Ram when
he invaded Ceylon. Between these two islands small
boats constantly ply, and thus keep open the communica-
M A N
tion between the two coasts. This island, which was first jr
occupied by the Portuguese in 1560, was taken from them ^ ?
in 1658 by the Dutch, who banished thither their refrac- Mane
tory subjects. Long. 79. 58. E. Lat. 9. 6. N. La
MANADO, the northernmost of the Dutch settle-
ments on the island of Celebes. From this place gold was
procured in exchange for opium and Hindustan piece-
goods, chiefly blue cloth, fine Bengal stuffs, iron, and steel.
The place surrendered to Captain Tucker in 1810. The
bay and town are situated on the west end of the north¬
ern island of Celebes, in longitude 124. 32. east, and lati¬
tude 1. 28. north.
MANAH, a town of Northern Hindustan, in the dis¬
trict of Serinagur, on the north-eastern frontier. It con¬
tains 150 or 200 houses, with from fourteen to fifteen hun¬
dred inhabitants, who are above the middle size, stout,
and well formed, and seem to be of a race between those
of 1 artary and Hindustan. The houses are two stories
in height, and constructed of stone covered with small deal
planks. During the winters, which are very severe, the
inhabitants emigrate to the south. A considerable trade is
carried on between this place and Lahdack, by means of
sheep and goats, which are accustomed to the bad roads
on the mountains. They import saffron, borax, gold-dust,
musk, &c. and export Benares manufactures, and a few
light European articles. Long. 79. 40. E. Lat. 32. 20. N.
MAN AFAR, a town in the south of India, being situat¬
ed on a promontory in the district of Tinevelly, projecting
into the Gulf of Manaar, sixty miles north-east from Cape
Comorin. Long. 78. 17. E. Lat. 8. 39. N. It is also the
name of a town in the Polygar territory, fifty miles west
by south from Tanjore. Long. 78. 30. E. Lat. 10. 39. N.
MANASSEH, in Scripture history, the eldest son of Jo¬
seph, and grandson of the patriarch Jacob (Genesis, xli. 50,
51), was born in the year of the world 2290, and before Je¬
sus Christ 1714. Hie tribe descended from him came out
of Egypt in number thirty-two thousand two hundred men
fit for battle, being upwards of twenty years old, under the
conductof Gamaliel, son of Pedahzur (Numbers, ii. 20, 21).
This tribe was divided on their entrance into the land of
promise; one half receiving its portion beyond the river
Jordan, and the other half on this side of the stream. The
half tribe of Manasseh which settled beyond the river pos¬
sessed the country of Bashan, from the river Jabbok to
Mount Libanus (Numbers, xxii. 33,34, &c.); and the
half tribe settled on this side Jordan obtained for its in¬
heritance the country between the tribe of Ephraim to
the south and the tribe of Issachar to the north, having
the river Jordan to the east and the Mediterranean Sea
to the west (Joshua, xvii.).
MANATOULIN Islands, an extensive range of
islands, which stretch in an easterly direction from the
western shore of Lake Superior, in North America. Many
of them measure from twenty to thirty miles in length,
by from ten to fifteen in breadth, and on some of these the
land swells into considerable elevations. Long. 81. 50. to
84. W. Lat. 45. 20. to 45. 49. N.
MANCAP, a small island in the Eastern Seas, situated
at the extremity of a sand bank, which extends about six
leagues from the south-western extremity of Borneo.
Long. 102. 57. E. Lat. 3. S.
MANCHA, La, a district of Spain, being the southern¬
most division of New Castille. It produces wheat and
bailey', but in quantities insufficient to feed its inhabit¬
ants. \Y ine is its most abundant production, with which
it principally supplies Madrid. The wines are of both
colours, and of various qualities : some of them, in colour,
strength, and flavour, are similar to the wines of Burgun¬
dy ; but as they seldom or never have any casks or coop-
eis near the vineyards, and the wine is conveyed in bot¬
tles made of the skins of goats, its good qualities become
MAN
MAN
215
Ji'Manes- deteriorated at the moment of its production. Some Although La Mancha is destitute both of agricultural andManches
■‘ t- silk is produced in this province, and in various parts the manufacturing wealth, yet the two extremities of the pro- ter.
^'""'"^plantations of mulberry trees are extensive. The other vince are favoured with considerable mineral riches. On —v—
vegetable productions which create commerce are saffron, the eastern extremity, near the source of the river *Mun-
barilla, and kelp. They breed a considerable number of da, is a rich mine of calamine, and in its vicinity is a royal
mules, which are sent for sale to Portugal and the inter- manufactory of tin plates. On the western side are the
mediate places. The whole district, however, is very poor, celebrated quicksilver mines of Almadin, whose valuable
and the inhabitants generally are in a state of great dis- product is of the greatest importance to the silver mines
tress, which may be attributed in a considerable degree of Mexico, where it is conveyed, and is indispensable in
to the want of water ; for though the river Guadiana runs the extraction of silver by the process of amalgamation,
through it, and by its streams fructifies the borders, yet The only towns in La Mancha, besides the capital, Ciudad
the influence of that river is of too little extent to benefit Ileal, are Alcazar de St Juan, Consuegra, Infantes, and
any but its immediate vicinity. The capital, Ciudad Ileal, Almago. Phis province has derived considerable notorie-
is benefited by the Guadiana more than the whole pro- ty throughout Europe, from having been the theatre of
vince besides. The extent of this division of New Cas- the imaginary exploits of the hero of Spanish fiction, Don
tiHe is 631 square leagues, and the population 205,548, or Quixote. It is bounded on the north by Toledo, on the
326 to each square league, being, with the exception of 'east by Cuenca and Murcia, on the south by Murcia, and
Cuen9a, the most tliinly peopled of any part of Spain, on the west by Estremadura.
MANCHESTER,
The second town of the empire in point of population, and the most severe measures were taken against recu-
and the most important on account of its manufactures, sants, who swarmed in the dungeons of Manchester. In
is situated almost at the south-eastern extremity of the 1584 some were executed, one at Manchester, and their
county of Lancaster, and is distant 186 miles north-west heads exposed on the “college.” In the “ "reat rebellion ”
by north from London. The site of the original town Manchester took a very prominent part, the anti-monar-
was early occupied by a fort, which the Celts, migrating chical party having the ascendency. A brawl, which arose
from the continent, and gradually spreading from the between the followers of Lord Strange (afterwards the ill-
north, planted at Castle Field, upon the bank of the river fated Earl of Derby) and the inhabitants, was magnified
Irwell. Whitaker, the learned historian of the ancient into a great battle, and proclaimed in the metropolis as
town, gives this ^station the name of “ Mancenion, or the “ the beginning of civil warres in England, or terrible
Place of Tents.” Possession was taken of it by the Ho- news from the north;” Lord Strange befog impeached* by
mans about a century after its formation (a. d. 72), and the lower house for his conduct in the affair. Subsequent-
they continued masters of it during three centuries, until ly the town was formally besieged by his lordship’s forces
their final departure from the island. Several of the great but they were driven off, and the troops which had been
Homan roads, traces of which still remain, centred at this levied for the defence of the place were engaged in various
point. The fort subsequently fell into the hands of the expeditions, one of which was the noted attack on La-
Pictish invaders, but, after a lengthened struggle, was thorn House. When the warfare had ceased in Emdand,
wrested from them by the Saxons, who repaired the da- sequestrators were sent down, who alienated the revenues'
mage to the “ Aldport Town,” brought the people into of the college ; presbyteries were established throughout
due subjection to the lord or thegn, whose baronial hall the whole of Lancashire ; Manchester was the central
covered the space of the existing Chetham’s College, and point of one “ classical division,” and the provincial synod
built the churches of St Mary and St Michael. “ Ma- met there. In these troubled times the warden Heyrick,
nigceastre,” as Hollingworth styles the town, was oc- a man of eminent endowments and thrilling eloquence'
cupied by the Danes about the year 870; and little is acted a distinguished part.
known of its succeeding history until, in the apportionment Passing over another long interval, the people of Man-
of territory made by the Norman conqueror, Manchester Chester are found espousing the cause of the Chevalier
was assigned to William of Poictou, from whom the lord- St George, for their devotion to whom five of the inhabi-
ship of the manor has descended by marriage, hereditary tants were executed in the town. In 1745, they again
succession, or purchase, through the families of Grelley, stood forth in favour of the young Prince Charles; one
De la Warre, West, and De Lacye, to “ Mossley of the of the localities in which the plans for his invasion of the
Hough, whose successor, Sir Oswald Mosley, Bart., and monarchy were concocted being in the immediate vicini-
member for North Staffordshire, is the present possessor ty, at Jackson’s Ferry, near Didsbury. In the summer
of the manorial rights and property. The Grelleys, De previous to his public appearance in Scotland, the prince
| Ja Warres, and Wests, sat as barons in parliament; and secretly visited Manchester, and was entertained for a
ihomas de Grelley granted, in 1301, a “ great charter of considerable time at Ancoat’s Hall, the seat of Sir Oswald
Manchester,” which, however, has no existing validity. Mosley, the lord of the manor. The Pretender-’s forces
,/le ^e^ormat*on vvas v‘°^cntty °PP0Se(l *n-^•anchester 5 entered the town on the 28th and 29th of November,
i n° irer,]tlie wart*en tIie “ College of the Blessed Virgin,” They did not receive a very cordial welcome ; and when
Bradford, and Pendlebury, were zealots in the religious they marched forward by Macclesfield towards Derby, the
c controversies it excited; and Bradford died a martyr. In prince had enlisted from the inhabitants only about three
: Elizabeths reign, Persons and Campion, the noted Je- hundred followers, and these chiefly of the lower order. In
si suits, plotted in these districts ; and from Ancoat’s Lane, his subsequent precipitate retreat through Manchester, his
v IT a dense,y-Pe°pled quarter of the town, one of the reception was even less agreeable than before. The “ Man-
lartin Marprelate presses sent forth its stirring missives. Chester regiment” were left to garrison Carlisle, which
i tl pC fgy W.ere sa‘d t0 ^)e 80 llostde t0 progress of place speedily surrendered to the Duke of Cumberland,
li ie Reformation, that the “ college” was dissolved in the and they were made prisoners. Many were sent abroad •
• eign of Edward the Sixth ; in Elizabeth’s reign a Commis- some of the leaders suffered decapitation, and their heads
si sioner s Court to promote the Reformation was established; were exhibited on the top of the Manchester Exchange,
216
MANCHESTER.
Manches- The later history of the inhabitants is of a more loyal
character. They were very active in the American con-
^ " r test, the war of the French revolution, and the more
recent struggle with Napoleon, raising many regiments
of volunteers, and otherwise affording their aid very
freely. Sir Robert Peel, then i*esiding near Bury, but
who was virtually a Manchester merchant, his establish¬
ment being in that town, contributed money, and raised
a troop of volunteers ; and, in the year 1798, Peel and
Yates subscribed ten thousand pounds to the “ voluntary
contribution for the defence of the country.” The dis¬
tress which the protracted war engendered, and the politi¬
cal ferment of the times, gave rise, in August 1819, to the
noted “Peterloo” affair, in which a countless mass of people,
having assembled for the alleged object of petitioning the
House of Commons, was dispersed by the yeomanry and
the troops of the line. The radicalism of these times has
since cooled down into a more mitigated species of libe¬
ralism. In 1830-1831, many very numerous meetings were
held in favour of the reform bill ; and, when it became a
law, the electors returned as their representatives to par¬
liament the Right Honourable C. Poulett Thomson, then
vice-president of the Board of Trade, and Mark Philips,
Esq. both gentlemen of liberal politics. Manchester had
previously sent representatives in early times. In the
year 1366, the Sheriff of Lancashire, being required to
cause the return of burgesses to parliament from boroughs
of sufficient importance to require representation, reported
that there was no city or borough in the county willing to
accept the burdensome honour, “ by reason of their ina¬
bility, low condition, or poverty.” But in Cromwell’s time,
July 1654, Manchester sent Mr Charles Worsley, and, in
the next year, Mr R. Ratcliffe, to represent her interests.
Manchester has been a place of trade from a very early
period. In the most remote antiquity the people traded
with the Greeks of Marseilles, and with other foreigners,
through Ribchester, then a considerable port on the
Ribble, which river is now no longer navigable so far in¬
land. In the reign of Henry VIII. a law was enacted to
remove the right of sanctuary from Manchester to Ches¬
ter, on the ground that it caused the resort hither of idle
and dissolute persons, to the injury of the “ trade, both in
linens and woollens,” for which the place was “ distin¬
guished,” and which gave employment to “ many artifi¬
cers and poor folks,” whose masters, “ by their strict and
true dealing,” caused “ the resort of many strangers from
Ireland and elsewhere, with linen, yarn, wool, and other
necessary wares for making of cloth, to be sold there.”
Camden speaks of the town as “ of great account for cer¬
tain woollen clothes there wrought;” and in the year 1650
the people are described as “ the most industrious in the
northern parts of the kingdom.” The disturbances in
France and the Netherlands had tended not a little to
the growth of manufactures in the town, by causing the
settlement of French and Flemish artisans in Lancashire.
Early in the last century it was mentioned as a remark¬
able fact, that in Manchester and Bolton alone goods
to the amount of L.600,000 were annually manufactur¬
ed. The trade appears, in fact, to have attained to as
large a growth as was possible in the then confined
state of mechanical knowledge. It was not until an im¬
pulse was given to invention, and that splendid series of
machines was planned, of which the effects have been so
amazing, that Manchester became really a place of com¬
mercial eminence and great resort.
The first of these inventions, in point of date, was the
water-fiame, of which Arkwright claimed to be the origina¬
tor, in 1769. In 1770, the spinning-jenny of James Flar-
greayes was first heard of. In 1779, Crompton’s mule-jenny
was invented. I he “ throstle is another important disco¬
very. In 1785 Arkwright took out a patent for improved
carding, drawing, and roving machines. The steam-engine Ma,
of Watt dates about the same time, although there were t.
sundry modifications of it both before and afterwards. The v-’'
power-loom, for which Cartwright took out his last patent
in 1787, but which underwent many changes before it could
be considered as a practical machine, completes the list of
early discoveries. There were, of course, various inventions
subordinate to these. In the present century, also, a ma¬
chine has been constructed which promises almost to out¬
vie all others in importance; it is the self-acting mule, the
invention of Messrs Sharp, Roberts, and Company of Man¬
chester. The last patent was taken out in 1830; and there
are now nearly half'a million of spindles at work on the prin¬
ciple of spinning yarn almost independently of human labour.
The history of this invention is fraught with instruc¬
tion to the working classes. Attention "was first directed
to the possibility of contriving a self-acting mule, in con¬
sequence of the frequency of “ turns-out” amongst the
spinners, and the intolerable domination which they were
enabled to exercise, from the circumstance of a compara¬
tively small class of workmen having it in their power
at any moment to suspend the wffiole trade of cotton spin¬
ning. One “ spinner” has three or four young hands im¬
mediately dependent upon himself; he has also four or five
virtually dependent on him, inasmuch as they being occu¬
pied in preparing the raw cotton for him to spin, if he take
a fit of idleness or insubordination, the preliminary pro¬
cesses are of course suspended. In the same way, if the
spinners, as a body, become idle, the weavers, and eventu¬
ally the bleachers, spinners, and printers, are brought to a
stand; in fact, the whole cotton trade is locked up, and
misery and privation are the immediate and wide-spread
results. Ihese considerations induced the master spinners,
about ten years ago, to call into play the talent of ingeni¬
ous men, for the purpose of constructing such a machine as
would give more stability and regularity to the processes
of spinning. This machine has the virtue of being easily
grafted on the older-fashioned mules, a fifth of the value
of which is sacrificed in making them self-acting.
But the mere discovery of all these machines was of
little benefit to the country, as long as they’ could be re¬
stricted in their use at the caprice of the patentee. Ac¬
cordingly, through the instrumentality of Mr Peel, an
association Oi master manufacturers was formed, and a
subscription to take proceedings for setting aside Ark-
wright s patents was entered into, upon the principle of
each spinner paying a shilling per spindle for as many as
he used. The original subscription list is still in exist¬
ence ; the number of spindles subscribed for was about
twenty thousand, being not more than a fourth of the
number now employed by many large manufacturers. In
1 /81 and 1785 Arkwright’s patents were annulled, and the
cotton trade took a gigantic stride. The exports, which
in 1701 were only to the value of L.23,253, and in 1780
only L.355,060, had risen in 1787 to L.1,101,457, and in
1800 to L.5,406,501. The import of raw cotton, which
in 1751 was only 2,976,610 pounds weight, was in 1780
upwards of 6,700,000, in 1790 thirty-one millions and a
half, and in 1800 fifty-six millions of pounds. In 1787
it was estimated that there were in Lancashire forty-one
cotton factories, twenty-two in Derbyshire, and seventeen
in Nottinghamshire. In 1790 the estimate had increased;
and in 1817 Mr Kennedy of Manchester calculated that
there were 110,763 persons employed in cotton-spinning,
and 20,768 horses’ power.
In 1832, Messrs Greg of Manchester made a fresh es¬
timate, giving the number of operatives employed in the
cotton-spinning and weaving mills only of Great Britain
160,000. In 1833 the import of cotton to England was
303,658,83/ lbs. The weekly consumption is now from
18,000 to 19,000 bags; whilst, in the year 1782, a great
I
w,
ALches- panic was excited in Manchester by the announcement
that 7012 bags of cotton had been imported between De¬
cember and April. In 1788, a meeting was held in Man¬
chester to consider the great depression under which the
cotton manufacture was labouring from the “ immense im¬
portation” of Indian goods ; and shortly afterwards the cot¬
ton manufacturers of Lancashire, in conjunction with those
of Scotland, appointed deputies to obtain an interview with
the king’s ministers, and solicit permission to erect them¬
selves into a Company of Traders, with privileges si-
MANCHESTER.
217
milar to those enjoyed bjf the East India Company. At Manches-
this time it was estimated that the cotton manufacture ^er‘
employed 159,000 men, 90,000 women, and 101,000 chil-    
dren, an exaggerated number. In truth, until the passing
of the factory act, and the appointment of inspectors and
superintendents under its authority, there were no means
of ascertaining the number of hands employed either in
the whole country or in districts. Now, however, this can
be done satisfactorily. The most recent return of the
hands employed (1836) is, for Manchester, as follows:
Parish of Manchester.
IN COTTON MILLS.
Ardwick 
Beswick 
Droylsden 
Gorton 
Crumpsall 
Levenshulme 
Collyhurst 
Manchester 
Chorlton-upon- )
Medlock / *"
Failsworth  
Newton 
Salford 
Hulme 
Under 12.
Total.
Total ofsilk as else- )
where stated /
WOOLLEN.
Salford 
103
7
23
51
3
6
14
176 99
Under 13.
34
9
5
39
II
4
705
208
44
26
Under 14.
Under 15. 15 and under 18.
1656
248!564
WORSTED.
Manchester  
FLAX.
Broughton  
Droylsden 
Total flax..
Grand total of fac¬
tory operatives
the parish 
3
156
25
12
5
15
12
6
510
129
34
18
1176
316
425
663
21
11
3
20
23
12
17
1204
280
10
18
163
38
48
14
14
45
19
15
17
1033
287
6
7
119
34
15
10
8
20
19
11
2
795
200
4
22
79
28 33
3165 28442119
129
5 7
333
85
6 13
11
12
18251511
14
3323
18
40
20
7
53
18
8
9
788
176
3
9
99
2196
251
30
16
14
73
18
11
4
1126
258
8
9
114
44
Above 18.
Total.
3043
114
82
28
31
94
40
9
22
1535
361
22
6
242
74
4349
194
127
39
176
66
33
30
5,592
1,102
35
35
539
219
14,288
520 426
3 ...
17
4
20
20
3208,2226 2472
25
25
15
180
94'
70
260
102
42
76
7,178
1,323
20;
36!
997
303
18,546
829
44
15
51
2
53
3190 4937
43
5
48
294
173
69
328
137
71
53
9,525
2,057
57
84
946
378
24,447
1,158
375
168
127
467
191
80
124
11,095
2,270
51
58
1,497
476
109
29,210
2,813
123
48
60 ...
52| 33
63
6
14,821
69
19,512
104
8
92
160
12
112 172
25,810
32,303
171
The following is a Return of the Hands not included in the above Townships, which, added to the above, will give the com¬
plete numbers for the Parish of Manchester :—
Under 12.
Male.
Cotton  14
Silk  2
Total... 16
Female.
13
13
Under 13.
Male.
103
2
105
Female.
114
114
Under 14.
Male.
321
7
328
Female.
342
1
343
Under 15.
Male.
196
6
202
Female.
200
1
201
Under 18.
Male.
280
5
285
The trade of Manchester, however, is not to be consi¬
dered as limited to the amounts given in these tables.
Numberless manufacturers have works on the borders of
les nre, Derbyshire, Yorkshire, and Staffordshire, whilst
len warehouses are situated, and all their transactions
VOL. xiv.
Female.
301
5
Above 18.
Male.
1553
41
Female,
1963
40
306 1594 2003 2530 2980
Total.
Male.
2467
63
Female
2933
47
centre, in Manchester. Wherever labour is cheap, thither
they resort. Not to travel, however, out of tbe county, we
shall give the following summary of the factory hands in
all the other parishes of Lancashire, comprising nearly the
whole of Lancashire:—
2 E
218
MANCHESTER.
Parish.
Blackburn....
Preston...
Eccles 
Middleton...
Chorley ......
Ley land 
Garstang....
Lancaster...
Cockerham..
Hulton 
Kirkham 
Ormskirk....
Cartmel 
Coulton 
Cotton.
6682
5449
1124
881
1041
714
141
1437
59
:48
'285
Woollen.
65
Worsted, j Flax.
317
1330
174
11
62
510
141
Silk.
779
148
170
Parish.
Ulverston...
Melling 
RadclifFe 
Wigan 
Bury 
Wh alley 
Prestwick...
Bolton 
Rochdale1...
Chipping 
Kendal 
Haversham..
Burton....
Cotton.
193
121
5220
5721
8405
1580
6431
620
Woollen.
626
231
188
17
Worsted. Flax.
293
53
43
388
Silk.
56
Mane,
tei
To these must be added, in order to afford a complete number of steam-engines and water-wheels, with the horse-
view of the operations in cotton factories, the following power and the number of hands employed in the year
summary of mills in the county of Lancaster, and the 1835.
Description of Mills.
Cotton...
Woollen.
Worsted.
Flax  
Silk 
Total.
Of which there were 1
in the parish of Man-
chester J
Number
of Mills.
Steam.
Number of
Engines.
576
99
8
19
22
717
50
7
19
24
824
817
143
191
Horse
Power.
20,3031
747
123
550
3871-
Water.
Number
of Wheels,
231
95
5
4
3
22,110
6,631
338
Horse
Power.
2,851
7611
102
70
24
Total of
Power.
23,1531-
1,508“
225
620
414
3,308 k ! 25,9181
86
6,717
Actual Power
employed.
21,207|
1,318|
205
616
3524
23,699k
6,150
Total Hands
employed.
122,991
4,575
1,076
3,566
5,382
137,590
41,958
The yarn spun in these factories keeps in motion an bers, recently made to government, comprises the follow-
immense number of power-looms. A return of the num- ing summary of parishes.
Num¬
ber of
Mills.
66
1
2
45
35
1
1
1
16
8
4
5
2
1
7
6
201
Power Looms.
Parishes.
Manchester, part of..
Middleton, part of...
Eccles 
Bury 
Whalley 
Rochdale, part of....
Chorley 
Leyland 
Blackburn 
Preston 
Wigan 
Lancaster 
Prestwich, part of...
Radcliffe  
Bolton 
Dean 
Totals 
Grand total...
Cotton.
Calico. Fustians. Small Wares.
12,708
408
2,067
4,737
30
340
190
4,007
2,356
4,532
1,144
1,085
186
2,381
41*6
6,954
287
249
111
72
546
602
30,790 11,618 613
545
68
43,021
Woollen.
20
280
457
757
757
Silk.
306
60
636
366
1 The return not received. Last year the total in all the mills was 9G00.
MANCHESTER.
Miches-
ller.
V'y-^
In addition to these, Mr Trimmer and Mr Bates return
the following from their respective superintendencies :
In Mr Trimmer’s dis-1
trict of Lancashire.... J
InMrBates’sditto(Ash-)
ton-under-Lyne) J
Total 
Cotton.
Woollen.
Mills.
78
II
Num¬
ber of
Power-
Looms.
14,137
4,018
Mills.
Num¬
ber of
Power
Looms,
385
89
18,155 5
385
Of which about 485 are in the parish of Manchester.
Hand-loom weaving has been almost wholly superseded.
It is calculated that there are in the town of Manchester
only about 3000 weavers ; but the out-townships of Rad-
cliffe, Pilkington, Unsworth, Pilsworth, Prestwich, Great
and Little Heaton, Blackley, Newton, Failsworth, Alkring-
ton, and Tonge, also contain a considerable number of
hand-looms, in cotton, employed by Manchester houses.
The earnings of weavers vary exceedingly. The weav¬
er of Marseilles toilet-covers, a Manchester manufacture,
will earn from 7s. 6d. to 10s. a week nett, and the weav¬
ers of fancy waistcoatings, &c. (at Huddersfield) can earn
15s. weekly ; whilst the weavers at Bolton (from 7000 to
8000 in number) are said to average only 4s. L|d. weekly
for | 60 cambrics, which constitute a staple article in that
town. Wages fell there twenty-one and a half per cent,
between 1827 and 1834. The general rate was given to
a recent parliamentary committee as follows :
Average at Bolton 4s. 1-fd. nett.
Manchester 5s. to 7s. Gd. ditto.
Stockport 9s. gross; nett average less.
In a recent report made by Dr Kay, one of the assistant
poor-law commissioners, formerly a resident of Manchester,
it was stated that contracts had been made for the erec¬
tion, within two years, of mills which would require seven
thousand horses’ power to set them in operation. It may
be stated that, presuming one half of the power to be em¬
ployed in producing yarn,1 there ,would be an addition to
the present consumption of raw cotton of about 2800 bags,
weighing about 500 lbs. each, per week, or about fifteen
per cent, increase on the present sales. In preparing this
cotton, and spinning it into yarn, 19,600 hands would be
required; and, presuming the other moiety of the 7000
horses power to be employed in afterwards weaving the
C^0t^’ ^lere would be needed for this process
26,250 weavers, making a total addition to the hands em¬
ployed in the. cotton trade of 45,850 persons, besides me¬
chanics, warehousemen, clerks, &c. For the 3500 horses:
foundery has orders, to be executed within this year, for a
thousand horse-power of steam-engines; and, with equal
authenticity, it is asserted that, in the district of Ashton-
under-Lyne, the increase in factories will cause a demand
for at least 7000 new hands. Nor is the calculated in¬
crease in the consumption of cotton so unprecedented as at
first view it may appear. Last year the weekly consump¬
tion was 17,750 bags, whilst in 1812 it was only about
12,000. In one year, namely, in 1834-35, the weekly con¬
sumption has increased 366 bags, or about 19,000 bags in
the year. Cotton, indeed, has become an article of uni¬
versal use, and new fabrics, in which it forms the sole or
a main ingredient, are daily brought into the market.
The following statement goes far to corroborate the
estimate of Dr Kay.
Number of Mills newly built or enlarged during the Year
1835—36, in Manchester and the County of Lancaster.
Parish.
Township.
Manchester.
Middleton...
Bury 
Itadcliffe.
Bolton....
Dean.
Chorley.
Wigan...
Blackburn...
Preston...
Penwortham
Whalley..
Manchester..
Salford 
Huhne 
Droylsden....
Hopwood 
Bury 
Heap 
Itadcliffe 
Bolton 
Ainsworth 
Earn worth....
Little Hulton...
Chorley 
Wigan 
Bindley 
Blackburn 
Darwen 
Mellor 
Preston 
Farrington 
Qswaldtwistle.
Accrington 
Colne  
Burnley 
Habergham....
Marsden  
Clayton-le-Moors
Haslingden 
Cotton.
o %
Totals.
G5
163
148
45
26
10
93
94
16
30
102
82
78
110
100
100
4
30
243
100
60
30
45
64
264
16
36
Woollen.' Silk.
2 oI
“-P- < o
Flax.
14
2040
75
75
14
1 8
rI he power here stated is incomplete, several factories
being yet unfinished. Of the total number of mills given
above, five of the cotton and one of the woollen ^have
C,iIedT80000O0bC spring, there wHlTe aXi'powe" rf'^coUon^Ustrie'r' ne,r- ^
*!>°« Mr a million ofmoU. Oflhe'lSwpeZt 8Vai'ab'e am°Unt’ Which iS ^
slightly from the
working this horse-power nrohahiv n’^ h'ciaV,1“ It is a notorious fact, that the cotton manufacture has
in the preparatoZZessWP and will earn on the nveT .aitai,Ded-,° SUch-a heiSht » Manchester, that ex-
]0s. per week Of the remaining 11 9nn h J ? f ’ treme dlfflculty 18 experienced in obtaining hands, both
spinning, about one four hT M bf ™e’n earnlS^omst y°UnS an<' !tlt’,f01' Z""!181 il question for
to 40s a week; the other three fourths” chHdren,deceiving b*,.Cre“ed *
from 4s. to 9s. The 26 ^ u ,1- new mills snail De supplied. Sometime ago an
weaving will earn probably, onTaveJage, noTKan 1- t00** “mtoissibhers was stationed in the
engaged
ro
receiving
v-w A lie AOsZDU SUDDOSetl tn hp pmr'
weaving
t(°nt 7Tk- • Extraordinary and improbable'as" the ex-
IipvoA t!US, incrf;ase may appear, there is reason to be-
i« ct i 110 est,ma^e 18 by no means exaggerated. It
stated, upon good authority, that in Bolton alone one
1 No. 40’s may be taken as a general average for the quality of the yarn spun.
town, where he still remains, for the purpose of locating
the surplus labourers of the agricultural counties in the
south and west amongst the manufactures of the cotton
districts. From one to two thousand persons have al¬
ready migrated under his direction ; and they express,
One incomplete.
219
Manches¬
ter.
'—A  
MANCHESTER.
220
Manches- generally, the liveliest satisfaction at their change of occu-
ter.j pation.
' * Y "" " The wages of all classes of factory operatives, though
they have undergone reductions as the price of manufac-
turfes has sunk, and the price of food been reduced, are
still exceedingly good. Mr Rickards, the late inspector of
factories for the district, says, “ It may be stated of ope¬
rative families, that a husband gets 26s. to 30s. per week;
with perhaps three children as piecers at 10s., 7s. 6d., and
5s. 6d. per week. These are common rates of earnings by Man
mill-operatives.” As to children, he observes, “ If there t<
are any children now in cotton mills, receiving less than'>—s
3s. per week, they must be the youngest scavengers, and
few in number; 3s. 8d. to 4s. 2d. being commonly paid to
scavengers since the passing of the present (factory) act,
whilst the younger piecers are sometimes paid extra to do
scavengers’ work.” The following tables give the wages of
the various classes of operatives more in detail.
Average Nett Weekly Earnings of the different Classes of Operatives in the Cotton Factories of Manchester, Stockport,
Duchinfield, Stayley Bridge, Hyde, Tintwistle, Oldham, Bolton, fyc. fyc., drawn from the returns of a Hundred and
Fifty-one Mills, employing 48,645 Persons, in May 1833.
Denomination of Process in
which employed.
Class of Operatives.
Classification as respects Age and Sex.
Average Weekly
Nett Earnings.
Cleaning and spreading )
cotton j
Carding.
Mule-spinning,
Throstle- spinning.,
Weaving
Reeling 
Roller-covering ...
Attending the steam-en¬
gine and making ma^
chines  
:S
Carders or overlookers.
Jack-frame tenters 
Bobbin-frame tenters...
Drawing tenters 
Overlookers 
Spinners 
Piecers 
Scavengers..
Overlookers.
Spinners 
Overlookers.
Warpers  
Weavers.,
Dressers 
Reelers 
Roller-coverers 
Engineers, firemen, mecha- )
nics, &c /
Male and female adults, and some!
non-adults  j
Male adults  
Principally female adults 
Ditto ditto  
Ditto ditto  
Male adults  
Male and female adults, but princi¬
pally the former 
Male and female adults, and non¬
adults, but principally the latter..
Male and female non-adults 
Male adults 
Female adults and non-adults 
Male adults 
Male and female adults 
Male and female adults, male and I
female non-adults, but chiefly fe- >-
males j
Male adults 
Female adults and non-adults 
Male and female adults 
Male adults.
23
8
7
7
29
27
7
12
d.
8
6
0
3
25 8
2
22
7
26
12
4,3
lOf
4
9
3E
°2
10 10
9f
Hi
20 6
Average Wages of Young Women employed in Cotton Mills at Manchester.
Throstle-frames, per week
of 72 hours 
Hours worked 
1803.
s. d.
9 1
78
Actual wages paid.
1808. 1813. 1818.
s. d. s. d. s. d.
8 4|
9 0 advanced 9 10
9 2
60 75 77
8 8
7 5| advanced 10 5
9 6
1823. 1828. 1833.
s. d. s. d. s. d.
9 1 9 1 8 10
74 72 69
9 31 9 1 8 51
Wages in cotton factories are not precisely of the same
amount in the whole country, but are increased or lower¬
ed according to various local circumstances, such as the
supply of hands or of water, the rental and local taxes,
the facilities of communication by land and water, or the
abundance of coal. These considerations have had the
effect in recent years, combined with the pernicious work¬
ing of Trades Unions, to scatter the cotton trade over
the surface of Lancashire, of Cheshire, and Derbyshire,
occasioning frequently the location of mills in spots the
most remote. Ihus, for example, Preston is becoming a
large depot of the cotton manufacture, the price of labour
and local considerations uniting in its favour; another
ancient borough, Lancaster, is rising into manufacturing
importance, labour being there 25 or 30 per cent, cheaper
than in Manchester. Nearer home, in towns whose natu¬
ral advantages have tended to foster the trade, but in
which there is no redundant supply of labour, it appears
from the following tables that wages are higher. “ I can¬
not avoid concluding (says the factory commissioners’
First Report), that the rate of wages is higher out of
Manchester than it is in it. The earnings of a fine spin¬
ner are nearly fifty per cent, higher than those of a coarse
spinner, and fine spinning is almost entirely confined to
Manchester; consequently, the average earnings of a
Manchester spinner should be considerably above those of
a spinner of the surrounding district. But if the earnings
of coarse spinners in Manchester are compared with those
of coarse spinners in the country, no such superiority ap¬
pears to exist.”
MANCHESTER.
221
Tal)k showing the Total Number of the Cotton* Workers {comprehending Power-Loom Weavers) in Manchester, Stockport, Manches
Hyde, Duckinfield, Stay ley Bridge, Dishy, and neighbourhoods, comprised in the Returns made to the Tabular Forms ter
issued on 11 th and 20th May 1833 ; with the Aggregate Amount of iheir Wages for the Months ending kth May 1833
Manchester 
Stockport 
Duckinfield and Stayley Bridge
Hyde, Brinnington, Disley, &e
Adults.
Male.
5,361
2,601
2,551
3,202
13,715
Female.
7,035
2,525
2,421
4,064
16,045
Children under
Eighteen.
Male.
4,286
1,715
1,332
2,310
9,643
Female.
3,903
1,555
1,242
2,454
Total
Number
employed.
9,154
20,585
8,396
8,542
12,030
Total Wages for the Average Weekly
Month ending 4 th I Nett Earnings of
May. one Individual.
49,553
A. s. d.
40,333 2 4
18,405 5 9E
19,409 7
26,537 14 11
°2
104,685 10
Pence.
117-56
131- 52
136-33
132- 35
126-75
And 996 whose age and sex are not given in the returns. {Factory Commissioners Report, D. 1, p. 125.)
By total number is meant the total number of which the commission at Manchester obtained returns, and not the
total number of cotton-workers at the places indicated.
Average Weekly Nett Earnings of Spinners, from the Re¬
turns of their respective Masters.
Man- |
Chester |
Oldham-
Stock- f
port.... \
Hyde... j I
Name
of Em¬
ployer.
No.
A. B.
C. D.
E. F.
G. H.
I. K.
L. M.
N. O.
42
33
50
15
5
50
34
Aggregate
Monthly.
L.
137
218
284
56
18
280
152
0
8
14
11
13
19
19
d.
6
9
91
6
7
11
0!
Aggregate Weekly
Nett Earnings.
E. s.
0 16
13
8
18
18
8
2
d.
3 75-100ths.
1 15-100ths.
5 65-100ths
10 30-lOOths.
8 10-100ths
1 19-100ths.
5 91-100ths.
N. B.—The above are all spinners of tbe same quality
of yarn, and consequently there can be no objection to the
return on the score that the work is different. The first
two manufacturers are both in Manchester, within a few
yards of each other, and one master pays double the rate
of wages that the other does. The variance is owing to
sundry minute circumstances, the difference in machi¬
nery being probably one.
At Manchester and Glasgow, the great centres of the
cotton trade in England and Scotland, there is a material
difference in the price of labour, as the subjoined analysis
from the Reports of the factory commissioners shows.
Age.
Below 11
From 11 to 16
16 to 21
21 to 26
26 to 31
31 to 36
36 to 41
41 to 46
46 to 51
51 to 56
56 to 61
61 to 66
66 to 71
71 to 76
76 to 81
Number Employed.
Manchester. Glasgow
246
1169
736
612
355
215
168
98
88
41
28
8
4
1
1
3770
283
1519
881
541
358
331
279
159
117
69
45
17
15
11
Average Weekly Wages.
Manchester. I Glasgow.
FEMALES.
Number Employed.
Manchester. Glasgow.
2 31
4 If
10 2j
17 21
20 41
22 81
21 74
i
4630
20 31
16 7|
16 4
13 61
13 7“
10 10
18 0
8 8
s. d.
1 Ilf
4 7
9 7
18 6
19 Ilf
20 9
19 8|
19
19
17 9f
16 11
17 7
15 91
10 11
9 6
155
1123
1240
780
295
100
81
38
23
4
3
1
1
3844
256
2162
2452
1252
674
255
218
92
41
18
16
7
2
7445
Average Weekly Wages
Manchester. Glasgow.
d.
4|
3E
2
4
7
8 5
8 7f
8 9f
9 81
9 3b
8 10
8 4|
6 4
6 0
6 0
s. d.
1 lOf
3 8|
2
1
41
6 7f
6 61
6 10
6 11
6 0
5 5
4 0
Amongst other subjects to which the same commission¬
ers directed their attention, the health of factory operatives
occupied of course much of their time, and various modes
of test and comparison were adopted. Dr Mitchell, one
of the medical witnesses examined, made the subjoined
estimate of the amount of sickness yearly amongst various
classes of operatives:—
T . Days of Sickness,
in the Staffordshire potteries, to the age of 61,’9-3 per man.
Days of Sickness.
In silk mills, to the Rgc of*   7*8 per man.
In woollen do  
In flax do 5.9
In cotton mills in Glasgow 5*6
East India Company’s servants 5-4
Labourers in Chatham dock-yard 5-38
In Lancashire cotton mills1 5-35
Ditto ditto under 16 years of age..3-14
mnS6?'6 .was Slven by three surgeons at Bolton and a physician at Stayley Bridge, to the effect that the high temperature of
0 injurious, if there be proper ventilation; that scrofula is not frequent; that asthma and bronchitis are generated in the
222
Manches¬
ter.
MANCHESTER.
A number of children were also measured, and the re¬
sult was as under :—
Inches.
Boys in factories measured 55-28
Ditto not in factories ditto 55-56
Girls in factories measured  54-951
Ditto not in factories ditto  54-976
The commissioners also inquired into the state of edu¬
cation amongst manufacturing operatives, and gave the re¬
sult of an examination of 50,000 work-people as follows :—
Proportion in the Hundred.
Cannot
Write.
62
53
52
57
39
60
57
74
62
74
49
60
23
32
Read.
Read.
Lancashire  83
Cheshire  90
Yorkshire  85
Derbyshire.  88
Staffordshire  83
Leicestershire  80
Notts  88
Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex.. 81
Wiltshire  85
Somersetshire  89
Devon  96
Gloucestershire  92
Worcestershire 100
Warwickshire  88
Cannot
Read.
17
10
15
12
17
20
12
19
15
11
4
8
12
Average... 86 14
Write.
38
47
48
43
61
40
42
26
38
26
51
40
77
38
43 57
Proportion in the Hundred.
Cannot , Write Cannot
Read. Write.
Average in Scotland 96 4 | 53 47
Ireland 90 10 j 44 56
Upon this subject a more elaborate and careful investi¬
gation was made in 1834 and 1835, by the Manchester
Statistical Society, from which it appeared that there were
in the borough of Manchester 43,304 children receiving
education, or 21-65 per cent, of the population ; and in the
borough of Salford 12,885 children, or 23-4 per cent. Of
these there are in Manchester 10,108 and in Salford 3131
who attend only day or evening schools ; 10,011 in Man¬
chester and 3410 in Salford who attend both day and Sun¬
day schools ; and 23,185 in Manchester and 6344 in Sal¬
ford who attend only Sunday schools. It further appears,
that in Manchester two thirds, and in Salford twenty-two
and a half per cent, of the children between five and fif¬
teen years of age are receiving instruction.
The total quantity of yarn spun in England in 1835 was
248,814,531 pounds, being an increase of nearly seven
millions, of pounds over the preceding year. Mr Burn
estimates the number of spindles employed in producing it
at 11,152,990 ; and, calculating the capital in the usual way,
namely, at 17s. 6d. per spindle, it would appear that
L.9,758,864 is the amount embarked in the cotton spinning.
From the same excellent source is derived an estimate of
the value of the goods manufactured, and the yarn and
thread spun in 1835.
Manet
ter,
Description.
No. of Yards, Sec. length
of each Description,
Calicoes, printed, dyed....
Calicoes, plain 
Cambrics, &c 
Velveteens, See 
Quiltings, &c 
Cotton and linen 
Ginghams, &c 
Ticks 
Dimities 
Damasks, &c 
Nankeens 
Lawns and lenos 
Imitation shawls 
Lace, &c 
Counterpanes, &c  
Shawls and handkerchiefs.
Tapes, bobbins, &c 
Hosiery  
Unenumerated 
Yards.
212,529,356
234,164,513
10,509,055
7,362,538
273,736
2,980,159
1,200,009
207,481
147,449
40,700
2,230,465
19,893
293,858
73,522,896
232,199
816,611
41,898
394,354
167,440
Yards.
28
24
20
60
60
40
20
50
60
36
50
20
12
40
No.
Doz.
L.
No. of Pieces,
&c. of each
Description.
No.
7,911,763
9,756,813
525,453
122,709
4,562
74,504
60,000
4,150
2,457
1,130
44,609
995
24,488
1,338,072
232,199
816,611
41,898
394,354
sterling
Weight of
Yarn in
each
Piece.
lbs. oz.
4 0
20 0
18 0
20 0
12 0
10 0
8 0
2 8
2 8
Total Weight of
Yarn exported in
Goods.
10 0
Total weight of yarn exported in manufactured goods in 1835.
Ditto yarn 
Ditto thread 
Total weight of yarn.
lbs.
31,647,052
53,662,471
1,576,359
2,454,180
82,166
596,032
180,000
85,000
28,484
11,300
396,872
2,487
61,220
669,036
1,625,393
2,041,526
41,898
985,885
1,674,400
Average
Price of
each
Piece,
*. d-
14 0
9
11
60 0
56 6
97,822,722
82,457,885
1,842,124
182,122,731
13
II
28
28 9
27 0
18 9
11 8
Value of
Yarn
when Ma¬
nufactured
into
Goods, per
Pound.
s. d.
3 6
1 71
3 10#
3 0
3 1
1 8
3 I0f
1 3|
2 4f
2
2
Total Amount of
Goods exported in
1835 (pounds only
put down),
: 4
7
11
7
6
2
84
4
8
2 9f
23 4
1 o
71
'2
11 0
2 6|- per lb.
1 5 A do.
2 4 do.
Total amount,
5,538,239
4,390,566
306,514
368,127
12,887
49,669
35,000
5,844
3,532
1,525
41,820
580
8,571
780,542
81,770
265,398
4,189
216,894
167,440
12,279,107
6,012,554
214,914
L. 18,506,575
Liverpool and Hull are the principal ports through which
the goods and yarn of Manchester are sent abroad ; and the
amount of customs duties received there fat the former port
especially) tends to show the state of the manufactures in
Manchester and the county of Lancaster generally. It was,
for the year ending April 1834, L.3,733,166.8s. lOd. (gross);
for the year ending April 1835, L.3,846,306.9s. lid. (gross);
and for the year ending April 1836, L.4,273,000 (gross).
In addition to the cotton manufacture, Manchester has
likewise a considerable and rapidly-increasing trade in silk
card-rooms; that pulmonary complaints are of most frequent occurrence amongst factory operatives• but that thev are not more
babie to sickness than out door labourers. It is an established fact, that operatives in factorieK an^xempS from cholera when
it raged in Manchester, which was not experienced by other classes. 1 ’
MANCHESTER.
jfa hes- throwing and weaving. The mill of Mr Vernon Royle,
t • celebrated throughout England for the thrown silk it sends
out, was established in 1819-20, and was the first erected
in the district. Directly and indirectly, it affords employ¬
ment to about five thousand persons. In 1819 there were
in Manchester about a thousand weavers of mixed silk and
the former had increased to 3000 and of the latter to 2500.
In 1828 there were 4000 of the former class and 8000 of the
lattei ; and in 1832 from 12,000 to 14,000 looms were em¬
ployed by Manchester houses; and the throwing mills,
twelve in number, but of which two were not then in ope¬
ration, gave occupation to about 3600 hands. The present
cotton goods, and fifty of pure silk. In 1823 the number of state ofThe silk throwing trade is as followT:"—-'
Summary of Silk Mills in Manchester and the County of Lancaster, 1836.
Township.
Manchester 
Salford 
Broughton 
Newton 
Harpurhey 
Heaton Norris1.
Barton.
Parish of Eccles.
Caton.
Parish of Lancaster.
Ellel.
Parish of Codcerham.
Parish of Melling.
Wray.
Parish of Ashtoiounder-Lyne.
Ashton1 
Parish of Leigh.
Pennington  
171
58
40
32
3
24
42
10
20
Ss
none.
none.
none.
none.
none.
none.
none.
14
16
Not
known.
none.
Not
known.
68
194
156
132
71
11
150
Under 13.
151
78
40
34
13
Under 14. Under 15. 15 and under 18. Above 18.
fti
149
70
90
15
9
129
46
41
20
15
38
68
29
3
14
15
6
19
6
276
108
62
55
19
104
7
9
3
Total.
142 j444
236 136
76
127
46
521
396
93
148
286
102
k89
32
1343
594
441
322
113
493
46
81
24
It is calculated that the Manchester throwsters produce
about 8000 pounds of thrown silk weekly, but that the silk
looms consume not less than 24,000 pounds, 8000 pounds
of which are derived from the Macclesfield throwsters, and
the remainder from Congleton, Sandbach, Newcastle, &c.
very little foreign thrown being used in Manchester. Ac¬
cording to the closest estimate which can be formed, the
silk manufacturers having their principal establishments in
Manchester employ now not less than 18,500 looms in the
weaving of pure or mixed silk goods; and, taking the usual
trade average of four persons to a loom, the silk trade of the
district, in all its branches, keeps in employment not less
than seventy thousand persons. Few of the weavers live
in Manchester ; they are scattered over the more or less re¬
mote rural districts of the county, viz. at Gorton, Newton
Heath, Harpurhey, Middleton, Stand, Radcliffe, Pendle-
bury, Worsley, Eccles, West Leigh, and Ormskirk. The
silk trade is, in fact, changing its centre, which used to be
in Macclesfield; Manchester is now the mart; and though
in Macclesfield the number of hands employed in the throw¬
ing mills is considerably larger than in Manchester, the
latter town has very greatly the superiority of numbers in
all the other processes. Wages in the silk mills are good;
cind the hand-loom silk-weavers earn considerably more
than the mass of those engaged in cotton. Many females
and chddren are employed in the silk mills. The power-
oom has been partially introduced into the manufacture,
but hitherto with no decided success. By the returns al¬
ready quoted it will be seen, that throughout Lancashire
only 366 power-looms are employed in silk, of which num-
ofEccl Manchester’ and sixtyin tlle adjoining parish
The population of Manchester has had a most amazing
growth. The town comprehends several townships, viz.
Manchester, Chorlton-upon-Medlock, Cheetham, Ardwick,
Hulme, Newton, Harpurhey, Bradford, and Beswick, form
the borough of Manchester; Salford, Pendleton, and Brough¬
ton, that of Salford ; but they are physically, as well as politi¬
cally and commercially, one town, though having separate lo¬
cal government. Of the townships of Manchester and Sal¬
ford, the population was as follows at the decennial periods :
Manchester. Salford.
1801 70,409 13,611
18H 79,459 19,114
1821 108,016 25,772
1831 142,026 40,786
The township of Chorlton-upon-Medlock, which is filled
with factories, was a desert but yesterday, and the popula¬
tion has sprung up in a way wholly unprecedented. It was,
in 1801, 675 persons ; in 1811, 2581 ; in 1821, 8209 ; and
in 1831, 20,569.
Property has increased in the same rapid ratio. In 1815
the annual value was L.l 9,830, in 1835 it was L.58,844. A
similar augmentation has taken place in other townships. In
Manchestei in 181o the annual value of property was only
L.308,634, in 1835 it was L.573,085; in Salford it was in
1815 L.49,048, it is now L.114,769; in Broughton (a
township without manufactures) the annual value of lands
and buildings was in 1815 only L.5082, in 1835, L.21,303 ;
in Cheetham (also a township containing only private re¬
sidences) the value was, in 1815, L.8524; and it is now
L.28,541.
It has recently been ascertained, that within a period
of four years 700 new streets have been added to the
town. Calculating ten houses to a street, and six occu¬
pants to each house (a fair estimate), we have an increase
of 42,000 souls since the census of 1831 ; and, making
some allowance for the additions to and improvements in
semiyfyef, there were’in 1835’ m 1,and5 eml’l0-ve,i
silk (and one mil] empty); there were 250 hands in Ashton, and
223
Manches-
ter.
224
MANCHESTER.
Manches- existing streets, it will be found that the population of
^er- ^Manchester, Salford, and their districts, which in 1831
was 232,758, is now not less than 300,000.
Manchester ranks as the first manufacturing town in the
empire, and in population it is second only to London.1 The
county is divided into several hundreds, Manchester being
situated in the centre of that of Salford, in which there has
been an immense increase of population within the present
century, the numbers being, in 1801,177,682, and in 1831,
429,602. The next most important hundreds of the county
are those of Amounderness (168,057), and West Derby
(170,062). The total annual value of property in Salford
hundred was, in 1815, L.918,397,and in 1829, L.l,554,314.
Of these amounts, L.488,053 at the former period, and
L.751,200 at the latter, were comprised in the parish of
Manchester, which is divided into thirty-two parishes.
Manchester, as an old parish, has a parish church, said
to have been constructed by a Lord Delaware in 1422,
out of two old churches built in 1300. It is a fine Gothic
structure, 216 feet in length from east to west, and 120
feet in breadth, with a handsome tower. It is richly orna¬
mented in the cathedral style, having on the exterior nu¬
merous grotesque figures projecting from the roof, in the
taste of the age in which it was built. It has of late years
been extensively repaired and beautified in conformity
with the original design, and affords accommodation, by
its great proportion of free seats, to a numerous congre¬
gation. It was made collegiate by the founder, who am¬
ply endowed it; and, by the increased value of the proper¬
ty, has become a rich ecclesiastical establishment, with a
warden, four fellows, and two chaplains. But as arrange¬
ments are in progress for erecting Manchester and the
county in which it is situated into a bishopric, this will oc¬
casion considerable changes. The only churches more
than fifty years old are, St Ann’s, in the square of that
name, consecrated in 1765; and St John’s, in Byrom Street,
opened in 1769. As the town has grown, more churches
have been built, and others are now being built. The
whole number of those edifices in which the established
forms of worship are observed is now twenty-four. They
are all handsome, some of them elegant structures, and all
in the interior are neatly and appropriately finished. As
in other manufacturing towns, the number of those who
dissent from the Established Church is very considerable.
There is one congregation belonging to the Scotch Kirk,
and one of the Secession; but the largest division is the
adherents to the Roman Catholic Church, consisting for
the most part of Irish emigrants employed in the lowest
kinds of labour. They have four places of worship, one
of them, in Granby Row, opened in 1820, very handsome
and costly, in the Gothic style. There are twenty-seven
chapels belonging to Wesleyan Methodists of different
shades of opinion, the Independents have nine chapels,
the Baptists six, the Unitarians three ; and there are seven
belonging to other smaller sects.
A recent investigation of the circumstances of 4102 fa- Mancl f
milies, consisting of 21,034 persons, gave the followino- to
important results :— ° v'—v r
Country.
English....,
Irish 
Welsh 
Scotch 
Foreigners.
Religion.
2270 Established Church 2021
.1761 Roman Catholics 1473
. 35 Dissenters  591
. 30 Professing no religion... 17
4!02 4102
Lived in houses, 3100 ] ave0r?g® ^ n0t exceeding 2s-
1 9d. 3844.
... in cellars, 752 J comfortable, 1551; not so, 2551
... in, rooms, 250 j families.
As to the religion of the inhabitants, there are other
ascertained facts of a more general nature. The church
accommodation in Manchester and Salford consists of
about 30,000 sittings, exclusively of the Scotch Kirk; that
in the Wesleyan Methodist chapels, of about 9000 ; Roman
Catholic and all other dissenting chapels, of about 21,000
sittings. The Sunday schools in Manchester and Salford
attached to the various religious communities, and the
total numbers instructed by each, are—
Religious Denomination.
Church Establishment 
Wesleyan Methodist  
Catholic 
Independent 
Methodist, new connection 
Baptist 
General Baptist 
Primitive Methodist 
Bible Christian 
Welsh Independent 
Scotch Church 
Scotch Secession Church 
New Jerusalem Church 
Unitarian 
Independent Methodist 
Arminian Methodist 
Welsh Baptist 
Welsh Methodist 
United Christian 
Unconnected with any religious )
body J
Totals 
These are the numbers “on the
books.”
Manchester. Salford.
10,284
9,066
3,880
4,059
1,453
1,183
350
401
401
779
115
188
150
283
320
79
30
175
33,196
2,741
2,630
613
1,487
553
702
98
176
90
221
65
15
150
9,754
1
1800
1810
1820
1830
Rate of Mortality in Salford Hundred.
One One One
Population. Baptism Burial Marriage
Rate of Mortality in Manchester Town.
177,682
254,126
323,592
429,602
28
29
38
39
40 130
44 134
51 140
52 150
1800
1810
1820
1830
Population.
84,020
98,573
133,788
182,812
One One
Baptism Burial
31
30
41
37
41
69
71
33
One
Marriage
in
65
71
67
64
1
Mauhes-
;; | f.
V VOL. XIV.
MANCHESTER.
225
Manches¬
ter.
226
MANCHESTER.
Manches. The wealth of the town, and its gradual increase, are shown from the subjoined return, in a way the most au- Mancha
ter. thentic and complete. ter.
Return of the Amount of Duties paid in Manchester and Forty four adjoining Townships, constituting the whole Pa-
rishes of Manchester and Eccles, and a part of the Parish of Middleton, in each successive Year since 1820.
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
Houses and
Windows.
L.
23,481
22,742
23,796
12,534
14,332
12,905
13,091
13,429
14,129
14,406
14,282
14,753
14,982
15,113
15.751
16,316
s. d.
12 9
5 14
0 0
6 7|
13 5i
2 3
3 6
7 0
13 41
14 8|
13 54
4 101
14 6
7 3f
17 74
2 U
Inhabited
Houses.
L. s.
17,319 4
17,455 17
18,616 9
19,161
20,844
20,640
20,508
20,483
24,052
28,558
27,856 16
29,574 15
31,038 6
24,533 9
Male
Servants.
L- 8.
5950 15
6372 11
7566 9
3725 5
4154 13
4185 18
4355 7
4395 14
4687 11
5123 13
5068 8
5842 16
6330 6
1998 5
2239 8
2538 8
Carriages.
d- L- s-
014042 7
04140 12
Horses for
Kiding.
4975 H
2685 11
3211 19
3541 0
3961 0
4076 0
6:4300 0
614931 10
015281 0
05697 0
05409 0
64740 5
0'5407 15
65950 15
d- L. s.
0 3536 8
6,3800 19
0 4073 15
5 2032 11
0 2282 19
02490 17
0 2726 11
0 2585 0
0 2689 18
0 2845 4
0 2610 16
02906 1
03112 4
0 2719 18
02965 10
0 3269 18
Other Horses
and Mules.
d. L.
6 2250 10
2243 3
1854 0
892 10
977 0
962 17
908 5
872 11
862 11
896 14
877 19
938 3
61031 12
3 1158 3
61111 19
9 1164 19
Dogs.
d. L.
0 994
6 1078
0 1316
0 1545
6jl731
0 1792
0 1669
0 1634
6 1784
011853
0;i772
6 1303
6 1874
01753
0 1819
6 1824
Horse
Dealers’
Duty.
L.
16100
16,100
8 100
18125
6125
10 162
16162
14137
10 150
10 200
16187
10 150
2137
4 175
12487
8 150
Hair
Powder.
L. 8.
0il42 3
0 130 8
0;144 10
0131 12
0 125 14
10 113 19
10112 16
10 91 13
76 7
65 16
55
47
41
36
34
28
Armorial
Bear¬
ings
L. s.
227 8
243 0
289 16
289 16
313 4
314 8
360 0
376 16
369 0
373 4..
387 0
409 4
425 8
390 12
6 424 16
0I476 8
Game
Duties.
748 15
796 11
After London, Liverpool, and Dublin, the payments to
the post-office in Manchester exceed those of any town
in the kingdom. They have been for three years as fol¬
lows, viz. in 1832, L.53,510. 8s. 4d.; in 1833, L.56,287.
16s. lid.; and in 1834, L.60,621. 12s. 6d.
The state of the poor in Manchester, and throughout
Lancashire generally, is remarkably comfortable and pros¬
perous. A reference to the returns of the expenditure
of poor’s rate in Lancashire, and other counties, places
this fact quite beyond dispute.
1801.
Expenditure
for Mainten¬
ance of Poor.
Proportion
to Popu¬
lation.
1811.
Expenditure
for Mainten¬
ance of Poor.
Proportion
to Popu¬
lation.
1821.
Expenditure
for Mainten¬
ance of Poor.
Proportion
to Popu¬
lation.
1831.
Expenditure
for Mainten¬
ance of Poor.
Proportion
to Popu¬
lation.
Lancashire 
Cheshire 
Derbyshire 
Kent 
Middlesex 
Staffordshire 
Yorkshire, East..,
  West...
  North..
L.
148,282
66,627
54,459
206,508
349,200
83,411
• 41,388
.48,702
186,469
s. d.
4 4
6 11
6 9
13 5
8 6
6 11
7 5
6 1
6 7
L.
306,797
114,370
93,963
317,990
502,967
124,765
83,752
70,860
328,113
s. d.
7 4
10 0
10 1
17 0
10 6
8 5
10 4
8 4
10 0
L.
249,585
104,081
84,756
320,711
582,055
133,702
97,522
82,638
273,301
s. d.
4 8
7 8
8 1
17 4
10 2
7 10
10 6
8 9
6 9
L.
293,226
103,572
78,717
345,512
681,567
132,887
100,976
83,931
274,586
s. d.
4 4
6 2
6 7
14 5
10 0
6 5
9 10
8 9
5 7
In the township of Manchester, the expenditure exclu¬
sively for the poor (deducting the heavy payments to hun¬
dred and county rates, and for constables’ accounts), was,
Per Head
on Population.
In 1800-1 6s. lOfd.
... 1811-12 6s. 64 d.
Per Head
on Population.
In 1820-21 5s. 3d.
... 1830-31 4s. 3f-d.
The population is taken in the month of April; and as
the making up of overseers’ accounts takes place on the
25th of March, it was thought better in each instance to take
the period nearest to the date of the census, which will
account for the years being put in this way.
In the township of Chorlton-on-Medlock, almost exclu¬
sively a manufacturing suburb, the expenditure has been,
Proportion to
the Population.
A striking and most important difference appears in the
expenditure of another township (Broughton), in which
there are few or no manufactures to employ the poor;
showing that the poor rates fall much heavier on an agri¬
cultural than on a manufacturing population :—
Proportion of
the former to
the Population.
Outlay for
the Poor.
1827 L.444 13
1831  320 1
1835  186 12
Total Expen¬
diture.
14
}
4s. 0^d.
Outlay for
the Poor.
In 1826-27 L.317 9 24
... 1830-31  711 12 1
... 1834-35  945 5 8
.2s. 8£d.
9 L.901 11
4 856 2
10 796 12
2 -J
In connection with these statistics, which are intended
to communicate, in as concise a form as possible, a cor¬
rect view of the condition of the people of the principal
manufacturing town of Great Britain, it is important to
exhibit some data as to the state of crime in the district;
and the following table affords that information in an au¬
thentic form. It should be premised, that the gaol for the
hundred is situated in Manchester, and that the total po¬
pulation of the hundred was, in 1831, 429,602.
MANCHESTER.
Ma' -'hfs- Statement of the Number of Prisoners Tried and Convicted
,r. at the New Bailey Court-House, Salford, in the following
' Years :
227
Transported { ales.':.':^ } Total 3301
T°9th ru“60“!2d..J““aZ.!!.!!.!?} 80>859
The towns of Manchester and Salford are governed bv
a boroughreeve and constables, elected, the former bv a
jury summoned to the court of Sir Oswald Mosley, the
oi d of the manor, and the latter at a court of the Earl of
Jetton, the high steward. The two towns have also police
!f0 I T- aJePrfsentative body of police commissioners,
tion nn bT perS°nS havinS a high qualifica-
m Sa.lf1ori^ hy the rate Payers at large. Such is
whil!r® CT71-h,the„township of Chorlton-upon-Medlock;
vpn -l! ln iArdT1Tk’o^ Persons occupying premises of the
S!7 caiU™ f L'30, and in Hulme a11 occupants to the
0 • j are capable of qualifying as commissioners.
Manchester possesses large gas-works, which are impor¬
tant, inasmuch as the profits accruing from them (m 1835
nearly L.l4,000) are expended upon those improvements
which tend so much to the health, the comfort, and the
ornament of a densely-peopled town.
The gigantic undertakings of the celebrated Duke of
Bridgewater, who may without exaggeration be styled the
parent of canal navigation in England, had their centre in
Manchester. In succeeding years the example so nobly
set was rapidly followed, and Manchester has the advan¬
tage of a connexion, as direct as canal and river navigation
conjoined can afford, with Liverpool, Hull, Goole, London,
Lancaster, and indeed all the great sea-ports and inland
commercial towns. It is remarkable that this district should
have been the first to manifest the immense importance of
railway communication. The history of the Liverpool
and Manchester radway, from its infancy to its present
state of maturity and unexampled excellence, is familiar
to the whole world. Branching from the main road, there
are lines to Bolton, Wigan, Warrington, St Helen’s, &c. ;
and that to Warrington will shortly be incorporated in the
Liverpool and Birmingham railway, the road having been
purchased to form a part of the great line now construct¬
ing. A line is also in course of formation, by which rail¬
road communication may be had with Preston, a rising
town in the cotton manufacture; and thence the northern
districts will speedily, no doubt, carry forward the commu¬
nication towards Scotland. Another line is now in active
pi ogi ess directly irom Manchester to Bolton, to which a de¬
gree of importance exceeding the mere abstract extent of
the undertaking attaches, inasmuch as it runs in the same
line with the canal to Bolton, and, in fact, both are the
property of the same proprietors. It is understood that the
two lines of carriage, by land and water, will be worked
conjointly, the railroad for passengers and certain descrip¬
tions of merchandise, the canal for other descriptions of
merchandise; and from these operations the public will
be enabled to form’a just conclusion on the very import¬
ant and still undetermined point, whether, and in what
ciicumstances, canals are capable of successful competi-
tion with railways. During the session of parliament 1836
a bill was obtained to authorize the construction of a rail¬
road from Manchester to Leeds.
Manchester has been the birth-place, or abode, or cen¬
tral point of action, of many eminent men. In remoter
times the names of Hugh Oldham, Bradford, Booker, Dee
(the astrologer), Whitaker (the historian), Byrom (a poet
and the inventor of a system of short-hand), Worthington’
Perciyal, Ogden, Hugh Manchester, Humphrey Chetham,
Pleynck, Lord Delamere, Bancroft, Barlow, and Crabtree
hold a prominent place in the history of the town and its
connexions. Amongst *the illustrious of modern days, the
commercial metropolis may claim as her own the eccen¬
tric Duke of Bridgewater. Mr Thomas Henry, though not
born in Manchester, spent his life there; and his attain¬
ments as a chemist were brought into beneficial exercise
upon the cotton manufacture of the country, in the disco¬
very of most important improvements in the artof dveino-
through the operation of mordaunts, and by simplifying
and applying practically to manufactures the discovery of
i LBerthollet in regard to the qualities of oxymuriatic acid,
a discovery by which the time occupied in the process of
bleaching calicoes has been reduced from days to hours.
The late Sir Robert Peel, though born near Blackburn, and
a resident ot Bury, had his mercantile establishment in
Manchester, and was probably the most extensive mer-
cliant of his day, excepting perhaps Sir Richard Arkwright.
jrj TimUm* also, though born in Cumberland, has spenlfhis
hie from the age of twenty-six or thereabouts in Manches¬
ter, whither he went originally from Kendal on his appoint¬
ment to the post of professor of mathematics and natural
Manches¬
ter.
228 MAN
Manciple philosophy at the Manchester New College, an institution
Mandara was subsequently removed to and is still in existence
at York. The doctor is now, and has been for many
years, president of the Manchester Literary and Philoso¬
phical Society, through which many of his most valued dis¬
coveries have been communicated to the world.
The municipal government of the township of Manches¬
ter is committed to the boroughreeve and two constables,
who are elected at the court-leet of the lord of the manor,
Sir Oswald Mosley, Bart. The boroughreeve exercises
the power, without enjoying any of the external distinc¬
tions, usually pertaining to a mayor. There is an effective
police establishment, under the direction of 240 commis¬
sioners elected by the occupants of tenements of a certain
annual value.
Manchester has a considerable number of associations for
the cultivation of science and literature, and the promo¬
tion of education. The Ro}ral Manchester Institution
ranks first in importance, the inhabitants having expend¬
ed about L.30,000 in the erection of a noble edifice for
periodical exhibitions of paintings, the delivery of lectures,
&c. leaving themselves unhappily almost without the
means of fulfilling the purposes for which the building was
raised. An excellent Natural History Society is in a
flourishing state ; a Mechanics’ Institute receives extensive
support; the town boasts a Concert Hall, having an income
of L.3000 per annum ; there are two schools of medicine,
the elder of which (the Pine Street) has attained to consi¬
derable celebrity, and has recently obtained the patron¬
age of the king; and amongst the numerous public libra¬
ries is one to which free access is afforded, and which
has a large and most valuable collection of books, ancient
and modern. This is the library attached to that an¬
tique structure Chetham’s Hospital, or the College (now
so called), an institution founded two centuries ago, by the
man whose name it bears, for the maintenance, education,
and apprenticing of a number of boys, the offspring of poor
parents. The Grammar School is another of the ancient
foundations which do honour to the town ; in late years
its funds have so far increased as recently to justify the
MAN
erection of a second school, in which a course of general M
education may be gratuitously obtained, whilst the parent 0!®
building is still devoted to the diffusion of classical know- V
ledge. The school has the advantage of several “ exhibi¬
tions.” The recent inquiry into the public charities of Eng¬
land includes a very large return of charitable bequests
still existent within the hundred of Salford, and of these
Manchester has its full share. The town also supports,
with a most liberal hand, medical institutions for the cure
of almost every disease incident to humanity. At the
head of these stands the Royal Infirmary, where, since its
establishment in 1752, no less than 576,859 patients have
been treated; four thousand accidents are annually brought
under the attention of its medical officers; and the pa¬
tients in the different wards of the infirmary average about
180 weekly. There are also a Ladies’ Jubilee Charity, a
School for the Deaf and Dumb, and (in course of erection
jointly with the deaf and dumb institution) a Blind Asylum,
which had its foundation in a bequest of L.40,000 made se¬
veral years ago by Mr Henshaw, a wealthy inhabitant of
Oldham ; the condition of its application to that benevo¬
lent object being, that no part of the sum should be expend¬
ed in the erection or furnishing of the building, but that
the latter should be provided by the inhabitants. After
considerable delay,about L.9000 have been subscribed; and
the asylum is now in course of erection on the outskirts of
the town. Other institutions for the relief of the afflicted
and the distressed, for the promotion of education and the
spread of religion, abound in Manchester, which indeed
exhibits a prominent example of the almost profuse expen¬
diture of wealth, hardly acquired, for philanthropic and
useful purposes.
The foregoing sketch of the town of Manchester, and
its hitherto unpublished statistics, are furnished by Mr
James Wheeler, author of “ Manchester, its Political,
Social, and Commercial History, ancient and modern to
which work, and to the History of the County Palatine of
Lancaster, by Edward Baines, we refer those who desire
a more enlarged acquaintance with the modern history of
this nationally important and industrious community.
MANCIPLE (manceps), a clerk of the kitchen, or ca¬
terer. This officer still remains in some universities.
MANCOTE, a village of Hindustan, in the province of
Lahore, now possessed by the Sikhs. It is situated seven¬
ty-four miles from the city of Lahore. Long. 74. 28. E.
Lat. 32. 44. N.
MANDANES, an Indian prince and philosopher, who
for the renown of his wisdom was invited by the ambas¬
sadors of Alexander the Great to the banquet of the son
of Jupiter. A reward was promised him if he obeyed, but
he was threatened with punishment in the event of refusal.
Unmoved by promises and threats, the philosopher dismiss¬
ed them with the observation, that though Alexander ruled
over a great part of the universe, he was not the son of
Jupiter ; and that he gave himself no trouble about the pre¬
sents of a man who possessed not wherewithal to content
himself. “ I despise his threats,” added he. “ If I live,
India is sufficient for my subsistence ; and to me death has
no terrors, for it will only be an exchange of old age and
infirmity for the happiness of a better life.”
MANDARA, an independent kingdom of Western
Afi ica, situated to the south of Bornou. It is overlook¬
ed by the central range of the Mountains of the Moon,
which attain their greatest elevation to the southward of
this territory. I hose parts of the mountains examined
by Major Denham consist of enormous blocks of granite,
both detached and reclining on each other, and presenting
the most rugged faces and sides. The interstices and fis¬
sures appeared to be filled with a yellow quartzose earth,
in which grow mosses and lichens, as well as trees of con¬
siderable size. At the base of these mountains, and also
at a considerable elevation on their sides, are incumbent
masses of decomposed fragments of primitive rocks, re¬
compounded by a species of natural cement. A number
of petrified shells were found confusedly mixed with frag¬
ments of granite, quartz, sand, and clay, and in some in¬
stances imbedded in the rocks. Mandara consists of a
fine valley watered by various springs. Amongst the va¬
rious specimens of the vegetable kingdom, are numerous
fig-trees, and a tree bearing a white and fragrant blossom,
resembling the zeringa. This kingdom was formerly com¬
prehended within the territory of the sultan of Karowa, a
country bordering upon it to the south-west, but which was
wrested from the kerdy or pagan sovereign by the neigh¬
bouring Fellatahs. His son, however, recovered it from
them, and succeeded in keeping possession of it, chiefly,
it is said, in consequence of his having embraced the Ma-
hommedan faith. 4 he principal Mandara towns, eight in
number, all stand in the valley. The inhabitants of these,
as well as of the villages by which they are surrounded,
profess Islamism ; but the pagans are far more numerous,
and their dwellings are seen everywhere in clusters on the
sides, and even on the tops, of the hills which immediately
overlook the capital. They hold the sultan in great dread,
and occasionally propitiate his favour by presenting him
with leopard-skins, honey, and slaves, as peace-offerings,
MAN
irarins besides asses and goats, with which their mountains
abound. Mora, the capital of Mandara, is situated nearly
facing the north, under a semicircular ridge of very pic-
V ‘,_ .turesque mountains. These natural barriers form a strong
rampart on every side but one, which, however, the sul¬
tan is able so to defend as to bid defiance to the attacks
of the Fell a tabs. When Major Denham visited this king¬
dom, he found the sultan surrounded by about 500 horse¬
men, posted on a rising ground about a mile from Delow,
the most northern town in Mandara. These soldiers were
finely dressed in Soudan tobes of different colours (chiefly
dark blue, and striped with yellow and red), bornouses of
coarse scarlet cloth, and large turbans of white or dark-co¬
loured cotton. Their horses were beautiful, being larger
and more powerful than any in Bornou, and they were ma¬
naged with great dexterity. The country to the extreme
south is inhabited by the Musgow people, a rude and sa¬
vage race. During the visit of the traveller above named,
he witnessed the arrival of an embassy of between twenty
and thirty individuals of this tribe, mounted on horseback,
and bringing two hundred of their fellow-creatures, and
fifty horses, besides other presents, to the sultan. They
were covered only with the skin of a goat or leopard; and
round the necks of each were long strings of the teeth of
the enemies whom they had slain in battle. Teeth and
pieces of bone were also suspended from the clotted locks
of their hair, and their bodies were marked with red
patches in various places. Dirkullah, a part of this moun¬
tain territory, is occupied by h ellatahs, who have their vil¬
lages strongly fortified, and fight desperately with poison¬
ed arrows, by means of which they on one occasion put to
flight the whole force of Bornou and Mandara, though
aided by a numerous and well-armed body of Arabs. They
are now, however, kept in subjection by the sultan of Man-
daia. The common people of this country paint their bo¬
dies, wrap themselves in the skins of wild beasts, and sub¬
sist chiefly upon fruits, honey, and the fish drawn from
large lakes.
MANDARINS, a name given to the magistrates and
governors of provinces in China, who are chosen out of
the most learned men, and whose government is always at
a great distance from the place of their birth.
MANDAVEE, a large and fortified sea-port of Hin¬
dustan, in the province of Cutch, situated on the Gulf of
Cutch. It trades to a considerable extent with Bombay,
Arabia, &c. and its chief articles of export consist of but¬
ter, giain, and cotton, for which it receives sugar, pepper
xtW silk’ &c. Long. 69. 54, E. La/.
50. N.
MANDAWEE Islands, a cluster of small islands in
tlie Eastern Seas, near the south coast of Borneo. Lono-.
113. 30. E. Lat. 3. 20. S. 5
MANDELIQUE, 0r Mandalig, a small island, about
Haifa league from the north coast of Java, called the Devil’s
Hock, because ships are so long detained here by the con¬
trary winds of the east monsoon, and by currents. The
strait between this and the coast is too narrow to be safe.
Long. 110. 56. E. Lat. 6. 27. S.
MANDEVILLE, Sik John, a physician celebrated on
account of his travels, was born at St Alban’s, about the
beginning of the fourteenth century. He received a libe-
raf education, and applied himself to the study of physic ;
but being at length seized with an invincible desire of
^siting distant parts of the globe, he left England in 1332,
frbL i ,ret!irn til1 thirty-four years thereafter. His
him d l Wh? had 0T1S suPP°sed him dead, did not know
vXh thn ie, re-aPPeared amongst them. He had tra-
elled throughout almost all the East, and had made him-
Jar XlX •? I-riety °f' lan£uages- In particu-
La’ m Scyth,a’ Armenia’ Egypt, Arabia, Sy-
a, Media, Mesopotamia, Persia, Chaldaea, Greece, Dal-
M A N
matia, and various other countries. He afterwards went
to Liege, where he appears to have passed under the name
of Joannes de Barbam, and died in November 1372. His
design seems to have been to commit to writing whatever
he had heard, read, or learned, concerning the places which
he visited. Hence he has taken descriptions of monsters
from 1 hny, copied accounts of miracles from legends, and
related fabulous stories upon the authority of authors who
are now classed as mere romancers; so that many, perhaps
most, of the falsehoods in his work properly belong to pre-
ceding wrriters, who, however much they mav now be de¬
spised or disregarded, were considered as of good credit at
the time when he wrote. But there does not appear to be
any good reason why he should not be believed in regard to
circumstances which he relates from his own observation
Mandeville was a good linguist, and wrote his Travels in
Latin, from which he translated them into French, then into
English, and lastly into Italian. The English edition is en-
titled “ The Voiyage and Travaile of Ser John Maunde-
ville, knight,” London, 1568, 4to, reprinted in 1684 in the
same form, and again in 1727, 8vo. The original English
manuscript is in the Cotton Library. The English editions
are the more valuable to us, from having been written in the
anguage used by our countrymen three hundred years ago,
when the orthography of English was so little fixed that it
seems to have been a fashionable affectation amongst wri¬
ters to spell the same words in the greatest variety of
ways imaginable. Addison’s pretended discovery of Sir
John Mandeville’s manuscripts, and the pleasant fiction of
the freezing and thawing of several short speeches made
by Sir John in the territories of Nova Zembla, must be
known to most of our readers. (See Taller, with annota¬
tions, vol. iv. No. 254, edition of 1806.)
Mandeville, Bernard, an author of very considerable
celebrity in his day, was born about the year 1670, in Hol¬
land, where he studied physic, and took the degree of doc¬
tor in that faculty. He afterwards came to England, and
wrote several works which, though not devoid of ingenuity
inculcate principles little calculated to advance the interests
of society. In 1709, he published his Virgin Unmasked,
in the form of a dialogue between an old maiden aunt and
hei niece, upon love, marriage, and other topics therewith
connected, which are treated in a manner not calculated
to promote female virtue and innocence. In 171], ap¬
peared his Treatise on the Hypochondriac and Hysteric
Passions; a work which is divided into three dialogues,
and contains some shrewd remarks on the modern prac¬
tice of physicians and apothecaries. In 1714, he publish¬
ed a poem entitled the Grumbling Hive, or Knaves turn¬
ed Honest, upon which he afterwards wrote remarks, and
enlarged the whole into his well-known publication, The
Fable of the Bees, or Private Vices made Public Virtues
which was printed at London in 1723. In the preface to
this book he observes that, having met with several who,
since the first publication of his poem, had wilfully or
ignoiantly affirmed that it was intended as a satire upon
virtue and morality, and written for the encouragement of
vice, he had resolved, whenever it should be reprinted, to
apprise the reader of the real intent with which it had
been composed, and of the object which he had in view in
the composition of the poem. In this, however, he was not
by any means for tunate ; for the book was in the same year
proscribed by the grand jury of Middlesex, and severely
animndverted on in a letter printed in the London Journal
of the 27th July U23. Mandeville endeavoured to vindi¬
cate his book from the imputations cast upon it both in
the letter just mentioned and in the presentment of the
grand jury ; though, as it appears, with but little success.
He was attacked by various writers, who all united in de¬
nouncing the principles therein inculcated, and in repre¬
senting them as equally hostile to morality and pernicious
229
Mande¬
ville.
<  
230 MAN
Mandingo. to society. To these, however, he made no reply until 1728,
when he published, in one volume 8vo, the second part of
the Fable of the Bees, intended to illustrate the design
and defend the intention of the first. In 1720, appeared
his Free Thoughts on Religion, founded on what is called
the rational system ; and, in 1732, came out his Inquiry
into the Origin of Honour, and the Usefulness of Chris¬
tianity in War, a work abounding in questionable doctrines
and paradoxical opinions. Mandeville died on the 21st of
January 1733, in the sixty-third year of his age. He is
said to have been coarse and overbearing in his manners,
where he durst be so, yet a flatterer of the great, and
also of “ some vulgar Dutch merchants who allowed him a
pension.” He lived in obscure lodgings in London, and
never had much practice as a physician ; but he was pa¬
tronised, it is said, by the first Earl of Macclesfield, at
whose table he was a frequent guest, and had there an
unlimited license to indulge his wit as well as his appe¬
tite, both of which appear to have been sufficiently un¬
scrupulous. In his writings there are many remarks
equally ingenious and just; he was a shrewd observer of
men and manners, and often singularly happy in record¬
ing the results of his experience; but the general prin¬
ciples inculcated in some of his works have been almost
universally reprobated, as calculated to depress the stand¬
ard of morality, if not to encourage vice and irreligion.
Amongst the assailants of the Fable of the Bees may be
mentioned Dr Fiddes, in the preface to his General Trea¬
tise of Morality, printed in 1724 ; Mr John Dennis, in his
Vice and Luxury Public Mischiefs, 1724; Mr William
Law, in Remarks upon the Fable of the Bees, 1724; Mr
Bluet, in his Inquiry whether the general Practice of Vir¬
tue tends to the Wealth or Poverty, Benefit or Disadvan¬
tage of a People, 1725; Mr Hutcheson, author of an In¬
quiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue ;
and Mr Archibald Campbell, in his 'Aigirokoyta. Mande-
ville’s notions were likewise animadverted on by Bishop Ber¬
keley in his Alciphron, or the Minute Philosopher, printed
in 1732. This drew from Mandeville a reply, which was
published the same year in the form of a letter to Dion,
occasioned by his book called Alciphron; and there also
appeared a pamphlet containing some Remarks on the Mi¬
nute Philosopher, in a Letter to a Country Clergyman
trom his friend in London, the anonymous author of which
(supposed to have been John Lord Harvey) interposes in
the controversy with much apparent impartiality. It is
not necessary, however, to multiply details respecting a
work which is no longer read except by the learned. The
leading error in the Fable of the Bees consists in the au¬
thor not sufficiently distinguishing between what is and
what ought to be ; between vices properly so called, and
mere superfluities or articles of luxury and refinement,
which are the natural and useful accompaniments of cer¬
tain conditions of life, and, in themselves, neither objects
of praise nor of censure. As to his propensity to trace good
actions to bad motives, and his disposition to exhibit on all
occasions the dark side of human nature, no apology can be
offered for it; and the best test of public estimation is the
general neglect into which his writings have fallen. (See the
First Preliminary Dissertation, prefixed to this work.) (a.)
MANDINGO, or Manding, an elevated region in
Western Africa, is situated, according to Golberry, be¬
tween the sources of the Gambia and the town of Kong,
about / 00 miles eastward from the coast of Guinea. Little
or nothing is known of the country except from the travels
of Park, who traversed it during his first journey. It was
at laffara, a town situated near the mouth of the Frina, a
small tributary of the river Niger, that Park first noticed a
change “ from the corrupted dialect of Bambarra to the
pure Mandingo. Pursuing his route along the north¬
western side of the river, he passed several large towns,
MAN
which owed their importance to a trade in salt. Crossing jjan(j
a range of hills, he reached Sibidooloo, “ the frontier town Jl!
of the kingdom of Manding,” situated in a fertile valley ^
surrounded with rocky hills. From this place to Kamalia
the country appeared to be well peopled, and some parts
of it were particularly beautiful and well cultivated. Every
town has its mansa, and the Mahommedan religion gene¬
rally prevails. At Kamalia the bushreens and kaffirs live
in distinct towns. Worumbang, two stages from Kamalia,
is the frontier village of Manding towards Jallonkadoo.
The road then enters the woods of “ the Great Jallonka
wildernessbut, to save a day’s provisions, Park diverged
from the direct route to the town of Kinytakooro, situated
in a large and well-cultivated plain watered by the Kokoro,
one of the principal head streams of the Senegal. After
leaving this place he travelled for five days through a
country totally uninhabited ; in some parts wild and rocky,
in others beautifully undulating, wooded, and abounding
with partridges, Guinea-fowl, and deer. In this part of
the route, no fewer than three large rivers were crossed
(the Wonda, the Comeissang, and the Boki), all flowing to
the Senegal, besides several rivulets. It might seem, at
first, difficult to account for the abandoned state of these
gloomy wilds. Park remarks, that he found many exten¬
sive and beautiful districts entirely destitute of inhabitants;
and, in general, the borders of the different kingdoms were
either very thinly peopled, or almost entirely deserted. The
ruins of two towns burned by the Foolahs, which were
passed soon after entering the wilderness, indicated too
plainly the real cause of the apparent depopulation. It is
the wars carried on to supply the slave-markets on the
coast that have driven the kaffir tribes into the mountains,
and converted large portions of fertile territory into a wil¬
derness. A considerable quantity of gold-dust is found in
the sands of the rivers, which the women extract by an
easy process of washing. The whole region is watered
by the Niger in its early course. Manding is divided into
a number of small aristocratic republics, each village, with
the territory around it, being nearly independent of the
one adjoining.
The Mandingoes, whose name and original abode belongs
to this region, are now by no means confined to it. They
have spread themselves throughout all the countries on the
banks of the Niger, the Senegal, and, above all, of the
Gambia, and have become the most numerous of all the
races of Western Africa. This powerful tribe has been
repeatedly mentioned in our articles on African geography.
They are described by Golberry as having a black com¬
plexion, with a mixture of yellow. “ Their features,” he
adds, “ are regular ; their character generous and open, and
their manners hospitable ; their women are pretty and ami¬
able ; they are zealous professors of the religion of Ma-
hommed, though they retain many of the practices of Fe¬
tishism, and some superstitious customs.” The picture
which Park draws of them is not so flattering. “ The
Mandingoes,” he says, “ are in particular a very gentle
race, cheerful in their dispositions, inquisitive, credulous,
simple, and fond of flattery. The men are commonly
above the middle size, well shaped, strong, and capable of
enduring great labour; the women are good natured,
sprightly, and agreeable.” He does not describe their
complexion, but he always speaks of them as negroes; yet,
from the representation of Golberry, which assigns them
a yellowish-black complexion, it would appear that they
are of mixed blood. Major Laing describes them as a
shrewd people, and superior to any who inhabit Western
Africa from Morocco to the southward. They are of a
migratory disposition, and are to be found traversing Af¬
rica, for the purposes of trade or war, from Tangiers to
the American settlement of Cape Mesurado. Their cos¬
tume is simple and neat, consisting of a cap, shirt, trou-
M A N
cigo. sers, and sandals. The cap is composed of red or blue
'■w doth, has a conical shape, and is neatly worked with dif¬
ferent-coloured threads. The shirt, which hangs loosely
over the trousers, is formed of about a fathom or more of
blue or white baft, doubled, with a small hole cut in the
top to admit the head. The sides are sewed up only
about half way, thus admitting the arms to have full play.
Trousers, of the same material, reach only to the knee ;
they are made very wide, and gathered round the loins
with a strong piece of tape. The width of the trousers is
a great mark of distinction amongst them, and the import¬
ance of an individual may be determined by the quantity
of baft which has been expended in making this article of
dress. The females wear a piece of cloth of baft, about a
yard in width round the waist, impending as far as the
calf of the leg, and a shawl or some fancy cloth suspended
from the head, and covering the neck and shoulders if
they are not at work; this cloth is likewise employed in
concealing their faces when they are required to eat or
to drink in the company of the other sex.
There are four trades or professions, to which conjointly
the appellation of Nyimahalah is given : they rank in the
order in which they are enumerated, and consist of the
JhiOy or orator; the jelle, or minstrel; the guarange, or
shoemaker; and the neomo, or blacksmith. All these
possess great privileges, and rank high in the scale of so¬
ciety. The two latter earn their livelihood by the exer¬
cise of their trade ; the Jino by his oratory and subtilty as
a lawyer ; and the jelle by singing the mighty deeds and
qualifications of rich men, who are represented as having
no faults. There are few distinctions of rank amongst
the Mandingoes. The priests and teachers of the Koran
are held next in estimation to the king or ruler of a coun¬
try; next to these are the subordinate chiefs and head men ;
then come the Nyimahalahs, to whom succeed the depen¬
dent freemen; and lastly, slaves, who are divided into do¬
mestic or those born in the country, and those taken in
war or enslaved on account of debt or as a punishment for
crime. Filial affection is strongly evinced amongst this
people ; and a destitute old man is unknown amongst them.
A Mandingo, unless he belongs to the Nyimahalah, seldom
goes abroad without his gun; and every man carries his
knife or cutlass, which he uses for various purposes. Their
education in general consists in learning to read and write
a few passages of the Koran, and to recite a few prayers.
The religion is Mahommedan, but they are not very rigid
in its observances. They draw many omens from the
phases of the moon, and a ceremony is performed when
she first makes her appearance. They also wear greegrees
or safies (small prayers cased in stained leather), as anti¬
dotes to evil; but beyond this their superstition does not
appear to extend.
Circumcision is practised amongst the Mandingoes, but
it does not take place till the children have reached the
age of puberty. A peculiar ceremony, called “ the child’s
head shaving,” takes place in infancy, on which occasion
it receives its name from the schoolmaster. Polygamy is
practised, and the numerous households to which it gives
rise live in tolerable outward harmony, which, however,
requires to be secured by the extraordinary expedient call¬
ed Mumbo Jumbo. This is had recourse to when scolding,
beating, and other kinds of chastisement, fail in producing
the desired effect. It consists in conveying the obstrepe¬
rous fair one to the market-place, where Mumbo Jumbo,
arrayed in a fantastical habit, waits in readiness to chas¬
tise her with his rod of office. The Mandingoes have
some tastes more refined than are usual amongst Africans,
particularly in poetry, the extemporary composition and
recitation of which constitutes one of their favourite
amusements. Their employments are chiefly a slight
agriculture, fishing with nets and baskets, and, above all,
MAN
231
traffic, in which their enterprise exceeds that of all the Mandioly
other African tribes.
MANDIOLY Isle, one of the Gilolo Islands, situated
between the first and second degrees of south latitude, and
about the 12Vth degree of east longitude. It is supposed
to be twenty miles in length by four in breadth.
MANDOW, a city and capital of a district of the same
name, in the province of Malwah, situated among the Vind-
haya Mountains, between the twenty-second and twenty-
third degrees of north latitude. The city was formerly the
capital of an Afghan dynasty, the princes of which were
the sovereigns of Malwah during a part of the thirteenth
and fourteenth centuries. It is described as having been of
prodigious extent, that is, about twenty-two miles in cir¬
cumference, with its suburbs and gardens. ‘The fortress is
situated on the summit of a mountain, and formerly con¬
tained many handsome monuments and mosques. A mina¬
ret eight stories in height was particularly noted. In 1615,
when it was visited by Sir Thomas Roe, it had greatly de¬
cayed from its former grandeur. The works are much di¬
lapidated, and the town is in ruins. It is forty-seven miles
south-south-west from Oojain. The district is bounded by
the Nerbuddah on the south, which is the principal and only
river ; the face of the country being generally mountainous,
with intervening valleys of great fertility. Its chief towns
are Munda, Bajulpoor, and Dectan.
MANDOWEE, a city of Hindustan, in the province of
Lahore, possessed by the chiefs of the Sikhs, and situat¬
ed on the east side of the Beyah River, 140 miles north¬
east from Lahore. Long. 75. 48. E. Lat. 32.54. N. Also
a town in the province of Gujerat and district of Broach,
on the river Tuptee, twenty-five miles east from Surat.
Long. 73. 25. E. Lat. 21. 13. N.
MANEGE, the exercise of riding the great horse, or
the ground set apart for that purpose, which is sometimes
covered for continuing the exercise in bad weather, and
sometimes open in order to give more liberty and freedom
both to the horseman and horse. I he word is borrowed
from the French manege, and that from the Italian maneggio,
or, as some think, a manu agendo, acting with the hand.
MANES, a poetical term, signifying the shades or souls
of the deceased.
Dii Manes were the same with the inferi, or infernal
gods, who tormented men ; and to these the heathens offer¬
ed sacrifices to assuage their indignation. The heathen
mythology is a little obscure respecting these gods’ manes.
Some hold that they were the souls of the dead; others
that they were the genii of men, an opinion which suits
best with the etymology of the word.
MANETHO, or Manethos, an ancient Egyptian histo¬
rian, who pretended to have derived all his materials from
the sacred inscriptions upon the pillars of Hermes Trisme-
gistus. He was high priest of Heliopolis in the time of
Ptolemy Philadelphus, at whose request he wrote his history
in Greek, beginning with the gods of Egypt, and continuing
it down to the time of Darius Codomannus, who was con¬
quered by Alexander the Great. His history of Egypt is
a celebrated work, and is often quoted by Josephus and
other ancient authors. Julius Africanus also inserted an
abridgment of it in his Chronology. The work of the
Egyptian high priest is however lost; and of it there only
remain some fragments extracted from Julius Africanus",
which are to be found in the Chronica of Eusebius. These
remains, however, have latterly acquired great interest, from
the attempts which have been made to decipher the hiero-
glyphical inscriptions, and thereby to rectify, as far as pos¬
sible, the history and chronology of Egypt. But it seems
very doubtful whether any effort of modern ingenuity, even
though aided by the interpretation of Egyptian monuments,
will ever succeed in reconciling with probability the ac¬
count ol the Egyptian dynasties given by this author.
Isle
II
Manetho.
232
MAN
^donia.6 M A N F R ED ON IA, a city and sea-port of the kingdom
II of Naples, in the province of Capitanata, situated on the
Mangeart. bay of the same name in the Adriatic. The harbour is pro-
' tected by a mole, but is fit only for small vessels. It is the
seat of an archbishop, whose cathedral is near the city, up¬
on the site of the ancient Sipontum. The city is well built,
with broad streets and good houses, and contains 5169
inhabitants, who cultivate and export both corn and wine.
MANGALORE, a sea-port town and fortress of Hin¬
dustan, situated on the eastern shore of the Indian Ocean,
in the province of Canara. It is large and well built, and
is situated on a salt-water lake, which is separated from the
sea by a beach of sand, but which communicates with a
river. At high water and in fine weather ships drawing less
than ten feet can enter it ; and there is good anchorage
off the mouth of the river in from five to seven fathoms
water. The inhabitants are chiefly Mapillas or Moplas (Ma-
hommedans), said to be descended from a colony of Arabi¬
ans who settled in this place before the time of Mahommed,
some of whom adopted the Nair custom of leaving their
inheritance to their sister’s children. In the reign of Hy-
der, the principal were Moplays and Concanies ; but since
the British have acquired the government, and established
peace and good order, men of property have resorted to
the place from Surat, Cutch, Bombay, and other places to
the north, and its trade and wealth have in consequence in¬
creased. The exports consist principally of rice, which is
sent to Muscat in Arabia, to Goa, Bombay, and Malabar.
The other articles of export are betel-nut, black pepper,
sandal wood, cassia, and turmeric; in exchange for which,
sugar, salt, and piece-goods, consisting of blue cotton
cloth from Surat, Cutch, and Madras, and white cotton
cloth from Cutch, Bownagur, and other places to the north
of Bombay, are imported. Mangalore was at an early pe¬
riod a great mart of trade, and wTas resorted to for this pur¬
pose by the Arabians. Here the Portuguese had also a fac¬
tory, which was destroyed by the Arabians. In 1763 the
town was taken by Hyder Ali, then the Mysore general;
in 1768 it was captured by a detachment from Bombay,
but was shortly afterwards retaken by Hyder. In 1783, Man¬
galore again surrendered to a force from Bombay ; and, af¬
ter the destruction of General Mathews’ army, sustained
a long siege from Tippoo, and was gallantly defended by
Colonel Campbell. Upon the conclusion of the peace in
1784 it vvas restored, and the fortifications were dismantled.
In 1799 it was finally taken possession of by the British,
and is now the station of the judge and collector, &c. of
South Canara. The travelling distance from Seringapatam
is 162 miles, from Madras 440 miles. Long. 75. E. Lat.
12. 49. N.
MANGAPET, a large village of Hindustan, in the ni-
zam s territories, in the province of Hyderabad, situated
near to the south-west bank of the Godavery. Long. 81.
5. E. Lat. 18. 14. N. J s
MANGEART, Dom Thomas, a Benedictine of the
congregation of St Vanne and St Hidulphe, whose know-
edge was an ornament to his order, and gained him the
titles of antiquarian, librarian, and counsellor to Charles
duke ot Lorraine. He was preparing a very considerable
work when he died, in the year 1763, before he had put
the last hand to his book, which was published by Abbe
Jacquin. This production appeared in 1763, under the
title ot Introduction a la Science des Medailles, pour servir
d la Connoissance des Dieux, de la Religion, des Sciences,
des Arts, et de tout ce qui appartient d VHistoire ancienne,
avec les preuves tirees des Medailles. But the elementary
treatises on numismatical science were not sufficiently exten¬
sive, and the particular dissertations were by far too tedious
and prolix. This learned Benedictine has collected into
a sing e volume all the principles contained in the former,
and all the ideas of any consequence which are to be found
MAN
scattered throughout the latter. His work may serve as a M
supplement to Montfaucon’s Antiquity Explained. From |i
Mangeart we likewise have a volume of Sermons, and a Man!
treatise on Purgatory, published at Nancy, 1739, in two'
vols. 12mo.
MANGEE, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Ba-
har, situated at the confluence of the Gogra with the
Ganges. Long. 84. 35. E. Lat. 25. 50. N.
MANGEEA, an island in the South Pacific Ocean, dis¬
covered by Captain Cook, the natives of which resembled
the Otaheitans in the beauty of their persons. Lonw 201
53. E. Lat. 21. 57. S. &
MANGEEDARA, a district in the most eastern quarter
of Borneo, extending towards the Sooloo archipelago, in a
long narrow point. This peninsula, which is named Un¬
sang, terminates eastward in a bluff point. On the north¬
east is a small island named Tambeesan, which forms a
harbour capable of admitting ships of a considerable size.
1 his district produces edible bird-nests, lackawood, dam-
mer, and gold.
MANGERAY, Straits of. The straits which sepa¬
rate the island of Flores or Ende from that of Comodo,
in general possess a depth of water exceeding thirty
fathoms, though they are full of islands and small rocks.
There are many good harbours and bays on the Flores
side, where vessels may anchor.
MANGHELLY, a town in the Afghan territories, in
the district of Puckholi. Long. 72. E. Lat. 33. 32. N.
MANIACO, a town of Italy, the capital of a district in
the Austrian delegation of Friuli. It stands at the foot
of the mountains, and contains 3715 inhabitants.
MANICA, a district of'Mocaranga, in Eastern Africa,
celebrated as the country chiefly affording the gold for
which this part of Africa is famous. It is mountainous,
but fertile, and abounds in honey, w^ax, senna, dye-stuffs,
and the like. A Portuguese expedition penetrated thither
in 1569. They found the mines by no means equal to the
reputation which they enjoyed, but consisting chiefly of
gold dust in small quantities, imbedded in sand and earth,
from which considerable labour was required to extract it.
Manica is twenty days’journey from Sena, the nearest Por¬
tuguese settlement; and the communication is partly car¬
ried on through native tribes, who must be propitiated by
presents. A small fort is maintained in this district.
MANICHEES, or Manicheans (Manichcei), a sect of
ancient heretics, who asserted two principles, and were so
called from their author, Manes or Manichceus, a Persian by
nation, and educated amongst the Magi, having been one
of that number before he embraced Christianity. This he-
iesy took its first rise about the year 277, and spread it¬
self principally in Arabia, Egypt, and Africa. St Epipha-
nius, who treats of it at large, observes that the true name
of this heresiarch was Cubricus, and that he changed it
for Manes, which in the Persian or Babylonian language
signifies vessel. A rich widow, whose servant he had been,
having died without issue, left him her fortune, after which
be boldly assumed the title of the Apostle or Envoy of Jesus
Christ. But, not contented with the quality of Apostle of
Jesus Christ, Manes also assumed that of the Paraclete,
whom Christ had promised to send ; which Augustin ex¬
plains by saying, that Manes endeavoured to persuade
men that the Holy Ghost personally dwelt in him with full
authority. He left several disciples, amongst whom were
Addas, Ihomas, and Hermas. Manes, having undertaken
to cure the king of Persia’s son, and not succeeding, was,
upon the young prince’s death, thrown into prison, whence
he made his escape; but he was soon afterwards appre¬
hended, and flayed alive. The doctrine of Manes was a mot¬
ley compound of the tenets of Christianity and the ancient
philosophy of the Persians, in which he had been instructed
in his youth. He combined these two different systems,
>■ M
MAN
.j i diees.and applied and accommodated to Jesus Christ the charac-
— ^-^tersand actions which the Persians attributed to the o-od
Mithras. He established two principles, a good and an evil
one. The first, a pure and subtle matter, which he called
light, did nothing but good ; and the second, a gross and
corrupt substance, which he called darkness, nothing but
evil. This philosophy is very ancient, and Plutarch treats
of it at large in his Isis and Osiris. Manes borrowed many
things from the ancient Gnostics, on which account seve¬
ral authors consider the Manicheans as a branch of the
Gnostics. In tiuth, the Mlamchean doctrine was a system
of philosophy rather than of religion. The professors of
it made use of amulets, in imitation of the Basilidians, and
are said to have studied astronomy and astrology. They
denied that Jesus Christ, who was only God, had assumed a
true human body, maintaining that it was only imaginary ;
and, consequently, they also denied his incarnation, death,
and resurrection. They pretended that the law of Moses
did not emanate from God, or the good principle, but from
the evil one, and that for this reason it was abrogated.
They rejected almost all the sacred books in which Chris¬
tians look for the sublime truths of their religion. They
affirmed that the Old Testament was not the work of God,
but of the prince of darkness, who had been substituted by
the Jews instead of the true God. They abstained en¬
tirely from eating the flesh of any animal, following there¬
in the practice of the ancient Pythagoreans ; and they also
condemned marriage. The rest of their errors may be
seen in St Epiphanius and St Augustin ; the latter, having
belonged Jo their sect, may be presumed to have been tho¬
roughly acquainted with them. Though the Manichees
professed to receive the books of the New Testament, yet
in effect they only adopted as much of them as suited
their own opinions. They first formed to themselves a
certain idea or scheme of Christianity; and to this they
adjusted the writings of the apostles, pretending that
whatever was inconsistent with this had been foisted into
the i\ew Testament by later writers, who were half Jews.
On the other hand, they caused fables and apocryphal
books to pass for apostolical writings; and they are even
suspected of having forged several others, the better to
maintain their errors. St Epiphanius gives a catalogue of
several pieces published by Manes, and adds extracts from
some of them. These are the Mysteries, Chapters, Gos¬
pel, and Treasury.
The rule of life and manners which Manes prescribed to
Ins followers was most extravagantly rigorous and severe,
now ever, he divided his disciples into two classes ; one
ot which comprehended the perfect Christians, under the
name ot the elect; and the other the imperfect and feeble,
under the title of auditors or hearers. The elect were
obliged to observe a rigorous and entire abstinence from
nesli, eggs, milk, fish, wine, all intoxicating liquors, wed¬
lock and all amorous gratifications, and to" live in a state
the severest penury, nourishing their emaciated bodies
with bread, herbs, pulse, and melons, and depriving them¬
selves of all the comforts which arise from the moderate in-
uigence of natural passions, and also from a variety of
innocent and agreeable pursuits. The auditors were al-
owed to possess houses, lands, and wealth, to feed on
nesh ami to enter into the bonds of conjugal union; but
s iberty was granted them with many limitations, and
ider the strictest conditions of moderation and of tem-
1 16 ^neral assembl}r of the Manicheans was
tlwtl d bya.pres,?ent» who represented Jesus Christ; and
there w**6 jomed to him twelve rulers or masters, who
were \° rePresent the tvvelve apostles, who, again,
seventv ‘me^ ,y. sfventy‘two bishops, the images of the
presbvm, d,lSClples of our LortL These bishops had
of thf )or.deacons under them, and all the members
ese religious orders were chosen out of the class of
'Oil. xiv.
M A N
233
the elect. Their worship was simple and plain, consist- Manicor-
ing of prayers, reading the Scriptures, and hearing public
discourses, at which both the auditors and the elect were , II
allowed to be present. Towards the fourth century, the ManiIla'
Mamcheans concealed themselves under various names,
which they successively adopted, and changed in propor¬
tion as they were discovered by them. Thus they assum¬
ed the names of Encratites, Apotactics, Saccophori, Hy-
droparastates. Solitaries, and several others, under which
they lay concealed for a certain time, though they could
not long escape the vigilance of their enemies. About
the close of the sixth century, this sect had gained a very
considerable influence, particularly amongst the Persians.
Towards the middle of the twelfth century, the sect of
Manicheans assumed a new aspect on occasion of one Con¬
stantine, an Armenian, and an adherent of the schism, tak¬
ing iipon himself to suppress the reading of all other books
besides the Evangelists and the epistles of St Paul, which
he explained in such a manner as to extract from them a
new system of Manicheism. He entirely discarded all
the writings of his predecessors ; rejecting the chimeras
ot the Valentimans and their thirty mens, the fable of
Manes with regard to the origin of rain, and other dreams,
but still retaining all the impurities of Basilides. In this
manner he reformed Manicheism, insomuch that his fol¬
lowers made no scruple of anathematizing Scythian,
Buddas, called also Addas and Terebinth (the contempo¬
raries and disciples, as some say, and, according to others,
the predecessors and masters, of Manes), and even Manes
himself; Constantine being now received as their great
apostle. After he had seduced a great number of people,
he was at last stoned to death by order of the emperor
Ibis sect prevailed in Bosnia and the adjacent provinces
about the close of the fifteenth century ; propagating their
doctrines with confidence, and holding their religious as¬
semblies with impunity.
MANICORDON, or Manichord, a musical instru¬
ment in the form of a spinet; the strings of which, like
those of the clarichord, were covered with little pieces of
cloth, to deaden as well as to soften their sound, whence
it is also called the dumb spinet*
MANICPOOR, a district of Hindustan, in the nabob of
Oude s territories, and in the province of Allahabad, situat-
ed about the twenty-sixth degree of north latitude. The
soil is here fertile, and the country tolerably supplied with
water. It produces cotton, tobacco, sugar, and all the
grams of India. The principal towns are Manicpoor, Dal-
mow, and Russoolpoor. The capital of the above-men-
tioned district is pleasantly situated on the north-east bank
of the Ganges. Long. 81. 25. E. Lat. 25. 47. N.
MANIFESTO, a public declaration made by a prince
m writing, showing his intentions in undertaking a war or
other enterprise, with the motives which induce him there¬
to, and the reasons upon which he founds his rights and
pretensions. °
MANIFOLD Cape, on the east coast of New Holland,
is formed of several rocky heads and intermediate beaches.
An island which lies off is in long. 150. 50. E. and lat. 22.
i tbe capital of the Spanish settlements in
the I hilippines, on the island of Lucon, situated on a bay
of the same name, which is seventy-five miles in circum¬
ference, and into which several rivers pour their waters.
At its entrance are several small islands, on one of which,
called the Corregidor, an officer with a party of troops is sta¬
tioned, to examine the ships coming in, and to guard against
the introduction of contraband goods, or of disease. It is,
perhaps, one of the most happily situated towns in the
world, at the mouth of the river Pasig, which is navigable
as far as the lake, about nine miles eastward of the town,
out of which it flows. It is a large and handsome city,
2 G
234 MAN MAN
Manihus. and contains many good private houses, and some magni- tins, a gnomon of seventy feet in height, by order of Au- Manin'
ficent churches, though they are liable to be overthrown gustus. (Montucla, Hist, des Mathematiques, i. p. 485.) ||
by earthquakes. Monasteries and convents] compose the He is the author of a poem entitled Astronomicon, in five Manna
finest parts of the town. The houses of the native Indians books, the last of which seems to be imperfect, as we no-'s*^'^
are poor, being made of bamboos covered with leaves, where find the observations which the author had?-promis-
and extremely combustible. On account of the frequency ed to make on the setting of stars. He was of the sect of
of earthquakes, many of the Spanish houses are built in the Stoics, as we gather from the introduction to the sixth
the same manner and of the same materials. They are raised book, as well as from several other passages. The poem
on wooden pillars, eight or ten feet from the ground, the en- ol Manilius professes to be on astronomy, but it is rather a
trance to them being by a ladder, which is pulled up at treatise on astrology, a subject which was beginning to be
night. Most of the houses have flights of steps leading to much studied at this time in Rome. The style is full of
the river, which winds through the town ; and many, where energy, and worthy of the age of Augustus. Editio Prin-
the breadth of the river will admit, have baths. There is ceps, Nuremberg, 1473, per Regiomontanum; Venetiis, apud
a number of small canoes with awnings constantly plying Aldum, 1499 ; cum notis Bentleii, Londini, 1739 ; C. in-
for hire, by means of which the inhabitants are enabled terpr. Gall, et not. ed. Pingre, Paris, 1786.
to visit one another with great convenience. Including MANIPA, one of the smaller Molucca Isles, about twelve
the suburbs, the population of the town is estimated at miles in length by six in breadth, and five or six leagues
38,000, of which 1200 are Spaniards. The remaining in- west from the island of Ceram. It is well cultivated and
habitants are mulattoes, Indians, and Chinese, who devote inhabited. Long. 127. 51. E. Lat. 3. 21. N.
themselves to agriculture and to industry. Although the MANIPULUS, Manipule, amongst the Romans, was
Spaniards are averse to the settlement of the Chinese near a small body of infantry, which in the time of Romulus
them, and although the latter have been several times cruel- consisted of one hundred men, and in the time of the
ly expelled, yet there were in 1800 from 15,000 to 20,000 consuls, and first Caesars, of two hundred. See the article
of that industrious nation settled on the island of Lucon. Army.
The country around Manilla is delightful, being watered Manipulus is also an ecclesiastical ornament, worn by
by a fine river which branches into different streams. An the priests, deacons, and subdeacons in the Roman Catho-
intercourse is carried on between Manilla and the Chinese lie church.
port of Amoy, as well as with, the north-eastern parts of Manipulus, amongst physicians, is used to signify a
China, by means of seven or eight junks, which bring with handful of herbs or leaves, or as much as a man can grasp
them about 300 or 400 adventurers annually from China, in his hand at once ; a quantity which is frequently denoted
Manilla, though regularly fortified, is but feebly garrison- by the abbreviature M, or m.
ed ; and the native inhabitants have been so oppressed by MANK1AM Isle, a small island in the Eastern Seas,
the Spaniards, that it is not likely they would offer any about thirty miles in circumference, off the west coast of
effectual aid against an invading enemy. Under a wise Gilolo. Long. 127. 30. E. Lat. 0. 20. N.
and enlightened policy, Manilla, from its situation in re- MANNA, a Scripture term, signifying a miraculous kind
gard to India, China, and America, might rise into great of food which fell from heaven for the support of the Is-
importance as an emporium of commerce ; but the inha- raelites in their passage through the wilderness,
bitants are so harassed by Spanish tyranny, and all sorts of The critics are divided respecting the original of the word
absurd restrictions, that industry is greatly discouraged, manna. Some think that is put instead of the Hebrew
The chief exports are cordage, resinous substances, pitch word mah, which signifies What is this ? and that the He-
and tar, cloths, rushes, rattans, indigo of an excellent qua- brews, when they first observed the new food which God
lity, rice, cotton, and tobacco, which is manufactured into had sent them, cried to one another, Npp, man-hu, instead
excellent cigars. The sugar-cane thrives well, but it is of mah-hu, "What is this? Others contend that the He-
little cultivated. Cocoa is produced, and of an excellent brews knew before what manna was ; and that, seeing it in
quality ; and copper is exported to Bengal, with indigo, co- great abundance about their camp, they said one to another,
chineal, and a large quantity of treasure. 1 hree leagues J\lan-hu, This is manna. JSalmasius and some other moderns
south-west from Manilla lies the port of Cavite, defended are of the latter opinion. They imagine that the manna
by an indifferent fort. A castle or fort stands at the west which God sent the Israelites was nothing but the fat and
end of the city, and is styled the citadel of St James. It thick dew which still falls in Arabia, which being instantly
is strong ; and some additional works, which still remain, condensed, served as food to the people; that this is the
were thrown up when the island was threatened, during same thing as the wild honey (mentioned in Matth. iii. 4),
the last war, with an attack by the English. But not- with which John the Baptist was fed; and that the miracle
withstanding the strength of the works, it would have of Moses did not consist in the production of any new sub¬
soon been taken if the attack had been made, as the gar- stance, but in the exact and uniform manner in which the
rison was totally deficient in discipline. In 1645 great manna was dispensed by Providence for the maintenance
part of this city was destroyed by an earthquake, and 3000 of such a great multitude. On the contrary, the Hebrews
people peiished in the ruins. It was taken in 1762 by the and orientals believe that the fall of the manna was wholly
English, and, to save it from destruction, it was agreed to miraculous. The Arabians call it the “ sugar-plums of the
pay a ransom of a million sterling. I he viceroy is captain- Almighty and the Jews are so very jealous of this miracle,
general of the Philippines ; but the military strength which that they denounce a curse against all who presume to deny
he possesses does not exceed 1500 men, mostly Mexicans, the interposition of a miraculous power. According to our
of whom 150 aie cavalry. Long. 120. 54. E. Lat. 14. 38. translation, and some others, Moses is betrayed into acon-
N. (Asiatic Journal, vol. x.) tradiction in relating this story of the manna. In render-
MANILIUS, Marcus, a Latin poet, who flourished to- ing it, they say, “ And when the children of Israel saw it,
wardstheendof the reign of Augustus, but respecting whose they said one to another, It is manna; for they wist not
private history we are entirely ignorant. Even the place of what it was” (Exodus, xvi. 15); whereas the Septuagint,
his birth is unknown. Vossius imagines that he is the same and several authors both ancient and modern, have trans-
as Manilius Antiochus, who was brought as a slave to Rome lated the text according to the original, “ The Israelites
along with his cousin Publius Syrus (See Publius Syrus). seeing it, said one to another, What is this ? for they knew
Otheis have supposed him to be the same as Manlius the not what it was.” We must here observe, that the word by
mathematician, who erected at Rome, in the Campus Mar- which they asked, What is this ? was in their language wiflw,
P' Man
M A N
[: which likewise signifies meat ready provided ; and there¬
fore it was always afterwards called man or manna.
Mdor. MANNEDORF, a town of Switzerland, in the canton
of Zurich, standing on the eastern side of the lake of that
name, in a beautiful situation. It contains 2360 inhabi¬
tants, who prosper by agriculture, and by considerable ma¬
nufactures of silk and cotton goods; and the place is cele¬
brated for the abundance and excellence of the fruit grown
M A N
235
in it.
MANNHEIM, a city in the grand duchy of Baden, in
the circle of the Neckar. It stands at the influx of that
river into the Rhine, and has a bridge of boats over the lat¬
ter river, the joint property of the states of Bavaria and
Baden. It was formerly fortified, but the walls and ditches
have, since 1796, been converted into pleasing promenades.
It is well and regularly built, the streets crossing each
other at right angles ; and it is better paved than most of
the continental towns. Being a second capital of the duchy,
it has a fine palace, fronting to the Rhine, 750 feet in length,
with a corps de logis of elegance, and a pavilion of five sto¬
ries. Within this building is a splendid collection of an¬
tique and modern statuary, of casts in plaster of Paris, of
copperplates, drawings, autographs, and a part of the du¬
cal library, still amounting to 70,000 volumes. The build¬
ing next to the palace in magnificence is the college for¬
merly belonging to the Jesuits, now occupied by secular
priests. There are several public edifices, churches, hospi¬
tals, the council-house, the mint, the exchange, and others,
which attest the former magnificence rather than the pre¬
sent prosperity of the city. In 1816, it contained 1526
dwelling-houses, and about 18,000 civil with 2500 military
inhabitants; but they are said to have decreased since that
period. There are various manufactures, such as are to be
found in a capital, chiefly of articles of luxury. Gold and
silver ware, jewellery, engravers, musical-instrument mak¬
ers, and booksellers, are the most prominent. This city has
some shipping trade on the Rhine, and has several large
lairs, but its commerce is inconsiderable. It is in lono-.
8. 27. 34. E. and hit. 49. 29. N.
MANNINGTREE, a town of Essex, in the parish of
Mistley and hundred of Tendring. It stands in a beautiful
situation upon the south bank of the river Stour, which is
navigable to it. It is sixty-one miles from London, and
has a good market, which is held on Thursday. The po¬
pulation amounted in 1801 to 1016, in 1811 to 1075, in
1821 to 1265, and in 1831 to 1237.
MANOME1ER, or Manoscope, an instrument to show
or measure the alterations in the rarity or density of the
air. I he manometer differs from the barometer in this,
that the latter only serves to measure the weight of the at¬
mosphere, or ot the column of air over it; whereas the for¬
mer serves to measure the density of the air in which it is
found, and this density depends not only on the weight of
the atmosphere, but also on the action of heat and cold, and
other circumstances.
MANOR, Manerium (a manendo, because it was the
usual residence of the owner), seems to have been a district
of ground held by lords or great personages, who kept in
t leir own hands as much land as was necessary for the use of
t leir families; and this was called terra dominicalis, or de¬
mesne land, being occupied by the lord, as dominus mane-
ru, and his servants. The other, called tenemental lands,
they distributed amongst their tenants; and these, from the
different modes of tenure, were distinguished by two dif¬
ferent names. The first kind w as booh-land, or charter-land,
winch was held by deed under certain rents and free ser¬
vices, and in effect differed nothing from free soccage lands;
and hence arose most of the freehold tenants who hold of
particular manors, and owe suit and service to the same.
, e secoml species was called folk-land, which was held
• no assurance in writing, but distributed amongst the
common folk or people, at the pleasure of the lord, and re- Manowly
sumed at his discretion, being indeed land held in villenage. II
MANOWLY, a town of Hindustan, in the MahrattaMansfield:
tenitories, and province of Bejapoor, twenty-twTo miles
noi th-east from the fortress of L)arwar. It was taken by
General Wellesley in 1799. Long. 75.10. E. Lat. 15.58. N.
MANRESA, a city of Spain, in the province of Cata¬
lonia. It is built on the banks of the river Llobregat, near
its confluence with the Cardonero. Its inhabitants are en¬
riched by extensive manufactures of silk goods ; and near
it are several mills for making gunpowder, which is pro¬
duced in great quantities. It was in this city that Ignatius
Loyola resided, and projected the establishment of the ce¬
lebrated order of the Jesuits. It contains 8900 inhabitants.
MANS, Le, an arrondissement of the department of the
Sarthe, in France, extending over 845 square miles, and
divided into ten cantons and 128 communes, with 140,500
inhabitants. The capital is the city of the same name, si¬
tuated on the river Sarthe. It is one of the few cities of
France which have increased considerably since the com¬
mencement of the revolution. The new part is well built,
and there is a fine old Gothic cathedral. It contains 3230
houses, and 18,550 inhabitants, mostly employed in manu¬
factures. It is remarkable for the wax candles made there ;
for thin woollen goods, especially buntings, serges, and
druggets; for coarse hempen cloth for packing; for lace,
paper, hosiery, and blankets. Long. 0. 3. 16. W. Lat
48. 9. 35. N.
MANSAROWAR, or Maxsahror, a lake situated on
the northern side of the Himalaya Mountains, which divide
Hindustan from ihibet and Tartary. It is considered bv
the Hindus as the most sacred of all the various places of
pilgrimage, and they evince their zeal by the hardships and
dangers which they endure in reaching it. It is also held
in great veneration by the Tartars, who carry a portion of
the ashes of their friends from a very great distance to be
thrown into it. It is situated on an elevated plain covered
with long grass ; and to the north is a conical hill dedicated
to Mahadeva, and described as forming an irregular oval,
approaching to a circle. It is eleven miles in breadth from
north to south, and fifteen miles in length. It occupies the
pilgrims five days to go round the lake, which, from its form,
appears as if it had been the crater of a volcano. From this
lake, according to the notions of the Hindus, flow four ve¬
nerated rivers, namely, the Brahmapootra, the Ganges, the
Indus, and the Sita. For a long period this lake was sup¬
posed to be the source of the Ganges, but recent surveys
have corrected this mistake. Mr Moorcroft, who visited
this lake in 1812, is of opinion that it has no considerable
outlet. The water is clear and well tasted, and is suppos¬
ed to be deepest in August and September, when it is re¬
plenished by the melting of the mountain snows. In the
adjoining country are found wild horses, the yak of Tartary,
and goats, which produce shawl wool. It is supposed to be
situated about the 81st degree of east longitude, and the
31st degree of north latitude.
MANSE, Mansus, Mama, or Mansum, in ancient law¬
books, denotes a house, or habitation, either with or with¬
out land. The word is formed a manendo, abiding, as be¬
ing the place of dwelling or residence. Mansus preshyteri,
is a parsonage or vicarage house for the incumbent to re¬
side in. This was originally, and still remains, an essential
part of the endowment of a parish church, together with
the glebe and the tithes. It is sometimes called presbyte-
rium.
MANSFIELD, a market-town of the county of Notting¬
ham and hundred of Broxton, 139 miles from London. It
stands on the border of the forest of Sherwood, on which
formerly stood a hunting seat of the ancient kings. It was
till lately a place merely for making hosiery, but of late
considerable factories have been established for manu-
236
MAN
Mansir facturing cotton goods. It is a pleasant town, and has a
II well-supplied market, which is held on Thursday. The
Mantua, population amounted in 1801 to 5988, in 1811 to 6816,
v in 1821 to 7861, and in 1831 to 9426.
MANSIR, a village of Hindustan, in the Sikh territories,
and province of Lahore, situated on the margin of a beau¬
tiful sheet of water. Long. 74. 20. E. Lat. 32. 50. N.
MANSLAUGHTER, the unlawful killing of another,
without malice either express or implied.
MANSOURIA, a small town of the pachalik of Bagdad,
situated on the Euphrates, about twenty miles above its
junction with the Tigris.
MANSOURA, a large town of Lower Egypt, built by
the Saracens as a bulwark against the invasion of the
Christians during the wars of the Crusades. Dr Pococke
supposes it to be the Zoan or Tanis of the ancients. It is
celebrated in the history of the Crusades for two great
battles fought near it, in one of which St Louis was defeat¬
ed and taken prisoner. Mansoura is beautifully situated
on a somewhat high bank of the Nile, and adorned with
numerous mosques. Though of considerable extent, it is
now unfortified, and a fourth part of it is in ruins. The
houses are built of brick, and the streets are narrow. The
trade is chiefly carried on by Syrian Christians, who ex¬
port the fine rice which grows round Lake Menzaleh, and
sal-ammoniac. Munsoura lies twenty-four miles south-
south-west of Damietta.
MANTANANE, a small island in the Eastern Seas,
near the north-west coast of the island of Borneo. Loim-
116. 27. E. Lat. 6. 38. N. 5
MANTES, an arrondissement of the department of the
Seine and Oise, in France. It extends over 356 square
miles, comprehending five cantons and 127 communes,
with 59, / 20 inhabitants. I he capital is the city of the
same name situated on the left bank of the river Seine.
It is well built, and has a bridge over the river, an ancient
collegiate church, and some pleasing promenades. Near
to it is Rosny, the birth-place of the celebrated Sully the
minister and historian. It contains 588 houses, and 3850
inhabitants. Long. 1. 35. E. Lat. 48. 58. N.
MAN1INEA, in Ancient Geography, a town situated
m the south of Arcadia, on the confines of Laconia, and
aftei wards called Antigonea, in honour of King Anti°onus.
it is memorable for a battle fought in its neighbourhood,
between the Thebans and Spartans, in which the latter
were completely defeated, but with the loss, however, to the
I hebans, of their celebrated commander Epaminondas.
MANTUA, a delegation of the Austrian kingdom of
Lombardy, within the government of Milan. It is bound¬
ed on the south side by the duchies of Modena and Parma,
and on all the others by the other provinces of Austrian
y‘. ,.S generally a level district, watered by the river
Mincio, which falls into the Po. It extends over 610 square
miles, and comprehends one city, fifteen market-towns,
some of them very extensive, fifty-seven villages, 33,700
houses, and 239,436 inhabitants. Until the year 1705, it
lad its dukes of the family of Gonzaga. The last of that
title, Charles IV., having taken part with the king of France
in t le war of the Spanish succession, was deposed by the
emperor ; and as he died soon afterwards without issue, his
dominions were granted to the house of Austria. It was
m 1797 constituted by Bonaparte a part of the Cisalpine
PP.libll(^rand afte™’ards formed a division of the province
of the Mincio in the kingdom of Italy. The fall of his
power in 1814 restored it to the house of Austria. The
soil is various, but upon the whole productive, yielding
abundance of wine silk rice, maize, and some wheat; and
in some parts it has abundant pastures, on which much
cheese is made from large dairies. It has some manufac¬
tures of stuffs, silk, cloth, and leather. The climate in ge¬
neral is moist, and occasions fever, more especially near
M A N
the junction of the river Mincio with the Po; but in the Ji£
northern part of the district, where it comes in contact with''
the lake of Garda, the climate is purer, and fevers are as little
known as in any part of Italy.
The capital of this district is the city of the same name,
celebrated as the birth-place of the poet Virgil, and in
modern times as one of the strongest fortresses of Europe.
To those who approach it, it has much the appearance of
Venice, from its lofty towers and magnificent domes, rising,
like that city, out of the water by which it is surrounded
on all sides. To this peculiarity of position it is mainly in-
debted for its impregnable strength, since it can only be
assailed by gaining possession of the narrow causeways
which lead through the lake, and which are defended by
powerful outworks, and long fortified bridges. One of
these bridges may be more properly considered as a cover¬
ed way, because it only admits one passage for the water.
The bridge leading to St George’s Gate is a masterpiece of
woikmanship, being 1500 feet in length, and commanding a
view over the whole of the city. It requires at least a gar¬
rison of 30,000 men to man the several batteries, and has
often contained many more than that number. It can only
be taken by a long blockade, attended with the consumption
of all the provisions and ammunition contained in it. It
was taken by the French in 1796, after a blockade of very
long duration, in which General Wurmser, the Austrian
commander, and his troops, had become exhausted by the
united effect of fatigue and starvation. It was retaken by
the Austrian general Kray in 1799, after the French gar¬
rison and the inhabitants had been nearly starved. In
1801 it was given up to the French by the treaty of Campo
lormio ; but at the peace ofl814 it was surrendered to Aus¬
tria, having then but few troops within it, and no stock of
provisions or stores. The interior of the city is large, with
broad and regular streets, recently well paved, and a great
number of fine old buildings, mostly erected when it was
the seat of the ducal sovereign, and contained 50,000 in¬
habitants. The ancient palace, which Bonaparte fitted up
and furnished for an imperial residence, is of vast extent,
but at present scarcely occupied. I he other most remark¬
able edifices are, the church and library formerly belong¬
ing to the Franciscans; the church of the Jesuits, with
its lofty astronomical observatory; the Palazzo della Gi-
ustizia; the palace called the Te, from its form like T,
witn the picture gallery, in which are the best pictures
of Julio Romano, and the artists of his school; the uni¬
versity, founded in 1625 ; and the academy of sciences and
arts.
I here are several fine piazzas, the most distinguished of
w hich bears the name of the great poet, Piazza Virgiliana.
It was planned by the French ; the centre is laid out in gar¬
dens ; and around them are new and elegant mansions, and
at the end is the street Foro Virgiliano, which is terminat-
ed by a magnificent triumphal arch, to commemorate the
visit of the Emperor Francis in 1825.
Mantua now contains only 25,000 inhabitants, and one
half of the older large houses are unoccupied. The em¬
ployment of greatest extent is that of making leather, both
tanned and curried ; and, besides, there are small establish¬
ments for making silk goods, twine and cordage, parchment,
linens, paper, glass, soap, and barges and boats, to be used
on the lakes. Virgil’s birth-place is in the neighbouring
village, formerly called Andes, and now Pietola.
MANUAL, a word signifying any thing that is per¬
formed by the hand.
Manual (manualis), in Law, signifies what is employed
or used by the hand, and of which a present profit may be
made, ihus, a thing in the manual occupation of any one,
means that it is actually used or employed by him.
Manual is the name of a service-book used in the church
of Rome, containing the rites, directions to the priests, and
MAN
m uc- prayers used in the administration of baptism and other sa-
to craments, the form of blessing holy water, and the whole
Jll service used in processions.
[ario^- MANUDUCTOR, a name given to an ancient officer in
^ the church, who, from the middle of the choir, where he
had his place, gave the signal for the choristers to sing, and
marked the measure, beat time, and regulated the music.
The Greeks called him mesachoros, because seated in the
middle of the choir ; but in the Latin church he was called
manuductor, from manus, the hand, and duco, I lead, because
he led and guided the choir by motions of, or signals made
by, the hand.
MANUFACTURE, a commodity produced from raw
or natural materials, either by the work of the hand or by
machinery.
MANUFACTURER, one who works up a natural pro¬
duct into an artificial commodity.
MANUMISSION, an act by which a slave is set at li¬
berty, or freed from bondage. The word comes from the
Latin manus, the hand, and mittere, to make go or to let
go; quia servus mittebatur extra manum seu polestatem do-
mini sui.
MANURE, any thing used for fattening and improving
land. See Agriculture.
MANUSCRIPT, a book or paper written with the hand;
by which it stands opposed to a printed book or paper. A
manuscript is usually denoted by the two letters MS. and
in the plural by MSS.
MANUTIUS, Aldus (in Italian, Aldo Pio Manuzid),
the first of those justly celebrated printers, illustrious for
their learning as well as for uncommon skill in their pro¬
fession, who were in Italy what the Stephens afterwards
became in France. He was born in 1447, at Bassiano, a
small town of the duchy of Sermoneta, in the Roman state.
He was educated at Rome, and, after completing his course
of study, repaired to Ferrara to study Greek under Gua-
rini, a learned professor of that language. In 1482, he
quitted Ferrara, then threatened with a siege by the Vene¬
tians, and retired to Mirandola, where he was received with
distinction by the all-accomplished Pico. Yielding to the
entreaties of Alberto Pio, he then went to Carpi, where he
was soon joined by Pico, the uncle of the prince. M. Re-
nouard conjectures, with much apparent probability, that
it was at this time that Aldus conceived the design of form¬
ing a printing establishment, with the view of multiplying
the best works of the Greek and Latin authors, and that
the two princes (Alberto Pio and Pico di Mirandola) un¬
dertook to defray the expense of setting up the establish¬
ment. In the course of the year 1488, he repaired to Ve¬
nice, a city which, from its position, its commerce, and the
literary taste of its inhabitants, appeared the best suited for
his design. His first object was to make himself advantage¬
ously known, and, with this view, he commenced by giving
public instructions in Greek and Latin; but in the mean
time he was very busily occupied in organizing his printing-
house ; and at length, in 1494, he published the poem of
Hero and Leander in Greek and Latin, which was followed
by the Grammar of Lascaris, that of Theodore Gaza, and
the works of Theocritus, Apollonius, and Herodian. But it
was the publication of the works of Aristotle which placed
Manutius in the first rank of printers. It is impossible to
iorm a just conception of the patience and sagacity neces¬
sary to read and decipher the manuscripts which served as
the basis of this edition, to compare and collate them with
one another, to select the best readings when they exhibit¬
ed variations, and to supply the omissions of the copyists.
Ihis edition alone, though less correct than the greater part
of those which followed it, would be sufficient to earn for
Manutius the gratitude of posterity, and to justify all the
commendations which have been bestowed upon him. But
h we reflect that he published, with the same care, and al-
M A N
237
most always with the same success, the greater part of the Manutius.
chefs d ceuvre of Greece ; that, in multiplying good books,
then so iaie, he changed the direction of study, hitherto
limited to scholastic theology and a barbarous jurisprudence;
and that he thereby contributed in the most essential man¬
ner to the progress of the human mind, and the advance¬
ment of civilization ; we cannot but entertain a sentiment of
profound veneration for the man whose whole life was con¬
sumed in a series of labours which will extend their useful
influence even to the latest generations. Before this time the
greater part of books had been printed in the folio or largest
size ; Manutius, however, conceived the happy idea of pub¬
lishing a collection of the Latin classics in a more conve¬
nient form, and with this view he had a character cast in
imitation (it is said) of the hand-writing of Petrarch, and
employed it, for the first time, in the impression df his Vir¬
gil which appeared in 1501. This character, long after¬
wards known by the name of Aldine, and now by that of
Italic, was designed and cut by Francesco of Bologna, an
artist highly esteemed in his particular line. The multipli¬
city of works which now issued from his presses having ren¬
dered it impossible for one individual to superintend the im¬
pressions, he had recourse to the assistance of some learned
men, his personal friends; and out of this association of
persons united in one common object he formed the Aldine
Academy, whose short duration did not prevent it from at¬
taining great celebrity. It reckoned amongst its members,
Bembo, Erasmus, Battista Egnazio, and Andrea Navagero,
who every year burned, in honour of Catullus, a copy of
Martial; the monk Bolzani, the first who wrote in Latin the
principles of Greek grammar ; Alcyonio, who is accused of
having destroyed the only manuscript of Cicero’s treatise
De Gloria, after having transferred its finest passages to one
of his own works; the Greek Musur us Demetrius Chalcon-
dylas, who published the first edition of Homer; and Ale-
andro, afterwards cardinal, who acted a prominent part in the
ecclesiastical affairs of the sixteenth century. In 1506, war
obliged Aldus to withdraw from Venice ; and during his ab¬
sence his goods were pillaged and his domains seized. He
made repeated efforts to recover possession of his property,
but, unfortunately, without success. On quitting Milan,
where his friends had sheltered him, he fell into the hands
of a troop of soldiers, who, taking him for a spy, conducted
him to prison at Caneto. But he recovered his liberty,
through the good offices of Jaffredo Carolo, vice-chancel¬
lor of the senate of Milan, and returned to Venice much
poorer than when he left it. In 1507, he resumed his typo¬
graphical labours; but the want of funds rendered it im¬
possible for him to execute any great work. In these cir¬
cumstances, Andrea Toresano d’Asola, his father-in-law,
came to his assistance; and, in 1512, they formed a part¬
nership, of which Aldus was constituted the head. He
then re-opened his printing-house, which for two years had
been shut, and resumed his labours with increased activity.
But when he was on the point of publishing a Bible in
three languages, which would have secured to him the dis¬
tinction of being the first author of a polyglott, he was in
1515 removed from all his pursuits by death, at the age of
about seventy. By his marriage with the daughter of An¬
drea d’Asola he had three sons and a daughter; but Pao¬
lo, his third son, was the only one who followed in the foot¬
steps of his father.
The Greek editions which issued from the presses of Aldus
are less correct than either the Latin or the Italian editions ;
but it should be remembered that he had frequently only a
single manuscript, incomplete or half effaced, from which
to reproduce a wrork, and that the conservation of many is
entirely owing to his laborious patience. The mark of his
press, it is well known, is a dolphin coiled round an anchor.
Besides the prefaces, and the Greek or Latin dissertations
with which he enriched most of his editions, Manutius was
238
MAN
Manutius. the author of several works, which would of themselves
“''have been sufficient to insure to him a distinguished place
amongst the learned men of his age, if he had not been the
most celebrated printer it produced. Of these works the
most important are, 1. Rudimenta Grammatices Linguae
Latinae, Venice, 1501, in 4to, very rare; 2. Grammaticae
Institutiones Graecae, 1515, in 4to; 3. Dictionarium Grae-
co-Latinum, 149/, 1524, in folio; 4. De Metris Horatianis,
a little work often reprinted during the sixteenth century;
5. Scripta Tria longe rarissima denuo edita et illustrata,
Bassano, 1806, in 8vo. The Abbe Morelli is the editor of
this collection, which contains a poem of Aldus, entitled
Musarum Pamgyris, in two little pieces addressed to the
Prince of Carpi. The original edition in 4to, without date,
must have appeared before 1489. Manutius translated
from Greek to Latin the Grammar of Lascaris, the Batra-
chomyomachia, the Sentences of Phocylides, the Golden
Verses of Pythagoras, and the Fables of/Esop and of Ga-
brias (Babrius). (See Life of Aldus Manutius the Elder,
by Unger, augmented by Geret, Wittenberg, 1753, in 4to;
also his Life by Manni.)
Manutius, Paulus, son of the preceding, was born at
Venice in 1512, and, after the death of his father, remain¬
ed under the care of his maternal uncle, Andrea Tore-
sano. I art of his early youth he passed at Asola, where
his education was much neglected; but, on his return to
Venice, the old friends of his father furnished him the
means, of gratifying his taste for learning. Under their
direction he applied to his studies with such zeal and as¬
siduity, as even to injure his health, and induce his phy¬
sicians to enjoin a temporary abstinence from labour. But
he suffered more domestic disquiet than from the illness
thus occasioned. Andrea Toresano died in 1529; and-the
partition of his succession excited keen disputes between
his own sons and those of Aldus. Paul, however, entered
into an agreement with his uncles, whereby he remained
at the head of the printing-establishment, which, having
been shut up in 1529, was re-opened in 1533, for the com”
mon benefit of the heirs of Aldus and Andrea d’Asola. In
imitation of his father, he sought the assistance of learned
men, of whose counsels he availed himself; published new
editions, particularly of the Latin classics, much more cor¬
rect than the preceding ones; and enriched them with
prefaces, notes, and indexes, the usefulness of which now
began to be felt. Being passionately fond of the works of
Cicero, which he read and re-read incessantly, in order to
foim his own style, he published a careful re-impression
of the oratorical treatises and familiar letters; and this was
followed by a complete edition of the works of the prince
of Roman eloquence. But fresh annoyances which he ex¬
perienced on the part ot his uncles forced him to suspend
his labours in 1538; and he employed part of that year in
visiting the ancient libraries of Tuscany and the Milanese.
The partnership which he had formed with the Toresani
was at length dissolved; and the printing establishment
having been re-opened in 1540, under the name of the
sons of Aldus, soon.began to recover its ancient splendour.
anutius married in 1546; but the attention which he
owed to his wife and his young family did not abate his
ardour for study. Frequent illnesses, caused by excessive
labour, or the. difficulties with which he had to contend,
could alone withdraw him from his habitual occupations.
Ihe little encouragement which he met with at Venice,
however, led him to think of removing his establishment to
some, other place ; and having been received with distinc-
tion in two journeys which he had made to Rome in 1535
and lo43, he persuaded himself that he would there find
more liberal patronage and support. But every project
of change was adjourned by the erection of the Venetian
Academy, which was founded by the senator Badoaro in
loo8, upon nearly the same plan as that afterwards adopt-
MAN
ed for the Institute of France. Paulus Manutius was an- Manut
pointed professor of eloquence, and director of the press'
of the academy. But this magnificent establishment, from
which the most advantageous results were expected, was
dissolved in 1561; and almost at the same time Manutius
received a letter from Cardinal Scripandi, who, in the
most pressing manner, invited him to establish himself at
Rome, in order to superintend the impression of the works
of the Fathers. After some hesitation, he accepted the
offers made to him, and repaired to Rome, where he was not
long after joined by his family. The new printing estab¬
lishment was fixed in the capitol (in cedibus populi Roma¬
ni), and the first work which proceeded from it was a
small treatise of Cardinal Polo, De Concilia et Reforma-
hone Anglia, dated 1562. But after the death of Paul
IV., the payment of the allowance granted to Manutius
was discontinued. Ihe vexation he in consequence expe¬
rienced affected his health, which was already in a preca¬
rious.state ; and, about the end of 1570, he returned to Ve¬
nice in a much worse condition than when he had left it*
lie went to the country in quest of that repose and diver¬
sion of which he had so much need; and, in the autumn
of the year 1571, he travelled to Genoa, Reggio, and Mi¬
lan, labouring at intervals on his Commentary on the Ora¬
tions of Cicero. In 1572, he went to visit his daughter
whom he had left in a convent at Rome, intending to re¬
main there only for a few weeks; but the liberality of
Pope Gregory XIII. overcame all his scruples, and in¬
duced him to remain in that city. Being now easy as to
the lot of his family, he was proceeding to complete the
works which he had so long meditated, when the infirmi¬
ty of his health forced him to abandon every kind of oc¬
cupation , and, after languishing for several months, he
died on the.6tii April lo/4, and was interred in the church
of the Dominicans, but without an inscription. Although,
during the last years of his life, his presses had begun to
decline, Paulus Manutius, as a printer and editor, was
equal to his illustrious father ; and his works place him in
the lank of the best critics and most polished writers of
his age. These were, 1. Epistolarum libri xii. Praffationes
tee. \ enice,. 1580, in 8vo; 2. Lettere Volgari divise in
quattio libii, ibid. 1560, in 8vo; 3. Degli Elementi e di
loio notabili Effetti, ibid. 1557, in 4to; 4. Antiquitatum
Romanarum liber de Legibus, ibid. 1557, in folio, with an
ample index; 5. Liber de Senatu Romano, ibid. 1581, in
4to; 6. De Comitiis Romanorum, Bologna, 1585, in folio;
7. IX uivitate Romana, Rome, 1585, in 4to. These four
last tieatises have been inserted in the Thesaurus Anti¬
quitatum Romanarum, tom. i. and ii. Manutius translated
mto Latin the Philippics of Demosthenes, Venice, 1549,
lo52, in 4to; and he published Commentaries on the Fa¬
miliar Letters of Cicero, the Letters to Atticus, Brutus,
and Quintus, and the Orations; as well as Scholia, on
tne oiatorical and philosophical treatises of the same au-
thor- (A%)
Manutius, Aldus, the younger, eldest son of Pau-
us, was an extraordinary infant and a mediocre man.
Born at Venice on the 13th of February 1567, he exhibit-
Gvi piecocious talents, which his father cultivated with the
gieatest care. At the age of eleven, he published a col-
ection of Elegances in the Latin and Italian languages,
which had great success ; but it is generally believed that
m making this collection he had been assisted by his fa-
j,01’; Jdree years after, there appeared his Orthographie
Ratio, a work which presents a complete system of Latin
orthography, founded on the inscriptions, the medals, and
the best manuscripts. In 1562 he went to join his father
at Rome, and profited by his residence in that city to aug¬
ment his collection of ancient inscriptions. He returned
to 'Venice at the latest in 1565, and assumed the direc¬
tion of the Aldine press, the useful labours of which were
MAO
m.-as not interrupted by the absence of his father. In 1576 he
was named professor of belles-lettres in the schools of the
Matfia- ciiancerv; and to this employment he, in 1584, joined
that of secretary to the senate. He transferred his print¬
ing establishment, which he had much neglected, to Ni-
colo Manassi, one of his workmen ; and, notwithstanding
the proofs of esteem which he had received from his fel¬
low-citizens, he quitted Venice in 1585, in order to occupy,
at Bologna, the chair of eloquence, vacant by the death of
Ligonio. The offer of a more advantageous appointment
decided him, in 1587, to settle at Pisa; and, two years
after, yielding to the solicitations of his friends, he accept¬
ed the chair which Muretus had occupied with so much
distinction at Rome, and which had been kept for him
since the death of that learned professor. The condition
of Manutius w^as still further ameliorated under the ponti¬
ficate of Clement VIII., who, in 1590, confided to him the
direction of the Vatican press. But he had the fault of
indulging to excess in the pleasures of the table ; and he
died in consequence of a debauch, on the 28th of October
1597, in the fifty-first year of his age. He had memory
and erudition, but much less taste and critical ability than
his father; and he was justly accused of plagiarism in
publishing, under his own name, notes on Paterculus,
which had been communicated to him by the learned Du¬
puis. His natural inconstancy prevented him from under¬
taking anything truly great; and he owed his reputation
less to his own merit than to the celebrity which his fa¬
ther and grandfather had acquired. His works are, 1.
Eleganze, insieme con la copia della Lingua Toscana e
Latina, Venice, 1558, in 8vo; 3. Orthographiae Ratio,
collecta ex libris antiquis grammaticis, &c. ibid. 1561 and
1568, in 8vo; 3. Discorso intorno all’ eccellenza delle Re-
publiche, 1591, in 8vo ; 4. Locuzioni dell’ Epistole di Ci¬
cerone, 1575, in 8vo; 5. De Quaesitis per Epistolam libri
iii. 1576, in 8vo; 6. Oratio in funere B. Rottarii, ducis
Sabaudiae apud Remp. Venetam legati, 1578, in 4to ; 7.
II perfetto Gentil’homo, 1584, in 4to; 8. Locuzioni di
Terentio, 1585, in 8vo ; 9. La Vita di Cosimo I. de’ Me¬
dici gran duca di Toscana, Bologna, 1586, in folio; 10.
Le Azioni di Castruccio Castracani, Rome, 1590, in 4to;
11. Lettere Volgari, ibid. 1592, in 4to; 12. Viginti cinque
Discorsi sopra Livio della seconda Guerra Cartaginese,
ibid. 1601, in 8vo. Aldus the younger also wwote some
Discourses ; an Explication of the ode of Horace, De Lau-
dibus Vital rustical; Commentaries on the Art of Poetry by
Horace, as w7eli as on the Rhetoric and the Philosophical
Books of Cicero. After his death, the rich and extensive
library collected by his grandfather and his father was di¬
vided between his creditors and his nephews. His inten¬
tion, it is said, was to bequeath it to the city of Venice.
(See Renouard, Annales de VImprimerie des Aides, Paris,
1803-1812, in three vols. 8vo.) (a.)
MAN WAS, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Gundwana, the capital of a district of the same name, and
situated ninety-five miles south-west by south from Be¬
nares. Long. 82. 5. E. Lat. 24. 13. N. The district is
situated about the twenty-fourth degree of north latitude,
and contains a thin population of wild inhabitants, scatter¬
ed over a great tract of country.
MANZORA, a river of the Deccan, which rises in the
province of Berder, and falls into the Godavery after a
short but winding course.
I a small river of Asiatic Russia, which
alls into the Lena. There is a village of the same name
at the confluence of the two rivers. Long-. 106. 34. E.
Lat. 53. 45. N. &
MAOUNA, or Massacre Island, one of the Naviga¬
tors Islands, in the South Pacific Ocean, discovered by
ougainville, and visited by La Perouse, with whose men
and the natives a bloody conflict took place, in which M.
M A It
239
Mara-
caybo.
Langle, commander of the Astrolabe, with ten of his conr Marabea
panions, were killed, and twenty men wounded. Long* li
of the anchoring place, 189. 1. E. Lat. 14. 22. S.
MARABEA, a town of Yemen, in Arabia, formerly,
considerable; but the harbour being now filled up with
sand, most of the inhabitants have removed to Loheia.
MARACAY, a town of Venezuela, in South America.
The principal street is more than half a mile in length,
and many of the houses are built of stone, and have gar¬
dens attached to them. It is situated near the eastern
end of the lake of Valencia, but not immediately upon it.
Fine plantatioqe. surround it on every side, and there is
about it an air of prosperity and activity, which is said to
arise from work being here chiefly performed by free la¬
bourers, the use of slaves being little known. The popu¬
lation has been estimated at 10,000.
MARACAYBO, a province of South America, in what
was till 1835 the republic of Colombia, but which is now
separated into three independent states. Maracaybo is
bounded on the west by Rio Hacha, on the east by Vene¬
zuela, on the south by Pamplona, and on the north by the
Carribean Sea. Maracaybo may be described as a consi¬
derable tract of country surrounding a vast sheet of water
of the same name. The lake of Maracaybo is a little Me¬
diterranean, communicating with a gulf called after it, by
a channel about two leagues in breadth by eight in length.
Depons describes the lake and gulf as nearly of the form
of a decanter, extending from south to north, the neck of
which communicates with the sea. It is about fifty leagues
in length from the bar to its most southern recess, its
greatest breadth is about thirty leagues, and its circum¬
ference upwards of one hundred and fifty leagues. Its
waters are sweet, unless the wind blows with violence
from the sea, when salt water is forced into it, thus com¬
municating to them a brackish property. The lake, how¬
ever, is not subject to tempests ; but occasionally the
north wind produces a short and broken swell. It is navi¬
gated with ease, and has depth of water sufficient for the
largest vessels. All goods intended for consumption or
export at Maracaybo are conveyed by the rivers which
discharge themselves into the lake. Of these there are
above twenty, the most considerable being Sulia or Pam¬
plona River, the Motatan, Cham a, Catumbo, Cuernos, To-
rondoy, and Perija. All the different species of fish found
in the rivers of South America (Depons says), abound in
this lake ; but the tortoise is not found here. There are
monatis or sea-cows of enormous size. On one of the
shores of the lake there is an inexhaustible mine of mine¬
ral pitch. The bituminous vapours which it exhales are
so inflammable, that during the night phosphoric fires are
continually seen, which in their effect resemble lightning.
They go by the name of the “ Lantern of Maracaybo,” be¬
cause they serve for a lighthouse and compass to both the
Spaniards and the Indians, who without the assistance of
either navigate the lake. There are still several barbarous
tribes of Indians in its vicinity, but, from the sterility of
the soil on the borders of the lake, and the insalubrity of
the atmosphere, they formerly preferred fixing their abodes
on the lake itself. These huts erected on the water amount¬
ed to a number of villages, but they were all destroyed by
the Spaniards, with the exception of four. The inhabit¬
ants have a church, under the care of a curate; and they
derive their chief subsistence from fishing and hunting
wild ducks. The soil on the western shores of the lake is
good, and this induced some Spaniards, regardless of the
insalubrity of the climate, to fix their residence there, for
the purpose of raising cocoa and provisions. The settle¬
ment, however, consists only of a few scattered habita¬
tions. I he southern extremity of the lake is uncul¬
tivated, and destitute of inhabitants. The temperature
of the whole province is very high; that of the northern
240
M A R
Maracaybo part is no less so than the others, but it is incomparably
II healthier.
. Mar ana. Maracaybo, or Nueva Zamora, situated on the left
bank oi the lake, at the distance of six leagues from the sea,
was founded in 1571. It stands in the midst of a sandy
plain, without any stratum of vegetable earth, in latitude
10. 30. north, and longitude 74. 6. west of Paris. The
climate is intensely hot, and during July and August al¬
most insupportable ; yet it is accounted healthy, because
no endemic complaints prevail. Violent storms are fre¬
quent, accompanied with thunder and lightning, and oc¬
casionally prove very destructive. Most of the houses are
covered with reeds, but the town is fortified. The pa¬
rish church is large and handsome, and there are four
monasteries, a convent, and an hospital. For upwards of
twenty leagues towards the serrania (or mountain ridge)
there is no other water for even the cattle, but rain water,
which is preserved in tanks. Depons draws a favourable
picture in some respects of the character of the inhabitants.
From the habit which they contract in infancy of sailing on
the lake, they imbibe at a very early period a taste for na¬
vigation ; and this leads many of them to repair to the sea¬
ports to obtain employment. “ Those who resist the attrac¬
tions of the sea,” says that traveller, “ raise herds of cat¬
tle, or take care of those of their fathers. Nothing better
evinces their aptitude for this species of occupation, than
the immense number of beasts with which the savannas of
Maracaybo are covered. The principal ones are those of
Jobo, Ancon, Palmares, and Cannades. I ought to men¬
tion, that there is more merit in raising cattle in the savan¬
nas of Maracaybo than in any other place in these provin¬
ces ; because, having neither rivers nor ponds that never
dry up, drought occasions the death of many, in spite of
the precautions they take, in cases of this sort, to drive
them towards those parts where they can with convenience
water them.” Education is in a very low state amongst the
people, yet they show a partiality for, and from their natu¬
ral talents make no inconsiderable progress in literature.
Notwithstanding their activity, courage, and talent, the in¬
habitants of Maracaybo are reproached with a want of re¬
gard for their word, and a habit of thinking themselves not
bound by their signature, until after they have in vain en¬
deavoured to release themselves from it by law. Depons
places the character of the women very high. Maracaybo
contains many descendants of the early conquerors, who
now live in a state of affluence. Others of the inhabitants
gain wealth by traffic, and the whole are supposed to ex¬
ceed 20,000 in number. The slaves are said not to ex¬
ceed 5000; and the freed blacks, by whom the trades are
carried on, are but few. Depons estimates the entire po¬
pulation of the province at 100,000.
MARAGA, a city of Persia, in the province of Azerbi-
jan. It is a well-built town, has a spacious bazar, and is
encompassed with a high wall. It is pleasantly situated in
a low valley at the extremity of a well-cultivated plain
opening to the lake, from which Maraga is distant nine or
ten miles. The gardens and plantations are watered by
canals drawn from a small river, over which there are two
bridges erected 800 years ago. There is a glass manufac¬
tory, and a very handsome public bath ; and there are also
several curious old tombs, in one of which, without the
walls, Holaku, a distinguished prince of the line of Ghen-
gis Khan, and his wife, are interred. The town contains
about 15,000 inhabitants of the Turkish tribe of Muku-
oim, under their chief Ahmed Khan, a nobleman of the
first rank. It is sixty-eight miles north of Tabreez. Lons.
46. 25. E. Eat. 37. 20. N. S
MARANA, John Paul, an ingenious writer of the
seventeenth century, was descended of a distinguished fa-
mily, and born at Genoa, where he received an education
suited to his birth, and made great progress in the study of
M A R
the sciences and polite literature. Having been enfraperl
in the conspiracy of Raffaelle della Terra, in order to de. i
liver up Genoa to the Duke of Savoy, he was, in 1670 at v"’v
the age of twenty-eight, imprisoned “in the tower of that '
city, and remained there four years. Being at lenoth set
at liberty, he was requested to write the history of that
conspiracy ; but the work, when finished, was seized, and
prevented from being published. When the republic of
Genoa was at variance with the court of France, Marana
who had always an inclination for the latter, became afraid
of being imprisoned a second time, and retired to Mona¬
co, where he again wrote the history of the conspiracy in
Italian, and, in 1682, got it printed at Lyons. He then
proceeded to Paris, where his merit soon acquired him
powerful protectors; and he spent the rest of his life in a
happy and tranquil mediocrity, devoted to study and the
society of men of learning. His history of the conspiracy
contains many curious and interesting anecdotes. Besides
this, he wrote several other works, the best known of which
is the Turkish Spy, in six volumes 12mo, to which a
seventh was afterwards added. Of this ingenious work
there is a good English translation. Marana died in the
year 1693.
MARANHAM, or Maranhao, a province of Brazil, in
South America. This name, which is common to the pro¬
vince, the capital, the island on which it stands, the river
Meary, and the Amazons, is derived from Maranon, the
appellation which the navigator Pinzon first bestowed on
the estuary of the Amazons, upon finding that its waters
did not possess the saline properties of the ocean. It
lies between 1. 20. and 10. 50. of south latitude, and
45. 10. and 53. 20. of west longitude, being nearly 400
miles in length from north to south, and having an average
breadth of about 200 miles. It is bounded on the east by
Piauhy, on the west by Para, on the south by Goyaz, and
on the north by the Atlantic Ocean. Its bending line of
coast extends above 300 miles, and so difficult is the na¬
vigation from north to south, both wind and current set¬
ting in from the south, that it is easier for Para and Ma-
ranham to communicate with Lisbon than with Rio or Ba¬
hia. It is very dangerous, and, especially after passing Rio
Grande, has a bleak and dismal appearance. Although
but thinly peopled in the interior, a considerable portion
of territory being still in possession of savage tribes, it has
increased in importance with extraordinary rapidity. Until
about the middle of the last century, no cotton was sent
out of the country ; and an attempt was made by the in¬
habitants to prevent its exportation when the growers
were about to make their first shipment. The reason of
this was a dread lest there should not be enough for home
consumption. The cultivation of rice, when first intro¬
duced, was regarded as a foolish innovation ; but now these
productions constitute almost the only articles of export,
for the soil, although rich, is reported to be unfit for
the culture of the sugar cane. Annati, capsicum, ginger,
and the best fruits of Europe, grow in great abundance
throughout the province. Cattle, sheep, and goats, are
stated to be more prolific than in Europe, but they dege¬
nerate. I here is said to be a native silk-worm here,
whose cone is thrice the size of the European one, the co¬
lour of the silk being a deep yellow. It feeds upon the
pinheira or atta, an indigenous tree, and upon the leaves
of the orange. The principal river is the Itapicura, which
originates near the southern extremity of the province, and
takes first a north-easterly and then a north-westerly course.
Its current is r-apid, and it flows for the most part through
extensive woods. It abounds with a species of eel, which,
though small, has great electrical powers.
Maranham, or St Luiz, the capital, is situated on an
island of the same name, of about forty-two miles in cir¬
cumference. It forms the south-east side of the bay of
M A R
ifin- Marcos, having to the eastward the bay of San Jose, in
h«. latitude 2. 32. south, and longitude 43. 40. west. It is
—'fertile and well inhabited, there being, besides the capital,
numerous small hamlets belonging to the natives. Much
difficulty is experienced in reaching this islatul, on account
of the rapidity of three rivers at the mouth of which it is
situated. The harbour, which is formed by a narrow
creek, is of sufficient depth to admit of merchantmen en¬
tering; but it is so beset with shoals as to require a pilot,
and its depth is diminishing. It is defended by several
forts, which are not, however, in a very effective condi¬
tion. The city of Maranham is built upon very unequal
ground, commencing from the water’s edge, and extending
to the distance of about one mile and a half in a north¬
easterly direction. It covers a considerable space of ground,
the houses being built in a straggling manner ; and there
are several broad streets and spacious squares. Its situa¬
tion upon the western part of the island, and upon one side
of a creek, almost excludes it from the sea breeze, by
which it is rendered less healthy than if it stood in a more
exposed position. The streets are mostly paved, but are
kept in bad repair. Many of the houses have a neat and
genteel appearance, and are of one story in height. The
lower part of them is appropriated to servants, to shops
without windows, to warehouses, and other purposes. The
family occupy the upper story, the windows of which
reach down to the floor, and are ornamented with iron
balconies. The churches are numerous, and there are
likewise Franciscan, Carmelite, and other convents. The
insides of the churches are gaudily decorated, but no re¬
gular plan of architecture has been followed in their con¬
struction. The governor’s palace stands upon rising ground,
not far from the water side, with the front towards the
town. It is a long uniform stone building, of one story in
height. The western end joins the town-hall and prison,
which gives them the appearance of being one edifice.
There is an oblong piece of ground in front, one end of
which is open to the harbour, and to a fort in the hollow
close to the water ; the other extremity is nearly closed
up by the cathedral. This church, which formerly be¬
longed to the Jesuits, is said to be the finest of any in the
maritime cities, w ith the exception of that of Para. The
Jesuits’ college is now the episcopal palace, the space op¬
posite to w'hich is occupied by dwelling-houses, and streets
leading to other parts of the city. The ground upon which
Maranham stands is composed of a soft red stone, so that
the smaller streets leading from the town into the country,
some of which are not paved, are full of gullies, through
which the wrater runs in rainy seasons. These streets con¬
sist of houses having only a ground floor. They have
thatched roofs, the wdndows are destitute of glass, and al¬
together they have a mean and impoverished appearance.
The city contains a customhouse and treasury ; the for¬
mer is small, but was, until lately, large enough for the
business of the place. The air here is serene, the place
being seldom incommoded with storms, excessive drought,
or moisture, except in the time of the periodical rains,
which continue from February till June. With regard to
the number of inhabitants, little reliance can be placed
upon the testimony of travellers, as by some they are
estimated at 12,000, and by others at 30,000, including
negroes. These are numerous, the streets being generally
crowded with slaves.
The bay of St Marcos is studded with several islands.
Ihe width of the bay from Maranham to the opposite
shore is between four and five leagues, but its length is
considerably greater. Towards the south end it receives
the waters of the river Meary, along the banks of which
are several cattle estates. On the opposite side of the
island is a smaller bay, called San Jose. These bays are
connected by a strait which separates the island from the
VOL. xiv.
MAR
241
continent, ihe Itapicura discharges its waters into San Marasdin
Jose, and the banks of this river are the best cultivated II
and most fertile lands in the province. The town of Al- Marathon,
cantara, which is situated on the continent, to the west
of Maianham, contains four hermitages, two convents, a
town-hall, and prison; and a fort occupies the site of the
Jesuits’ hospicio. The town is built on a semicircular hill,
and, when seen from a distance, has a pretty appearance ;
but this favourable impression is dissipated by a nearer ap¬
proach. Many of the houses are of one story, and built of
stone; but the greater number of dwelling-houses have only
a ground floor. Alcantara extends back to some distance
in a straggling manner, with gardens and large spaces be¬
tween the houses. It is a thriving place, and has rapidly in¬
creased in importance, from the lands in the neighbourhood
being in request for cotton plantations. Not far from the
mouth of the port of this town stands an island ofabout three
miles in length by one in breadth, called the Ilha do Livra-
mento. It is only inhabited by two persons, who have under
their care a chapel dedicated to our Lady of Deliverance ;
and thither the inhabitants of the neighbouring shores
come once a year for the purpose of celebrating, by a fes¬
tival, this invocation of the Virgin. Cachias, a populous
place, of some commercial importance, is situated on the
eastern margin of the Itapicura, upwards of 200 miles south¬
east of Maranham. Great quantities of rice and cotton are
raised here; but the inhabitants are addicted to gambling
to a ruinous extent. This place forms the central point of
communication between Maranham, Piauhy, and Goyaz.
Large flat-bottomed boats, fit for navigating in shoal water,
ascend the river thus far, and convey the produce down¬
wards. Opposite to Cachias is Tr.ezedellas, inhabited by
descendants of the aborigines, where the Jesuits formerly
had a seminary, to which the people of Piauhy were in the
custom of sending their children to be educated. The
river is navigable by canoes ninety miles higher, to the
small town of Principe Regente, thirty miles south-south¬
west of which is St Bento das Balsas, situated amongst
small hills adapted for pasture. It is ten miles from the
Pannahiba, and twenty-eight from the Itapicura, and the
whole of the territory lying between these two rivers has
been evacuated by the Indians. All the other towns of the
province are inconsiderable. The Meary or Mearim, the
next river in size, is navigable to the centre of the province,
where the further progress of boats is interrupted by a fall;
but its course lies chiefly through the territories of barba¬
rous tribes. The number of farms in Maranham is estimat¬
ed at 4856, and the number of proprietors at 2683. The
average number of slaves imported is 5000, for whom a con¬
siderable duty is paid. With regard to exports and imports,
there are no returns which can be relied on later than the
year 1820. From 1815 to 1820, the average number of
bags of cotton exported was 68,000. The exports of rice
varied during these years from 56,000 to 82,000 bags.
The other articles sent out of the country consisted of hides,
tanned and untanned, skins, and gums. The entire popu¬
lation of the province amounted in 1821 to 182,000. Upon
the whole, this province might be made one of great im¬
portance, for it possesses vast capabilities; but as yet it is
in an infant or semi-barbarous state.
MARASDIN, a city of the circle of the same name, in
the Austrian province of Croatia. It stands on the river
Drave, is the seat of the provincial boards of civil and cri¬
minal law, contains five Catholic churches, four monas¬
teries, and a nunnery, with 749 houses, and 4436 inhabit¬
ants. It has a considerable commercial intercourse with
Turkey. Long. 23. 22. 10. E. Lat. 46. 18. 18. N.
MARA 1 HON, in Ancient Geography, one of the demi
or hamlets of Attica, about ten miles to the north-east of
Athens, and near the sea. It still retains its ancient name ;
but is very inconsiderable, consisting only of a few houses
2 H
242 MAR
Maratti and gardens. The plain of Marathon is famous for the vic-
II tory which was there gained by Miltiades over the Per-
v ^ ar e' y sians, by which the liberties of Athens and the other cities
r of Greece were saved.
MARATTA. See Mahrattas.
MARATTI, Carlo, a celebrated painter, was born at
Camorano, near Ancona, in 1625. He went a poor boy to
Rome when only eleven years of age ; and at twelve recom¬
mended himself so effectually to Andrea Sacchi, by his
drawings after Raffaelle in the Vatican, that he took him
into his school, where he continued twenty-five years, that
is, until his master’s death. His graceful and beautiful
ideas occasioned his being generally employed in painting
madonnas and female saints. No man ever painted in a
better style, or with greater elegance. From the finest
statues and pictures, he made himself master of the most
perfect forms, and the finest positions of heads, which he
sketched with equal ease and grace. He has produced a
noble variety of draperies, more artfully managed and more
richly ornamented than the best of the moderns. He
was inimitable in adorning the heads, in the disposal of the
hair, and the elegance of his hands and feet, which are
equal to those of Raffaelle himself; and he particularly ex¬
celled in gracefulness. In his younger days he etched a
few prints with equal spirit and correctness. It would be
endless to recount the celebrated paintings executed by
this great artist. Yet he did nothing slightly, and often
changed his designs, though almost always for the better;
whence his pictures were long in hand. In imitation of
his master, he made several admirable portraits of popes,
cardinals, and other persons of distinction, from whom he
received the highest testimonies of esteem, as he likewise
did from almost all the monarchs and princes of Europe.
This great painter died at Rome in 1713, in the eighty-
eighth year of his age.
MARATUBA Isles, a cluster of islands, six in num¬
ber, lying off the east coast of Borneo. Long. 118. 35. E.
Eat. 2. 15. N.
MARAVEDI, a little Spanish copper coin, worth some¬
what more than a French denier, or half a farthing Eng¬
lish.
MAR A WAS, a district of the south of India, in the
Carnatic, situated on the eastern shore, opposite to Ceylon,
and between the 9th and 10th degrees of N. lat. It is es¬
timated at eighty miles in length by thirty in the average
breadth, and it is bounded on the north by Tanjore and the
Polygar territory, on the south by Tinevelly, on the west
by Madura, and on the east by the sea. This district
came into the possession of the British in the year 1792 ;
and in 1801 it was added to the collectorship of Dindi-
gul. The principal towns are Ramnad, Shevagunga, and
Tripatoor. Many remains of ancient Hindu religious
magnificence are to be found here, consisting of temples
built with large massive stones. The district, which pos¬
sesses considerable advantages from its maritime situation,
is improving both in its commerce and in its agriculture.
MARBELLA, a city of Spain, situated on the shores of
the Mediterranean Sea, in the province of Andalusia and
kingdom of Granada. It stands at the foot of a very
high mountain, whence copious streams flow, and are con¬
ducted to a beautiful fountain in the square of this place.
The vicinity of Marbella is a rich but narrow tract of
land on the sea shore, where coffee, cotton, sugar, indigo,
and other tropical productions are cultivated with consi¬
derable success, and which also yields the indigenous fruits,
oranges, lemons, figs, grapes, pomegranates, and some ex¬
quisite plums. It more resembles the West India islands
than a part of Europe. The city contains about 8000 in¬
habitants.
MARBLE, a calcareous stone, of which there are many
beautiful varieties. The word is formed from the French
MAR
marbre, and that from the Latin marmor, which is derived Marblii
from the Greek (lagpuiguv, to shine or glitter. See Mine- || 1
RALOGV. Marcelli
MARBLING, the method of preparing and colouring'''“V"
marbled paper. There are several kinds of marbled paper,
but the principal difference between them consists in the
forms in which the colours are laid on the ground; some
being disposed in whirls or circumvolutions, others in jag¬
ged lengths, and others only in spots of a roundish or oval
figure. The general manner of managing each kind is,
nevertheless, the same ; namely, the dipping the paper in
a solution of gum-tragacanth, or, as it is commonly call¬
ed, gum-dragon, over which the colours, previously prepar¬
ed with ox-gall and spirit of wine, are first spread.
MARBURG, a city in the province of Upper Hesse, in
the principality of Hesse Cassel. It stands in a beautiful
situation on the river Lahn, which divides it into two parts,
one of which gradually rises from the bank of the river. It
is surrounded with walls, and has an ancient castle, once
strongly fortified, but now neglected. It contains one Ca¬
tholic, two reformed, and two Lutheran churches, with
790 houses, and 6850 inhabitants. It is the seat of a uni¬
versity, which has produced some distinguished men, and
now consists of thirty-four professors, with about 250 stu¬
dents. It has a valuable library of 55,000 volumes, and
establishments for instruction in the several branches of
medical, legal, and theological instruction. There are some
manufactures of linen goods and hats, but not on a large
scale. Long. 8. 42. 55. E. Lat. 50. 51. 2. N.
Marrurg, a circle in the Austrian province of Steyer-
mark, extending over 1328 square miles, and containing
167,498 inhabitants. It is generally hilly, and better adapt¬
ed for breeding cattle than for agriculture. The capital, of
the same name, is a city situated on the river Drave, con¬
taining a castle, a minster, 654 houses, and 3986 inhabitants.
The principal trade is in wine and corn, and in cattle at a
great yearly market. Long. 14. 37. 4. E. Lat. 46. 34. 32. N.
MARCASITE, an old term in mineralogy, given indif¬
ferently to ores, pyrites, and semi-metals, but more lately
confined to pyrites, especially such as are regularly formed.
See Mineralogy.
MARCELLIANISM, the doctrines and opinions of the
Marcellians, a sect of ancient heretics, wdio appeared to¬
wards the close of the second century, and were so called
from Marcellus of Ancyra, their founder, who was accused
of reviving the errors of Sabellius. Some, however, are of
opinion that Marcellus was orthodox, and that his enemies
were the Arians, who fathered their errors upon him. St
Epiphanius observes, that there was a great deal of dis¬
pute with regard to the real tenets of Marcellus; but, as
to his followers, it is evident, that they did not acknow¬
ledge the three hypostases. Marcellus considered the Son
and Holy Ghost as twTo emanations from the divine nature,
which, after performing their respective offices, were to re¬
turn again into the substance of the Father ; an opinion
which is altogether incompatible with the belief of three
distinct persons in the Godhead.
MARCELLIN, an arrondissement of the department of '
the Isere, in France, 474 square miles in extent. It com¬
prehends seven cantons, divided into eighty-five com¬
munes, and contains 75,400 inhabitants. The capital is
a city of the same name, in a pleasant situation at the
foot of a hill, two miles from the Isere. It is well built,
and surrounded with pleasant wmlks formed out of the an¬
cient fortifications. It contains 600 houses, and 3400 in¬
habitants, who carry on silk, cotton, and linen manufacto¬
ries, and are celebrated for their liqueurs and for excellent
wine. Long. 5. 8. 11. E. Lat. 45. 30. 31. N.
MARCELLINUS, Ammianus. See Ammianus.
MARCELLUS, M. Claudius, one of the most cele¬
brated Roman generals, the principal events of whose life
fare
MAR
ius. are included between b. c. 222 and 208. His valour and
—'military science made him feared by the enemies of his
country, whilst the mildness and gentleness of his deport¬
ment won their respect and esteem. Rome was at this
period engaged in war with the Cisalpine Gauls, and had
appointed Flaminius, the consul, to the command of a
large army in the north of Italy. This election was found
to be invalid (see C. Flaminius), and Marcellus was raised
to the consulship, b. c. 222. He joined the army without
delay; and though the Insubres offered terms of accom¬
modation, he prevailed on the people to reject them. He
laid siege to Acerrae, now Gerrha, on the banks of the Po ;
and when*the Gauls attempted to make a diversion by at¬
tacking Clastidium, Marcellus left his colleague before
Acerrae, marched against them, and in the battle which
ensued the Gauls were defeated, and their king Virido-
marus was slain by the hands of Marcellus himself. This
was the third time that a Roman general had presented
the spolia opima to Jupiter Feretrius. Marcellus ob¬
tained the honours of a triumph, which is said to have
been one of the most magnificent ever witnessed in Rome,
whether we consider the richness of the spoils that were
displayed in it, or the prodigious size of the captive. At
the commencement of the second Punic war (b. c. 218),
Marcellus was appointed as praetor to the command of the
troops in Sicily; but he was recalled after the defeat at
Cannae (2d August b. c. 216), and sent to Apulia to collect
the scattered remains of the Homan arrays. This he effect¬
ed with much prudence ; and the severe check which Han¬
nibal received from him before Nola tended greatly to re¬
animate the drooping spirits of his countrymen. Hannibal
used to say, that he feared Fabius as his schoolmaster, and
Marcellus as his enemy. Marcellus was again named con¬
sul, b. c. 215; but he immediately abdicated, on account
of some flaw in the election, and proceeded to Nola in the
capacity of proconsul. The following year he was raised a
third time to the consulship (b. c. 214), and proceeded to
tne command of the war in Sicily. Plere he laid siege to
Syracuse, thinking that the conquest of this place would
immediately be followed by the full possession of the island.
Syracuse was defended by the skill of the celebrated Ar¬
chimedes, and it was not till after a blockade of three years
that Marcellus was able to take the city, when Archimedes
was killed (b.c.212), though positive orders had been issued
that his life should be spared. Marcellus exerted himself
to save the city from the plunder of the soldiers, but fail¬
ed to preserve it from this calamitous fate. When he re¬
turned to Rome, he received the honour of an ovo.tion, or
lesser triumph, as the war was still unfinished in Sicily.
He brought to Rome many beautiful statues and paintings
which had adorned Syracuse, and was the first to teach
the Romans to appreciate the exquisite works of Greece,
which had hitherto been unknown to them. He was named
for the fourth time consul, b. c. 210, and the command of
t le war in Sicilyr fell to him byr lot; but he exchanged it for
Italy with his colleague Laevinus. Marcellus recovered
several cities of the Samnites from Hannibal, who carefully
shunned any regular battle with his opponent. He was
appointed consul the fifth time, B. c. 208, when he fell into
an ambush which had been laid for him hy Hannibal, and
was killed. Thus fell Marcellus, who was called the sivord
ot Rome, whilst Fabius was regarded as its buckler. His
me has been written by Plutarch, and many facts respect-
1 MUm ma^ 136 £atlieret* fr°m Livy (xxii.-xxvii.).
Iakcellus, M. Claudius, was of the same family as the
conqueror of Syracuse, and lived at a period when the de¬
signs of Caesar against the liberties of his country began
i ae apparent. Marcellus was named consul (b. c. 51),
along with Sulpicius Rufus; and he proposed that Caesar
f lau|d be deprived of the command of the armies of Gaul;
Dut thls advice was not attended to. (Cic. Alt. vii. 1.)
MAR
243
The civil war broke out (b. c. 49), when Marcellus joined Marcgrave
the party of Pompey ; but on the death of the latter (b. c. II
48), he ceased to take part in the political affairs of his March,
country, and retired to Mitylene, that he might not witness
the overthrow of the republic. Here he was found by Bru¬
tus as he was returning from Asia. (Senec. ad Helv. c. 9.)
His friends at Rome, however, were anxious that he should
return, and they did not find it difficult to prevail on Caesar
to forget the part he had taken against him. His pardon,
indeed, seems to have been more readily granted by Cm-
sar than accepted by Marcellus. He was unwilling to
leave his retreat at Mitylene, if we may judge from the
letters of Cicero addressed to him. They are the seventh,
eighth, ninth, and tenth of the fourth book ad Familiares.
The eleventh is from Marcellus to Cicero. Marcellus,
however, at last yielded, and had reached Athens on his
way homewards, when he was murdered by P. Magius,
one of his companions in exile, in despair at his departure,
b. c. 46. His old colleague Sulpicius happened to be at
Athens at this time, and took care that his funeral rites
should be properly attended to. (Cic. ad Div. iv. 12.)
When Caesar granted the pardon of Marcellus, Cicero re¬
turned thanks in a most eloquent speech, which is still pre¬
served {Pro Marcello). This was the first time he had
spoken in the senate after the downfall of the republic,
and his speech is supposed to be the model on which Pliny
the younger formed his Panegyric on Trajan.
Marcellus, M. Claudius, son of C. Marcellus, and of
Octavia, sister to Augustus, seems to have been endowed
by nature with all those qualities which unite to form
a great character. Capable of the closest application to
study, gentle in his manners, and temperate in his habits,
he was regarded by the Romans with feelings of the
strongest affection. He was first betrothed to Pompeia,
the daughter of Sextus Pompey, so early as b. c. 87, when
she was only six years of age (Dion Cass, xlviii. 38) ; but
he subsequently married Julia, the daughter of Augustus,
when he had reached his seventeenth year, b. c. 26 (liii. 27,
Suet. Aug. 63). He was raised to the curule edileship by
the senate ; but he died very suddenly, b. c. 23, owing, it is
said, to the injudicious use of the cold bath prescribed by
Antonins Musa, the physician of Augustus. (Dion Cass,
liii. 30.) The Romans were overwhelmed with grief at
his death, and suspected the Empress Livia of having poi¬
soned him, that her own son Tiberius might be the suc¬
cessor of Augustus. His mother Octavia is said to have
shut herself up in her room for many months, and to
have refused all consolation. (Sen. ad Marc, ii.) In the
life of Virgil, commonly ascribed to Donatus, we are told
that the poet recited to her part of the iEneid, and when
he came to the words
Heu ! iniserande puer, si quid fata aspera rumpas,
Tu Marcellus eris,
alluding to his ancestor the great Marcellus, she fainted
away. When she recovered, she ordered the poet to be
rewarded with a large sum of money. Marcellus was bu¬
ried in the Campus Martius, in the mausoleum of Augus¬
tus, and the emperor built a theatre, calling it after his
name, Theatrum Marcelli. (Tacit. Ann. iii. 64.)
MARCGRAVE, or Margrave, a kind of dignity in
Germany, answering to our marquis. The word is derived
from the German marche or marcke, which signifies a fron¬
tier, and graff, count, governor; maregraves being origi¬
nally governors of cities lying on the frontiers of a coun¬
try or state.
MARCH {Martius), the third month of the year, ac¬
cording to the common way of computing. Amongst the
Romans, March was the first month ; and in some eccle¬
siastical computations that order is still preserved, parti¬
cularly in reckoning the number of years from the incar¬
nation of our Savour; that is, from the 25th of March.
214 MAR MAR
March March, a market-town of the Isle of Ely, in the coun- MARCHAND Island, in the South Pacific Ocean, Man
II ty of Cambridge, eighty-one miles from London. It stands discovered by Captain Marchand, and forming one of the Isl |
- i|rc ianc 'j on the river Nen, which is navigable, in a rich but marshy group of Revolution Islands. Long. 142. 19. W. Lat. 92. Ill I
Y ^ situation, resembling the provinces of Holland in the nu- 21. S. ^Ia
merous wind-mills by which the water is abstracted from MARCHE en Famine, an arrondissement of the pro- v ma‘
the land. There is a good market, which is held on Fri- vince of Liege, in the Netherlands, which contains ten can-
day. The population amounted in 1801 to 2514, in 1811 tons. The capital, a city of the same name, situated in the
to 3098, in 1821 to 3850, in 1831 to 5117. forest of the Ardennes, on the small river Marchette, is
MARCHAND, Prosper, a learned bibliographer, born poor and ill built, containing 1460 inhabitants, who are
about the year 1675, at Guise, in Picardy, studied at Paris chiefly employed in the iron trade.
with much success, and was then placed with a bookseller, MARCHERS, or Lords-Marchers, were those no¬
te qualify him for engaging in the same line of business, blemen who lived on the marches of Wales or Scotland,
Having, from his infancy, been passionately devoted to and who, in times past, according to Camden, diad their
books, he soon acquired the requisite knowledge, and, in laws and jus vitce mcisque, like petty kings. In old records
1698, wras admitted into the corporation of booksellers. He the lords marchers of Wales were styled Marchianes de
then opened, in the Rue Saint Jacques, a shop under the Marchia Wallies.
sign of the Phoenix, which soon became the rendezvous of MARCHES (marchia), from the German march, or
all the lovers of books in Paris. An eager collector of li- limes, or from the French marque, the distinction between
terary anecdotes, he transmitted them to Jacques Bernard, two countries or territories, are the limits between Eng-
who then conducted in WoWand \he Nouvelles de la Repuh- land and Wales, or between England and Scotland, which
lique des JLettres ; and he at the same time made for the use last are divided into the west and middle marches (4 Hen.
of that person collections which proved very serviceable to V. c. 7 ; 22 Ed. IV. c. 8 ; 24 Hen. VIII. c. 9). There was
him. In 1711, Marchand passed into Holland, that he formerly a court called the Court of the Marches of Wales,
might be more free to profess the reformed religion, which where pleas of debt or damages, not above the value of
he had embraced. He established himself at Amsterdam, L.50, were tried and determined.
and there continued for some time the business of book- MARCHET, or Marchetta, a pecuniary fine ancient¬
selling ; but being disgusted with the want of good faith on ly paid by the tenant to his lord, for the marriage of one
the part of his brethren of “ the trade,” he abandoned it of the tenant’s daughters. This custom obtained, with some
altogether, in order to devote himself exclusively to study, difference, throughout all England and Wales, as also in
The editions of different works which he successively pub- Scotland.
lished made him advantageously known ; and he was con- MARCIONITES, or Marcionists, Marciomslee, an
suited by most of the learned men of Europe who were en- ancient and popular sect of heretics, who were thus deno-
gaged in similar pursuits. The habits of a frugal life had minated from their author Marcion, and who, in the time of
fortified his constitution, which was naturally robust, and he Epiphanius, had spread themselves over Italy, Egypt, Pa-
seldom quitted his cabinet ; but he there received all who lestine, Syria, Arabia, Persia, and other countries. Marcion
had recourse to him, and freely communicated to them the was a native of Pontus, the son of a bishop, and at first made
information they required. In the midst of these peaceful profession of the monastic life; but he wras excommunicated
occupations, he attained a very advanced age, and died on by his own father, who would never again admit him into
the 14th of June 1756. By his will he bequeathed the the communion of the church, not even on his repentance,
fruits of his economy to the society for the relief of the poor On this he abandoned his own country, and retired to Rome,
at the Hague, and left his rich library to the university of where he began to broach new and heretical doctrines.
Leyden. Marchand had a share in the ingenious satire, Marcion denied the real birth, incarnation, and passion of
Le Chef-d'QJuvre d'un Inconnu; he furnished notes to the Jesus Christ, and held them all to be apparent only. He
satire called Menippee; and he was a principal conductor of denied the resurrection of the body, and allowed none to
the ./owrna/(Hague, 1713-1737, in twenty-four be baptized except those who had preserved theirconti-
vols. 12mo), one of the best periodical works printed in Hoi- nence ; but these, he granted, might be baptized three
land. Besides these, we have of his, 1. Catalogues of dif- times. He pretended that the gospel had been corrupted
ferent libraries, particularly that of Joachim Faultrier, 1709, by false prophets, and admitted none of the evangelists but
in 8vo, now exceedingly scarce, which is preceded by his St Luke, whom he altered in many places, as well as the
new system of bibliography (epitome systematis bibliographi- epistles of St Paul, a great many things in which he ex-
c0; 2. Histoire Critique de 1’Anti-Cotton, a satire composed punged. In his own copy of St Luke’s gospel, he struck
by Caesar de Plaix, an advocate; 3. Histoire de la Bible out the first two chapters.
de Sixte-Quint, inserted in the Amcenitates Litterarice of MARCITES, Marcita:, a sect of heretics in the se-
Schelhorn (tom. iv.); 4. Histoire de 1’Origine et des pre- cond century, who also called themselves the perfecti, and
miers Progres de 1’Imprimerie, Hague, 1740, in 4to; 5. made profession of doing every thing with a great deal of
Dictionnaire Historique, or Critical and Literary Memoirs liberty, and without any fear. This doctrine they borrowed
of different distinguished persons, particularly in the repub- from Simon Magus, who, however, was not their chief;
lie of letters, Hague, 1758,1759, two volumes folio in one. for they were called Marcites from one Marcus, who con-
Ihis last work, which the author left in manuscript, forms ferred the priesthood and the administration of the sacra-
a sort supplement t0 the Dictionaries of Bayle and of merits upon women.
Chaufpie, and, though too minute perhaps, contains many MARCO Polo, Paolo, or Paulo. See Paulo.
interesting facts and curious anecdotes. We may add, that MARCO, St, a city, the seat of a bishop, of the king-
Marchand rendered important services to letters by the dom of Naples, in the province of Calabria Citeriore. It
publication of a great number of useful works, which he is situated on the river Follone, and surrounded with very
enriched with prefaces, letters, notes, and instructive re- productive olive woods. It contains 7200 inhabitants,
marks. To him vie are indebted for an edition, with re- MARCOMANNI, an ancient people of Germany, who
marks, of the Lettres Choisies of Bayle, Rotterdam, 1714, seem to have taken their name from their situation on the
in three volumes 12mo, which is not surpassed by that of limits or marches to the east of the Higher Rhine, and to
Desmaiseaux; and he likew ise published the most beauti- the north of the Danube. Cluverius allots to them the
ful and the most esteemed edition of the Dictionary of that duchy of Wurtemberg, part of the palatinate between the
famous critic. (a.) Rhine and the Neckar, the Brisgau, and that part of Suabia
M A li
a isians situated between the springs of the Danube and the river
Pregentz. They afterwards removed to the country of the
Meets. B0ii) whom they expelled and forced to withdraw more to
   the eastward, occupying what is now called Bohemia.
MARCOSIANS, or Colobarsians, an ancient sect in
the church, forming a branch of the Valentinians. St Ire-
naeus speaks at large of the leader of this sect, Marcus,
who, it seems, was reputed a great magician. The Mar-
cosians had many apocryphal books which they held as ca¬
nonical, and out of which they picked several idle fables
touching the infancy of Jesus Christ. Many of these fables
are still in credit amongst the Greek monks.
MARDEN, a town of the county of Kent, in the lathe
of Scray, and hundred of its own name, forty-one miles
from London. It stands on the river Twist, and was former¬
ly more considerable, having had a market, which is now
discontinued. The population amounted in 1801 to 1660,
in 1811 to 1804, in 1821 to 2051, and in 1831 to 2109.
MARECKAN, one of the Kurile Islands, in the North
Pacific Ocean, about thirty miles in length. Long. 152.
50. E. Lat. 47. 5. N.
MAREGORIAN, one of the Molucca Islands, about fif¬
teen miles long and five broad. Long. 127.18.E. Lat.0.36.S.
MARELLA, a town of Hindustan, in the Northern Car¬
natic and district of Ongole, sixty-six miles north by west
from Nelloor. Long. 79. 35. E. Lat. 15. 16. N.
MARENGO, a town of Italy, in the province of Alex¬
andria, in Piedmont. It is situated on the right bank of the
river Bormida, and contains 2400 inhabitants. It is cele¬
brated on account of the battle fought on the plain near it,
in 1800, when Bonaparte defeated the Austrians, and, in
consequence of that victory, became the master of Italy.
MARENNES, an arrondissement of the department of
the Lower Charente, in France. It extends over 376 square
miles, and comprehends six cantons, divided into thirty-
six communes, peopled by 46,500 persons. The capital is
the city of the same name, situated on the sea-side, opposite
to the Isle of Oleron. It has a considerable trade in oys¬
ters, which are sent to Paris, and in salt naturally formed
on the marshes by evaporation. In the neighbourhood
some good wine is produced. It contains 1200 houses, and
6700 inhabitants. Long. 1. 12. W. Lat. 45. 49. N.
MARESFIELD, a town of the county of Sussex, in the
rape of Pevensey and hundred of Rushmonden, forty-one
miles from London. The population amounted in 1801 to
960, in 1811 to 1117, in 1821 to 1439, and in 1831 to 1650.
MARETS, Samuel de, one of the most celebrated di¬
vines of the reformed church, was born in Picardy in the
year 1599. In 1620 he was settled in the church of Laon ;
but in 1624 he accepted a call to that of Sedan, to succeed
Janies Cappel in the office of pastor and professor of divi¬
nity. Having soon afterwards obtained leave of absence
from his flock, he visited Holland, where he was admitted
to the degree of doctor of divinity at Leyden, in 1625.
From Holland he made a voyage to England, and, after a
short stay in that country, returned to Sedan, where he
commenced his labours in the divinity chair. These he
continued for about seven years with reputation to him¬
self but not without being sometimes involved in troubles,
which he bore with commendable resolution. In 1631, he
was made chaplain to the army of the Duke de Bouillon in
Holland; but that nobleman having married a Roman Ca¬
tholic lady, M. de Marets advised him to adhere steadily to
the Protestant faith, on which account he incurred the dis¬
pleasure of the duchess. Thus circumstanced, he receiv¬
ed, in 1636, an invitation to become pastor to the church of
liois-le-Duc, with which he complied ; and in the following
year he was appointed professor of the Schola Illustris of
t e same city. Ihe duties of this office he discharged
with such diligence and success, that in 1640 the cura¬
tors ot the university of Franeker sent him the offer of a
MAR
245
professorship, which he declined ; but two years afterwards Margam
he accepted a similar offer from the universitv of Gronin- II
gen, to which his services were devoted for upwards of Margarita,
thirty years. In 1652, he was made sole minister of the
Walloon church at Groningen, where until that time he
had gratuitously preached once every Sunday to assist the
pastor. Influenced by the fame of his extraordinary merits,
the magistrates of Berne, in 1661, offered him the chair
of professor of divinity at Lausanne, with considerable
emoluments ; but he declined this offer; and his death hap¬
pened before he took possession of a similar charge at Ley¬
den, of which he had accepted. His System of Divinity
is exceedingly methodical, and has been made use of at
other academies. At the end of it may be found a chro¬
nological list of all his works. Their number is prodigious,
and their variety shows the extent of his labour, if not the
strength of his talents.
MARGAM, a town of Wales, in the county of Glamor¬
gan and hundred of Newcastle, 187 miles from London.
It stands at the foot of a high mountain, where once stood
a Cistertian abbey, supposed to have been erected in
1147 by William, duke of Gloucester. The ruins still
exist, but one part is entire, a circular apartment, twelve
feet in diameter, with twelve pointed windows, and the
roof resting on a single pillar in the centre. The popula¬
tion of Margam amounted in 1801 to 1809, in 1811 to
1803, in 1821 to 2047, and in 1831 to 2902.
MARGARET, St, a celebrated virgin, who, as is com¬
monly supposed, received the crown of martyrdom at An¬
tioch in the year 275. The manner of her death is not
known. The ancient martyrologists make no mention of
her name, and she did not become famous till the eleventh
century.
MARGARITA, an island off the coast of Colombia, in
South America, situated in 64. west longitude and 11.
30. north latitude. It is about thirty-five leagues in cir¬
cumference, generally of a mountainous nature, little cul¬
tivated, and chiefly valued on account of the pearl fish¬
eries on the coast. A ridge of impassable mountains ex¬
tends through its centre from one extremity to the other,
across which there is but one road, cut by the natives, with
a drawbridge at the summit of the mountain, which, when
let down, admits only a single file of men to pass at a time.
The valleys are the only parts cultivated, the rest of the
island being extremely barren. The principal productions
are the sugar cane, which grows in great abundance, the
cotton plant, tobacco, the cassava root, of which a coarse
bread is made, maize or Indian corn, and a variety of tro¬
pical fruits. Part of the soil is fertile, and affords very
good pasturage, but the whole island is destitute of water,
which the inhabitants are obliged to transport from the
mainland. The natives are a brave and hospitable race,
eager to perform any office of kindness to strangers. They
are addicted to no excesses, but are hardy, abstemious,
and showed great courage in the defence of their country
during the war of the revolution. The principal wealth
of the island consists in the pearl fisheries, which are work¬
ed by negroes. Considerable quantities of turtle are found ;
and there is an immense number of fish, which are salted,
and find a ready market upon the continent. They weave
an extremely fine cotton cloth, which is considered as an
object of luxury. The principal towns are, Pampatar,
situated on the side next the mainland, and Juan Grieo-o,
situated on the opposite side. They are of no extent, and
are principally inhabited by persons engaged in the fisher¬
ies. During the war of independence, this island was con¬
sidered of great importance as a military station, from its
affording a secure rendezvous for either troops or ships.
Accordingly many endeavours were made by the Spanish
government to recover it. In 1816 General Morillo landed
with a force of 17,000 men, but it was so bravely defend-
246 MAR MAR
Margate ed by the inhabitants, that he was obliged to evacuate it, in the province of Terra di Lavoro. It stands on the ruins Marla
Maria t^e ^oss uPwards of 10,000 men. By these attacks of the ancient Capua, and contains four churches, and 7860
- aJ1U . the population was greatly reduced, but it still amounts inhabitants.
to about 15,000. MARIAN Islands. See Ladrones.
The Straits of Margarita, or the channel by which the MARIANA, John, a celebrated Spanish historian, born
island is separated from Terra Firma, is about twenty-four in 1537, at Talavera, in the diocese of Toledo. He studied
miles broad. From the rocky island of Coche, lying be- with distinction at the university of Alcala, and was admit-
tween it and the mainland, it is not navigable in its whole ted, at the age of seventeen, into the Society of Jesus, where
length, there being left only a narrow pass of about six he soon attracted notice for the vivacity of his disposition
miles, which, however, is seldom dangerous, owing to the and the extent of his acquirements. Called to Rome in
calmness which generally prevails in this part of the Ca- 1561, he there professed theology during four years, and
ribbean Sea. then passed into Sicily, where he remained two years. In
MARGATE, a town of the county of Kent, in the 1569, his superiors sent him to Paris, and he there explain-
parish of St John and the liberty of Dover, seventy-two ed the doctrine of St Thomas, in presence of a great con-
miles from London. It stands on the sea-shore, on the course of auditors attracted by his reputation. But the
northernmost point of the Isle of Thanet. It was origi- decline of his health, occasioned by vigils and fatigues,
nally a fishing village, but has gradually risen to its pre- having forced him to renounce teaching, he, in 1574, ob-
sent importance, from having become a bathing place of tained permission to return to Spain. He retired to the
considerable celebrity, owing to its easy access from the house of the Jesuits at Toledo, and it was there that he
metropolis. It rises from the shore with a most imposing composed the works which, in adding to his celebrity, dis-
aspect as viewed from the sea. Some of the streets, cres- turbed the peace of his life. Fie bore with patience, how-
cents, and buildings are handsome; and the machines for ever, the criticisms and persecutions to which he was ex¬
bathing, as well as the permanent baths, are appropriate, posed, and died on the 17th of February 1624, at the age
The hotels, lodging-houses, libraries, subscription rooms, of eighty-seven.
and public gardens, are well adapted to the purposes of The great work of Mariana is entitled Zfo'-sfonVE efe
recreation, which is more the object of the numerous visi- Hispanice, libri xxx. cum Appendice. The first twenty
tors than the restoration of health. The steam and sail- books of this history, which terminates at the year 1428,
ing packets arrive here from London daily, and even al- wrere printed at Toledo in 1592, folio, and the five follow-
most hourly ; and the conveniences for landing and em- ing books in 1595. The success of this work induced the
barking have been much improved by the erection of a author himself to translate it into Spanish; and he at the
pier, which forms also an agreeable promenade. The as- same time made considerable changes in and additions
sembly room and the theatre are great attractions to the thereto. The most esteemed Latin edition is that of the
visitors. Ihe police is under the superintendence of the Flague, 1733, in two volumes folio, with the continuation of
mayor of Dover, and is well conducted. As the country Jose Emmanuel Miniana, from 1516, where Mariana stop-
around is fertile, the markets, which are held on Wednes- ped, to the year 1609. Amongst the Spanish editions are
day and Saturday, are abundantly supplied. The popu- distinguished those of Madrid, 1669 or 1679, and 1780,
lation amounted in 1801 to 4766, in 1811 to 6126, in each in two volumes folio, and that of Valentia, 1783-1796,
1821 to 7843, and in 1831 to 10,339; but the census was in nine volumes small folio. This last edition, the most
taken in May, when there are no visitors. beautiful of all, is accompanied with chronological tables,
MARGEESEERAH, a town of Hindustan, in the My- and enriched with critical notes and observations. In 1819
sore territories, 110 miles north-north-east from Seringa- there appeared at Madrid another Spanish edition, aug-
patam. Long. 77. 23. E. Lat. 13. 55. N. mented with a new continuation by Saban Blanco, which,
MARIA, an island on the north coast of New Holland, in however, we have not seen. The History of Spain by Ma-
the Gulf of Carpentaria, about seven miles in length and riana is esteemed for the extent of the author’s researches,
u'om one to four in breadth. Cape Maria, its northern the general exactness of his facts, the sagacity of his reflec-
extremity, is in long. 135. 53. E. and lat. 14. 50. N. tions, and, above all, for the merit of his style, which, at once
MARIAS Island lies off the east coast of Van Die- simple and elegant, makes a nearer approach to that of Livy
men s Land, in the Great Southern Ocean. Its form is very than any other modern historian. Mariana, however, has
singular, being penetrated by two deep bays on opposite been reproached with neglecting to cite his authorities,
sides : that on the east side, called Oyster Bay, being safe and sometimes drawing on his imagination to supply defects
and capacious. Fne coast in some parts is of a singular in historical documents; and he has also committed some
structure, presenting lofty granitic walls rising 300 or 400 errors, which have been exposed with much bitterness by
feet perpendicularly above the sea, and being penetrated Father Mantuano, secretary to the Constable of Castille,
by deep caverns, into which the sea rolls with a noise resem- in his Advertencias a la Historia de J. de Mariana, Milan,
bhng distant thunder. The western shore is embarrassed 1611, in 4to, a work which Tamaio de Vargas endeavoured
by an immense quantity of sea-weed, which grows from the to refute.
bottom to the height of 250 or 300 feet, and covers the The other works of Mariana are, 1. De Rege et Regis
Kurface. Seals abound on the shore ; and also zoophytes. Institutione libri tres, Toledo, 1599, in 4to, the original
l j‘t8 9QT7 ^lst t^scovered ^7 lasman in 1642. Long, edition of a work famous in its day, and now much sought
1 kr a tit a after by the curious; 2. Liber de Ponderibus et Mensuris,
A, Santa, an island on the coast of Chili, situat- Toledo, 1599, in 4to ; 3. Tractatus Septem, Theologici et
ed at the entrance into Conception Bay. It is about four Historici, Cologne, 1609, in folio; 4. Scholia brevia in Ve-
^ -eSi Pro^u.ces abundance of wild turnips, tus et Novum Testamentum, Madrid, 1619, in folio, a work
which afford food to thejvild horses and hogs, which are commended by Simon, who pronounces Mariana one of the
numerous here. Lat. 37. 10. S. most able and judicious commentators on the Holy Scrip-
Maria, boMa he de, a settlement of South America, tures ; 5. A Treatise of some things which require to be
in the province of 1 araguay. It is also the name of vari- amended in the Company of Jesus, Paris, 1625, in 8vo,and
ous other settlements, dispersed throughout this continent, reprinted with the Spanish text in the second volume of
but they are for the most part inconsiderable, consisting the Mercure Jesuitique. This work was found amongst
only of scattered families of Indians. the papers of Mariana during his detention, and some co-
. Iaria Maggiore, bt, a city of the kingdom of Naples, pies of it were taken, which the enemies of the Society
MAR
Maj.nna multiplied in France, in Italy, and in Germany. The Jesuits
obtained its condemnation in 1631 ; but it is very doubtful
Ma ?n- Aether Mariana had any share in the redaction of the ob-
y noxious production. Mariana left in manuscript several
works, of which a catalogue will be found in the Bibliotheque
des Jesuites. (a.)
MARIANNA, a city of Brazil, in the province of Mi¬
nas Geraes. It was originally only an arraial or station,
but in 1711 John V. raised it to the rank of a town, as a
reward for its loyalty, and conferred on it the title of loyal
town of Cavino. In 1745 the same monarch created it an
episcopal city, and gave it the name of his queen, which
it now bears. Since that time it has been the resi¬
dence of the bishop and chapter of Minas Geraes. It is
beautifully situated on a plain, and is surrounded by hills,
on which are erected several churches. The city is near¬
ly square, and consists of two well-paved streets, regular¬
ly laid out, and conducting to a sort of square. The houses,
amounting to 500, have a cleanly look, which arises from
their being regularly whitewashed. The churches are
neatly built, and amongst them is a spacious cathedral,
which enjoys high ecclesiastical as well as civil privileges.
There is an ample supply of water, which is advantageous
to the numerous gardens with which the houses are in¬
terspersed. There are here a Carmelite and a Franciscan
convent, and a theological seminary, at which most of the
clergy of Minas are educated. The chapter is composed
of fourteen canons, with twelve chaplains and four choris¬
ters. The diocese of the bishop does not extend over the
whole province, several of the more northern districts be¬
ing within the archiepiscopal see of Bahia. On account of
the lofty eminences which surround this city, the air is
close and hot, and the climate is consequently somewhat
unhealthy. , The population may amount to about 5000.
MARIA S Islands, three small islands in the North
Pacific Ocean, occupying a space of about forty-two miles.
These islands were first visited by Vancouver. Long, of
the anchoring place, 253. 45. E. Lat. 21. 28. N.
Marias las tres, three small islands lying off the shore
of the intendancy of Guadalaxara, in Mexico. Wood, water,
salt-pits, and game abound, and this causes them to be fre¬
quented by the English and American whale-ships. The
Spaniards likewise visit them for the purpose of obtaining
the flax and lignum-vitae which they produce. The south
cape of the most easterly of these islands is in longitude
10G. 17. west, and latitude 21. 16. north.
MAR IB ONE, or St Mary-le-Bone, or rather Borne,
h-om the neighbouring brook, a parish of Middlesex, on the
north-west side of London. See London.
MARICABAN, one of the smaller Philippine Islands,
situated on the south coast of Lucon. Lone-. 120. 56 E
Lat. 13. 52. N.
MARIEGALANTE, a small island in the West Indies,
discovered by Columbus in 1493, being situated between
Bommica and Guadaloupe. About one half of it is moun-
tamous, and it is so thickly covered with wood as to appear
nothing but a large forest. The climate is pleasant, and
on the western shore, which is level, are produced tobacco,
cotton, indigo, and sugar. It was first settled by the
Trench m 1647, yet repeatedly changed masters, having
been taken both by the Dutch and the English; but it was
nnally ceded to France. Like the other islands, it is ex¬
posed to violent hurricanes, and, along with Guadaloupe,
suttered severely from that which occurred in 1825. It is
about forty-two miles in circumference, and contains a po¬
pulation of 11,778, of whom 1555 are whites, and the re¬
mainder slaves. Long. 65. 50. W. Lat. 16. N.
MARIENBURG, a city of the kingdom of Saxony, in
jue circle of Erzgebirge, and bailiwick of Wolkenstein.
18 a manufacturing place for cotton and linen goods, and
ear t0 ]t are some mines of silver, and others of tin, exten-
mar
siveJy worked. It contains 380 houses and 2750 inhabi-
tants. Long. 16. 41. 40. E. Lat. 50. 4. 30. N.
Marienb urg, a city of West Prussia, in the government
of Dantzig, the capital of a circle of the same name. It
stands upon the right bank of the river Nogat, one of the
arms of the Vistula, over which there is a bridge 560 feet in
length. It is surrounded with walls, and has two suburbs,
and contains four Catholic churches and one Lutheran 690
louses, and 5220 inhabitants. It is a very ancient city, in
which the antique hall of the knights of the Teutonic or¬
der still remains. Ithasbeen lately fitted up and decorated in
accurate keeping with all the historical relations of that in¬
stitution. It is a place of some trade, especially in corn,
feathers, bristles, and other products of the land. Long 18
56. 29. E. Lat. 54. 1. 31. N.
MARIEN WERDER, one of the governments into which
the 1 russian province of West Prussia is divided. On the
south-east it touches on Poland, but on the other sides it is
surrounded by the other dominions of Prussia. It extends
over 6936 square miles, and comprehends forty-five cities
or walled places, four market-towns, 2078 villages, and
4o,969 houses. Ihe inhabitants amounted in 1826 to
436,071, having increased in the preceding ten years no
less than 102,597. It is divided into thirteen circles. The
capital is the city of the same name, which is finely situat¬
ed on two small rivers, and connected by a canal with the
river Vistula. It is a well-built town, with several good
modern houses for the residences of the officers of the pro¬
vincial government. It contains two Protestant churches
one very elegant, and 428 houses, with 5800 inhabitants. It
has some small manufactures of linen and woollen cloth,
and several considerable breweries, distilleries, and tanne¬
ries. Long. 18. 44. 35. E. Lat. 53. 43. N.
MARINDUGERA, or Marindique, one of the Philip¬
pine Islands, about sixty miles in circumference, near to the
south coast of Lucon, and thirty miles north-east of Min¬
doro. Long. 121. 51. E. Lat. 13. 29. N.
MARINE, a general name for the navy of a kingdom
or state, as also for the whole economy of naval affairs, or
whatever respects the building, rigging, arming, equip-
ping, navigating, and fighting of ships. It comprehends like¬
wise the government of naval armaments, and the state of
all the persons employed therein, whether civil or military.
MARINES, or Marine Foj’ces, a body of soldiers raised
for the naval service, and trained to fight either in a naval
engagement or in an action ashore.
MARINEO, a city of the kingdom of Naples, in the
island of Sicily, and province of Mazzaro. It is situated
on a gentle elevation, is very healthy, and is watered by the
small river Bagaria. It contains 6540 inhabitants.
MARINER’S Compass. See Navigation.
MARINO, St, an independent state of Italy, the small¬
est of all the sovereignties of Europe, and almost the only
one which has maintained its independence and its territo¬
ry during a period of 1300 years. It is said to have been
founded by Marino, a hermit, who chose it for his retreat
from the world, and assembled around him a great number
of devotees, to whom a pious matron presented a hill and
a small circle round it, to which the name of the Anchorite
was given. The republic extends over twenty-five square
miles, or 16,000 English acres, and, besides the city, com¬
prehends the four villages of Acquaria, Faetano, Feglio, and
Sen aval le. Ihe city is on the top of a hill, is surrounded
by a wall, and is only accessible by a single narrow road.
It contains five churches, three convents, and 5500 inhabi¬
tants. I he government is administered by twelve members
chosen out of the assembly of 300 ancients, one of whom
is called the capitano, who is changed every three months.
Ihe only occupation is agriculture. The population of the
state is only /200. It is under the protection of the pope,
and is surrounded by his delegations of Urbino and Pesaro.
247
Marien-
burg
II
Marino, St.
248
M A R
M A R
Marion
Maritime
Law.
MARION and Crozet’s Islands. These are four noticed is the Corfe c/e Commerce, which is a digest of the Marit
islands in the Indian Ocean, discovered by Captains Mar- edicts of 1675 and 1681, and of the jurisprudence of the ||
rion and Crozet, French navigators, in 1772. Long. 32. great lawyers Pothier, Valin, and Emerigon. Mari
11. E. Lat. 46. 45. S. Next in authority to the ordonnances and customs
MARITIME, something relating to or bounded by the maritime states, are the judgments of maritime and mer-
sea. Thus a maritime province or country is one bound- cantile courts. We have already referred to the most
ed by the sea; and a maritime kingdom is one that makes eminent of these ; and, amongst tnem, the highest place
a considerable figure, or is very powerful at sea. is undoubtedly due to the determinations of^ Sir Wil-
Maritime Law is that branch of general jurispru- liam Scott in the high court of admiralty of England,
dence which has relation to navigation and intercourse at which are distinguished for their learning, elegance, and
sea. By it are determined all seafaring causes, all c]ues- precision, and are everywhere received with the greatest
tions on contracts of freight, contracts for repairs and respect. . . . ... • c i
furnishings to ships* contracts of bottomry und rospon- Iho earliest collection of niuritime Itiws in Scotland is
dentia, insurance, average and salvage, and all marine in- that contained in Balfour’s Practicks, entitled “ The Sea
juries and offences. This is not the place to enter on any lawis collectit furth of the actis of parliament, the prac-
details respecting the objects of maritime law. For these tiques and lawis of Oleron and the lawis of Wisbeig, and
we must refer to other articles in the course of this work ; the constitutionis of Francois king of France, 1543-1557.
and will now confine ourselves to some observations on the The jurisdiction of the Scottish admiralty, indeed, was
subject of maritime law in general, and the chief sources long very limited. It was confined to seafaring causes,
of that law. ar>d in these it had no exclusive jurisdiction; maritime
Land is capable of distinct appropriation; and we see causes as well as others being of old within the jurisdic-
its various portions inhabited by communities, each living tion of the ordinary courts, and particularly within the ju-
under its own peculiar government. But upon the great risdiction of the justiciar, formerlyThe supreme judge in
common of the ocean all nations assemble, and have in- all suits whatsoever. (See Leg. Burg. c. 27 ; Pitcairn’s
tercourse together; and, as the Emperor Antoninus re- Grim. Trials, vol. i. part i. p. 129, and part ii. p. 93; and
plied to Eudemon, “ the law is the lord of the sea” {Dig. A. S. 16th January 1554.) In this last year we find that
b. xiv. tit. 2, 1. 9). Whilst, therefore, the municipal code David Kintore was judge of the admiralty. He was in all
of every state rests on principles which are more or less likelihood the author of the book of maritime law referred
peculiar to itself, maritime law is part of the law of na- to in Balfour’s Practicks, under the name of Lib. Kintor.
tions, and maritime questions ought to be determined on In the end of the same century, Alexander King, advocate,
principles which are acknowledged by every people. It vvas judge of the same court. He also wrote a book on ma-
is thus that we find so great an accordance of sentiment ritime law, which he entitled “ Tractates legum et consue-
among different nations on this branch of law; a mutual tudinum navalium quae apud omnes fere gentes in usu
adoption of maritime works, and the decisions of Scott and habentur.” (MS. Adv. Lib.) Wellwood’s Abridgment of
Bynkerschoeck, Roccus, Casaregis, and Pothier, received all Sea Lawes, London, 1613, is said by the learned an¬
as authority not in their own countries only, but throughout thor of the life of Melville (M‘Crie s Melv. vol. ii. p. 319)
the civilized world. to have “ the merit of being the first regular treatise on
This leads us to notice the principal sources of maritime maritime jurisprudence which appeared in Britain;” but
law ; and, first of all, we shall speak of the Codes. in forming this opinion, the works of both Kintore and
The most ancient maritime laws in Europe were the Rho- King have obviously been overlooked. King swork has this
Zajcs, which were held as the law of nations amongst the further merit, that immediately alter it appeared the court
inhabitants of the islands in the iEgean Sea. They were, in of admiralty in Scotland rose into importance. By the act
part at least, adopted by the Romans; in whose code we 1609, c. 15, the court was declared a sovereign judicatory,
also find various other maritime regulations. The navi- and letters of horning were allowed on its decrees, ihe le¬
gation of the Mediterranean by the ships of Venice, Genoa, putation of the court being sustained by a succession of euii-
and other states which rose on the fall of the Roman em- nent judges, amongstwhom were Atcheson of Glencairney,
pire, led to the compilation of a digest of rules for regu- Roberton of Bedlay, and Lyon of Carse, all afterwards lords
lating the navigation. This digest is called// Consolato de of session, it began to extend its jurisdiction generally to
Mare, and appears to have been universally adopted on the mercantile, instead of being, as before, confined to seafaring
continent in the course of the eleventh, twelfth, and thir- causes; and the above act was ratified by 1681, c. 16, by
teenth centuries. Next in order of time were the Ordinances which also the jurisdiction of the court was further expli-
of Oleron and of Wisbeig. The origin and date of these cated and enlarged. By 6 Geo. IV. c. 120, however, juris-
codes are disputed, but, generally speaking, they may be diction in prize and capture was withdrawn from the court,
taken to be of the thirteenth century; and they appear to and vested in the admiralty of England ; and by 1 Will,
have been long of authority in the Mediterranean, and also IV. c. 69, the court was altogether abolished, and its re¬
in the Baltic Sea. The Ordinances the Hanse Towns maining jurisdiction transferred to the court of session
come next. They were first published at Lubec in 1597, and sheriff-court; the court of justiciary having previously
and in 1614 were revised and enlarged in an assembly of acquired, as of old, a co-ordinate jurisdiction in crimes,
deputies from the towns, held in the same place. Next MARITIMO, an island of the Mediterranean Sea, the
followed Le Guidon de la, Mer, originally framed at Rouen westernmost of the iEgades. It is situated at the endof Sici-
in Normandy. It is compiled from the several ordon- ly, and is used as a quarantine station. It has a fort, which is
nances and codes which were then in observance in Eu- used as a state prison. It is seven miles in circuit, andac-
rope; and though its origin and date are not certainly cessible only on the eastern side, where chiefly reside the
known, yet it has been received as of nearly equal autho- inhabitants, who grow corn, collect wax and honey, and
rity with the ancient codes. Later in the order of time, cut firewood. Long. 12. 3. 55. E. Lat. 38. 1. 10. N.
but above all the others in authority and extent, is the Or- MARIUS, Caius, one of the most celebrated Roman ge-
donnance de la Marine of Louis XIV. It is a digest of all nerals, the principal events of whose life are included be-
that was fixed in the usages and customs of maritime na- tw een b. c. 134 and b. c. 86. It is difficult to say whether
tions, or laid down in ancient codes ; and it also determines, Marius proved a greater curse or blessing to his country; he
on general principles, several points of maritime law till saved it, indeed, from the cruelties of a barbarous enemy,
then unsettled. The last code of maritime law to be here but his ambition brought on it more disasters than would
MAR MAR
^X-jus. have arisen from the most calamitous war. Marius was bom tribution to the state. He then returned with his troops
'w- —'about b. c. 157, of poor parents, in the village of Cereatae to Africa, which Metellus left, grieved and indignant that
(Plin. iii. 5), belonging to the district of Arpinum, which the honour of closing the war should have thus been
was afterwards the birth-place of Cicero, b. c. 106. His snatched from him by a man towards whom he had shown
youth seems to have been passed amidst the rude discipline so much kindness. Marius, however, did not reap the
of the camp; nor was his disposition at all softened by lite- glory which he had expected, for he was in a great mea-
rature or intercourse with the learned. He commenced his sure deprived of it by his quaestor Sylla. Jugurtha had
military career at Numantia (b. c. 134), and by his tempe- fled to his father-in-law Bacchus, king of Mauritania ; and
ranee and bravery so won the good opinion of Scipio, that that prince, after some deliberation, delivered him alive
that general answered one of his friends who inquired where (b. c. 105) into the hands of Sylla. (See Jugurtha.) It
they would find another general equal to himself, by putting w^as this circumstance which laid the foundation of that
his hand on the shoulder of Marius and saying, “Here he violent and implacable quarrel which almost ruined the
is.” Many years, however, pass without any allusion to empire. Rome was at this time threatened by an invasion
Marius, nor do we know’ what part he took in the troubled from the Cimbri and Teutones, a northern people who,
times of the Gracchi. He appears again in history as tri- having issued from their woods in Germany, had over-
bune of the people, b. c. 119, which office he is said to run the whole of Gaul. The Romans were in the utmost
have obtained chiefly through the influence of the consul consternation, and no one seemed more able to protect
Metellus, whose implacable enemy he afterwards became, them against these barbarians than Marius. Though ab-
He began immediately to court the favour of the people, sent, he was elected consul a second time, b. c. 104, and
and proposed a law which tended to lessen the authority received orders to return home with his army. On his ar-
of the patricians in matters of judicature. The consul rival he obtained the honours of a triumph, and then de-
Cotta persuaded the senate to summon Marius to answer voted himself to the discipline of the levies which he rais-
for his conduct ; but the bold tribune threatened to send ed. The barbarians, however, passed into Spain, and dur-
even the consul Metellus to prison if he persisted in oppo- ing the whole of this year Italy had a respite from her ene-
sition to this measure. The senate gave way, and the law mies. Marius was continued in the consulship, b.c. 103,
was subsequently confirmed by the people. He was thus and was elected the fourth time, b.c. 102, when the bar-
supposed to have embarked in the popular cause ; but this barians, with an innumerable army, approached the north-
opinion changed when it w'as found that he strenuously op- ern frontiers of Italy. Marius, hearing of the enemy’s ap¬
posed the distribution of corn amongst the people. When proach, hastened across the Alps, and pitched his camp near
his year of office had expired, he stood as candidate for the mouth of the Rhone. The camp was. fortified and
that of curule aedile, but was rejected; upon which he ap~ well provisioned ; and, that it might communicate with the
plied for that of plebeian aedile, and in this too he was un- sea, he employed his men in making a cut or canal ca-
successful. Not long afterwards he stood for the praetor- pable of receiving ships of considerable burden. This ca-
ship, and was returned last of the six, and not without the nal of Marius has been long filled up, and is now known
suspicion of bribery. He was tried, and escaped only by by the name of Le bras mart. The Teutones and Am-
an equality of votes. The following year he was sent to brones were the part of the barbarian army opposed to Ma-
Farther Spain, which he soon cleared of the banditti who rius. The Cimbri had gone in the direction of the Tyrol
infested the province. On his return to Rome he was anx- to attack Catulus. The Teutones found the camp of Ma-
ious to take part in the administration of public affairs, but rius too strong to be taken; and as their numbers soon
he had neither riches to buy favour nor eloquence to com- caused a scarcity of provisions, they determined to pro-
mand it. Still, by his high spirit, by his indefatigable in- ceed into Italy. Marius, however, hung upon their rear;
dpstry and simple mode of living, he became a favourite with and finding a favourable opportunity to attack them near
the people, and acquired sufficient reputation to be thought Aquae Sestiae (now Azcv, in Provence), he completely de¬
worthy of the alliance of the Caesars. He married .Julia, feated them, and in memory of his success erected a pyra-
the aunt of Julius Caesar. When Metellus was appointed, mid, the remains of which are still to be seen near Saint
b. c. 108, to the command of the war against Jugurtha, he Maximin. Whilst he was sacrificing in honour of this vic-
took Marius as one of his lieutenants into Africa. Marius tory, he received intelligence that he had been elected fifth
does not appear to have considered himself as in the least time consul, b.c. 101.
obliged to Metellus for this appointment, but only regarded Marius returned to Rome, where he was offered a tri-
it as the means of raising himself to a still higher eminence, umph, which he declined. He then proceeded to the as-
He took every method of acquiring the good will of the sol- sistance of his late colleague Catulus, who was guarding
diers, and even pointed out to them the faults which their the north of Italy against the Cimbri. His arrival gave
general had committed. In this way he succeeded in confidence to Catulus ; and as soon as the army from Gaul
persuading all that he alone was able to terminate the war. arrived, they crossed the Po to check the barbarians who
Marius determined to stand as candidate for the consulship, were ravaging the country on the opposite side. The Cimbri
and pressed Metellus to grant him leave of absence to pro- deferred the combat till the arrival of the Teutones, whom
ceed to Rome. Metellus ridiculed his pretensions to such they were unwilling to believe to have been destroyed ; and
a high office, and, laughing, asked him if he would not be in the meanwhile sent to demand lands and cities from Ma-
satisfied to stay and be consul with his son, who was then rius, which should be sufficient for themselves and brethren,
very young. He at last, however, granted permission, though “ Your brethren,” said Marius, “ have land enough which
only twelve days before the election; and by great good we have already given them, and they shall have it for
fortune Marius got to Rome in six days. The people were ever.” A decisive battle was fought a short time afterwards
already favourably inclined to Marius ; and as he was not (30th July) in the plain of Yercellge; and though the vic-
i scrupulous as to the accusations he brought against Metel- tory was almost wholly due to the bravery and good con-
lus, and the promises he made, the people elected him con- duct of Catulus, Marius carried off all the honour, and
sul, b. c. 107, with great applause. He immediately began was named the third founder of Rome. The survivors of
to levy troops, without paying any attention to the respec- the Cimbri are said to have fled to the mountains of Ve-
tability of the individuals whom he enlisted. Hitherto only rona, to the district called Zes Sept Communes, and their
people of property had been intrusted with arms, but now descendants are supposed still to be found there. (See
Marius enrolled even slaves amongst his soldiers, or at least Marco Pezzo on this people, and their peculiar dialect,
i capite censi, being those who were so poor as to pay no con- Verona, 1763.) Marius then returned to Rome, w here he
vol. xiv. 2 i
250 MAR
Marivaux. enj0ye(] the honour of a triumph, along with his colleague
“'v~—'^Catulus. He then began to exert all his influence to get
himself re-elected to the consulship, and he omitted no
means, however dishonourable, that might conduce to his
success. His rival was his old friend Metellus; and he
carried matters so far that Metellus was obliged to go into
voluntary banishment. (See Metellus.) Marius succeed¬
ed (b. c. 100) for the sixth time, and now tried to regain
the good will of the nobility; but in this attempt he was
so little successful, that he refused to stand candidate for
the censorship, lest he should suffer a repulse. Metellus
was recalled next year, and, that he might not witness his
triumphant entrance, Marius left Rome for the East, under
the pretence of performing some vow to the mother of the
gods. There he tried to excite Mithridates against his
country, thinking that he was certain of a return to power
if war should arise. For ten years, however, Marius was
disconnected with public affairs ; but when the Marsian or
Social War broke out (b. c.90), he was appointed to thecom-
mand. Age, however, had quenched his martial ardour, and
his reputation suffered as much as that of Sylla increased.
When the Social War had been concluded, b. c. 88, the
Romans saw that they must commence the contest with
Mithridates. The enmity of Marius and Sylla now broke
out in open war, as they were both anxious to be appointed
to the command. Sylla was supported by the senate, but
Marius excited a sedition through the tribune Sulpitius,
and received the appointment. Sylla was already at some
distance from Rome, at the head of an army strongly at¬
tached to him ; and when he received orders to give up
the command of the troops, he marched back to Rome,
when Marius was forced to fly for his life. Proceeding to
Ostia, Marius embarked on board a small vessel which was
ready to sail for Africa; but contrary winds obliged him
to land at Minturnse, a small town situated at the mouth
of the Liris, now Garigliano, where he was abandoned by
the sailors. His enemies came in pursuit of him, and he
was obliged to conceal himself in a bog amidst mud and
reeds. Here he was discovered and carried to Minturnm,
where the magistrates resolved to put him to death; but
they could find no citizen willing to undertake the office of
executioner. At last a Gaul or Cimbrian is said to have
offered his services, but he was so struck with the noble and
majestic appearance of Marius, that when the general
exclaimed, “ Dost thou dare to kill Marius ?” he threw
down his sword and fled. The people of Minturnee then
persuaded their magistrates to banish him, and a vessel
was found to bear him from his country. He proceeded
to GLnaria, now Ischia, and thence to Africa. He landed
at Carthage ; and whilst he was seated there, a messenger
came from the governor Sextilius, with an order that.he
should leave the province. “ Go and tell him,” said the
unfortunate man with a sigh, “ that you have seen the
exiled Marius sitting on the ruins of Carthage.” Marius
proceeded to Cercina, a small island not far from the con¬
tinent, and here received intelligence that the consuls
Cinna and Octavius having quarrelled, had had recourse to
arms. Marius determined to proceed to the assistance of
Cinna, who had been driven by his colleague from Rome ;
and, landing with a considerable body of exiles, he soon
changed the face of affairs, and reinstated Cinna in his
office. He himself refused to enter Rome till the decree
of his banishment was repealed. This affected deference
to the laws of his country was soon laid aside, and the
streets of Rome flowed with the blood of the best of her
citizens. No age, no sex, no rank, was spared by the exe¬
cutioners of Marius. In the midst of these excesses in¬
telligence was brought from the East that Sylla had put
an end to the Mithridatic war, and was returning home
with a large army. Marius was elected consul for the
seventh time, b. c. 86; but his age and infirmities render-
M A R
ed him little able to sustain the weight of public affairs.tu ■
He became alarmed at the approach of war, and tried to 'w!
banish his cares by indulging in excessive drinking. This '
hastened his end, and he died on the seventeenth day
of his seventh consulship, b. c. 86, at the age of seventy.
The life of Marius has been written by Plutarch ; that by
Rutilius Rufus has been lost. An account of the proscrip,
tions of Marius may be found in Appian.
MARIVAUX, Pierre Carlet de Chamblain de, one
of the most prolific and ingenious writers of the eighteenth
century, in the department of comedy and romance, was
born at Paris in the year 1688. He was of an ancient fa¬
mily of the robe, which had given magistrates to the par¬
liament of Rouen; and his father, who held the office of
director of the mint at Riom, having little fortune to leave
him, spared no pains on his education. Young Marivaux
early discovered the subtilty and activity of his genius. Be¬
fore the completion of his studies at college, he had render¬
ed himself the friend of his masters, and the master of his fel¬
low-students. The society to which he was introduced on his
entrance into life also contributed to the development of his
talents, and exercised a sensible influence on the character of
his writings. Admitted into the salons of the opulent females
of the capital, who then vied with one another in protecting
men of letters, he there contracted that affectation of wit,
of which the comedies of Moliere had not yet entirely cured
the precieuses of the age. It was there that he became
acquainted with Lamotte, and more especially with Fon-
tenelle, whose conversation, though full of attraction, was
in no respect calculated to give him a taste for simplicity.
Soon afterwards he figured amongst the writers of every
description who composed the court of Madame de Ten-
cin, and whom that celebrated woman familiarly called her
“ beasts.” It was in this society that Marivaux, naturally
inclined to controversy, and fond of paradox, though other¬
wise gentle and tolerant, amused himself in tilting with
the partisans of antiquity, depreciating poetical talent, and
deriding the admirers of Voltaire, whom he cavalierly de¬
nominated “ an arrant bel-esprit, the perfection of common
ideas.” He even went so far as to maintain that Moliere
did not understand comedy, and pretended that he could
not conceive how people should admire the Tartuffe and
the Femmes-Savantes. In other respects his history pre¬
sents no remarkable event. Married in 1721, he lost his
wife two years afterwards ; and his only daughter having
embraced a religious life, he thus found himself freed from
all family ties, and at liberty to follow the bent of his own
inclinations. In fact, it is the same with his life as with
his genius ; it is altogether composed of little traits, a few
of which will serve better to give an idea of his character
than the most elaborate general description.
Finding himself one day in a circle where some persons
were discussing the nature of the soul, he had the good
sense to admit that this question was beyond his compre¬
hension. In this case, said one of the interlocutors, I must
go in quest of M. Fontenelle. “ You may spare yourself
the trouble,” replied Marivaux ; u Fontenelle has too much
sense to know more of the subject than I do.” Notwith¬
standing the extreme sensitiveness of his self-love, he rare¬
ly replied to the criticisms which were made on his produc¬
tions. “ I love my own peace above everything,” said he;
“ and I do not wish to disturb that of others.” Living in the
world at a period when Pyrrhonism in matters of religion
was the fashion, he combated, without asperity, but with
laudable zeal, that truly deplorable mania. “ Ah, my God,”
said he on one occasion to a freethinker, who was other¬
wise an honest man, “ take not from poor humanity that
consolation which Providence has reserved for it. You
may do what you will to cast off all thoughts of the other
world ; you will be saved in spite of yourself.” On this
subject we may also cite his reply to Lord Bolingbroke*
r'Ma
Mar
MAR
ir,las who, credulous on many points, affected to call in question
the truths of religion. “ If you do not believe, my Lord,
St. jt is certainly not from want of faith.” Marivaux had only
-“''a small income, yet he found means to make a regular al¬
lowance to a young orphan, whom he had withdrawn from
the stage in order to place her in a religious house. To¬
wards the close of his life, when he began to feel the ap¬
proach of want, he accepted for himself a pension from his
friend Helvetius, who had the generosity never to assume
the character of a benefactor. This trait recalls another
which does no less honour to the men of letters. Mari¬
vaux was sick, and his friend Fontenelle, fearing that he
wanted money, lost no time in carrying to him an hundred
louis, of which he begged his acceptance. “ I hold
them as received,” replied Marivaux ; “ I have made use
of them, and I restore them to you with all the gratitude
which such a service demands.” If Marivaux had some
defects of character ; if, for example, he was not altoge¬
ther insensible to jealousy, nor a stranger to the spirit of
coterie, and if the efforts that he made to appear modest
proved insufficient to disguise the susceptibility of his
self-love; he was also distinguished for magnanimous dis¬
interestedness and severe probity. He died at Paris, on
the 12th of February 1763, at the age of seventy-five. He
had been unanimously admitted a member of the French
Academy in 1743 ; and it is not indifferent to remark that
he had Voltaire as a competitor.
The number of his works is so considerable that we shall
only notice the more interesting and important of them.
To the Theatre-Italien he contributed, L’Amour et la
Verite, 1720; Arlequin poli par Amour, 1720; La Sur¬
prise de 1’Amour, 1722; La Double Inconstance, 1723;
Le Prince travesti, 1724; LTle des Esclaves, 1725;
L’Heretier de Village, 1725; Le Triomphe de Plutus,
1728 ;(La Nouvelle Colonie, ou la Ligue des Femmes,
1729; Jeux de 1’Amour et du Hazard, 1730 ; Le Triomphe
de 1’Amour, 1732 ; L’Ecole des Meres, 1732 ; L’Heureux
Stratageme, 1732; La Meprise, 1734; La Mere Confi¬
dante, 1/35 ; Les Fausses Confidences, 1736; La Joie im-
prevue, 1738; Les Sinceres, 1739; and L’Epreuve, 1740.
The dramatic works of Marivaux originally represent¬
ed at the Theatre-Franpais are somewhat less numerous.
They consist of Annibal, a tragedy, 1720; Le Denoue¬
ment imprevue, a comedy, 1724; LTle de la Raison, ou
les Petits Hommes, derived from the romance of Gulli¬
ver, D27 ; La Surprise de 1’Amour, 1727; La Reunion
des Amours, 1731; Les Serments indiscrets, 1732; Le
Petit-Maitre corrige, 1734; Le Legs, 1736; La Dispute,
1744 ; and Le Prejuge, 1746. The dramatic pieces of
Marivaux were collected and published in seven vols. 12mo,
and of this collection there have been several editions.
His romances are in general more esteemed than his plays,
although now-a-days they are perhaps even less read. They
consist of Am Quichotte moderne; Effels Surprenants de la
Sympathie ; La Vie de Marianne ; Le Paysan Parvenu ;
and Le Philosophe indigent. Le Spectateur Franyais was
a species of critical and moral journal in imitation of the
English Spectator, but in which the delineations are pre¬
sented, so to speak, in half tint. His works have been col¬
lected and published in twelve vols. Paris, 1781, in 8vo. (a.)
MARIVELAS, or Marivelle, one of the smaller Phi-
■ppine Islands, with a village of the same name consisting
°1 about forty houses. This island gives name to a bay
on the west coast of the island of Lucon, well sheltered
bom all wind except from south to south-east. Long, of
the bay 120. 24. E. Lat. 14. 50. N.
MARK, St, was by birth a Jew, and descended of the
tribe of Levi. He was converted by some of the apostles,
probably by St Peter, of whom he was the constant com¬
panion in all his travels, supplying the place of an amanu¬
ensis and interpreter. He was sent by St Peter into
mar
251
%ypb where he fixed his chief residence at Alexandria St Mark’s
and the places adjoining, and he was so successful in his Gospel
ministry that he converted multitudes both of men and II
women. He afterwards removed westwards, towards the^131*13™1,
parts of Libya, going through the countries of Marmorica,'
Pentapohs, and other places, where, notwithstanding the
barbarity and idolatry of the inhabitants, he planted the
gospel. Upon his return to Alexandria, he arranged the
affairs of that church, and there suffered martyrdom.
About Easter, at the time when the solemnities of Serapis
were celebrated, the idolatrous populace, excited , to vin¬
dicate the honour of their deity, broke in upon St Mark,
whilst he was performing divine service, and binding him
with cords, dragged him through the streets, and thrust
him into prison, where in the night he had the comfort of
a divine vision. Next day the enraged multitude used
him in the same manner, till he expired under their hands.
Some add, that they burned his body, and that the Chris¬
tians decently interred his remains near the place where
he used to preach. This happened in the year of Christ
68. Some writers assert that the remains of St Mark
were afterwards translated with great pomp from Alexan¬
dria to Venice, of which he was constituted the tutelar
saint and patron. This apostle is author of one of the four
gospels inscribed with his name.
St Mark’s Gospel, a canonical book of the New Testa¬
ment, being one of the four gospels. St Mark wrote his
gospel at Rome, where he accompanied St Peter in the
year of Christ 44. Tertullian and others pretend that St
Mark was no more than an amanuensis to St Peter, who
dictated this gospel to him; but others affirm that he wrote
it after St Peter’s death. Nor are the learned less divid¬
ed as to the language in which it was written ; some affirm¬
ing that it was composed in Greek, and others in Latin.
Several of the ancient heretics received only the gospel*
of St Mark ; and others, amongst the Catholics, rejected
the last twelve verses of this gospel. The gospel of St
Mark is properly an abridgment of that of St Matthew.
MARKET, a public place in a city or town, in which
live cattle, provisions, or other goods, are set out to sale;
also a privilege, either by grant or prescription, whereby
a town is enabled to keep a market.
MARKIRCH, or, as it is sometimes called, St Maria
aux Mines, is a city of the department of the Upper
Rhine, in the arrondissement of Colmar, in France. It is
divided into two parts by the river Leber, in one of which
the French language is spoken, and in the other the Ger¬
man. It is a place of great manufacturing industry, and
fabricates much cotton goods, many thin woollens, and
much hosiery. It contains 1050 houses and 8200 inha¬
bitants. Some mines, which formerly yielded silver to
the amount of 16,000 ounces annually, besides lead and
copper, are now closed. Long. 7. 17. E. Lat. 48. 16. N.
MARKLAND, Jeremiah, one of the most learned
scholars and acute critics of his age, was born in 1692, and
received his education in Christ’s Hospital. He became
first publicly known by his Epistola Critica, addressed to
Bishop Hare. In this he gave many proofs of extensive
erudition and critical sagacity. He ^afterwards published
an edition of Statius, and some plays of Euripides; and
he assisted Dr Taylor in his editions of Lysias and De¬
mosthenes, by the notes which he communicated to him.
He also very happily elucidated some passages in the New
Testament, which may be found in Mr Boyer’s edition of
it; and he was author of a volume of valuable remarks on
the epistles of Cicero to Brutus, and of an excellent little
treatise under the title of Questio Grammatica. He died
in 1775, at Milton, near Dorking, in Surrey; and was a
man not more valued for his universal reading, than be¬
loved for the excellency of his heart and the primitive
simplicity of his manners.
252
MAR
MAR
Marl MARL, a mixture of calcareous, siliceous, and argil-
11 laceous earth, much used in agriculture as a manure. See
Marmon- Agriculture.
. ^' l , MARLBOROUGH, a town of the county of Wilts, in
the hundred of Selkley, seventy-four miles from London.
It is situated on the banks of the river Kennet, in a vale be¬
tween two ranges of the chalk hills, about two miles from
the forest sometimes called by the name of the town, but
more correctly Savernake Forest. The town consists chief¬
ly of one wide street, with piazzas to the houses on one
side of it. It contains two parishes, and a corporation, which
consists of a mayor, four aldermen, and twelve councillors.
It returns two members to the House of Commons. I his
place conferred the title of duke on the celebrated gene¬
ral who conquered at Blenheim. His palace, at the end
of the town, has been converted into an inn. I he popu¬
lation amounted in 1801 to 2367, in 1811 to 2579, in 1821
to 3038, and in 1831 to 3426.
MARLIN, in naval affairs, is a tarred white skein or
long wreath of untwisted hemp, dipped in pitch or tar,
with which cables or other ropes are wrapped round, to
prevent their fretting or rubbing in the blocks or pulleys
through which they pass.
MARLOW, Great, a town of the county of Bucking¬
ham, in the hundred of Desborough, thirty-one miles from
London. It is pleasantly situated on the banks of the
Thames, over which a fine stone bridge has been recently
erected. Near to it are some very extensive copper works,
and in the town are some manufactories of lace; and on
the Lodden, between this place and Wycombe, are seve¬
ral paper mills. It is a borough, which did and still con¬
tinues to elect two members to the House of Commons.
The market is held on Saturday. The population amount¬
ed in 1801 to 3236, in 1811 to 3963, in 1821 to 3763,
and in 1831 to 4237.
MARLY, a town of the department of the Seine and
Oise, and arrondissement of Versailles, in France. It is
near the left bank of the Seine, and celebrated for its ma¬
chinery, by which Versailles is supplied with water. A
most splendid castle was built here by Louis XIV., which
has been converted into a cloth manufactory. It contains
320 houses and 1250 inhabitants.
MARMALADE, aconfection of plums, apricots, quinces,
&c. boiled up to a consistence with sugar. In Scotland it
is made of oranges and sugar only.
M ARM AND E, an arrondissement of the department
of the Lot and Garonne, in France, 752 square miles in
extent. It contains nine cantons, divided into 116 com¬
munes, with a population of 97,500 persons. The capital,
a city of the same name, is situated on the right bank of
the Garonne, and is a well-built place, with 940 houses and
6650 inhabitants, who make some woollen and cotton
goods, and carry on several tanneries. Long. 0. 5. E. Lat.
44. 35. N.
MARMIGNAC, a town of France, in the department
of the Lot and arrondissement of Cahors. It contains 200
houses and 1240 inhabitants.
MARMONTEL, Jean Francois, a celebrated French
writer, was born in 1723, at the picturesque village of Bort,
in the Limousin, in a family little removed above the rank
of peasantry. Like many other distinguished literary men
of France, he owed the early part of his education to pri¬
vate charity and gratuitous public institutions. His parents
destined him for trade ; but his love for study induced
him to assume the clerical habit, and to obtain admittance
into the academy or college of the Jesuits at Clermont.
Whilst there, he procured a subsistence by acting, during
his leisure hours, as a private tutor to some of the more
opulent students. He then went to Toulouse, where he
delivered lectures in philosophy with considerable reputa¬
tion, and gained an academical prize. His disappointment
as to another prize opened for him a correspondence with M
Voltaire, which finally led to his departure from Toulouse
for Paris, where he obtained the personal acquaintance of
his illustrious correspondent, who at that time extended
the most friendly encouragement to all young men possess¬
ed of any talents for poetry.
At the time of Marmontel’s arrival in the capital, in
1745, the prizes proposed by the academy opened up the
shortest roads to literary distinction, and one which was
eagerly pursued by those who were ambitious of celebrity.
Marmontel, like many others, commenced his career of
letters by gaining a prize for a poem on a subject propos¬
ed by the French Academy—the Glory of Louis XIV. per¬
petuated in his Successor. But in that age the theatre af¬
forded the most ample field for the acquisition of wealth
and eminence. All talent was in a manner forced into that
direction, and was often recompensed with extravagant li¬
berality. In order to qualify himself for dramatic compo¬
sition, he commenced an assiduous study of the best criti¬
cal works on the subject, which he borrowed from Voltaire;
he obtained free admission to the French theatre, which
he regularly attended ; and he frequented the Procope Cof¬
fee-House, which was then the tribunal of criticism, and
the school for young poets to study the humour and taste
of the public. His first tragedies, Dionysius and Aristo-
menes, obtained a reception sufficiently flattering for a
youthful poet, but they did not keep their ground on the
stage; and his succeeding ones, Cleopatra, the Heraclides,
and Numitor, had no success whatever. Laharpe, who
was a great dramatic critic, condemns them all as bad, ex¬
cept the Heraclides, which he calls a tolerable tragedy of
the second rank. In fact, Marmontel does not appear to
have been endowed with any talents for poetry, at least of
the higher order, either in point of poetical conception or
the mechanical construction of verse. It is also evident,
from his Reflexions sur la Tragtdie, published at the end
of his Aristomenes, that he had formed, at least in the early
period of his life, the most unfounded and paradoxical
theories with regard to the rules of dramatic composition.
Hence his plots have,for the most part, but little interest; his
dialogue is full of puerile common-places, and his versifica¬
tion is cold and constrained. The plot of Dionysius hinges
on the conspiracy of Dion against the Sicilian tyrant, and
the love of the younger Dionysius (who, in defiance of all
historical truth, is represented as a paragon of virtue) for
the daughter of Dion, whose character is formed on the
model of the heroines of Calprenede and Scuderi. The
plots of Aristomenes and Numitor are, for the most part, of
his own invention, and are both sufficiently extravagant.
In the Heraclides he has followed the well-known tragedy
of Euripides as his guide. At his first interview with Vol¬
taire, Marmontel had been assured by him, that by the
stage he might in one day obtain glory and fortune; and
that one successful piece would render him at the same
moment rich and celebrated. The prediction was verified;
and from the instant at which his first tragedy appeared, he,
who had not money to pay the person who brought water
to his lodgings, and who lived on credit with his baker and
green-grocer, was at once plunged into all the bustling in¬
trigue of the first literary circles, and into all the glare and
dissipation of fashionable society. His time was occupied
with rehearsals and parties of pleasure ; he was received as
the favoured lover of the most celebrated actress of the
age, Mademoiselle Clairon ; and in another intrigue in which
he engaged he became the rival of Marshal Saxe. In order
to shun the resentment of so formidable a rival, he retired
for some time to Passy, the country-seat of the rich and
sumptuous financier, Popliniere, who had married his mis¬
tress, and kept open house for all the idle and dissipated
litterateurs of the age. By flattering the king in some occa¬
sional verses, which he wrote whilst residing here, he ob-
M A R M O N T E L.
. tained the powerful patronage of Madame de Pompa¬
dour, who procured for him the situation of under secretary
of the royal buildings. This employment fixed his resi¬
dence at Versailles for five years, which were passed wholly
free from disquietude, and are often alluded to by him as
the happiest period of his life. The duties of his situation
occupied him two days in the week, and the remainder of
his time was employed in contributing articles to the Ency¬
clopedic, of which his friends D’Alembert and Diderot were
the editors. These articles, which contain many ingenious
theories mixed up with strange paradoxes, were afterwards
printed together, in alphabetical order, under the general
title of Elements de Litterature.1
Having been engaged about the same time in writing
on the subject of comedy, and searching into nature for the
rules and means of the art, this study led him to examine
if it were true, as was then often said, that all the great
strokes of ridicule had been seized by Moliere and the dra¬
matic poets who followed him. In running over the canvass
of society, he perceived that, in the inexhaustible combina¬
tions of follies and extravagancies of all conditions of life,
a man of genius might still find sufficient employment.
He had even collected some observations to propose to
young poets, when his friend M. de Boissy, who at the time
conducted \X\e Mercure de France, requested him to supply
some pieces in prose, to insert in that literary journal, from
which Marmontel derived a considerable pension. It oc¬
curred to him to employ, in a tale, one of the touches of
ridicule in his collection ; and he chose, by way of essay,
the absurd pretension of being loved merely for one’s self.
This was exhibited in the first of his Moral Tales, entitled
Alcibiade, ou Le Moi. The story was much admired, and
was by some attributed to Montesquieu, and by others to
Voltaire. Its success induced him to write other tales of a
similar description ; and thus commenced the Contes Mo-
raux, which were subsequently collected and printed by
themselves. Many of these tales, on which the fame of
Marmontel principally if not solely rests, bear reference to
the original idea with which they commenced, being for
the most part intended to expose some absurdity or extra¬
vagance of character. Thus the second displays the folly
of those who exert authority in order to bring a woman to
reason; and he chose, for an example of this, a sultan and
his slave, as being placed in the tw o extremes of power and
dependence. In most of them he has reached a very happy
imitation of nature, in the manners and language ; and it is
only to be regretted that he has occasionally thrown a too
glittering varnish over conceptions of the most beautiful
simplicity. As lively pictures of French manners, both
simple and fashionable, they are admitted to be unrivalled,
file early part of the life of Marmontel was passed amidst
scenes of rural innocence, with a family which lodged in a
cottage, and subsisted by the labour of their hands; the
remainder of his days was spent in the most brilliant and
refined society which Paris or the world afforded, exhibit¬
ing the most splendid union of literary talents with all the
polish of exalted rank and the graces of female elegance.
Hus enabled him to succeed in scenes and characters which
were extremely remote, and indeed contrasted to each
other, in the delineation of the innocent pleasures of the
country, as well as of the rivalships, whims, and levities of
p> or splendid life. The Shepherdess of the Alps, which
has been the most popular of them all, and Les deux Infor-
tunees, are as distinguished for simple and touching pathos
as the great proportion are for liveliness. The style is re¬
markable for facility, and the ease with which it inclines,
m pursuing the course of events, to the ludicrous or pathetic.
253
After the death of M. de Boissy, Marmontel obtained the Marmon-
patent and sole management of the Mercure, of which he tel.
had long been the chief support. Upon receiving this ap¬
pointment, he resigned that which he held at Versailles,
and fixed his residence at Paris, in apartments assigned to
him in the house of Madame Geoffrin. He appears to have
conducted the journal of which he had charge, with great
ability and judgment. Few periodical works have appeared
more diversified, more attractive, or more abundant in re¬
sources ; and many who afterw ards came to hold the high¬
est rank in French literature were first introduced through
it to the favour of the public. After he had conducted It,
however, for two years, he became suspected of writing a
satire against some powerful nobleman. He was, in con¬
sequence, shut up for a few days in the Bastille, and on his
release was deprived of his agreeable and lucrative situa¬
tion. But this misfortune did not discourage his literary
exertions. Soon after he had recovered his freedom, he
translated into prose the Pharsalia of Lucan, of which he
was a great admirer. He also added to it a supplement,
in which he details the events of Caesar’s war in Africa,
and concludes with his last campaign in Spain. The French
have at all times been great dealers in prose translations of
the classics. But though the shape in which Marmontel
exhibited the Pharsalia can never convey an adequate
idea of the original, his work is more agreeable to read
than the turgid poetical version of Brebeuf, by which it
was preceded.
About the same time at which he completed the trans¬
lation of the Pharsalia, he published his Poetique Fran-
foise, containing observations extracted from the various
articles which he had furnished for the Encyclopedie. It
is divided into two parts ; the first expounding the elemen¬
tary principles of poetry, and the second applying them to
its different sorts.
Being about this period seized with a disorder in the
chest, which had proved fatal to both his parents, he re¬
solved to devote his remaining days to the composition of
a romance or fiction of the higher order. The subject he
chose was Belisarius, suggested to him by a print he pos¬
sessed from the celebrated picture ofVandyck. The fact on
which his tale is founded was rather a popular tradition and
opinion than an historical truth. But the belief had so uni¬
versally prevailed, and the idea of a blind old man reduced
to beggary had been so closely associated with the name
of Belisarius, that it possessed all the advantages essential
for the purposes of historical romance. In other particu¬
lars the author relied on the faith of history, and Proco¬
pius chiefly served as his guide. On its first appearance in
1768, Bdlisaire attracted universal attention. The first
seven chapters, describing the journey of the old blind
hero to the village where his family resided, his arrival
there, and the visit paid to him by Justinian in his humble
habitation, are possessed of an interest almost dramatic,
and are composed in a higher tone of eloquence than any
thing else which he has written. But those which follow
are almost entirely destitute of incident, and are just so
many separate lectures on different branches of govern¬
ment and politics delivered by Belisarius to Justinian. In
the course of these dissertations, there are evidently many
references to political incidents, and the system of French
politics pursued in the middle of the seventeenth century.
The last chapter, on religious toleration, involved the au¬
thor in a dispute with the Sorbonne, who published a
censure of it, which was opposed by the arguments of
rI urgot, and by the epigrams and squibs of Voltaire.
Though Belisarius cost its author many sleepless nights,
in alphabetkaf ordpr^nM^ttint nfTnth<? Ms de Literature everything that related to eloquence, and placed the remarks, not
Principe, d'ElonumTe^t.he .su^ect- ™rk, which was intended to form a manual of French rhetoric, is entitled
l ce at Marmontel) extiaits de ses Siemens de Litterature et mis en ordre. Paris, 1809.
MARMONTEL.
254
Marmon- he recovered during its composition from the disorder
te*' which had excited him to the undertaking, and he some
time afterwards produced his Incas of Peru, dedicated to
Gustavus king of Sweden. Irritated as he was by the re¬
cent anathemas of the Sorbonne, his great object in this
new romance was to show, that all the evils inflicted by the
Spaniards on the Indians had their origin in that fanati¬
cism which he was desirous to bring into still deeper de¬
testation. In Fernando de Loquez and Vincentio Re-
quelme, he has given a sort of personification of fanaticism
in its most hideous form; and has contrasted their cha¬
racters with that of Las Casas, which is intended as a
model of the exalted piety and tempered zeal most be¬
coming a Christian. In the history on which this romance
is founded, Las Casas had given a tremendous picture of
the atrocities committed by the Spaniards in Peru, and of
the sufferings of its inoffensive inhabitants. The pencil
of Marmontel had scarcely sufficient strength to paint the
determined courage, rapacity, debauchery, and remorse¬
less cruelty of the soldiery let loose upon the Indians, nor
the desperate characters of the adventurers at their head,
who knew no law but the sword, and whose sole object and
aim was plunder. In painting Indian scenes of innocence,
tranquillity, and peace, he has been more fortunate. But
he has unluckily abandoned the simplicity which charmed
so much in his Moral Tales, for a tone too highly rheto¬
rical ; and there is a want of unity of interest, from the
multiplicity of episodes. The longest is that of the con¬
quest of Mexico, related to the Inca by some refugees
from that country, and who had come all the way to Quito,
apparently for no other purpose than to tell their long
story.
In 1763 Marmontel had been admitted, though after
considerable opposition, to the much-envied place of a
member of the French Academy, and, in 1783, he succeed¬
ed D’Alembert as its perpetual secretary. The situation
of historiographer of France, and the chair of history in
the Lyceum, which he successively obtained, fully indem¬
nified him for the loss of the Mercure. He was in the full
enjoyment of affluent circumstances, domestic felicity, and
literary reputation, when the French Revolution suddenly
changed the scene. During its alarming progress he led
a retired life, and, though reduced to indigent circumstan¬
ces, remained secure amidst all the violent events of the
period. In 1797 he was chosen a deputy to the National
Assembly by the department of Eure, but he died soon af¬
terwards, of an apoplectic attack, at his cottage near Ab¬
beville.
Several of his pieces were published after his death.
The Nouveaux Contes Moraux, which were inserted in the
Mercure, had been extracted from that journal, and trans¬
lated into English soon after their first appearance ; but
they were not printed apart in their original language till
after the demise of the author. This second series is in¬
ferior in delicacy, grace, and beauty of style, to the former,
but the scope and tendency of the stories is more strictly
moral. On account of his situation as historiographer of
France, Marmontel had thought it a duty incumbent on
him to write some historical work. The period he chose
was the regency of the Duke of Orleans, which he com¬
menced in 1784 ; but though he completed it four years
afterwards, it was not given to the public during his life.
This work is not such, either in point of accuracy of facts
or enlightened general views, as might have been expect¬
ed from the time occupied in its composition, the mate¬
rials which his situation opened up to him, and the pomp¬
ous account which he himself gives of his access to infor¬
mation. “ All the eminent men of the age,” says he,
“ opened to me the repositories which contained documents
on my subject. The Count de Broglio initiated me into
the mysteries of his most secret negociations; and Conta-
des traced to me, with his own hand, the plan of his cam- Mam
paigns, and particularly of the battle of Minden.” The te
most interesting part is the last chapter, containing thev>~‘Y
relation of some particular incidents which occurred dur¬
ing the regency, as the plague at Marseilles, and the visit
of the Czar Peter to France.
The Posthumous Memoirs of Marmontel, drawn up in
his declining years for the instruction of his children, and
edited in 1804 from a manuscript in his own handwriting,
are amongst the most amusing volumes of the description
ever presented to the public. They commence with the
author’s earliest youth. The portion which comprehends
this period of his life is written in the happiest style of his
Moral Tales, and contains many interesting anecdotes of
humble innocence, many animated sketches of domestic
happiness, and many agreeable traits of village society.
In the succeeding part, the portraits of the most distin¬
guished characters in the most brilliant age of France
are delineated with so much life, discrimination, and deli¬
cacy, and every thing is sketched with a colouring so light
and aerial, that the whole representation is exquisite.
There is scarcely a single person of note in France whose
likeness is not exhibited in this vast gallery : the pictures
of Voltaire, D’Alembert, Marivaux, Thomas, St Lambert,
and Helvetius, are all excellent. The society which Mar-
montel frequented was probably the most refined and bril¬
liant that had ever assembled together; but there was
evidently a restraint, a desire of exhibition, and want of
ease in its intercourse. “ Every guest,” says Marmontel,
“ arrived ready to play his part; in Marivaux, impatience
to give proof of acuteness and sagacity was visibly betray¬
ed ; Montesquieu, with more calm, waited till the ball
came to him, but he expected it; Helvetius, attentive
and discreet, sat collecting for a future day.” Literary
fame was enjoyed in France in its greatest extent, but
also in its greatest anxiety. Of all the others, Voltaire
had gained the most brilliant literary success; yet of him
Marmontel remarks, that his glory was too dearly paid by
the tribulations to which it had exposed him. It had been
said by Madame Genlis, that Marmontel, in his Moral
Tales, showed gross ignorance of the French manners and
character, in representing the higher classes, particularly
of females, as so voluptuous, and in many cases abandon¬
ed ; but the Memoirs, if they record the truth, unhappily
confirm his representations. When so much amusement
is derived from his minute descriptions, it is perhaps hy¬
percritical to remark, that some petty circumstances, of
no general interest, and which might have been better
thrown into the background, are brought too much out on
the canvass, and are drawn in disproportioned magnitude.
But for these details, he states as his apology that it is for
his children he writes the history of his life, and that those
things which may appear too minute to strangers, will
prove interesting and useful to them. The concluding vo¬
lume, containing a sketch of the first events of the Revo¬
lution, is confused and imperfect. Its incidents were too
gigantic for the grasp of his mind, and he appears to have
been dizzied and stupified by the rapid whirl and total
subversion which he witnessed.
An author by profession, the literary character of Mar¬
montel may be fully appreciated from his various and nu¬
merous productions. I hough he admits that, whilst he
has given the portrait of others at full length in his Me¬
moirs, he has only painted himself in profile, yet from
them his private character may be correctly enough esti¬
mated. Upon a review of these, it has been remarked,
“ that, without great passions or great talents, he seems
to have had a lively imagination, a pliant and cheerful
disposition, and a delicacy of taste and discrimination, of
still greater value in the society which fixed his reputa¬
tion. Although good tempered and social, he seems to
M A R
H^nou- have been, in a great measure, without heart or affection;
!r or rather the dissipated and sensual life to which he devot¬
ed himself after his removal to Paris, appears to have ob-
•_ I "0 -Stracted in him the growth of all generous and exalted
feeling. In society he was joyous and easy, gay without
affecting to dazzle, and ingenious without intolerance or
fastidiousness.” (E.)
MARMOUTIER, a town of the department of the
Lower Rhine and arrondissement of Sauerne, in France,
situated on the river Huselbach, containing 1900 inhabi¬
tants.
MARNE, a department of the north of France, formed
out of the parts of the ancient province of Champagne,
called Remois and Perthois, and a portion of Brie. It ex¬
tends in east longitude from 2. 20. to 4. 53. and in north
latitude from 48. 41. to 49. 24. including a surface of 3399
square miles, or, according to the Descript. Topog. et Statis.,
848,000 hectares. It is bounded on the north by the de¬
partment of the Ardennes and the Aisne, on the east by
that of the Meuse, on the south by the Upper Marne and
the Aube, and on the west by the Seine-Marne and the Aisne.
The land under the plough is 562,571 hectares, uncultivated
99,962, meadows 42,200, woods 84,554, vineyards 23,176,
gardens 15,721; the rest forms the sites of towns and vill
lages, roads, rivers, and ditches. In the great plain which
forms the centre of the department, the soil is either chalky
or sandy, and very poor; the small villages are far from one
another, and few trees are to be seen. It is only on the
banks of the streams and on the borders of the depart¬
ment that any fruitful land is found. Much of the land
requires a fallow of one, two, or three years, and, even with
that, produces but scanty crops of corn. In general, wheat
and rye scarcely yield four times the seed. That in the
valleys is more productive ; but the whole does not yield
sufficient corn for its scanty population, which is about one
Mar
255
ac,res of The most esteemed pro- Marne,
duct is that wine known through Europe by the name of'
Pn2agne’ ™CVS raife(!°n the Part ^lled Champagne
1 0Ull^use* The best of the white wine is grown in Sil-
Jery, Mareyil, Epernay, and Dizy; and of the red in Ber-
zenay, Thaizy, Cumieres, Ay Hautevillers, and Pierry The
operations of preparing and managing this highly esteem¬
ed wine require much care and attention, and are also very
expensive; but the price at which it is sold enriches those
who make it and those who deal in it. As the greater part
is sold ready bottled, the glass-houses for making these
bottles form an important branch of industry. According
to official accounts furnished by the director of the arron^
dissement of Rheims, it appears that the whole quantity of
land devoted to the growth of these wines is little more
than a twentieth part of the cultivated soil, being 9857
hectolitres, or about 24,840 English acres. The average
produce of an acre of vines is about 156 gallons. The ex¬
pense of cultivating an acre of vineyard is about L.9. 15s.
exclusive of rent, which varies excessively. Few of the
vineyards, however, are rented; they are by far the greater
part cultivated by the proprietors. The value of vineyards
varies, according to the quality of the wine they yield, in an
excessive degree, some not selling for more than L.30, and
others as high as L.500, the acre. An intelligent cultivat¬
ing proprietor states, that “ the vineyard proprietor who
possesses from twelve and a half to fourteen acres, and who
cultivates them himself, or carefully watches over their
cultivation, may get a return of 6 per cent, on his capital;
but he must be careful and economical, and have a small
fund in reserve to help him over vicissitudes.”
The quality of the red sparkling Champagne has been of
late decreasing; as it is found more profitable to use the
juice of these grapes formerly applied to make the red,
to the making of the white w ine.
Number of Bottles of Sparkling Champagne exported from the Department of the Marne in the year 1833.
Countries to which sent.
England and the East Indies.
Russia 
German States 
Prussia 
Austria 
United States of America 
Poland  
fraly .......i
Belgium 
Holland 
Sweden and Denmark 
Switzerland 
Number of
Bottles.
South America 
Spain and Portugal.
Turkey 
Consumed in France,
467,000
400,000
202,000 )
177,000 J-
60,000 )
400,000
102,000
80,000
56,000
30,000
30,000
30,000
30,000
20,000
5,000
Remarks.
2,069,000
620,000
2,689,000
No increase is expected.
A little increase, hoped for.
In these countries, on account of the improvement of
their own wines, a decrease is expected.
An increase is expected.
A decrease is expected.
Increasing, but not rapidly.
Decreasing.
Decreasing.
Very fluctuating.
f Decreasing, because the Swiss now make sparkling
( wines. ®
Increasing, but very slowly.
Increasing.
/ Consumption is decreasing, as higher prices can be ob-
( tained in foreign countries.
he stock of these sparkling wines is supposed to be
oout equal to three years’ consumption. Besides the mer-
ants, there are many proprietors who bottle their own
mes, and even buy them of their neighbours; others, who
‘<e unwilling to incur the cost and trouble of bottling, keep
ln. casks> and thus replenish the stocks of the
5511011 wines, if kept to the succeeding vintage,
will not spaikle when bottled alone, but do so when mixed
with new wine, whose quality they serve to improve.
Excepting the trade in wine, there is little of any other
kind in the department. I here are some manufacturers
both of linen and woollen goods, who live almost w’holly
in Rheims or Chalons, and they chiefly supply the de¬
mands of the immediate vicinity. The department is di-
256 MAR
Marne, vided into five arrondissements, and these into thirty-two
Upper cantons and 699 communes or parishes. The principal
li. towns and their populations are, Rheims, with 35,971 in-
Marorntes. habitants; Chalons-sur-Marne, with 12,413 ; Vitry-le-Fran-
^"^cais, with 6976; Epernay,with 5318; and SaintMenehould,
with 2933. The whole inhabitants of the department
amounted in 1833 to 337,076.
Marne, Upper, a department of France, formed out
. of the Perthois, Vallage, and Bassigny, in the ancientCham-
pagne, with some portions of Burgundy, oi Bar, and Franche
Comt6. It extends in east longitude from 4. 31. to 5. 44. and
in north latitude from 47. 41. to 48. 36., being 3721 square
miles, or 642,600 hectares. The soil is classed in the fol¬
lowing order by French authorities, viz. into ploughed land
332,463 hectares, meadows 30,610, vineyards 173,837,
woods and forests 42,575, upland pasture 31,975, unculti¬
vated land 1614; and the remainder is occupied by the sites
of houses, the roads, or the courses of the rivers. The de¬
partment is generally hilly, with fertile valleys between the
ranges, which are part of them continuations of the moun¬
tains of Lanjjres and others of the Vosges, but of the lat¬
ter a few attain the height of 1450 feet. Ihe soil is for
the most part calcareous, but with a coat of clay, which re¬
quires great strength of draught cattle. It is the source
of several rivers, most of which run into the channel or the
German Ocean, but some to the Mediterranean. The chief
rivers which have their source here are the Marne, the
Meuse, and the Aube. The climate is, from the elevation,
cold and sometimes foggy, and the frosts at a late period
in the spring often injure the crops. One fourth part of
the surface is covered with wood, which, by the rivers, is
conveyed to parts of the kingdom where fuel is more scarce.
The products of husbandry are the common grain of Eu¬
rope, but not of the first quality, nor is more yielded than
suffices for the consumption of the 230,000 persons who in¬
habit the department. The mines of iron afford some em¬
ployment; and the working of the metal, and especially
converting it into cutlery and other forms, maintains many
families, who fabricate goods of that kind to the amount of
two millions of francs annually. There are likewise ma¬
nufactures of paper, earthenware, leather, and corn spirits,
some cotton spinning, and some hosiery. The chief ar¬
ticles of which there is a surplus are, iron goods, wood,
wine, wool, leather, and wax. The department is divided
into three arrondissements, twenty-eight cantons, and 552
communes. It has few large towns. Chaumont is the ca¬
pital, with 6500 inhabitants.
MARONDA, a small town of Hindustan, in the Raj¬
poot territories, in the province of Ajmeer, and twenty miles
north-east from the town of Ajmeer. Long. 75. 7. E.
Lat. 26. 43. N.
MARONITES, in Ecclesiastical History, a sect of ori¬
ental Christians, who follow the Syrian rite, and are sub¬
ject to the pope, their principal habitation being on Mount
Libanus.
Mosheim informs us, that the doctrine of the Monothe¬
lites, condemned and exploded by the council of Constan¬
tinople, found a refuge amongst the Mardaites, a people
who inhabited the Libanus and the Anti-Libanus, and who,
about the conclusion of the seventh century, were called
Maronites, after Maro their first bishop ; a name which they
still retain. None of the ancient writers give any certain
• account of the first person who instructed these moun¬
taineers in the doctrine of the Monothelites. From seve¬
ral circumstances, however, it is probable that it was John
Maro, whose name they had adopted ; and that this eccle¬
siastic received the name of Maro from his having lived in
the character of a monk in the famous convent of St Maro,
upon the borders of the Orontes, before his settlement
amongst the Mardaites of Libanus. From the testimony
of Tyrius and other unexceptionable witnesses, as also from
M A R
the most authentic records, it appears that the Maronites Mart
retained the opinions of the Monothelites until the twelfth's«-y
century, when, abandoning and renouncing the doctrine of
one will in Christ, they were, in the year 1182, re-admitted
into the communion of the Roman Catholic church. The >
most learned of the modern Maronites have left no method
unemployed to defend their church against this accusation;
they have laboured to prove, by a variety of testimonies,
that their ancestors always persevered in the Catholic faith,
and in their attachment to the Roman pontiff, without
adopting the doctrine of the Monophysites, or Monothe¬
lites. But all their efforts are insufficient to establish the
truth of these assertions to such as have any acquaintance
with the history of the church and the records of ancient
times; for to all such the testimonies they produce must
appear absolutely fictitious and destitute of all authority.
Faustus Nairon, a Maronite, settled at Rome, has pub¬
lished an apology for Maro and the rest of his nation. His
tenet is, that they really took their name from the Maro
who lived about the year 400, and of whom mention is
made in Chrysostom, Theodoret, and the Menologium of
the Greeks. He adds, that the disciples of this Maro
spread themselves throughout all Syria; that they built
several monasteries, and particularly one which bore the
name of their leader ; that all the Syrians who were not
tainted with heresy took refuge amongst them; and that
for this reason the heretics of those times called them Ma¬
ronites.
Mosheim observes, that the subjection of the Maronites
to the spiritual jurisdiction of the Roman pontiff was agreed
to upon this express condition, that neither the popes nor
their emissaries should pretend to change or abolish any
thing which related to the ancient rites, moral precepts, of
religious opinions, of this people ; so that in reality there is
nothing to be found amongst the Maronites which savours of
popery, if we except their attachment to the Roman pon¬
tiff', who is obliged to pay very dearly for their friendship.
For, as the Maronites live in the utmost distress and po¬
verty, under the tyrannical yoke of the Mahommedans, the
bishop of Rome is under the necessity of furnishing them
with subsidies to appease their oppressors; to procure a sub¬
sistence for their bishop and clergy; to provide all things
requisite for the support of their churches, and the uninter¬
rupted exercise of public worship; and in general to con¬
tribute to lessen their misery.
The Maronites have a patriarch who resides in the mo¬
nastery of Cannubin, on Mount Libanus, and assumes the
title of patriarch of Antioch, and the name of Peter, as if
he seemed desirous of being considered as the successor of
that apostle. He is elected by the clergy and the people,
according to the ancient custom ; but, since their reunion
with the church of Rome, he is obliged to have a bull of
confirmation from the pope. He observes perpetual celi¬
bacy, as well as the rest of the bishops his suffragans; but
as to the other ecclesiastics, they are allowed to marry be¬
fore ordination, though the monastic life is in great esteem
amongst them. Their monks are of the order of St An¬
thony, and live in the most obscure places in the mountains,
far from the commerce of the world.
As to their faith, they agree in the main with the rest of
the eastern church. Their priests do not say mass singly)
but together, all standing around the altar. They com¬
municate in unleavened bread ; and the laity have hitherto
partaken in both kinds, though the practice of commu¬
nicating in one has latterly been gaining ground. In Lent
they eat nothing after sunrise; and their other fastings
are very numerous.
MAROT, Clement, the best French poet of his time,
was born at Cahors in 1495, being the son of John Marot,
valet-de-chambre to Francis I. and poet to Queen Anne of
Bretagne. He enjoyed his father’s place as valet-de-chambre
MAR
Ma ue to Francis I., and was page to Margaret of France, wife of
the Duke of Alen^on. In 1521 he followed that prince
Mauie- int0 Italy, and was wounded and taken prisoner at the
. ir_^ battle of Pavia ; but on his return to Paris he was accused
of heresy, and thrown into prison, whence he was deliver¬
ed by the protection of King Francis I. He at length re¬
tired to the court of the queen of Navarre, then to that of
the duchess of Ferrara, and in 1536 returned to Paris; but
having declared openly for the Calvinists, he was obliged
to fly to Geneva, which he at length quitted, and retiring
to Piedmont, died at Turin in 1544, aged fifty. His verses
are filled with natural beauties. La Fontaine acknowledg¬
ed himself his disciple, and contributed greatly to restore
to credit the works of this ancient poet. Marot, besides
his other works, translated part of the Psalms into verse,
and this version was continued by Beza. Michael Marot,
his son, was also the author of some verses ; but thev are
not comparable to those of John, and much inferior to those
of Clement Marot. The works of the three Marots were
collected and printed together at the Hague in 1731, in
three vols. 4to, and in six vols. 12mo.
MARQUE, or Letters of Marque, in war, are letters of
reprisal, granting the subjects of one prince or state liberty
to make reprisals on those of another. They are so called
from the German marcke, limit, frontier, as being jus con-
cessum in alterius principis marckas seu limites transeundi,
sibique jus faciendi, or a right of passing the limits or fron¬
tiers of another prince, and doing one’s self justice.
MARQUESAS, or Mendoga Islands. This group of
islands, which extends from 138 to 140 degrees of west
longitude, and from 8| to 10£ south latitude, is situated
in the South Pacific Ocean. They were discovered by
Mendana, a Spanish navigator, in 1595, and were named
by him Marquesas de Mendoza, in honour of Mendoqa,
then viceroy of Peru, by whom he was despatched on the
voyage. They were also visited by Captain Cook in 1774,
and have since been visited by several navigators. They
are five in number, viz. San Pedro, or O-Niteo in the na¬
tive language, Santa Christina or Wahitaho, and La Do¬
minica or O-hivahoa, forming a group ; La Madalena, eight
leagues distant, and Hood’s Island, five and a half leagues,
from the north-eastern point of Dominica. The aspect of
these islands from the sea is bold and rugged, the land is
high, and the shores present the appearance of volcanic
eruptions. In most of these islands there are bays and
coves along the shore, which afford shelter for shipping.
Voyagers differ in their accounts of these islands, some
describing them as fertile and beautiful, with verdant plains
and hills crowned with luxuriant woods, whilst later visi¬
tors represent them as barren and mountainous. Probably
they have landed at different parts of these islands. The
ships which touch at these islands may procure supplies of
hogs, fowls, plantains, yams, and other roots, also bread¬
fruit and cocoa nuts. According to the concurring ac
M A R
257
counts of navigators, the inhabitants are a strong, tall,
active race, distinguished by symmetry of person, as well
as by regularity of features. But they are of the most bar¬
barous habits, debased by an entire profligacy of manners,
and addicted to the most cruel and degrading supersti-
MARQUEFRY, Inlaid Work, a curious kind of work,
composed of pieces of hard fine wood of different colours,
astened, in thin slices, on a ground, and sometimes en¬
riched with other substances, as tortoise-shell, ivory, tin,
and brass. J
There is another kind of marquetry, made of glasses of
various colours instead of wood; and a third, where pre¬
cious stones and the richest marbles are alone used. These,
however, are more properly called mosaic work.
I he art of inlaying is very ancient, and is supposed to
lave passed from the east to the west, as one of the spoils
vol. xiv. r
brought to the Romans from Asia. Indeed it was then Marque-
but a simple thing; nor did it arrive at any tolerable per- try-
fection amongst the Italians till the fifteenth century. It
seems, however, to have arrived at its height amongst the
French in the seventeenth century.
Till John of Verona, a contemporary of Raffaelle, the
finest works of this description were only black and white
or what we now call morescos ; but that person, who had a
genius for painting, stained his woods with dyes or boiled
oils, which penetrated them. Yet he went no further than
representing buildings and perspectives, which required no
great variety of colours. Those who succeeded him not
only improved on the invention of dyeing the woods, by a
secret they found of burning without consuming them,
which served exceedingly well for the shadows, but they
bad also the advantage of a number of fine new woods of
naturally bright colours, obtained in consequence of the
discovery of America. With these aids the art is now ca¬
pable of imitating any thing; and hence some call it the
art of painting in wood.
The ground on which the pieces are to be ranged and
glued is ordinarily of oak or of fir well dried ; and, to pre¬
vent warping, it is composed of several pieces glued toge¬
ther. Ihe wood to be used, being reduced into leaves of
the thickness of a line, is either stained with some colour,
or made black for shadow, which some effect by putting
it in sand extremely heated over the fire, others by steep^
it in lime-water and sublimate, and others again in oil of
sulphur. When thus coloured, the contours of the piece
are formed according to the parts of the design which they
are to represent. :
This last is the most difficult part of marquetry, and that
in which the greatest patience and attention are required.
The two chief instruments used in the work are the saw
and the vice; the one to hold the matters to be formed,
and the other to take off from the extremes according to
occasion. The vice is of wood, having one of its chaps
fixed and the other moveable, and it is opened and shut
by the foot, by means of a cord fastened to a treadle. Its
structure is very ingenious, yet simple enough.
i he leaves to be formed (for there are frequently three
or four of the same kind formed together) are put within
the chaps of the vice, after being glued on the outermost
part of the design of the. profile of which they are to fol¬
low ; then the workman pressing down the treadle, and thus
holding fast the piece, runs with his saw over all the out¬
lines of the design. By thus joining and forming three
or four pieces into one, they not only gain time, but the
matter is likewise the better enabled to sustain the ef¬
forts of the saw, which, how delicate soever it may be,
and how lightly soever the workman may conduct it, with¬
out such a precaution would be apt to raise splinters, to
the ruin of the beauty of the work.
When the work is to consist of one single kind of wood,
or of tortoise-shell, on a copper or tin ground, or vice versa,
they only form two leaves, one on the other, that is, a leaf
of metal and a leaf of wood or shell; and this they call
sawing in counterparts ; for by filling the vacuities of one
of the leaves by the pieces coming out of the other, the
metal serves as a ground to the wood, and the wood as a
ground to the metal.
All the pieces thus formed by the saw, and marked so
as to be known again, and the shadow being given in the
manner already mentioned, they veneer or fasten each in
its place on the common ground, using for that purpose
the best English glue. The whole is then put in a press
to dry, planed over, and polished with the skin of the sea-
dog, wax, and shave-grass, as in simple veneering; with
this difference, however, that in marquetry the fine bran¬
ches, and several of the more delicate parts of the figures,
are touched up and finished with the graver.
2 K
258
MAR
M A R
Marquis It is the cabinetmakers, joiners, and toymen, amongst
tl us, who work in marquetry ; and it is the enamellers and
Marriage.^ stone-cutters who deal in mosaic works. The instruments
^ Xlgecl by the former are mostly the same with those used
by the ebonists.
MARQUIS, a title of honour, next in dignity to that
of duke. The office of marquis is to guard the frontiers
and limits of the kingdom, which were called the marches,
from the Teutonic word marche, a limit, as, in particular,
were the marches of Wales and Scotland whilst they con¬
tinued hostile to England. The persons who had com¬
mand there were called lords marchers or marquesses,
whose authority was abolished by statute (27 Hen. VIII.
c. 27), though the title had long before been made a mere
design of honour. A marquis is created by patent; his
mantle is double ermine, three doublings and a half; his
title is uiost noble ; and his coronet has pearls and strawber¬
ry leaves intermixed round, of equal height.
MARRACCI, Ludovico, a learned Italian, who was born
at Lucca, in Tuscany, in 1612. After having finished his
juvenile studies, he entered into the Congregation of regu¬
lar clerks of the Mother of God, and early distinguished
himself by his learning and merit. He taught rhetoric for
seven years, and passed through several offices of his order.
He applied himself principally to the study of languages,
and attained, by his own exertions, a knowledge of the
Greek, the Hebrew, the Syriac, the Chaldaic, and the Ara¬
bic, which last he taught for some time at Rome, by the
order of Pope Alexander VII. Pope Innocent XL chose
him as his confessor, placed great confidence in him, and
would have advanced him to ecclesiastical dignities if Mar-
racci had not opposed it. Marracci died at Rome in 1700,
aged eighty-seven. He was the author of several pieces
in Italian ; but the great work upon which his reputation
chiefly rests, is his edition of the Koran, in the original
Arabic, with a Latin version, under the title of Alcorani
Textus universus ex correctioribus Arabum exemplaribus
summajide atque pulcherrimis characteribus descriptus, Pa¬
dua, 1698, in two vols. folio ; the first of which contains the
Prodromus, and the second the Koran, with critical and
grammatical notes, which are highly esteemed. This edi¬
tion is still the best we have of the sacred book of the Mosle-
mins. The version of the Koran by Marracci, with notes
and observations by himself and others, and a synopsis of
the Mahommedan religion, by way of introduction, was
published by Heineccius, at Leipzig, 1721, in 8vo. Mar¬
racci had also a hand in the Biblia Sacra Arabica sacrce
Congregationis de Propaganda Fide jussu edita, ad usum
Ecclesiarum Orientalium. Rome, 1671, in 3 vols. folio.
MARRIAGE is a contract entered into between two
persons of different sexes, with a view to one undivided
state or society for life. It has its origin in the constitu¬
tion, and is nearly coeval with the history, of man; and
the first occasion of its occurrence is represented to us in
holy writ as having taken place under the immediate direc¬
tion of the All-wise Creator. It is, therefore, in a peculiar
sense, an institution of divine providence ; and all the po¬
sitive laws of man for the regulation of marriage should in¬
tend and operate its maintenance and protection.
To constitute a valid marriage with us, it is necessary
that the parties should lie under no disability preventing
them from entering into the contract; that they should
be willing to contract; and that the contract should ac¬
tually be completed.
Consent is obviously essential to marriage. Those, there¬
fore, who are incapable of consent are of course incapable
of marriage ; and so idiots are incapable of marriage, and
lunatics, except during a lucid interval. With regard to
the employment of force to effectuate a union, it is utterly
subversive of society, and must be everywhere regarded
as a high crime. The language itself bears testimony to
the same fact, license and desire being pre-eminently sex- Marriu
ual license and sexual desire, as if licentiousness and lust
were the parents of all moral and social disorder.
Incapacity to consent may be conceived to include un¬
der it another disability, namely, want of age and immatu¬
rity of judgment, the usual attendant on early years. But
this has another foundation, namely, physical immaturity ;
and upon these two grounds it has been the policy of most
nations to disallow the marriage of infants. Eighteen and
twenty were the usual ages of marriage for males with
those northern nations amongst whom the Roman laws had
not been introduced; but amongst the Lombards the age
of marriage wras fourteen for males and twelve for females,
as in the Roman law ; and such is also the law of this coun¬
try. The framers of the Code Civil, how ever, justly con¬
ceive those ages unsuited to our customs and climate, and
accordingly fix the age at eighteen for males and fifteen
for females, but with a power in the government to dis¬
pense with the age upon cause shown. The canon law, on
the other hand, attends only to physical considerations,
and allows persons of every age to marry, provided only
they are habiles ad matrimonium. In the Mosaic law there
was no restraint on marriage merely in respect of age;
but then it is to be remembered here, that amongst the Jews
the parental influence and authority were perfectly suffi¬
cient to prevent premature marriage; whilst yet, on the
other hand, the importance of marriage was, from circum¬
stances peculiar to that people, perfectly sufficient to pre¬
vent undue obstruction.
Another disability is a prior marriage subsisting, or the
having another husband or wife living at the same time;
polygamy, though practised by many nations, both ancient
and modern, being expressly condemned by Scripture, and
contrary to all sound policy.
A further disability is relationship by birth or by affinity.
Amongst the Athenians, no other relationship but that of pa¬
rent and child formed a bar to marriage, with the exception
of brothers and sisters, the intermarriage of whom was for¬
bidden, in order to prevent the union of inheritances. But
in this the Athenians were singular ; and in the law of Scot¬
land, where the Levitical law of marriage is adopted, the
intermarriage of ascendants and descendants is forbidden
to the remotest degree, as is likewise that of collaterals in
loco parentis, and also of the whole or half blood who are
within the second degree, thus allowing cousins-german,
and all of more remote degree, to intermarry. In the case
of affinity or of relationship by marriage, the husband and
wife being in law but one person, the blood relations of
either are held as related by affinity in the same degree to
the one spouse as by consanguinity to the other. With
regard to illegitimate kindred, it is held that the impedi¬
ments of consanguinity and affinity apply no less to such
persons than to those lawfully related ; on this principle,
that the state and condition of bastardy, or rather the
forms of marriage, are but of civil institution only.
There is a still further disability, the disability.before
alluded to, namely, physical incapacity ; but this is only a
ground on which a marriage may be declared void at the
instance of either of the parties, and not itself a nullity
pleadable by others.
By an act of the parliament of Scotland, 1600, c. 20, it
was further declared that all marriages contracted by per¬
sons divorced for adultery, with the person with whom
they had been judicially found to have committed the
crime, should be null and unlawful, and the issue born
thereof be incapable to succeed as heirs to their parents.
But it does not appear that this statute has ever been
acted on by the courts.
The next particular we noticed as requisite to marriage
was, that the parties should be willing to contract; on which
particular we need not dwell, the will of the parties being
M A E
M. iage. clearly, from what we have already stated, of the essence
y—^ of the contract. Indeed we have adopted, from the civil
law, the maxim, Consensus non concubitus facit nuptias.
The last requisite on this head is, that the parties do
actually contract, or that effect be given to their declared
intentions.
To give a distinct origin to the important relation of
husband and wife, and also solemnity to the engagement,
it has been the practice of most countries to enter on mar¬
riage with a ceremony in which the ministers of religion
have commonly assisted. In Scotland, as early as the
middle of the thirteenth century, we find it enacted by
one of the canons of a provincial council held at Perth,
that no faith should be given to any one regarding a mar¬
riage not celebrated before a priest, and three or four wit¬
nesses specially called for the occasion. Whether these
canons were ever ratified by the civil power is not clear ;
but a distinction exists, and has long done so, between
marriages celebrated m farie ecclesice, and what are called
clandestine marriages. Both kinds, however (as came also
to be the doctrine of the canon law), are valid ; and, more¬
over, the deliberate consent of parties entering into a pre¬
sent agreement to take each other for husband and wife,
or their solemn acknowledgment, written or verbal, of
their having done so, constitutes a marriage in law, whether
proof of formal celebration be offered or not. By a statute
of the Scottish parliament, also, passed upwards of fifty
years before the Reformation, 1503, c. 77, it was enacted,
that where a marriage has not been disputed in the life¬
time of the parties, the widow', being reputed and holden
the lawful wife of the deceased in her lifetime, shall have
the dower, or tierce as it is called, and enjoy the same with¬
out hindrance, “ aye and quhil it be clearly decerned, and
sentence given, that she was not his lawful wife.” The law
of England is altogether different; the mode of contracting
marriage having been regulated there by special statute
since the middle of the last century, previous to which
time, however, the marriage law of both countries appears
to have been, generally speaking, the same. But in Scot¬
land there is this remarkable peculiarity, that, in the ab¬
sence of a special provision to the contrary, marriage is
held incomplete to many purposes, till it has subsisted for
a year and day, or living issue be born thereof. This is
said by Lord Stair to have been derived from the Roman
law ; and certainly we find there, that if a woman who had
no parent, by the consent of her guardians, after espousal,
lived with a man as his wife for one year, without being
absent for three nights, she became the lawful wife of such
man by what was termed usucaption. But this is plainly
different from the custom of Scotland, which wre rather
think had its origin in the practice of hand-fastening, once
prevalent in that countr}\ (See Lindsay’s Chronicles of
Scotland, p. 66; Martin’s Western Isles, p. 114; Forsyth’s
Scotland, vol. ii. p. 284.) According to the law as it now
stands, if a marriage have not subsisted for year and day,
or produced a living child, all rights granted in considera¬
tion of the marriage become void, and things return to the
same condition in which they stood before the marriage,
unless special stipulation be made to the contrary. The
husband has no right to courtesy, nor the widow to her
dower; the tocher is paid back, and the moveable funds
still extant are restored to the party to whom they origi¬
nally belonged. J &
Let us now attend to some of the chief consequences
resulting from the matrimonial engagement. By mar-
ruige, the husband and wife become one person in law;
and on this unity depend almost all the rights and disa-
miities which either of them acquires or incurs by their
intermarriage. This unity, however, does not operate in
tne same way as in the case of the contract of part¬
nership, where every member of the company represents
M A E
259
all, and may bind all, but upon the principle of the sub- Mars
jection of the wife to the husband. Whilst, therefore, II
tlie moveable property of the parties is ipso jure formed Marsais-
into a common fund, the husband is also ipso jure the ad-
mimstrator of that fund. He is the head of the family
and the proper curator of his wife, over whom also he is
invested with a large marital authority; and her very
management as head of the domestic economy' of his
house is not in virtue of any inherent or independent
Power of her own, but of delegation from him. She has
however, her own peculiar property of paraphernalia, cus¬
tomary gifts, and exclusive provisions ; the law will pro¬
tect her against the cruelty of her husband; and without
his consent she may execute a testament or dispose of
her property by a mortis causa conveyance. In the case
o donations also between husband and wife, either party'
may recall their gifts, in as far as they are not reasonable,
either tacitly or expressly.
Me have already alluded to the dissolution of marriage
by death. This is its natural termination; and in Eng-
and it is the only way in which a valid marriage can end,
except by the power of an act of parliament. It is other¬
wise in Scotland ; for here a marriage may be dissolved
not only by the death of either party, but also by judicial
sentence of divorce for adultery or desertion.
Jactitation of Marriage, in English law, one of the first
and principal matrimonial causes, when one of the parties
gives out that he or she is married to the other, where¬
by a common reputation of their matrimony may ensue.
On this ground the party injured may libel the other in
the spiritual court; and unless the defendant undertakes
and makes out a proof of the actual marriage, he or she is
enjoined perpetual silence on that head ; which is the only
remedy the ecclesiastical courts can give for this injury'.
MARS, in Astronomy, one of the eleven planets, situat-
ed without the earth s orbit, and remarkable for the extent
of its atmosphere and the redness of its light. See As¬
tronomy.
Mars, in the Pagan mythology, was the god of war.
According to some, he was the son of Jupiter and Juno ;
whilst others say that he was the son of Juno alone, who,
being displeased at Jupiter’s having produced Minerva
from his brain, without female aid, conceived without the
assistance of the other sex, by touching a flower shown to
her by Flora in the plains of Olenus, and became the mo¬
ther of this formidable deity. The amours of Mars and
Venus, and the manner in which Vulcan caught and ex¬
posed them to the laughter of the other gods, have been
described by several of the ancient poets. He is repre¬
sented as having several wives and mistresses, and a con¬
siderable number of children. He was held in the highest
veneration by the Romans, both from his being the sup¬
posed father of Romulus their founder, and from their in¬
clination to conquest; and magnificent temples were erect¬
ed to him at Rome. Mars is usually represented in a cha¬
riot drawn by furious horses. He is completely armed,
and extends his spear with the one hand, whilst he grasps
a sword, imbrued in blood, with the other. He has a fierce
and savage aspect. Discord is represented as preceding
his car; Clamour, Fear, and Terror, appear in his train.
The victims sacrificed to him were the wolf, the horse, the
woodpecker, the vulture, and the cock.
Mars, amongst the older chemists, denotes iron, that
metal being supposed to be under the influence of the pla¬
net Mars.
MARSAC, a town of France, in the department of the
Puy-de-Dome and arrondissement of Ambert. It stands
on the lelt bank of the river Dore, and contains 620 houses,
and 3100 inhabitants. There are carried on here manu¬
factures of thread and silk lace, of ribbons and linen.
MARSAIS, Cesar Chesneau du, an eminent literary
260
MAR
MAR
Marsais. character, was born at Marseilles in 1676. He attached
himself at an early period of life to the order of the Con¬
gregation of the Oratory; but the situation was too con¬
fined for his genius, and he soon left it. At Paris he mar¬
ried, became advocate, and entered on this new profession
with great approbation and success. Disappointed, how¬
ever, in his expectations of making a speedy fortune, he
abandoned the law ; and about this time the peevish hu¬
mour of his wife occasioned a separation. We next find
him as governor to the son of the President de Maisons ;
and when the premature death of the father deprived him
of the fruits of his industry, he engaged with the famous
John Law in the same capacity. After the fall of this ex¬
traordinary projector, he superintended the education of
the Marquis de Beaufremont’s children, and reared pupils
worthy of his genius and industry. Although he was accused
of a tendency to Deism, and there seemed good reason for
the accusation, yet he never infused into the minds of his
scholars any principle inconsistent with sound morality, or
with the Christian religion. When he left M. de Beaufre¬
mont’s family, he took a boarding house, in which, after a
method of his own, he educated a certain number of young
men. But unexpected circumstances obliged him to aban¬
don this useful undertaking ; and he was even constrained
to give some occasional lessons for the bare necessaries of
life. Without fortune, without hope, and almost without
resource, he was reduced to extreme indigence. In this
situation he was found by the authors of the Encyclopedic,
and admitted a partner in conducting that great work.
Amongst many other excellent pieces of his, may be men¬
tioned the article Grammar, which breathes the spirit of
sound philosophy. His principles are clear and solid. He
discovers an intimate knowledge of the subject, great ac¬
curacy in expressing the rules, and perfect propriety in their
application. M. le Comte de Lauraguais was so much af¬
fected with the distresses, and so much convinced of the
merit, of Dumarsais, that he procured him a pension of 1000
livres. Dumarsais died at Paris on the 11th of June 1756,
in his eightieth year, after having received the sacrament.
The compliment which he paid to the priest on this occasion
has been considered by some as rather equivocal. But
there is no necessity to deprive religion of the triumph, or
philosophy of the honour, which conviction and penitence
must confer on it. “ The faith of a great genius,” says
Bayle, who is entitled to credit on this subject, “ is not to¬
tally extinguished; it is like a spark under the ashes. Re¬
flection and the prospect of danger call forth its exertions.
There are certain situations in which philosophers are as
full of anxiety and of remorse as other men.” Whatever
were the last sentiments of Dumarsais, it cannot be denied
that in the vigour of health he furnished several examples
of irreligion; and to these have been added many absurd
stories. The superiority of Dumarsais’s talents consisted
in exactness and perspicuity. His ignorance of the world,
and of the customs of mankind, together with the greatest
latitude in expressing whatever he thought, gave him that
frank and unguarded simplicity which is often the chief in¬
gredient of genuine humour. Fontenelle used to say of
him, “ that he was the most lively simpleton, and as a man
of wit the most simple, that he ever knew.” He was the
Fontaine of philosophers. In consequence of this character,
he was a nice judge of what was natural in every produc¬
tion, and a great enemy to all kind of affectation. His
principal works are, 1. Exposition de la Doctrine de 1’Eg-
lise Gallicane par rapport aux pretensions de la Cour de
Rome, 12mo. This accurate work was begun at the de¬
sire of the President de Maisons, and did not appear till af¬
ter the death of the author. 2. Exposition d’une Methode
raisonnee pour apprendre la Langue Latine, 12mo, 1722,
rare. This method appears conformable to the natural de¬
velopment of the powers of the mind, and on that account
renders the acquisition of the language less difficult; but, Mars
to vulgar and unenlightened understandings, it was liable ||
to two great objections, namely, its novelty, and the cen- ^arse
sure which it conveyed of the method formerly in use. 3. ^v
Traite des Tropes, 1730, 8vo, reprinted in 1771, 12mo.
This work is intended to explain the different significations
of the same word. It is a masterpiece of logical accuracy,
perspicuity, and precision. The observations and rules are
illustrated by striking examples calculated to show both
the use and abuse of rhetorical figures. Yet this excellent
book had but very little sale, and is scarcely known. 4. Les
Veritables Principes de la Grammaire raisonnee pour ap¬
prendre la Langue Latine, 1729, 4to. There was only the
preface of this w ork published, in which he introduced the
greater part of his Methode Raisonnee ; 5. Abrege de la
Fable du Pere Juvenci, arranged after the manner of the
original plan, 1731, 12mo ; 6. Une Reponse manuscrite a
la Critique de FHistoire des Oracles, par le Pere Baltus.
There are only imperfect fragments of these papers to be
found. 7. Logique, ou Reflexions sur les Operations de
1’Esprit. This is a short tract, which nevertheless contains
everything necessary to be known in the art of reasoning.
It was reprinted at Paris in two parts, together with the
articles which he had furnished for the Encyclopedie, 1762,
MARSALA, a parliamentary city of the island of Sicily,
in the kingdom of Naples, in the province of Mazzara, and
seventy miles from Palermo. It was the Lilybaeum of the
ancients, the capital and chief fortress of the Carthaginians.
It is now an old w all, with four bastions, but no glacis, and
has neither ordnance, quarters, nor bomb-proof stores. It
is situated on the sea-shore, but the harbour is nearly
choked up with mud. The situation is healthy, and it
contains 2450 houses, and 20,550 inhabitants, who depend
for subsistence on the productions of the soil, which yields
large quantities of fruit, wine, and barilla. Near to it are the
salt lagunes, which yield large supplies of culinary salt.
Long. 12. 25. 10. E. Lat. 37. 48. 10. N.
MARSEILLES, a city of the south of France, on the
Mediterranean Sea, the capital of the department of the
Bouches du Rhone, 102 posts or 500 miles from Paris. It
is asserted to be the most ancient city of Europe, having
been founded by a colony of Greek Phocians 560 years
before the Christian era, at which time it bore the name
of Massilia. After some struggles with the scattered tribes
which before inhabited the country, the city was formed
into an independent commercial republic. In process
of time, from commerce having increased its wealth,
it became a warlike naval power in confederacy with
Rome, before that city had established a fleet. In this
state it made war with the Carthaginians, and so success¬
fully, that, according to Strabo, the citadel and the tem¬
ple of Diana in Massilia were encumbered with the booty
captured by their fleet. Whilst the Gauls under Brennus
were besieging Rome, the Massilians were enabled to
send to their allies large sums of money, which were re¬
turned after Camillus had saved the city. The prosperity
of Massilia then rapidly advanced, and was displayed by
the erection of several other cities in the vicinity, such as
Nice, Antibes, Olbia, Tauroentum, Cythariste(now Ciotat),
Agatha (now Agde), Stomaline, and several others on the
shores of Spain. Besides these cities on the coast, they esta¬
blished many in the interior of the country, such as Gla-
num (now St Remo), Pertuis, Tarascon, Avignon, Valson,
and several others, where markets were held for the dis¬
posal of the products of the country, as well as for those
foreign commodities which the commerce of Massilia
brought to its haven. This advance of prosperity was
continued by the effect it produced on the agriculture of
the country surrounding the newly-planted cities, and led
to the construction of roads, and of improved means oi
navigating through the various mouths of the Rhone. Af-
’ 3iar illes.
MARSEILLES.
ter the capture and destruction of Tyre by Alexander the
^ Great, Marseilles for a time divided with Carthage the
commerce which had previously centred in that depot;
and when afterwards Alexandria shared in that trade, the
Massilians extended their commercial expeditions through
the pillars of Hercules, to the western coast of Africa,
where they procured slaves; they found their way to the
Cassiterides, or Cornwall, where they procured tin, and
even to the Baltic Sea, where they were attracted by the
hope of procuring amber.
Marseilles with its establishments constituted a rich re¬
public, and in its alliance with Rome partook of the vic¬
tories gained by the imperial city on the territory of Car¬
thage, till the ultimate conquest of the great capital of Nor¬
thern Africa; but, in the security derived from its union
with Rome, it suffered its naval and land forces to decline,
and sunk in consequence of those indulgences in luxury
which its great wealth had enabled it to enjoy. In this
state, when the civil wars between Pompey and Caesar
broke out, Marseilles, having adhered to the senate, of
which Pompey was the head, was exposed to the hosti¬
lities of Caesar, who, after a long defence, made himself
master of the city; and though he left it in possession of
some of its privileges, yet, taking from it all power over the
various colonies it had formed, its commerce decayed, and
its wealth gradually diminished. In these circumstances
the nominal independence of the city was preserved, and
under the tranquillity thus maintained it became a rival
in learning and science with the schools of Athens. The
youth of Rome repaired thither to study eloquence and
the dialectic arts, and it was long celebrated as the most
distinguished place for the acquisition of medical know¬
ledge.
With the gradual fall of the Roman empire, Marseilles
only felt the effect in a slight degree. The Christian re¬
ligion was introduced in the fourth century, but the inha¬
bitants, being still Greeks, adhered to that division of the
church, till in the next century they embraced the Roman
church, and about the year 420 yielded obedience to Pope
Boniface.
When Gaul was overrun by the Goths, this city shared
in the common fate. It was a municipality under Theo-
doric, and so continued till the time of Charles Martel,
when it was assailed by the Saracens, invited by a gene¬
ral named Mauronte, who had been appointed governor or
duke by Charles, but who aspired to independence, and
hoped to maintain it by the aid of the Mahommedans. This
attempt was however frustrated, and at length the Sara¬
cens were repelled and tranquillity restored.
Under the princes of the Carlovingian race, Marseilles
became distinguished as the place at which the several
embassies, such as those of Constantine Coprony^mus, and
the popes Stephen and Adrian in the reign of Pepin,
and of the caliphs of Bagdad and Cordova in the reign of
Charlemagne, were landed in France. Under the govern¬
ment of the latter prince the commerce and industry of this
place revived; but its chief commerce was then restricted
to the intercourse with Catalonia, with Italy, and the Le¬
vant. This gleam of prosperity, however, was transient,
for under Louis le Debonnaire, when all the springs of the
government were relaxed, and anarchy tore in pieces the
cities and towns, clouds of pirates swarmed on the coasts,
captured the vessels, and frequently landed on the shores
of Provence, destroying with fire and sword whatever they
encountered.
Through the many changes that have since taken place,
it is not necessary to distinguish the history of this city
from that of France in general, except to remark, that du¬
ring the revolution it was much distinguished by its adhe¬
rence to the most violent of the parties of the republican
class, and that its representatives in the national convention
261
were as remarkable for their eloquence as for the fate Marseilles,
which attended them.
Haying thus described the ancient history of this in¬
teresting city, we arrive at the notice of its present state.
As the hist mercantile city of France, it owes much of its
importance to its local position. It is situated in a bay of
the same name, which is formed by the two points of Cape
Couronne and Cape Croisette, which are distant from each
other fifteen miles, the extreme of the former bein^ hi<>h
land, and of the latter very low. On the east side^of the
bay are several rocky islands, which are dangerous without
an experienced pilot. Within the bay are ports for an¬
choring till the winds serve for entering the harbour; and
there are also some small havens, viz. Port Miou, two
leagues east of Cape Croisette ; Cassio, a large village, from
whence fruits and wine are exported; and Ciotat, a consi-
deiable place, in a cove, with an island before it, and a pier
haven for small craft. It is celebrated for the excellence
of its Muscat wine, and is a place where many small ves¬
sels are constructed.
The port of Marseilles has in front of its entrance the
island of Chateau d’lf, which is fortified on all sides, on
the north-west of which is the passage. This is defended
by the citadel called St Nicholas, which has four bastions,
and a fort on an eminence, called Notre Dame de la Garde.
.The harbour lies in the centre of the town, and is esteemed
one of the safest and most convenient in the Mediterra-
It is covered from the sea by a point of land, and
nean.
chains are fastened to pillars at two forts, which effectu
ally secure the entrance. At this entrance there is a
depth of water of from sixteen to twenty feet, and everywhere
within not less than sixteen. On the outside of the chain
there are from four to five fathoms, where ships may anchor
if prevented from getting in, which only occurs when the
wind is easterly. This harbour forms a basin 525 fathoms
in length and 150 in breaath, on the east side of which
are docks for the galleys, whilst in every part there are
commodious quays, and storehouses for goods. It is cap¬
able of conveniently receiving 900 vessels, which are not
visible from the sea. The water within is not sufficiently
deep for the larger ships of war, and such must conse¬
quently anchor without the entrance.
The city, which surrounds this capacious haven, was pro¬
tected by walls and ditches; but these have been destroyed,
and the sites converted into pleasing promenades bordered
by elegant dwellings. It is in the form of a square, and
is divided into the old and the new town. The former is
situated on an eminence, and consists of narrow, crooked
streets, with mean houses, but is the most populous part.
The latter is on the south and the east side of the har¬
bour, has broad, straight, well-paved streets, and contains
many very handsome houses. The pavement is good, and
in most parts small streams of water run, by which the
streets and the dwellings are kept in a cleanly condition.
An ancient aqueduct supplies water to a reservoir, and to
several fountains; but it is said to be decaying, and other
establishments are in contemplation for improving or re¬
newing it.
The public edifices are numerous, and some of them
magnificent. The cathedral is one of them, although Mar¬
seilles has ceased to be an episcopal city, having been since
1801 comprehended in the diocese of Aix. Besides it there
are several other Catholic churches, also one, lately built,
for Protestants, two for Greeks, and a synagogue for the
Jews. The most remarkable civil buildings are the town-
hall, called the Prefecture, a vast pile, and connected with
others, in which are preserved all the ancient archives of
the city. I he palace of justice, an irregular but large
building. The prison at the Port d’Aix, much improved
in 1823; joined to which, forming on the whole a large
square, are the barracks. The customhouse and the tri-
262 M A R S E
Marseilles, bunal of commerce, formerly the Jesuits’ College. The es-
tablishments of a sanitary nature are highly appropriate.
The lazaretto is an extensive and commodious building,
with good apartments for the different classes of persons
received into it, and extensive storehouses for goods, which
are highly necessary where the quarantine laws must be en¬
forced. In the year 1825 a new access was formed to the
building, so as to bring it in connection with the harbour
by means of a canal without any contact with the habita¬
tions; and it has been finished by a new magnificent gate
called Whilst preventive measures have been
thus provided for, due establishments for the cure of diseases
have not been neglected. The hospitals are very nume¬
rous for the reception of the sufferers under various ma¬
ladies. The Hotel-Dieu receives all poor persons, except
those who have venereal, chronic, or incurable complaints.
The number relieved in the year is about 2500, besides
which, food and lodging during three days is afforded to
all distressed persons who come with passports of indi¬
gence or of disease. La Charite is of a more general na¬
ture, and commonly contains 850 persons under cure. La
Maternite receives females in the seventh month of their
pregnancy, and supports them till their delivery. This is
a new establishment, commenced in 1823, and has usually
about 130 mothers. There are other hospitals, one for
foundlings with about 600, another for insane persons with
150 patients, and several smaller ones, all regulated by a
board of commissioners nominated by the government.
There are also several voluntary associations for visiting
and relieving those who are sick or otherwise distressed,
and also a Mont de Piete and savings bank.
The literary societies of this city are the Academy of
Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, founded in 1725,
which has published seventeen volumes of its proceedings,
and now annually distributes two prizes for the best com¬
position on these subjects ; another is the Musee des Ta¬
bleaux, which has a good collection of paintings, some of
the French school, but more the work of Flemish or Ita¬
lian painters. It has also a collection of ancient marbles,
some valuable engravings, and a most extensive collection
of rare medals, comprising series of those of the Greek
cities, of the Roman consuls, of the emperors, and of the
sovereigns of Provence. The library belonging to this in¬
stitution is very large, said to contain 90,000 volumes and
2000 manuscripts. The botanic garden is connected with
the Musee, and serves as a winter promenade. It contains
between three and four thousand exotic and indigenous
plants. A part enclosed is reserved for those plants which
are not yet familiarized to the climate.
The Jesuits founded an astronomical observatory, but,
by the circumstances which have occurred since the ex¬
pulsion of that society, it has been frequently destitute of
a director. It was closed in 1822, but projects are on foot
for the re-establishment and activity of the institution.
The institutions for the higher branches of knowledge
are the Royal College for the study of belles lettres and
the ancient languages, two seminaries for ecclesiastical
learning, a school of commerce, one of navigation, and one
of surgery and medicine. There are several boarding
schools, convents for females, and numerous, but not suffi-
cently numerous, schools for the first elements of instruc¬
tion.
Marseilles is, next to Paris, the mosFpopulous city of
France. According to the official report of May 1832, of
the population of the kingdom in the previous year, the
arrondissement of Marseilles contained 145,115 inhabi¬
tants ; but it was found at prior periods that one fiftieth
part of the population was without the city in small vil¬
lages. Deducting, then, that proportion, the whole of the
inhabitants in 1831 must have been about 116,110, and
may now, in 1836, be 120,000.
I L L E S.
According to an account given by the magistracy a few Mar
years since, there were then 27,370 families, who were thus^—
Merchants 1,700
Traders and manufacturers.... 1,100
Brokers   70
Clerks 1,000
Sailors and fishers 4,500
Men of liberal professions  700
Nobility and gentry 2,500
Cultivators, proprietors 2,500
Bakers  140
Coffeehouse keepers  60
Workmen of all descriptions 8,000
Carriage drivers  50
Porters 2,000
Day-labourers 3,000
Paupers  50
27,370
Not to give too long a table of figures, we select a year
in the middle of a period of tw enty to show the movement
of the population. At that time the births were 1777
males, and 1645 females, thus together 3422 ; the deaths
of both sexes 3504, and the marriages 970. Of the chil¬
dren born, 647 were illegitimate; of these, 109 were ac¬
knowledged, and 538 abandoned.
Though the higher classes of the population speak the
French language, the great mass make use of the Proven¬
cal, and understand no other. It is a compound of Greek,
Latin, Catalan, and French, with many words, especially
those relating to fishing and other naval things, and to agri¬
culture, which cannot be traced to either of those tongues,
but are supposed to be derived from some more ancient
and original language. The commerce of this city has un¬
dergone great changes, and has suffered much by the re¬
volution. Before 1791 there was a great trade with the
colonies, with the Levant, wdth India, and America, to
which it then exported cloths, soap, leather, and salt fish.
The chief trade, however, then as w^ell as now, was with
Italy. At present many persons are occupied in manufac¬
tories, the chief of which are the following. There are more
than a hundred makers of soap, with 400 furnaces, who em¬
ploy nearly 2400 persons. The component parts, consist¬
ing of Provence oil and of soda, are produced within the de¬
partment. The tanners are forty, and employ upwards of
400 workmen. They use the hides brought from Buenos
Ayres, as well as those of the neighbourhood, and obtain
the skins of sheep, goats, and kids, either from the depart¬
ment, or from Corsica and Sardinia. The greater part
of the leather is exported to Italy. The making of hats
employs about 600 workmen, who usually produce to the
number of 20,000, which supplies the inhabitants of the
city, and the remainder are shipped, some to Spain and
others to the colonies. The spinning of cotton by machi¬
nery has been recently introduced. Formerly the cotton
thread was imported from the Levant, but now some is
sent there from Marseilles, with hopes of an increased de¬
mand. This branch of industry has upwards of twenty
establishments, and employs between five and six thousand
workmen. The manufactures of soda and of sulphuric acid,
some other chemical, and some perfumery articles, employ
more than a thousand hands. The making of caps for the
use of the Africans, distinguished by the name of Tunisan
caps, occupies the labour of 7500 persons, of whom 1500
work in the shops, and 6000 in their own houses. There
is a coral fishery on the coast, and much of that substance
is found on the shores of Spain, of Sardinia, and at Calle
in Africa. It is prepared in this city for ornamental pur¬
poses, and Paris is supplied from hence, as well as the
more distant foreign markets. Nearly a thousand persons
MAR
are engaged in these operations. There are, upon a
„ small scale, sugar refineries, paper-mills, glass-houses, and
some other manufacturing establishments, which might
be noticed. The fishery, and the preserving of fish by
salting or by smoking, is an abundant source of occu¬
pation ; to which must be added the building and equip¬
ping of vessels of all sizes, and supplying them with
sailors.
As it appears desirable to account for so large a popu¬
lation existing in one spot, more attention has in this case
been given to the means of procuring subsistence than has
been devoted to other cities of the same rank; more es¬
pecially as in Marseilles the number of deaths appears in
a series of twenty years to have exceeded the number of
births by more than ten per cent.; a fact which scarcely
appears in any other large city of Europe.
MARSH, Narcissus, a learned Irish prelate, was born
at Hannington, in Wiltshire, in 1638. He was made prin¬
cipal of St Alban’s Hall, Oxford, in the year 1673, but re¬
moved to the provostship of Dublin College in 1678 ; was
promoted to the bishopric of Leighlin and Ferns in 1682,
translated to the archbishopric of Cashel in 1690, to that
of Dublin in 1694, and raised to the primacy in 1703.
Whilst he held the see of Dublin, he built a noble library
for the use of the public, stocked it with choice books,
and settled a provision for two librarians. He repaired,
at his own expense, several decayed churches, besides
buying up and restoring many impropriations, and pre¬
senting a great number of oriental manuscripts to the Bod¬
leian Library. He was a learned and accomplished man,
well versed in sacred and profane literature, in mathema¬
tics, natural philosophy, the learned languages, especially
the oriental, and in both the theory and practice of music.
He published, 1. Institutiones Logicm; 2. Manuductio ad
Logicam, written by Philip de Trieu, to which he added
the Greek text of Aristotle, and some tables and schemes ;
3. An Introductory Essay on the Doctrine of Sounds. He
(lied in 1713.
MARSHAL, or Mareschal (rnarescaUus), primarily
denotes an officer who had the charge or the command of
liorses. Nicod derives the word from polemarchus, mas¬
ter of the camp; and Matthew Paris from Martis senes-
callus. In the Old Gaulish language, march meant horse ;
and hence mareschal might signify him who commanded
the cavalry. Other derivations have been given by differ¬
ent authors; and the name itself has been applied to of¬
ficers whose employments were very different.
Earl Marshal of Scotland. This officer had the com¬
mand of the cavalry, whereas the constable commanded
the whole army. They seem, however, to have had a sort
of joint command, as of old all orders were addressed to
the constable and marischal. The office of earl marischal
has never been out of the family of Keith.
Earl Marshal of England, is the eighth great officer
of state. His office, until it wals made hereditary, always
passed by grant from the king, and was never held by
tenure or sergeantry, as the offices of Lord High Steward
and Lord High Constable were sometimes field. The
title is personal, the office honorary and officiary.
Field-Marshal, an officer of high rank in the European
armies. 1
MARSHALLING a Coat, in Heraldry, is the disposal
0 sevei'al coats of arms belonging to distinct families in
one and the same escutcheon or shield, together with
tiieir ornaments, parts, and appurtenances.
MARSHFIELD, a town of the county of Gloucester
and the hundred of Thornbury, 102 miles from London.
U wS1itUated 0n the frontier °* the county, touching both
on Wdts mid on Somerset. It has a corporation, governed
y a ailiff, witii a market on Thursday. The parish is ex¬
tensive, though thinly peopled. The inhabitants amounted
MAR 263
iksiu, lesi46’in 181110 1415, in 1821 10 1569’and in Marsi
MARSI, a nation of Germany, who afterwards settled Marsigli.
m Italy, where they occupied the territory in the environs "
of the Tucine Lake. They at first proved inimical to Rome,
but in process of time they became its firmest supporters.
icy weie allowed by the Romans to be the most intrepid
soldiers of their legions when friendly, and the most formi¬
dable of their enemies when at variance ; and it was a com¬
mon saying, that Rome could neither triumph over the
i larsi nor without them. They are particularly celebrated
foi the civil war in which they were engaged, and which
from them received the denomination of the Marsian War.
T-he large contributions which they made to support the
interest of Rome, and the number of men whom they con¬
tinually supplied to the republic, rendered them bold and
aspiring; and they claimed, along with the rest of the Ita¬
lian states, a share of the honours and privileges which
w ere enjoyed by the citizens of Rome. This petition, though
supported by the interest, the eloquence, and the inte¬
grity of the tribune Drusus, was received with contempt
by the Roman senate; upon which, in the 662d year of
Rome, the Marsi put themselves at the head of the Social
Wai, one of the most obstinate and dangerous struggles ever
maintained against the progress of the Roman power.
I hey obtained several victories, but wyere at last defeated,
though the war was only terminated by a grant of those
privileges for which they had contended.
. MARSICONUOVO, a city of the kingdom of Naples,
m the province Principato Citeriore. It stands at the
source of the river Acri, is the seat of a bishop, and has a
cathedral and five other churches, with 6790 inhabitants.
MARSIGLI, Louis Ferdinand Count de, an Italian
geogi apher and naturalist, was descended of an ancient and
noble family, and born at Bologna on the 10th of July
1658. He acquired a great knowledge in the art of war
and of foitification ; and he served under the Emperor Leo¬
pold H. against the lurks, by whom he was taken prisoner
in 1683, but ransomed after a year’s captivity. In the
wai of the Spanish succession, Marsigli, then advanced to
the rank of marshal, being in the fortress of Brisack, which
surrendered to the Duke of Burgundy in 1703, when the
place was deemed capable of holding out much longer,
was stripped of all his commissions, and had his sword
broken over him ; and the Count d’Arco, who had the chief
command, was beheaded. Marsigli now sought for consola¬
tion in the sciences, having, amidst all the hurry and fatigue
of war, made as great progress in philosophy as if he had tra¬
velled purely in quest of knowledge. He had a rich col¬
lection of every thing proper for the advancement of na¬
tural knowledge ; instruments astronomical and chemical,
plans of fortifications, models of machines, and the like ; all
which he presented to the senate of Bologna by an authen¬
tic act in 1712, forming at the same time out of them what
he called the Institute of the Arts and Sciences of Bologna.
He also founded a printing-house, furnished it with the
best types for Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic, and in
1728 presented it to the Dominicans at Bologna, upon
condition of their printing all the writings of the Institute
at prime cost. I his was called the printing-house of St
Thomas Aquinas. His writings on philosophical subjects
are numerous and valuable. The most remarkable are,
1. Ossei vazioni intorno al Bosforo Tracio overo Canale
di Constantinopoli, Rome, 1681, in folio; 2. Dissertatio
de Generatione Fungorum, ibid. 1714, in folio, rare and
curious; 3. Brieve Ristretto del Saggio Fisico intorno alia
Storia del Mare, Venice, 1711, in folio, translated into
Trench by Leclerc under the title of Histoire Physique
de la Mer, Amsterdam, 1725, in folio; 4. Danubius Pan-
nonico-Mysicus Observationibus Geographicis, Astrono-
micis, Hydrographicis, Historicis, Physicis, periilustra*
264 MAR
Marsyas tus, Hague, 1726, in six vols. large folio; 5. Etat Mili-
II taire de 1’Erapire Ottoman, de son Progres, et de sa De-
Martha, St. cadence, in French and Italian, Amsterdam and Hague,
1732, in folio, with forty-four plates, and a map of the Ot¬
toman empire by Abubekir Effendi, with the names in the
Turkish language. Marsigli died at Bologna, on the 1st
of November 1730, regretted by all his fellow-citizens.
MARSYAS, in fabulous history, a celebrated musician
of Celaense, in Phrygia, and reputed the son of Olympus, or
of Hyagnis, cr (Eagrus. He was so skilful in playing on the
flute, that he is generally deemed the inventor of that in¬
strument. According to the opinion of some, he found it
after Minerva had thrown it aside on account ot the dis*
torsion of her features occasioned by playing upon it.
MART, a great fair held every year, for buying and sell¬
ing goods. Public marts, or places of buying and selling,
such as markets and fairs, with the tolls there levied, can
only be set up by virtue of the king’s grant, or by imme¬
morial usage and prescription, which presupposes such a
grant. The limitation of these public resorts to such
time and place as may be most convenient for the neigh¬
bourhood, forms a part of economics, or domestic polity,
which, considering the kingdom as a large family, and the
king as the master of it, he has clearly a right to dispose
and order as he pleases.
MARTHA or Marta, Santa, a province of South
America, in Magdalena, formerly a department of Co¬
lombia. It is bounded on the east by Rio Hacha, on the
west by Carthagena, on the south by Mariquita and An-
tioquia, and on the north by the Caribbean Sea. The
provinces of Rio Hacha and Santa Martha, being separated
by no recognised boundary or physical characteristic, have
been described by travellers and geographers as one tract
of country. It occupies about two degrees of longitude and
one and a half of latitude, being traversed by a branch of
the Andes, and also by the beautiful and lofty ridge called
the Sierra Nevada, or Snowy Mountains of Santa Martha,
from which descend numerous streams of water in every
direction. Several of these streams are navigable for some
distance, and between this ridge of mountains and the sea,
as well as in other parts of the country, the soil is eminently
fertile, and capable of producing abundantly cocoa, coffee,
cotton, sugar-cane, indigo, rice, tobacco, maize, and every
description of fruit and vegetable. These lands are un¬
occupied, with the exception of two small villages of peace¬
ful and inoffensive Indians. There are also large tracts
of pasture lands of excellent quality, which are admir¬
ably adapted for raising cattle. On the sea-coast, near the
city of Santa Martha, there is another tract of uninhabit¬
ed country, extending about seventy leagues from north
to south, nearly covered with superb forests, and abound¬
ing in lands of excellent quality, especially on the rivers
which descend from the Snowy Mountains into the Cienaga
or lake. There are only a few villages and farms scatter¬
ed over it, and altogether this part of the South American
continent presents advantages to the foreign settler such as
are but rarely to be met with. The climate, though warm,
is healthy, and the country is free from those insects which
are so troublesome in many parts. The great river Magda¬
lena crosses the southern extremity of Santa Martha; it
afterwards, during the latter part of its course, forms the
boundary line between Carthagena and Santa Martha, and
finally empties its waters into the sea by several mouths.
Santa Martha, the capital, is situated upon the coast, in
latitude 11.19. 34. north, and longitude 74.8. 30. west. It
was founded in 1525, and was constituted an episcopal city
four years afterwards. The bishopric, after being sup¬
pressed in 1562, was re-established in 1577. The place was
repeatedly sacked by pirates during the sixteenth and se¬
venteenth centuries; in 1672, in particular,it was complete¬
ly pillaged by a French and an English vessel. Latterly,
M A R
however, it rose into considerable importance as a com- j\iart
mercial city, and enjoyed almost the exclusive privilege of^ ''
importing goods for the capital of the country. The bay
upon which it is situated is small and somewhat exposed.
There is a castle admirably situated for the defence of the
bay, upon the summit of an almost perpendicular insulated
rock, above the angle at which a ship’s guns could have
much effect. It commands the town and the entrance to
the harbour. There is also a small battery on a level with
the sea, in front of the town, mounted with a few guns.
To the eastward is a range of hills, steep, and of a conical
form, through the passes of which the wind rushes with
great violence into the bay, thus contributing to its inse¬
curity. Santa Martha suffered severely during the Colom¬
bian war of independence, and much of it is in ruins; but
still there are some good houses, and it is improving. The
cathedral is a very conspicuous object, whether the city be
approached by land or sea ; but neither its architecture nor
its internal decorations are worthy of notice. The Fran¬
ciscans and Dominicans had each a convent here. This
city has one advantage over Carthagena, in being abun¬
dantly supplied with excellent fresh water from the. river
Gaira, which flows near to the city. The climate is salu¬
brious, although in summer the heat is very great. Be¬
hind the city are extensive labyrinths of wood, infested
however by a great number and variety of snakes. These
forests extend for some miles in an easterly direction, and
are terminated by mountains, which gradually rise till thev
attain the height of 16,419 feet above the ocean level;
and this is the elevation of the Snowy Mountains. These
are all clothed with fine timber or brushwood, and form
highly picturesque back ground to the town. The inter¬
mediate flat country is interspersed with numerous roms
or quintas, where fruits and vegetables are grown to sup¬
ply the market. Within a league of the city there are
some natural salt-pits, from which salt is to be obtained
in sufficient quantities to render it capable of being made
an important article of export. Silver also is said to have
been found in the vicinity of Santa Martha, and a mine of
lead has been discovered under the citadel. The popula¬
tion of this city was formerly 8000, but it has been consi¬
derably reduced. At the distance of seven or eight leagues
from Santa Martha is situated the Cienaga or lake, which
has a communication with the sea by a channel, some¬
times navigable for canoes. These lagoons have so little
depth of water, that though the canoes, by which alone they
can be navigated, draw only two feet of water, they occa¬
sionally ground. Near the lake of Santa Martha is the In¬
dian village of Pueblo Viejo, whence there is a water com¬
munication through a succession of lakes and canals, to the
villages of Barranquilla and Solidad. These two places,
situated on navigable canals communicating with the Mag¬
dalena, are depots for goods brought from Santa Martha
to be conveyed up the river. Solidad is a place of consider¬
able extent, built of bricks of sun-dried clay, and contain- n
ing nearly 2000 inhabitants. The exports consist chiefly
of cotton, which is exchanged for Osnaburg shirting,
Russian duck, hardware, and other necessary articles. »
The population of the entire province of Santa Martha has
been estimated at 62,000.
MARTIALIS, Marcus Valerius, a famous Latin poet,
born at Bilbilis, now called Bubiera, in the kingdom o
Aragon, in Spain, was of the equestrian order. He went to
Rome about the age of twenty-one, and staid there thirty-
five years, under the reign of Galba and the succeeding
emperors, till that of Trajan ; and having acquired the
esteem of Titus and Domitian, he was created tribune.
At length, finding that he was neglected by Trajan, he
returned to his own country, Bilbilis, where he married a
wife, and had the happiness to live with her several years.
He admires and commends her much, telling us that she
I-Jfar.i
MAR
alone was sufficient to supply the want of everything which
'he had enjoyed at Rome. Romam tu mild sola fads, says
he, in the twenty-first epigram of the twelfth book. She
appears likewise to have been a lady of a very large for¬
tune ; for, in the thirty-first epigram of the same book, he
extols the magnificence of the house and gardens which
he had received from her, and says that she had made him
a kind of little monarch.
Munera sunt domino : post septima lustra reverse,
Has Marcella domos, parvaque regna dedit.
There are still extant fourteen books of his epigrams, filled
with points, and plays upon words, and obscene allusions.
The style is in general affected. A few of his epigrams
are no doubt excellent, but some of them are not above
mediocrity, and the greater part are bad; so that Martial
never spoke a greater truth than when he said of his own
works,
Sunt bona, sunt quaedam mediocria, sunt mala plura.
There has also been attributed to him a book on the
spectacles of the amphitheatre; but the most learned
critics think that this last work was not written by Mar¬
tial. The best editions of Martial are that in Usum Del¬
phi™, 4)to, Paris, 1617, and that cum Notis Variorum.
MARTIN, St, was born at Sabaria, in Pannonia (Stain,
in Lower Hungary), in the beginning of the fourth cen¬
tury. He was elected Bishop of Tours in the year 374.
To the zeal and charity of a bishop he joined the humi¬
lity and poverty of an anchorite. That he might de¬
tach himself the more from the world, he built the cele¬
brated monastery of Marmoutier, situated near the city of
1 ours, between the Loire and a steep rock. In this situation
St Martin, together with eighty monks, displayed the most
exemplary sanctity and the greatest mortification; nor were
there any monks better disciplined than those of Marmou¬
tier. Martin died at Candes, on the 8th of November 397,
hut, according to others, on the 11th of November 400.
His name is attached to a particular opinion concerning
the mystery of the Holy Trinity. St Martin is the first of
the saints confessors to whom the Latin church offered
up public prayers. Plis life is written in elegant Latin by
I’ortunatus, and also by Sulpicius Severus, who was one
of his disciples.
Martin, Benjamin, an eminent artist and mathemati¬
cian, was born in 1704. After publishing a variety of in¬
genious treatises, and particularly a scientific magazine
under his own name, and carrying on for many years an
extensive trade as an optician and globe-maker in Fleet
street, the growing infirmities of age compelled him to
withdraw from the active duties of business. Trusting too
atally to what he thought the integrity of others, he un¬
fortunately (though with a capital more than sufficient to
W al1 lus debts) became bankrupt. The unhappy old
'"an, overpowered by this unexpected blow, attempted, in
I a moment of desperation, to destroy himself; and the wound
,e gave himself, though not immediately mortal, hastened
us death, which happened on the 9th February 1782, in his
seventy-eighth year. He had a valuable collection of fos-
’> s, and curiosities of almost every kind, which, after his
eatu, were disposed of by auction. His principal publi-
a ions are, 1. ihe Philosophic Grammar, being a view
> ie present state of Experimental Physiology, or Natu-
al Ph'bscphy, 1735, 8vo ; 2. A New, Complete, and Uni-
• Ti vyStem orB°dy of Decimal Arithmetic, 1735, 8vo;
W q °Ung Student’s Memorial Book, or Patent Library,
0;o4-,DescriPtionandUse ofhoth the Globes, the
Hilary Sphere, and Orrery, 1736, in two vols. 8vo • 5.
emoirs of the Academy of Paris, 1740, in five vols.’; 6.
M A R
265
System of the Newtonian Philosophy, 1759, in three vols.; Martinet
7. New Elements of Optics, 1759 ; 8. Mathematical Institu- II
tions, viz. Arithmetic, Algebra, Geometry, Trigonometry. Martinico.
and Fluxions 1759; 9. Natural History of England, with a
Map of each County, 1759, in two vols.; 10. Philology and
Philosophical Geography, 1759; 11. Mathematical Insti¬
tutions, 1764, in two vols.; 12. Lives of Philosophers, their
Inventions, &c. 1764; 13. Introduction to the Newtonian
1 mlosophy, 1765 ; 14. Institutions of Astronomical Calcu-
Jations, in two parts, 1765; 15. Description and Use of the
^ ii i limp, 1766 ; 16. Description of the Torricellian Baro-
niet5,1'’ I'db ; 17. Appendix to the Description and Use of
the Globes, 1766; 18. Philosophia Britannica, 1778, in three
™lS-; ,19- Gentleman and Lady’s Philosophy, in three vols.;
-0. Miscellaneous Correspondence, in four vols.; 21. Sys¬
tem of Philology; 22. Philosophical Geography; 23. Maga¬
zine complete, in fourteen vols.; 24. Principles of Pump-
work; 25. Iheory of the Hydrometer; and, 26. Doctrine
ot Logarithms.
MARTIN, St, an island in the West Indies, situated
between Anguilla and St Bartholomew, in latitude 18.4.0.
north, and longitude 63. 14. 0. west. It is about fifteen
miles in length by twelve at its greatest breadth. The
coast is indented with numerous bays, which makes it ap¬
pear larger than it really is. The interior is mountainous,
but the nature of the soil is of secondary importance, as
the wealth of the island consists in its salt-pits and salt-
w-ater lakes. Salt indeed has been found the most profit-
aole article of export, the annual value of one marsh ex¬
ceeding L. 12,000. It first belonged to Spain, from which
it was wrested by the French ; but the Dutch prevented
their entire occupation of the island, and the two powers
agreed to divide it between them. The French entered
into possession of that part of it which looks towards An-
guilla, being the most beautiful and pleasantly situated,
whilst the Dutch occupied the most profitable, that which
contained the salt-pits and ponds. The result was such as
might have been anticipated. The Dutch throve prosper¬
ously, whilst the French remained poor and ill provided
with the necessaries of life; and they were, besides, repeat¬
edly plundered by the English. In 1801 the island was
taken by the British, but it was afterwards restored to
the two powers, who have since continued in the posses¬
sion of their respective portions of it.
MARTINGALE, in the manege, a thong of leather,
fastened to one end of the girths under a horse’s belly, and
at the other end to the muss-roll, to prevent him from rear-
ing.
^ MARTINICO, or Martinique, a large island in the
West Indies, belonging to France. It is nearly fifty miles
in length by about sixteen in breadth, and comprehends an
area of 360 square miles. The surface is uneven, and in¬
tersected in all parts by steep and rugged rocks. Piton
de Corbet, one of the highest, is about 812 feet above the
level of the sea. The shape of this calcareous hill resem¬
bles a cone, and it is on that account very difficult of access.
The palm trees with which it is covered become more
lofty and abundant near the summit, and these continually
attract the clouds, which occasion noxious damps, and con¬
tribute to render it more rugged in appearance, and more
dangerous to ascend. I here are also two other moun¬
tains conspicuous from their elevation, and from these, ‘
particularly from the first, descend numerous streams,
which irrigate the island. Martinique is better supplied
with water, and less exposed to hurricanes, than Guada-
loupe, whilst the productions of both islands are nearly the
^ 75,321 hectares,1 the superficial area of the
5. same.
island, 17,622 are employed in raising sugar-cane, 3861 in
yOL. xiv.
A hectare is nearly two and a half English acres.
266
M A R
M A R
Martins- coffee, 719 in cocoa, 491 in cotton, 17,191 are pasturage,
berS and 19,997 are woods. The annual production is valued
-.j, \ at 21,000,000 francs. In 1824, the island consumed French
/ products to the value of 16,000,000 francs, and exported to
the mother country goods to the amount of 18,000,000
francs. The tonnage engaged in this commerce amounted
to 33,500 tons. The revenue in 1823 was 4,000,000 francs.
These are the latest returns which can be obtained, but the
commerce of Martinique has continued nearly the same
since the period at which the above estimate was made.
Port Royal, the capital and seat of the courts of justice,
is situated on one of the several bays which indent the
island, and possesses one of the safest and most capacious
harbours in the West Indies, or even in the world. It is a
well-built and pretty place, the streets being in general
placed at right angles to each other, with water running on
either side of them. The houses are high, and have more of
an European appearance than those in our British colonies.
It possesses four large and well-furnished booksellers’ shops,
with a population of 7000. But the chief trade centres in
St Pierre, the largest place in Martinique, or in all French
America. Like Port Royal, it is situated in a bay, and pos¬
sesses a large and excellent harbour. All visitors are libe¬
ral in their "praise of the beauty of this town. The streets
are neat, regular, and cleanly; the houses good, lofty, and
substantial, being generally built of stone, and having an Eu¬
ropean aspect. Some of the streets have an avenue of trees,
which overshadow the footpath; and on either side are
deep gutters, down which the water flows. There are two
churches, both of them good, and tastefully fitted up. There
is a pretty large botanic garden, which is in a flourishing
and improving state. St Pierre possesses a theatre, which
English travellers pronounce the best in the West Indies.
It is the most commercial town in the Lesser Antilles, and
contains 2080 houses, and a population of 30,000. In 1827
the whole island contained 101,865 inhabitants, of whom
9937 were whites, 10,786 were free people of colour, and
81,142 were slaves. It has a garrison, and the administra¬
tion is conducted by a council, at the head of which is the
governor.
Martinique was discovered by the Spaniards in the year
1493. It afterwards came into the possession of France,
by which power it was held till about the middle of the
eighteenth century, when it fell into the hands of the Eng¬
lish. It was subsequently restored to France, but during
the wars between the two countries it was twice captured
by Britain. At the peace of 1814, however, it was finally
ceded to France.
MARTINSBERG, a market-town of the circle of Wie-
selburg, in the province beyond the Danube, in Hungary.
It contains 1500 inhabitants, who chiefly subsist by the cul¬
tivation of vineyards. It stands at the foot of the Mom
Sacer Pannonice, on the top of which is a Benedictine
convent, which is immediately under the patronage of the
pope. Long. 17. 39. 1. E. Lat. 47. 32. 32. N.
MARTLETS, in Heraldry, little birds represented with¬
out feet, and used as a difference or mark of distinction for
younger brothers, to put them in mind that they are to trust
to the wings of virtue and merit, in order to raise them¬
selves, and not to their feet, inasmuch as they have little
land to take their stand upon.
MARTOCK, a town of Somersetshire, in the hundred
of the same name, 130 miles from London. It is in a rich
level district, through which runs the river Ivel. The church
is a large and elegant structure. In the market-place is a
fluted column after the model of the celebrated pillar of
Trajan. The population amounted in 1801 to 2102, in 1811
to 2356, in 1821 to 2560, and in 1831 to 2841.
MARTYR is one who lays down his life, or who suffers
death, for the sake of his religion. The word is Greek,
/jjaeTvg, and properly signifies a witness. It is applied, by
way of eminence, to those who suffered in witness of the uai
truth of the gospel. The Christian church has abounded ok
in martyrs, and history is filled with accounts of their sin-^
gular constancy and fortitude under the most cruel torments
which human nature was capable of suffering. The pri¬
mitive Christians were accused by their enemies of paying
a sort of divine worship to the martyrs. Of this we have
an instance in the answer of the church of Smyrna to the
suggestion of the Jews, who, on the martyrdom of St Poly¬
carp, desired the heathen judge not to suffer the Christians
to carry off his body, lest they should leave their crucified
master, and worship him in his stead. To this, however,
they answered, “ We can neither forsake Christ, nor wor¬
ship any other; for we worship him as the Son of God;
but we love the martyrs as the disciples and followers of
the Lord, for the great affection they have shown to their
King and Master.” The primitive Christians believed that
the martyrs enjoyed singular privileges; that upon their
death they were immediately admitted to enjoy the beatific
vision, whilst other souls waited for the completion of their
happiness till the day of judgment; and that God would
grant chiefly to their prayers the hastening of his king¬
dom, and the shortening of the times of persecution. The
churches built over the graves of the martyrs, and called
by their names, in order to preserve the memory of their
sufferings, were distinguished by the title martyrum
confessio, or menwria. The festivals of the martyrs are of
very ancient date in the Christian church, and may be
carried back at least to the time of St Polycarp, who suf¬
fered martyrdom about the year of Christ 168. On these
days the Christians met at the graves of the martyrs, and
offered up prayers and thanksgivings to God for the ex¬
amples afforded them; they also celebrated the eucharist,
and gave alms to the poor, which, together with a pane¬
gyrical oration or sermon, and reading the acts of the
martyrs, formed the spiritual exercises of these anniver¬
saries.
MARTYROLOGY, a catalogue or list of martyrs, in¬
cluding the history of their lives and sufferings for the
sake of religion. The term is formed of [Mgrvg, witness,
and Xoyog, discourse.
The Martyrology of Eusebius of Caesarea was the most
celebrated in the ancient church. It was translated into
Latin by St Jerome, but it is not now extant. That at¬
tributed to Beda, in the eighth century, is of very doubt¬
ful authority, there being found in it the names of seve¬
ral saints who did not live till after the time of Beda.
The ninth century was very fertile in martyrologies; for
then appeared that of Florus, subdeacon of the church at
Lyons, who, however, only filled up the chasms in Beda.
This was published about the year 830, and was followed
by that of W'aldenburtus, monk of the diocese of Treves,
written in verse about the year 844; and this again by
that of Usuard, a French monk, which was written by the
command of Charles the Bald in 875, and is the martyro¬
logy now ordinarily used in the Roman Catholic church.
That of Rabanus Maurus, written about the year 845, is
an improvement on Beda and Florus; that of Notker, monk
of St Gal, was written about the year 894. The martyro¬
logy of Addo, monk of Ferrieres, in the diocese of Treves,
afterwards archbishop of Vienne, is, if we may so express
it, a descendant of the Roman. According to Du Solher,
the martyrology of St Jerome is the great Roman mar¬
tyrology ; from this was made the little Roman one print¬
ed by Rosweyd ; and of this little Roman martyrology
was formed that of Beda, afterwards augmented by Florus.
Addo compiled his in the year 858. The martyrology of
Nevelon, monk of Corbie, written about the year 1089, is
little more than an abridgment of that of Addo. Father
Kircher also makes mention of a Coptic martyrology py6'
served by the Maronites at Rome. We have likewise
MAR
Ma ejolsseveral Protestant martyrologies, containing accounts of
the sufferings of the reformed.
Ma ell. MARVEJOLS, an arrondissement of the department
^■"■^of the Lozere, in France, 728 square miles in extent. It
is divided into ten cantons and seventy-six communes,
and contains 57,100 inhabitants. The capital is a city of the
same name situated in a beautiful valley on the river Cou-
langes ; it is well built, and contains 660 houses, with 3750
inhabitants, whose chief occupation is making hats, serges,
and other inferior kinds of woollen goods. Long. 3 14
E. Lat. 44. 25. N.
MARVELL, Andrew, an ingenious writer in the seven¬
teenth century, was bred at Cambridge. He travelled
through the most polite parts of Europe, and was secre¬
tary to the embassy at Constantinople. His first appear¬
ance in public business at home was as assistant to John
Milton, Latin secretary to the protector. A little before
the Restoration, he was chosen by his native town, Kings-
ton-upon-Hull, to sit in the parliament which assembled
at Westminster on the 25th of April 1660; and he is re¬
corded as the last member of parliament who received
the wages or allowance anciently paid to representatives
by their constituents. He seldom spoke in parliament,
but he had much influence without doors upon the mem¬
bers of both houses; and Prince Rupert had always the
greatest regard for his advice. He made himself very
obnoxious to the government by his actions and writings;
but, notwithstanding, Charles II. took great delight in his
conversation, and tried all means to win him over to the
side of the court. There were many instances of his firm¬
ness in resisting the offers of the court; but he was proof
against all temptations. The king having one night en¬
tertained him, sent the Lord Ireasurer Danby next morn¬
ing to find out his lodgings, which were then up two pair
of stairs in one of the little courts in the Strand. He
was busy writing when the treasurer abruptly opened the
door and entered. Surprised at the sight of so unex¬
pected a visitor, Mr Marvell told his lordship that he
believed he had mistaken his way. Lord Danby replied
that he had not, now he had found Mr Marvell; telling
him he came from his majesty, to know what he could do
to serve him. Coming to a serious explanation, he told
the Lord Treasurer that he knew the nature of courts
full well; and that whoever was distinguished by a prince’s
favour, was certainly expected to vote in his interest. The
Lord Danby told him, that his majesty had only a just
sense of his merits; in regard to which he merely desired to
know if there was any place at court he could be pleased
with. These offers, though urged with the greatest earnest¬
ness, had no effect upon him. He told the Lord Treasurer
that he could not accept of them with honour; for he must
either be ungrateful to the king in voting against him, or
false to his country in giving in to the measures of the court,
ihe only favour, therefore, he had to request of his majesty
was, that he would esteem him as dutiful a subject as any he
had, and more in his proper interest by refusing his offers
than if he had embraced them. The Lord Danby finding
that no arguments could prevail, told him that the king
had ordered a thousand pounds for him, which he hoped
he would receive until he could think what further to ask
o ns majesty. But this last offer was rejected with the
same stedfastness of mind as the first; though, as soon
as the Lord Treasurer was gone, he was forced to send
to a friend to borrow a guinea. He died in 1678, not
without strong suspicions of having been poisoned, in
the hfty-eighth year of his age. In 1688, the town of
fvingston-upon-Hull contributed a sum of money to erect
M A R
267
a monument to his memory in the church of St Giles-in- Marwar
the-Fields, where he was interred, and an epitaph com- II
posed by an able hand; but the ministers of that church MarJ-
forbade both the inscription and monument to be placed
there. His works were published in 1726, in two vols.
12mo; but a much more complete collection appeared in
1776, in three vols. 4to. This edition, however, attributes
to him some pieces which did not proceed from his pen.
MARWAR, an extensive district of Hindustan, in the
province of Ajmeer, situated principally between the twen¬
ty-sixth and twenty-eighth degrees of north latitude. It
has been possessed from time immemorial by the Rajpoot
rajah of Joudpore.
MARY (Heb. o'in* Gr. Mag/a/i ve/ Mag/a). Of persons
bearing this name, no less than seven are mentioned in diffe¬
rent parts of the sacred volume. They are the following :
Mary or Miriam., the sister of Aaron and Moses. She
was the daughter of Amram and Jochebed, who were both
of the tribe of Levi (Exod. ii. 1), and were related to each
other before marriage as aunt and nephew (Exod. vi.
20), and seems to have been their eldest child (Numb,
xxvi. 59). When the infant Moses was exposed by his
mother in the ark; upon the Nile, Miriam, then probably
about eight years of age, was sent to observe the fate of her
brother; and when she beheld him picked up by the at¬
tendants of the daughter of Pharaoh, and saw the interest
taken in him by that princess, she availed herself of the
opportunity to have him again restored to his mother, by
offering to procure for him a Hebrew nurse, and, when that
offer was accepted, bringing his mother as the person she
had selected (Exod. ii. 4-10). On the occasion of the de¬
struction of the Egyptians in the Red Sea, after the Israe¬
lites had passed safely over, Miriam, who, in the passage
giving an account of the circumstance (Exod. xv. 20), is
styled “ the prophetess,” either on account of her skill in
extempore poetry and music,1 or because she really enjoyed
divine revelations,2 led forth a chorus of women, and guided
them in celebrating with music and dancing the triumphant
deliverance which their nation had obtained. Shortly after
this an event occurred which presents the character of
Miriam in a less favourable light. Her brother Moses had
been rejoined by his wife Zipporah, who had fora consider¬
able time before been resident with her father Jethro
(Exod. xviii. 1-3); and as she was not of Israelitish but
of Cushite extraction, Miriam and her brother Aaron took
occasion from this to indulge what seems to have been
a long-cherished feeling of jealousy and envy towards
Moses, by exciting a prejudice against him in the minds
of the people. For this she was punished by God, by
being, in the sight of all the people, afflicted with leprosy,
so that “ she became w'hite as snow.” On the intercession,
however, of Aaron with Moses, and of Moses with God,
this terrible infliction was removed; but not until she had
been “ shut out from the camp seven days,” during which
time the people of Israel suspended their journey (Numb,
xii.). From this a period of nearly forty years elapses
during which no mention is made of Miriam; and when at
length, towards the close of the history, her name is again
introduced, it is only for the purpose of informing us that, on
the arrival of the Israelites at Kadesh, in the desert of Zin,
she died and was buried in that place. At the time of her
death it is calculated she must have been nearly 130 years
of age. Her decease preceded that of Aaron by about
four, and that of Moses by about eleven months, so that
these three distinguished members of the same family died
within the same year.0 Eusebius says her tomb was to be
seen at Kadesh, near the city of Petra, even in his time.
See Losenmuller, Scliol. in loc.; and Wells’s Paraphrase. 2 Numb. xii. 2; and Micah, vi. 4.
iMumb. xx. 1, xxxm. 38; and Deut. xxxiv. 5. See also Dr Ad. Clarke’s Comment, on Numb. xx. 1.
268
MAR
MAR
Mary. Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ. Closely as this me-
morable female was connected with Him with whose per¬
son, character, and work the Scriptures are chiefly occu¬
pied, it is remarkable how slender is the information which
they communicate to us respecting her; indeed it is only
as her history serves to illustrate that of her son, that her
name seems to be mentioned at all. From the genealogy
furnished by St Luke in the third chapter of his gospel, of
our Lord’s descent from Adam, we learn that her father’s
name was Heli, a descendant of David through his son
Nathan. In that passage, indeed, it is her husband Jo¬
seph who is said to be the son of Lleli; but that he was
so only from his connection with her, and that it is her
descent and not his that is given by St Luke, seems plain,
for the following reasons : In the genealogy of Christ’s
descent furnished by St Matthew, we are informed that
the father of Joseph was Jacob, and not Heli; 2dly, The en¬
tire discrepancy of the genealogy as given by St Matthew
from that given by St Luke necessitates the conclusion,
that as both relate to Christ’s descent, the former gives his
descent by his reputed father’s side, and the latter by his
mother’s side ; and, 3dly, As the great object of furnishing
these genealogies is to show that Christ wTas lineally de¬
scended from David, and as it was only through his mother
that he was connected naturally with any of the human race,
it is absolutely necessary that we should regard the gene¬
alogy of St Luke as that of his maternal descent, else we
shall be left with two genealogies, neither of which serves
the purpose for which one of them at least must have been
intended. We conclude, therefore, that whilst the genealo¬
gy of St Matthew was designed to meet the prejudices of
the Jews, for whom chiefly he wrote, by showing that even
Joseph, whom they supposed to be the father of Jesus, was
of royal descent, that of St Luke presents to us the real
descent of Christ from his royal type and ancestor through
his mother, and is accordingly to be regarded as giving us
her descent as well as his. This is confirmed by the
passages adduced by Lightfoot (Hor. Talm. in loc.) from
the Jewish writings, where Mary is expressly spoken of as
the daughter of Heli.1
At the time the gospel history opens, Mary was the be¬
trothed bride of Joseph, who, though like herself of royal
descent, followed the humble occupation of a craftsman or
artificer (rsxrwi/), probably, as our translators suppose, in
wood. Among the Jews it was no uncommon thing for fe¬
males to be thus betrothed for a very long time before they
were married ; and whenever this was the case, the parties
were regarded as bound to each other by as solemn ties as if
they had been really married.2 Hence Joseph is called
the husband of Mary, and she his wife, though as yet their
contract of marriage had not been fulfilled (Matt. i. 19, 20).
The wild opinion that these two terms are to be under¬
stood in their ordinary meaning, and that Joseph, when a
very old man, had espoused Mary merely to protect her in
the observance of a vow of perpetual virginity, rests only
on the testimony of the apocryphal Protevanyelium Jacobi,
and is so plainly contradicted by th*e entire tenor of the
sacred narrative, as to be unworthy of serious notice. Whilst
thus in her virgin state, and as yet probably very young (for
females were betrothed at a very early age amongst the
Jews), Mary became the mother of our Lord. The cir¬
cumstances attending this event are related with much
simplicity and minuteness by the Evangelist Luke. From T\jar
his account we learn that an angel appeared to Mary at^—^
Nazareth, and saluted her as “ highly favoured of Jehovah,
blessed among women and when, startled by the sudden¬
ness of the apparition, and perplexed with the strangeness
of his salutation, she began to be afraid, he calmed her
anxiety by explicitly announcing to her the honour which
was intended for her, in that she should be the mother of
the promised seed, to whom should be given “the throne of
his father David.” Amazed at such an announcement,
she asked, in all the simplicity of conscious innocence,
“ How shall this be, seeing I know7 not a man upon which
the angel informed her that she was to become a mother
by the miraculous power of God, and that therefore her
child should be called “the Son of God.” For the con¬
firmation of his message, he further informed her that her
cousin Elizabeth, then far advanced in life, had conceived a
son, and that the event was nigh at hand, which should cause
her reproach to cease amongst women; and having thus as¬
sured her that in her the long-cherished hopes of every
mother and every maiden in Israel were to be realised, he
left her meekly acquiescing in the will of God.
Her first impulse after this occurrence was to visit her
cousin Elizabeth, of whose state the angel had informed
her. The meeting of these pious and honoured females
was one of mutual joy and congratulation; nor did they
fail to mingle with their rejoicings, grateful thanksgivings
to the author of their privileges and blessings. After
spending three months with her cousin, Mary returned to
her former residence. Here a severe trial awaited her;
for Joseph, perceiving her pregnancy, and of course igno¬
rant of its true cause, regarded her as having broken her
vows of betrothal tohim. Unwilling, however, toexposeher
to the ignominy and danger3 of a public disclosure of her
crime, he had formed the resolution of putting her away
privately, when information was communicated to him in a
dream, of the real nature of the case, and the command
of God laid upon him to relinquish his intention of put¬
ting her away, and to take her to his home as his wife.
This he accordingly did, and thus came to be regarded by
his neighbours as the father of Jesus.
In ancient prophecy4 it had been predicted that the
Messiah should be born at Bethlehem, and the fulfilment
of this prediction was brought about by an occurrence of
a nature apparently purely accidental, and wholly inde¬
pendent of the purposes of his parents. This was the
issuing of an edict by the Roman emperor, commanding
a census to be taken of all the inhabitants of his dominions,
and ordaining that the name of each should be enrolled
in the chief city of the tribe or family to which he be¬
longed. As Joseph and Mary were both of the lineage of
David, this necessitated their going to Bethlehem, the city
of David ; and it was whilst they were there that the pro¬
phecy was fulfilled. Much disorder has been introduced
into the gospel chronology, from the confounding of the
edict mentioned by St Luke with a subsequent decree
imposing a tax upon the inhabitants of Judaea, and which
led to serious strife and bloodshed, whilst Quirinus was
proconsul of Syria. The two, however, were perfectly
distinct. The edict which brought Joseph and Mary
to Bethlehem, though in our version it is said to have
decreed “that all the world should be taxed,” seems to
ie suppooi ion t lat Mary was an heiress and was, according to the Mosaic law in reference to such cases, married by
one o er own tribe, who trom that circumstance came to be called the son of her father, a supposition which was maintained at a
veiy ear y age in the church, as we learn from Eusebius (Hist. lied. i. 7), is entirely arbitrary and unnecessary. See Crusii Ihjpomne-
mala ad Theol. Projph. p. 3oo ; and Olshausen’s Commentar, Bd. i. s. 43; the latter of whom favours the hypothesis.
Deut. xxn. yd. ‘ hemma ex quo desponsata est, licet nondum a viro cognita, est uxor viri; et si sponsus earn velit repudiare,
oporlet ut id faciat libello repudii.” (Maimonides ap. Ruxtorf. de Divortio, p. 76.)
" I*/ tlle ^aw Moses such crimes were to be punished with death by stoning. Deut. xxii. 23, 24.
4 Micah, v. 2. ^ & 5
M A R
y. have had reference merely to the taking of a census of the
S people, and of the amount of their property. The word
used by Luke is avoygoupr), which is the classical word for a
census or enrolment, whereas the proper word for taxation
is a^onfiridi. That such edicts were frequently issued is
well known to every classical reader; and though there is
no express mention in any of the profane historians, of any
such being sent forth at the time referred to by St Luke,
yet as it is not to be supposed that they have recorded all
the events of this nature which occurred, their silence can
hardly be regarded as a sufficient reason for rejecting the
testimony of the Evangelist.1 To this confounding of these
two distinct edicts, many have been led by the language of
St Luke himself in the second verse, wdiere it is stated (ac¬
cording to our version) that “ this taxing was first made
when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.” " Here the Evan¬
gelist seems at first sight to have fallen into the mistake
alluded to, and of this an eager use has been made by some
of the enemies of Christianity, to discredit his claims as
an inspired historian. His words, however, when trans¬
lated so as to give them a meaning (which can hardly
be said to be the case in our version), seem rather de¬
signed to guard against such a mistake, than to indicate
the author’s having fallen into it. According to a usage
not uncommon in the New Testament, ir^wrr} seems to be
used for ^or^af and in this case the proper rendering
would be, “ this census took place before Cyrenius (or Qui-
rinus) was governor of Syria a statement which seems
thrown in parenthetically by the historian, for the pur¬
pose of informing his readers that the event to which he
refers was not the famous and well-known taxing under
Quirinus (commonly called, as he himself records in Acts
v. 37, “ the taxing,” by way of eminence), but was antece¬
dent to it.3
Owing to the multitudes of people whom this edict had
brought together to Bethlehem, Joseph and his wife, on
their arrival, found themselves unable to procure any better
accommodation than what was afforded them by the stable
of a public lodging-house. Here Mary was delivered of
her first-born son, whom she herself swathed, and laid in
the manger. Amongst the busy crowd then assembled at
Bethlehem this event excited no attention; but it was
too important to be allowed to pass unregarded by heaven,
and accordingly an angel was commissioned to announce
it to some pious shepherds that same night, as they were
watching their flocks in the adjoining fields. Gladdened
with the joyful news, that the long-expected Messiah had
at length appeared, these pious men lost no time in going
to Bethlehem, that they might see the thing which had
come to pass, and might offer their adoration to their
infant Saviour. The intelligence they brought was re¬
ceived by Mary and Joseph with astonishment, and by the
former carefully stored up in her remembrance (Luke, ii.
8-19).
On the termination of the time appointed by the Mo¬
saic law for the continuance of a woman’s uncleanness
after childbirth,4 Mary went up to Jerusalem to present
her son to the Lord, and to offer the appointed sacrifice in
such cases.5 These rites observed, she returned with her
husband to their usual residence at Nazareth (Luke, ii.
39). from this place they were in the habit of going up to
mar
Jerusalem every year at the feast of the passover (ver. 41);
and it seems to have been on the occasion of one of these
visits that the Magi from the East came with their offerings
and adorations to Christ. The occurrence of this event is
269
Mary.
commonly regarded as having taken place immediately
after the visit of the shepherds; but a comparison of the
facts stated by St Matthew with those stated by St Luke
forbids the entertaining of such a supposition. From the
former we learn, that immediately on the visit of the Magi,
Joseph and his wife fled into Egypt, where they abode
till the death of Herod. But the latter informs us that,
six weeks after the birth of Christ, he was taken up to the
temple, and from thence carried down to Nazareth. From
this it is plain that the visit of the Magi, and the conse¬
quent flight into Egypt, could not have taken place before
the dedication in the temple, and must therefore be re¬
ferred to a subsequent period.6 It was on the occasion of
another of these visits that the scene between Christ and
the Jewish Rabbin took place, when, after an absence from
his parents of three days, he was found by his anxious
mother sitting with the doctors in the temple, both hear¬
ing them and asking them questions (Luke, ii. 42-52).
Some time before our Lord’s entrance upon his public
ministry, Mary seems to have lost her husband. This is
rendered probable, not only from the circumstance that no
mention is made after this period of Joseph in the gospel
history, but also from the freedom with which Mary ap¬
pears to have moved from place to place ; a freedom hardly
consistent with her duties as a wife whose husband was
still alive. As confirmatory of this it may be mentioned,
that it was admitted as an acknowledged fact in the early
ages of the church, that she supported herself by weav-
ing; and hence Celsus calls her Xigi/qr/g, and Tertullian
Qucestuaria. Her residence seems to have been princi¬
pally at Capernaum, on which account probably this place
was called Christ’s “ own city” (Matt. ix. 1), as her house
would be the place to which he would naturally retire
during the intervals of his public labours. She is mentioned
as having been present at the marriage at Cana in Galilee,
where he commenced his miraculous works by turnin<>-
water into wine (John ii. 1). Shortly after this, whilst he
was teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum, she endea¬
voured to induce him to desist, fearing probably lest he
should offend the people by his pointed rebukes; but he
resisted her entreaties, declaring that no earthly connections
could be so dear to him as those spiritual unions which he
sought to form by the truths he was teaching. On the occa¬
sion of his going up to Jerusalem for the last time before his
death, she was one of those who accompanied him ; she fol¬
lowed him to Calvary, beheld him elevated on the cross, and
retired not until shesaw him expire. As she stood gazing on
him, along with some of his followers, he commended her to
the care of his beloved disciple John, who from that time took
her to reside in his own house. We learn from Acts, i. 14,
that she was amongst the disciples at Jerusalem when they
were waiting for the gift of the Holy Spirit. An uncertain
tradition informs us that she removed with John to Ephe¬
sus when he went to reside there, and died and was buried
in that place. Other accounts state that she died and was
buried at Jerusalem, which is perhaps the more probable
statement of the two. By the Catholic church the Virgin
a„ Sw.ei?ie1n.t °/1^?10 Celsius, which is supported by the testimony of Tacitus, Annul, i. 11, and of Suetonius Octnn o ini t W
tebJlur hlm at ^ dejfh a breviarium or rationarium of the Roman empire, in four volumes, of which the third complec-
nmch mins t, T ’ qUa‘qf ad. reittus sumlf‘sque publicos, pertinebant, renders it extremely probable that that monarch had taken
cSe, sr r/rs t“fa4rts of his doniinions-That this was the ^is “ ^ v
3 sle11! SPr*cMd- P-201. Stuart’s Syntax of the New Testament Dialect, in the Biblical Cabinet, vol. x. p. 120,
Tholuck’s CrflMlty'?*rKn\Cto l MaC,kniSht’ Harmony, Chronol. Biss. i. eh. 13; and a very able series of articles in
inoiuck b Litterarucher Anzeiger for 183G, from the pen of the learned editor. n
xm. 2. • Levit. xii. 6-8. 6 Macknight’s Harmony, §11; and Doddridge in loc.
270 M A R
Mary. Mary has been deemed worthy of divine honours, and has
y—^ even been made to occupy a more prominent place in the
devotions of the people than the Saviour himself.1 For
this the way was gradually paved by the importance which
was attached to discussions respecting her in the writings
of the Fathers, and by the extravagant terms of eulogy in
which they spoke and wrote regarding her. From styling
her Ssoroxog, fc6ftoi)ia ayta xai autfagdmg, as even
Chrysostom writes of her; from speaking of her as “ the
sacred treasure of the universe, the quenchless lamp, the
crown of virginity, the sceptre of orthodoxy, the temple
indestructible, the tenement of the infinite, both a virgin
and a mother,” as Cyril of Alexandria describes her ;2 from
writing treatises to prove that she bore her son clauso
utero, et sine dolore, and many other puerile extravagances ;
the transition was not difficult to the dogmas of the imma¬
culate conception and the assumption, nor to the offering of
divine homage to the object of such unwarranted eulogium.
It is to be regretted that, even by Protestant writers, a de¬
gree of importance has been attached to inquiries respect¬
ing her, which nothing in Scripture would seem to autho¬
rize. How many, for instance, have contended for her pei'-
petual virginity, as if it were a matter on which the whole
of our religion depended. A more interesting question is
that respecting the fact of her having had any children
by Joseph after the birth of Christ, because upon the
answer given to this depends the meaning which we are to
attach to those passages that speak of our Lord’s' “ brethren
and sisters.” The probability is that she had none, and
that these titles are to be taken, according to Hebrew usage,
as merely signifying near relations.3 Such matters, how¬
ever, “ do not aftect,” as the great Basil truly remarks, “ the
doctrine of godliness ; for though until the birth of Christ
her virginity was necessary, what happened afterwards is a
matter not worthy of anxious inquiry.”4
Mary Magdalene, so called apparently from Magdala,
a castle, and probably also a village, near Gamala and the
baths of Tiberius, on the eastern shore of the sea of Ga¬
lilee (Matt. xv. 39).5 6 This was in all probability her birth¬
place, and from it she was named, to distinguish her from
the other Marys who followed Christ. She has been often
confounded with Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus,
and also with the “ woman who was a sinner,” mentioned
in Luke, vii. 36, &c. but in both cases without any sufficient
reason. Equally unfounded is the notion, that before her
conversion she was a person of abandoned character ; a
notion which, though resting on no better authority than
that of some monkish legends, has nevertheless become so
generally received, that few even in Protestant countries
ever think of questioning its accuracy. The only passage
of Scripture, however, that can be quoted as favouring this
opinion, is that in which it is said that “ out of her went
seven devils.” (Luke, viii.) But this cannot be admitted
as evidence in support of the point in question; for, what¬
ever may be the conclusion to which we come as to the
nature of that diabolical possession which prevailed in the
days of our Lord, one thing is certain in regard to it,
which is, that to be afflicted with it did not imply in the
individual so visited any peculiar moral depravity; so
that, though the case of Mary Magdalene was one of un¬
usual severity (the number seven being the number of
completeness), it by no means follows from this that she
MAR
was not a virtuous, nay, pious female. On the contrary,
the evidence from Scripture seems rather to favour the ^
supposition that she was a person at once of blameless cha¬
racter and respectable station. She is introduced to us for
the first time in the society of Joanna, the wife of Chuza,
steward of Herod’s household (Imrgcwros, preefectus domus),
with whom she was associated in ministering to the wants
of our Saviour “ out of their substance” (iwragj/ovra, opes,
facilitates) ; and from the language used by Mark (ch. xv.
41), it would seem as if this had been the usual practice
of these pious females whenever he paid a visit to Galilee.
Had she been, as is commonly supposed, a mere common
prostitute before her conversion, it is difficult to under¬
stand how she should either associate with persons of such
rank as Joanna, or be possessed of the means of such li¬
berality towards Christ.6
On the occasion of our Lord’s going up to Jerusalem
from Galilee, immediately before his death, Mary Magda¬
lene was one of those by whom he was followed; nor does
she seem to have left him as long as he continued upon
earth. She was one of those who beheld him from a dis¬
tance when he was hanging upon the cross (Mark, xv. 40);
and when he was taken down and buried, it was she and
Mary Salome who sat over against the sepulchre and be¬
held where he was laid (Matt, xxvii. 61 ; Mark, xv. 47).
From the sepulchre she returned with her companion into
the city to procure materials for embalming his body; and
having rested on the Sabbath, they came at the dawn ot the
third day to perform this office of respect to their departed
Lord. Contrary to their expectations and fears, they found
the stone which they had seen placed upon the mouth of
the tomb rolled away, and free entrance afforded to its in¬
terior. Stooping down and looking in, they were startled
to find the body of Jesus gone; but as they wondered, an
angel appeared, who informed them of his resurrection, and
at the same time commanded them to carry the tidings of
this event to the rest of the disciples (Matt, xxviii. 7).
Amazed and perplexed, they fled from the sepulchre, and
announced to their company what they had seen; upon
which Peter and John hastened to satisfy themselves ot
the correctness of their report, by returning with them to
the place where Jesus had been interred. When the others
returned home, Mary seems to have remained by the empty
sepulchre to weep; and “ as she wept,” we are told, “ she
stooped down and looked into the sepulchre, and seeth two
angels sitting, the one at the head and the other at the feet
where the body of Jesus had lain.” By them she was asked
the cause of her tears; to which she answered, that it was
because they had taken away her Lord, and she knew not
where they had laid him. During this conversation, Jesus
himself drew near and addressed her; but, stupified with
grief, she did not at first recognise his voice, and, intent
upon gazing into the sepulchre, she answered his inquiries
as to what she wept for, and what she sought, without
turning herself, under the impression that he was the gar¬
dener. To recall her recollection, Jesus addressed her by
name; upon which she immediately recognised the well-
known voice, and, turning herself, exclaimed, “ Rabboni,
which is to say, Master.” After a brief conversation, he
sent her to announce to the disciples that she had seen
him, and that he was about to ascend to heaven. This
command she obeyed; and from this time forward we find
1 For illustrations of the length to which this was carried during the middle ages, see the extracts from the writings of the Min.
nesingers, in Gieseler’s Kirchen Geshichtc, Ed. ii. Abt. ii. p. 463. See also Abt. iv. p. 335.
2 In Actis Ephes. p. 33, ap. Suicer. Thes. Eccl. ii. 304.
3 Bishop Pearson on the Creed, p. 174, folio ed.; Edwards’s Exercitations on Scripture, p. 143; and Pott, Proleg. in Epist. Jacobi, Nov-
Test. Koppianum, vol. ix. p. 90, &c. &c.
4 Homil. de Christi gcneratione, ap. Suicer. Thes. Eccl. ii, 306.
5 Lightfoot, Hor. Talm. in loc.; Winer, Realwdrterbuch, art. Magdala.
6 For a complete investigation of this point, see Lardner’s Letter to Jonas Han way, Esq. Works, vol. v. 4to ed. See also^Mac-
knight’s Harmony, § 43.
MAR MAR 271
^ III# n0 men^ion mac^e ^ier New Testament. As to mountainous region. They are in no place less than 2486 Maryland.
11 certain traditionary accounts of subsequent actions and feet above the level of the sea, and in many places theyv n  
it:'[arynd. journeyings in which she is said to have been engaged, exceed 3000 feet. Each zone has portions of highly pro-
' they bear too obviously the marks of mere legendary fic- ductive soil, but in general the intermediate valleys of
tion to be worthy of notice. the mountainous part are the most fertile. The counties
Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. These three of Frederick and Washington have limestone tracts, which
individuals composed the members of a family, than which exhibit a fertility not to be surpassed by any in the United
none was more beloved and honoured by our Lord in the States. The hilly zone is exceedingly variable, and within
days of his flesh. Their residence was at Bethany, a vil- very narrow limits are found the extremes of fertility and
lage not far from Jerusalem, where Martha seems to have barrenness. All the uneven country abounds with sprino-s
been a householder; and thither our Lord was in the habit, of excellent water. No part of the marine and river M-
apparently, offrequently retiring during the intervals of his luvial section is so productive as the calcareous parts of
public labours. 1 he name of Mary is first introduced, in the western region, but there is more uniformity of soil
connection with that of her sister, in the account given of than obtains in the middle zone. The country on the east-
a visit paid by Christ to their abode, during one of his ern side of the Chesapeake, with the exception of a small
journeys; on which occasion, whilst Martha busied herself part of the northern extremity, is an extensive plain, low
in caring for the hospitable entertainment of her guest, and sandy, much intersected by rivers and creeks, possess-
Marysatathis feet to receive his instruction (Luke, x. 38, ing few springs, and abounding in stagnant water. The
&c.). The next mention that is made of her is in the western shore of the Chesapeake, below the falls, resembles
touching and striking account given by John (ch. xi. 1-46), the eastern; but it is far from being a dead plain, though
of the death and resurrection of Lazarus ; and she appears none of the hills are of any considerable elevation. From
for the last time shortly subsequent to this, on the occasion the diversity of soil, as well as from the elevation of some
of an entertainment given to our Lord, a rew days before parts, the vegetable productions have been much varied, and
his crucifixion, by Martha, when she anointed his feet the staples greatly multiplied.
with precious ointment, and wiped them with the hair of Potomac, the largest river of the state, rises in the moun-
her head (John, xii. 1-9). tain chain which traverses its western part, and in its whole
Mary Salome, the sister of the Virgin Mary, and mother length, which is between three and four hundred miles,
of James and Joses, and Simon and Judas. She is the same constitutes the boundary between Maryland and Virginia,
who is elsewhere called the wife of Cleophas (John, xix. 25), At Washington it is above a mile in breadth, and at about
or Alphaeus, these two being only different modes of Grecis- ninety miles below that city it falls into Chesapeake Bay.
ing the Hebrew "sbn, Chalpai. The Susquehannah likewise falls into the same estuary,
Mary, the mother of John Mark (Acts, xii. 12). but only a small portion of the northern extremity of Mary-
Mary, a pious member of the church at Rome (Rom. land is traversed by that noble stream. Two considerable
xv*> ®)- , rivers, the Choptank and the Nanticoke, rise in Delaware,
Mary, queen of England. See England. and taking their course through the eastern part of Mary-
Mary, queen of Scotland. See Scotland. land, fall into Chesapeake Bay. The western shore is tra-
MAR1 BOROUGH, a borough, market, and post town, versed by a great number of streams of various extent, but
and the assizes town to Queen s County, in the province none of them are of any great magnitude. With regard to
of Leinster, in Ireland; so called in honour of Mary queen climate, the higher parts of the state are esteemed salubri-
of England, who reduced this part of the country to shire- ous ; as is also the middle zone ; but the low-lying parts on
ground by act of parliament 6 and 7 Philip and Mary. It either side of Chesapeake Bay are unhealthy. The air in
is governed by a burgomaster and bailiffs, and has a bar- summer is moist, sultry, and disagreeable; and the inhabi-
rack for a troop of horse. 1 here has recently been con- tants are subject to agues and intermittent fevers, whilst
structed an extensive and commodious lunatic asylum. It many of them have a wan and sickly aspect. The mari-
is distant from Dublin 51 miles south-west. The popula- time belt of Maryland may be said to belong rather to the
tion amounts to 26/7. It is situated in long. 7. 20. W. and southern than to the northern states.
N. The soil is generally a red clay or loam, and much of it
MARYLAND, one of the United States of North Ame- is of excellent quality. The staple products of the state
nca, is bounded on the east by Delaware and a portion of are wheat and tobacco; but maize, sweet potatoes, hemp,
the Atlantic Ocean, on the south-west and west by Vir- flax, and some cotton for domestic use, are likewise raised,
gima, on the south by the confluence of Chesapeake Bay The genuine white wheat, said to be peculiar to Maryland,
with the Atlantic, and on the north by Pennsylvania. It is grown in some of the counties on the eastern shore. The
extends from longitude 75. 10. to 79. 20. west, and from la- soil and climate are admirably adapted for the cultivation
titude 38. 3. to 39. 42. north. The area of Maryland has of all the fruits of the temperate zone ; and here accord-
generally been greatly overrated; an error which has arisen ingly are fine orchards, in which apples, pears, peaches,
parfly from the irregularity of its form, and partly from plums, and cherries, are abundant. Of peaches, the inha-
Chesapeake Bay having been included in the measurement; bitants make large quantities of peach brandy ; and of ap-
1 nit having recently been carefully surveyed by a gentle- pies, apple brandy and cider. The forests abound in hic-
™ llian’ ^ has been found to be within an inconsiderable frac- kory trees, and also in that production called mast, a nut-
tion of 10,000 square miles. This state presents one very bearing tree, on which great numbers of swine are fed.
sii singU]ar feature, being completely though irregularly di- These animals are allowed to run wild, and when fattened
'ided in its whole length from north to south by Chesa- are killed, barrelled, and exported in great quantities. Sheep
peake Bay, perhaps the finest estuary in the world. These and oxen are also plentiful. In the swamps the cypress
uistmct portions are called, according to their situation, is common, and the catalpa is indigenous to the soil.*
^e eastem and western shores. These shores may be con- There are a number of long turnpikes in this state, par-
it sidered as recent alluvium; and the country is low and ticularly one which connects Baltimore with Cumberland
eve ’ Permeated by tide-rivers and creeks. Above tide- on the Potomac, a distance of 135 miles. This constitutes
a water the land becomes agreeably undulating, rising, though the great thoroughfare to the western country. From Cum-
!o not very rapidly, into hills which reach the foot of the Al- berland to Brownsville on the Monongahela, in Pennsyl-
;• f| any and t,ie 1>,lue Mountains. These ranges cross vania, there has been completed by the United States a
( 16 western part of the state, thus constituting a third or free road of a most excellent construction. The distance
272
M A R Y L A N D.
Maryland, is seventy-two miles, making the whole distance from Bal*
timore to Brownsville 207 miles. Amongst other turnpike
roads may be mentioned that which has been made from
Baltimore by York and Pennsylvania to the Susquehannah,
by which large quantities of the produce of Pennsylvania
are brought to that city. There are other roads, either in
a state of forwardness, or which have recently been com¬
pleted. The most stupendous work ever undertaken by
any government, or by individuals, is the Baltimore and
Ohio railroad. The length of this magnificent road, when
completed, will be three hundred and thirty miles, and the
ground is, besides, both high and difficult. When the pro¬
ject was made known, a company was immediately formed,
and capital to a large amount subscribed. The work com¬
menced in 1828, but was for a long time retarded in con¬
sequence of a litigation with the Chesapeake and Ohio
Canal Company, as to prior right of location in certain
parts of the route. The dispute being settled, operations
were resumed, and in December 1834i eighty-two miles of
the road were completed, at an expense of three milliqns
of dollars. The same company have opened a railroad to
the city of Washington, commencing eight miles from Bal¬
timore ; the length of this work is thirty-two miles. Other
railroads have also been undertaken, amongst which may
be mentioned one from York-Haven to the Susquehannah,
a distance of sixty miles. There are several canals in this
state: one from Port Deposit on the east bank of the Sus¬
quehannah, proceeds along a line of rapids northward to the
boundary line of Maryland and Pennsylvania, a distance of
ten miles. At Little or Lower Falls, on the Potomac, three
miles above Washington, is a canal two miles and a half
long; and at Great Falls, nine miles above, is another,
scarcely, however, a mile in length; but there is one in
progress, which, if completed, will rival the great railroad
before mentioned. This is the Chesapeake and Ohio
Canal, which commences at the Potomac in the federal
city, and proceeds along the river near the limits of Mary¬
land and Virginia. It is laid out to pass through the high¬
lands, and over the Alleghanies, not far from the route of
the great national road, to meet the Ohio at or near Pitts¬
burgh. The length of the two great works will be nearly
the same. To this undertaking the state of Maryland sub¬
scribed five hundred thousand dollars. On the 1st of Ja¬
nuary 1834, about one hundred and nine miles of this canal
were completed, at an expense of 3,707,262 dollars.
In 1696, the province appropriated funds for the sup¬
port of a college and free schools, the former of which had
made considerable progress previously to 1776. In 1782,
Washington College was established at Chesterton. About
two years afterwards, St John’s College was established at
Annapolis, and these two uniting together, constituted Marvlai
one university. A fund which had been appropriated for's*V'
Washington College was withdrawn in' 1804; but the state,
as an equivalent, allowed the university twelve thousand
dollars per annum. In 1813, a tax was laid on bank stock
of twenty cents on every hundred dollars, which yields
about 10,000 dollars annually. The whole of this is ap¬
propriated to the support of free and charity schools, and
it is equally divided amongst all the counties in the state.
There is likewise a school fund, consisting of a sum ad¬
vanced by Maryland during the late war, and paid by the
national government, amounting to 75,000 dollars. A law
in favour of primary schools was passed in 1825, and has
been partially carried into effect in two or three of the
counties. In 1833, the legislature of Maryland passed an
act by which St John’s College at Annapolis has 3000
dollars secured to it for ever, the money to be paid from
the state treasury. In 1834, a geologist was appointed for
the state, with a salary of two thousand dollars per annum;
and he is instructed to make deposits of his collections in
the college cabinet. There are several academies which
receive eight hundred dollars yearly from the state trea¬
sury. In 1807 the legislature founded in Baltimore a col¬
lege for the instruction of students in medicine; and a few
years afterwards instruction was also given in divinity,
law, the arts and sciences; the whole institution being in¬
corporated under the title of the University of Maryland.
It is governed by twenty-eight agents and a provost; and
efficient professors, with assistants, are appointed to pre¬
side over each department of education. The philosophi¬
cal apparatus is extensive; and the museum contains a very
valuable collection of anatomical preparations. The mi-
neralogical collection is also very extensive. The state, a
few years ago, granted 30,000 dollars to this rapidly grow¬
ing institution. Baltimore College, a chartered and re¬
spectable seminary, and St Mary’s College, which belongs
to the Roman Catholics, are both in a very flourishing
state. In addition to the above, there are extensive aca¬
demies in various places; indeed the arrangements made
for the promotion of knowledge reflect the highest credit
on the legislature and inhabitants of Maryland. The re¬
ligious bodies, as is usual throughout all the American
states, are numerous. The Roman Catholics have one
archbishop, the metropolitan of the United States, and be¬
tween thirty and forty churches ; the Methodists are a nu¬
merous sect, the Episcopalians have seventy-five minis¬
ters, the Presbyterians eleven, the Baptists twelve, the
German Reformed nine, the Unitarians and the New Je¬
rusalem Church one each ; there are also some Menno-
nites, and the Friends are numerous.
Counties.
Western Shore.
Alleghany. 
Anne Arundel 
Baltimore 
Baltimore, city  
Calvert  
Charles  
Frederick  
Harford  
Montgomery 
Prince George’s 
St Mary’s 
Washington 
Carry forward.
1820.
Population.
1830.
8,654
27,165
33,663
62,738
8,073
16,500
40,459
15,924
16,400
20,216
12,974
23,075
285,841
10,602
28,295
40,251
80,625
8,899
17,666
45,793
16,315
19,816
20,473
13,455
25,265
Chief Towns.
327,455
Cumberland.
Annapolis...
j- Baltimore..,
Prince Fredericktown
Port Tobacco 
Frederick 
Belair 
Rockville 
Upper Marlborough....
Leonardtown 
Hagerstown 
Number of Miles
from
Annapolis.
165
30
63
69
76
53,
52
23
72
101
from
Washington.
132
37
38
56
32
43
61
15
18
63
63
MARYLAND.
273
Wan "d.
Counties.
Population.
1820.
Brought forward....
Eastern Shore.
Caroline 
Cecil 
Dorchester 
Kent  
Queen Anne’s 
Somerset 
Talbot 
Worcester 
Total.
285,841
10,018
10,048
17,759
11,453
14,952
19,579
14,387
17,421
401,458
1830.
327,455
9,070
15,432
18,685
10,502
14,396
20,155
12,947
18,271
446,913
Chief Towns.
Denton 
Elkton 
Cambridge 
Chestertown....
Centreville. 
Princess Anne.
Easton 
Snowfall 
Number of Miles
from
Annapolis.
44
80
62
47
32
107
47
127
from
Washington.
81
88
99
82
69
144
84
164
Maryland.
Different Classes of Population in 1830.
Males 
Females..
Total.
Whites.
147,315
143,778
291,093
Slaves.
53,429
49,449
102,878
Free Coloured
Persons.
34,920
28,022
62,942 r
Baltimore, the commercial capital of Maryland, is the
third city in the Union in point of population and extent.
It is situated on the north shore of the Patapsco, fourteen
miles above its entrance into Chesapeake Baj', one hun¬
dred and ninety miles south-west of New York, one hun¬
dred miles south-west of Philadelphia, and thirty-seven
miles north-east of Washington, in latitude 39. 17. north,
and longitude 76. 36. west. This city has increased in
population, and advanced in commercial importance, with
almost unexampled rapidity. It is admirably situated for
trade, and it possesses most of that of Maryland, about
a half of that of Pennsylvania, and a portion of that of
the western states. It is the best market for tobacco in
the Union, and the greatest flour market in the world.
The harbour is spacious, secure, and commodious, and is
defended by a fort. The principal part of the city is
divided from the portions styled Old Town and Fell’s
Point, by a small river called Jones’ Falls, over which are
erected three elegant stone bridges and four wooden ones.
Die area of the town is a square of four miles, and
it is divided into twelve wards. It contains twenty-five
public buildings, and forty places of public worship. The
Homan Catholic cathedral is a spacious and magnificent
building, the largest, it is believed, in the United States.
Several of the other churches are also large and beauti-
hilly finished. The Exchange is a vast building, and the
Athenaeum is a spacious and beautiful structure. Several
ol the other public buildings are of great size and elegant
appearance. Amongst the most conspicuous objects be-
longing to Baltimore are its monuments. The Washing¬
ton Monument is a marble column 175 feet in height.
ie pedestal is fifty feet square and twenty feet in height,
and the column fourteen feet in diameter at the summit
and twenty at the foot. There is also Battle Monument,
raised in memory of those who fell in defence of the city
in the attack made upon it by the British in 1814; and a
s lot tower 234 feet in height. The city, generally, is well
nuilt, mostly of brick. Many of the houses, particularly
those recently erected, display much elegance and taste.
le streets are well paved, anil many of them are spacious.
Baltimore issues seven or eight gazettes, and has above
one hundred manufactories of various kinds, its vicinity
attording ample command of water-power for driving mills.
In 1830, there were inspected 577,804 barrels of wheat
flour, 4436 barrels of rye flour, 558 hogsheads, and 5458
barrels of corn meal. Vessels of 500 or 600 tons burden
can lie in perfect safety at the wharfs on the point, but
those of only 200 tons can come up to the town.
Annapolis, the political metropolis of Maryland, is situ¬
ated on the western side of the estuary of the Severn,
twenty-eight miles south-east of Baltimore, and forty
north-east of Washington, in longitude 76.43. west, latitude
39.0. north. It is a pleasant and healthy town, and contains
a spacious and elegant town-house, a market, two houses
of public worship, and a theatre. Fredericktown, on a
branch of the Monococy, is a large and pleasant interior
town, forty-five miles west of Baltimore, and forty-three
north-west of Washington. It is pleasantly situated, regu¬
larly laid out, and well built, and contains a court-house,
a jail, a bank, a market-house, an academy, and seven
places of public worship for various denominations of
Christians. Several of the public buildings, and many of
the private houses, are spacious and elegant. This town
is situated in the centre of a very pleasant and fertile
country, and sends great quantities of wheat and flour
to Baltimore; also leather, shoes, saddles, hats, and gloves.
Several newspapers are published here. Hagerstown is a
very neat place, regularly laid out, on Antietam Creek,
sixty-nine miles north-west of Washington, and seventy-
one west by north of Baltimore. It contains four public
buildings, and four churches, of which two are handsome
structures. Being situated in a fertile and well-cultivated
tract of country, and one of the best districts in the United
States for raising wheat, it has a considerable trade, and
is altogether a very flourishing place. Cumberland is a
considerable village on the northern bank of the Potomac,
at the commencement of the great national road. It con¬
tains four public buildings and four churches. Great
abundance of stone coal is found in the vicinity. Han¬
cock, on the most northern bend of the Potomac, near
the Pennsylvania line, is also, as well as the three last-
mentioned towns, on the national road, and is an import¬
ant village. The names of the other considerable villages
in this state are, Elkton, Frenchtown, Charlestown, Ches¬
tertown, Easton, Middleton, Salisbury, Princess Anne,
and Snowhill. These are on the eastern shore. On the
western shore are, Havre-de-Grace, Belle-Air, Harford,
Bladensburgh, Port Tobacco, and Leonardtown.
The district of Columbia is a tract of country ten miles
square, nearly equally divided by the Potomac, and ceded
by the states of Maryland and Virginia to the general go¬
vernment. Its surface is uneven without being mountain¬
ous, and thesoil isverylight and sandy. Itcomprehends two
counties, Alexandria and Washington, the latter contain¬
ing the city of Washington, the seat of the general go¬
vernment. Although of little moment in a commercial
2 M
274
MARYLAND.
Maryland, point of view, yet its political importance entitles it to a
pretty full description.
Washington, the metropolis of the United States, is si¬
tuated on the Maryland side of the Potomac, in latitude
38. 32. 54. north, and longitude 77. 1. 48. west from Green¬
wich. It is 436 miles south-west of Boston, 226 from
New York, 136 from Philadelphia, and 37 from Baltimore.
Rock Creek divides it from Georgetown, with which it is
connected by four bridges ; and the Potomac separates it
from Alexandria, with which it is connected by a bridge of
more than a mile in length. There are also several bridges
over the Anacostia. This river has a sufficient depth of
water for frigates to ascend above the navy-yard, which is
situated upon it. Vessels drawing fourteen feet of water
can come up to Potomac Bridge, from which to the mouth
of the Tiber there are nine feet of water at ordinary flood
tide. A spacious canal unites the Anacostia with the Po¬
tomac. The space on which the city is built is high, airy,
commanding, and salubrious, and, as but a small part of it is
as yet occupied by buildings, it has the aspect of a succes¬
sion of opulent villages in the midst of the country. Streets
running north and south are crossed by others running east
and west, whilst those which bear the name of avenues
traverse these rectangular divisions diagonally, and are so
laid out as to afford the most direct communication between
those places deemed the most important, or which offer the
most agreeable prospects. Where the avenues form acute
angles by their intersections with the streets, there are re¬
servations which are to remain open. The avenues are
named after the states of the Union, and the streets are
designated numerically or alphabetically, beginning at the
Capitol. This magnificent edifice is situated in Capitol
Square, a lofty eminence at the head of Pennsylvania Ave¬
nue. It is of the Coi’inthian order, being constructed of free¬
stone, and composed of a centre and two wings. The
length of the whole is 350 feet, the depth of the wings 121
feet, and the height to the top of the dome 120 feet. A
Corinthian portico extends along the centre, which is oc¬
cupied by the rotunda, about ninety-six feet in diameter,
and the same number of feet in height. It is ornamented
with paintings and relievos, designed to commemorate some
of the prominent events in the early history of the country.
This magnificent apartment is of white marble, and lighted
from the dome, which is lofty and imposing. The cham¬
ber of the House of Representatives is one of the richest and
most splendid apartments of the kind that has ever been
constructed. It occupies the south wing, and is of a semi¬
circular form, ninety-five feet in length, and sixty in height.
The dome is supported by twenty-six columns and pilasters
of breccia or Potomac marble. A colossal statue of Liberty,
and another of History, are the principal embellishments
of this hall. The senate-chamber, in the northern wing,
is also a semicircle of seventy-four feet in length by forty-
two in height. Adjoining the rotunda on the west is the
Library of Congress. The hall, ninety-two feet in length,
thirty-four in width, and thirty-six in height, contains
16,000 volumes. Immediately beneath the senate-chamber,
and nearly of the same form and dimensions, is the room in
which the sessions of the supreme court are held. The
president’s house is an elegant mansion, 180 feet in length
by eighty-five leet in width, and two stories high. Four
brick buildings of the same height, with free-stone base¬
ments and Ionic porticos, contain the offices of the princi¬
pal executive departments. The General Post-office is a
large brick edifice, situated nearly a mile north-west of the
Capitol, in which are the chambers of the post-office es¬
tablishment, the general land-office, and the patent-office.
The navy-yard is situated on the eastern branch of the Po¬
tomac, and is provided with all the appurtenances neces¬
sary for building ships of the largest size. To the north of
it are the marine barracks, an arsenal, public manufactories
of arms, military stores, and the like. The city-hall is a Mam
large edifice, and amongst the other public buildings, which
are numerous, may be enumerated four market-houses
twenty churches, an orphan asylum, an alms-house, and
the Columbian College, which is situated on elevated ground
to the north of the city. It is a lofty building, and has
four instructors, and about fifty students. There are also
two Roman Catholic institutions under the care of the Sis¬
ters of Charity. In August 1814, Washington was taken
by the British under General Ross, who set fire to the Ca¬
pitol, the president’s house, and other public offices. The
Library of Congress was burned at this time, and that of
Mr Jefferson was subsequently purchased to replace it.
Georgetown is situated on the north-eastern bank of the
Potomac, three miles west of the Capitol in Washington,
in longitude 75. 5. west, and latitude 38. 55. north. It is
separated from Washington by a small river called Hock
Creek, over which are two bridges. Considerable trade is
carried on here ; but in consequence of the difficulties of
navigation, occasioned by a bar three miles below the town,
a great part of the produce is conveyed to Alexandria,
and exported from that place. Georgetown contains a
market-house, a college, a Lancasterian school, a public li¬
brary, four banks, and several places of public worship.
Georgetown College is a Roman Catholic institution, un¬
der the direction of the Catholic clergy of Maryland. It
has two spacious edifices, containing a library of 7000
volumes, and has an average number of 150 students.
Alexandria, an incorporated city on the western bank of
the river, is a place of extensive business, and of fashion¬
able resort during the sittings of congress. The streets
are regular, and intersect each other at right angles. This
city contains a number of public buildings, and eight places
of worship. Amongst the valuable articles deposited in the
Museum, is the robe in which Washington was baptized,
and several other relics of the great patriot of the west.
In the district of Columbia the Baptists have eighteen
churches, the Presbyterians nine churches, the Methodists
1400 members, the Episcopalians five ministers, the Catho¬
lics several churches, and the Unitarians one minister.
Population of the District of Columbia.
1810. 1820. 1830.
Washington,. 8,208 13,274 18,827
Alexandria 7,227 8,218 8,263
Georgetown 4,948 7,360 8,441
In 1831 there were in Maryland twenty-three cotton
mills, and 1002 looms. There were sold during the same
year 1,104,000 lbs. of yarn, 7,649,000 yards of cloth, and
2,224,000 lbs. of cloth. The capital invested in this manu¬
facture was 2,144,000 dollars. There are two manufactories
of cylinder window-glass, and several paper-mills and dis¬
tilleries, in this state. The following is a statement of the
number of vessels belonging to Maryland, on 1st January
1831: Registered vessels,—ships thirty-nine, brigs forty-
six, and schooners twenty-seven; enrolled and licensed ves¬
sels,—brigs two, schooners 726, sloops sixty-six, and steam¬
boats fifteen; licensed vessels under twenty tons,—schoon¬
ers eighty-nine, and sloops twenty-four. Total number of
vessels 1034, manned by 4139 seamen. The following is a
statement of the commerce of Maryland for theyear ending
the 30th of September 1833. Value of imports in Ame¬
rican vessels 4,904,009, in foreign vessels 533,048; total
5,437,057 dollars. Value of exports of domestic produce,
in American vessels 2,377,949, in foreign vessels 923,065;
total 3,301,014 dollars. Value of exports of foreign pro¬
duce, in American vessels 589,891, and in foreign vessels
171,562; total 761,453 dollars. Total value of domestic and
foreign produce 4,062,467 dollars. Of American tonnage
for the same year, there entered 58,507, and departed
47,181; of foreign tonnage there entered 24,136, and de-
MAR
, r ie. parted 25,499 ; making the total amount of American and
W foreign tonnage which entered the ports of the state
83,643, and which departed 72,682. Flour is the most
considerable article of export, and next to it is tobacco.
The other exports are, iron, lumber, Indian corn, pork,
flax-seed, beans, and the like. For the manufacture of pig
and bar iron, hollow-ware, cannon, stoves, and the like, fur¬
naces have been erected in various parts of the state. At
the commencement of 1834, there were in Maryland
twenty banks. By returns and estimates, the capital was
9,270,091; the notes issued were 2,441, 698 ; specie and
specie funds 1,040,506; deposits 5,450,035; discount of
notes, &c. 14,910,786 dollars. The amount of postage
received for the year ending the 31st of March 1832 was
76,766 dollars. In 1834 there were published in Mary¬
land thirty-five newspapers and other journals, amongst
which were several monthly and quarterly periodicals.
In 1632, Maryland was granted by Charles I. of Eng¬
land to Sir George Calvert, Lord Baltimore, a Roman
Catholic, and an eminent statesman; but before the pa¬
tent was completed, Lord Baltimore died, and the patent,
dated 20th June 1632, was given to his eldest son Ceci-
lius, who succeeded to his titles, and who for upwards of
forty years directed, as proprietor, the affairs of the colo¬
ny. Leonard Calvert, his brother, was appointed the first
governor; and he, together with about two hundred per¬
sons, commenced the settlement of the town of St Mary’s
in 1634. A free toleration in religious matters was allow¬
ed the settlers, and a system of equity and humanity was
practised with regard to the Indian tribes. After the co¬
lony of Maryland had established its general assembly,
even to the time of the revolution, the right of appointing
the governor, and of approving or disapproving the acts of
the assembly, was retained by the Baltimore family. The
constitution of this state was formed in 1776, but it sub¬
sequently underwent many alterations. The following is
an outline of it as it now exists. The legislative power is
vested in a senate consisting of fifteen members, and a
house of delegates consisting of eighty members. These
two branches united are styled the General Assembly of
Maryland. The members of the house of delegates, four
from each county, and two from each of the cities of An¬
napolis and Baltimore, are elected annually by the peo¬
ple ; whilst the members of the senate are elected every
fifth year, at Annapolis, by electors who are chosen by
the people. These electors choose by ballot nine senators
from the western and six from the eastern shore. The
executive power is vested in a governor, who is elected
annually by a joint ballot of both houses of the general as¬
sembly. No one can hold the office of governor more than
three years successively, nor be eligible as governor until
the expiration of four years after he has been out of that
office. The governor is assisted by a council »f five mem¬
bers, who are chosen annually in the same manner as the
governor. The general assembly meets annually at An¬
napolis, on the last Monday in December. The council
of the governor is elected on the first Tuesday in January;
the governor nominates to office, and the council appoints.
Ihe constitution grants the right of suffrage to every
free white male citizen above twenty-one years of age,
who has resided twelve months within the state, and six
months in the county, or in the city of Annapolis or Bal¬
timore, next preceding the election at which he appears to
vote. The chancellor and judges are nominated by the
governor and appointed by the council, and they hold
their offices during good behaviour. In appointing officers
under the state, the governor has the right of nomination,
and the council the right of appointment. The governor
does not possess the power of a veto on the acts of the ge¬
neral assembly. r, R.j
MARY-LE-BONE, one of the large parishes of the me-
M A S 275
tropolis, which sends two members to parliament; but the Maryport
parish of Paddington, and a part of St Pancras, are united |]
with it for this purpose. The population of this parish M»sbo-
amounted in 1801 to 63,982, in 1811 to 75,624. in 1821 thae1,
to 96,040, and in 1831 to 122,206. See London. —y——'
MARYPORT,a market-town and sea-portof the county
of Cumberland, in the parish of Cross-Cannonby, Allerdale-
ward, below Darwent, thirty miles south-west by west from
Carlisle, and 309| north-west by north from London. It
is situated at the foot of the river Ellen, and is irregularly
built, partly on the sea-shore and partly on the cliff; but
the streets are spacious and the atmosphere healthy. The
export to Scotland, Ireland, and other places, of the coal,
limestone, and red freestone worked in its neighbourhood,
constitute the principal trade of the port; and the manu¬
factures of the town consist chiefly of cotton and linen
checks, sail-cloth, cables, coarse earthenware, leather, nails,
and anchors. The population amounted in 1831 to 3877.
MARZION, a market-town of Cornwall, in the parish
of St Hillary and hundred of Penwith. It is sometimes
called Market Jew. Marzion is 278 miles from London,
being situated on an arm of the sea known as Mounts Bay,
near the Land’s End. The buildings are indifferent, and
the harbour not very commodious. There is a market
on Thursday. The population amounted in 1801 to 1009,
in 1811 to 1022, in 1821 to 1253, and in 1831 to 1393.
MAS, Louis du, natural son of Jean Louis de Mont¬
calm Seigneur de Candiac, and a widow of rank belonging
to Rouergue, was born at Nismes in 1676. His attention
was first bestowed on jurisprudence ; but he afterwards oc¬
cupied himself exclusively with the study of mathematics,
philosophy, and languages. Father Malebranche cultivated
his acquaintance, and esteemed his virtues. His appear¬
ance was severe, but his temper was tranquil, and he had
a lively, fertile imagination. His mind was active, full of
resources, and methodical. We are indebted to his in¬
dustry for the typographical bureau. This invention is the
more ingenious, as it presents the tedious parts of educa¬
tion, namely, reading, writing, and the elements of lan¬
guage, to the youthful mind as a delightful entertain¬
ment ; and many people in France, both in the capital and
in the provinces, have adopted it with success. After he
had conceived the idea of this invention, he made the first
trial of it on the young Candiac, who was remarkable for
understanding, even in his earliest years, Dumas conduct¬
ed his pupil to Paris and the principal cities in France,
where he was universally admired. This prodigy was
carried off in the year 1726, before he had attained the
age of seven, and his loss nearly deprived Dumas of his
reason. A dangerous illness was the consequence; and
he would have died of want, if a gentleman had not taken
him from his garret and entertained him in his own house.
Dumas afterwards retired with Madame de Vaujour about
two leagues from Paris, and died in the year 1774, aged
sixty-eight. He was a philosopher both in genius and
character. His works are, 1. L’Art de transposer toutes
sortes de Musiques sans etre oblige de connoitre, ni le
temps, ni le mode, Paris, 1711, in 4to; 2. Bibliotheque
des Enfans, Paris, 1733, in four parts, a treatise in which
he has explained the system and economy of his typo¬
graphical bureau; 3. Memoires de 1’Ecosse sous le regne
de Marie Stuart, translated from the English off Crawford.
MASBAIE, one of the Philippine Islands, lying due
south of the island of Lucon or Luconia. It may be es¬
timated at sixty miles in length by seventeen in average
breadth. The principal produce of the island is rice.
There are some mines, but they are unwrought. Long.
123. 20. E. Lat. 12. 18. N.
MASBOTHAil, or Mesboth^ei, the name of a sect, or
rather of two sects. Hegesippus, cited by Eusebius, men¬
tions two different sects of Masbothaeans. The first was
276 MAS
Mascali one of the seven sects which rose out of Judaism, and
II proved very troublesome to the church; the second was
~ asc^ inc^ one of the seven Jewish sects before the coming of Jesus
Christ. The word is derived from the Hebrew rw, scha-
bat, to rest or repose, and signifies idle, easy, indolent people.
Eusebius speaks of them as if they had been so called from
one Masbotheus their chief; but it is much more probable
that their name is Hebrew, or at least Chaldaic, and sig¬
nifies the same thing with Sabbatarian in our language, that
is, one who makes profession of keeping Sabbath. Yale-,
sius cautions us not to confound the two sects; the latter
being a sect of Jews before or contemporary with Christ,
and the former a sect of heretics descended from them.
MASCALI, a parliamentary city of the island of Sicily,
in the kingdom of Naples, in the province Demone, 140
miles from Palermo. It is situated on a river issuing from
Mount iEtna, in a salubrious district, and is very ill built,
but contains 14,000 inhabitants, some of whom are employ¬
ed in weaving cloth, others in the fisheries, and most in cul¬
tivating rice and other corn.
MASCAT, or Muscat, a sea-port of Arabia, which has
the best harbour, indeed almost the only one, on the eastern
shore. This harbour is formed on the south-eastward by
the Mascat Island, a ridge of rocks from 200 to 300 feet in
height, which is separated from the mainland by a narrow
channel capable of admitting small boats, and on the other
or north-western side by a ridge of mountains projecting
into the sea. The cove, from its entrance to the interior
extremity, is about a mile deep; it is open to the north
and west, but is sheltered from all other winds. The an¬
chorage is good, but the entrance is difficult. The town is
built upon a small sandy beach, at the bottom of the cove
of Mascat. The greater part of it consists of small and ill-
built houses, and huts of date-tree leaves, of the most
wretched description, hardly sufficient to give shelter from
the weather, all being huddled together in the greatest
confusion, and pervaded by narrow and crooked alleys,
winding in every direction. Frazer mentions, that when
he visited this place in 1821, scarcely a building was to be
seen in decent repair ; they were all falling into decay, more
from bad construction than from age. The best houses are
those upon the beach ; that of the imaum, though built of
stone and lime, is but a poor edifice. On an eminence to
the north-west side of the town is a fort, consisting of se¬
veral towers, and connected by a wall, including two or
three batteries of guns ; and on the opposite side, above the
channel between the mainland and the island of Mascat,
there is another consisting of two towers, connected by a cur¬
tain pierced with two tiers of embrasures. The surrounding
eminences are crowned by some smaller forts, and seve¬
ral of the mountains have watch-towers planted on them.
The town of Mascat, according to the most accurate cal¬
culations, contains from 10,000 to 12,000 inhabitants, of
whom about 1000 may be Hindus from Sinde, Cutch, and
Guzerat. The rest are principally Arabs and negro slaves ;
the latter being very numerous, and in general stout and well
formed. The Hindus are chiefly employed in mercantile
affairs. The surrounding country is remarkable for its
sterility, the black and naked rocks being entirely void of
vegetation, excepting where, in the clefts of the rocks, the
inhabitants contrive by irrigation to raise a few miserable
date-trees, broad-leaved almonds, and patches of grass.
Comfortable refreshments are nevertheless found by vessels
touching at Mascat, with excellent water, abundance of fire¬
wood, and fruits. The bazaars are well supplied with beef,
and flesh both of goats and sheep; also with poultry; and in
no place is there greater variety of excellent fish. Long.
59. 15. E. Lat. 23. 38. N.
MASCULINE, something belonging to the male, or the
stronger of the two sexes.
Masculine is used in grammar to signify the first and
MAS
worthiest of the genders of nouns. The masculine gender Hash
is that which belongs to the male kind, or something ana- li
logous to it. Most substances are ranged under the heads^Ia!inis
of masculine or feminine. In some cases this is done with V
a show of reason ; but in others it is merely arbitrary, and
is found to vary according to the languages, and even ac¬
cording to the words introduced from one language into
another. Thus the names of trees are generally feminine
in Latin and masculine in the French. Further, the gen¬
ders of the same word are sometimes varied in the same
language. Thus alvus, according to Priscian, was ancient¬
ly masculine, but is now feminine; and navire, a ship, in
French, was anciently feminine, but is now masculine.
Masculine Signs. Astrologers divide the signs into
masculine and feminine, by reason of their qualities, which
are either active, hot and cold, accounted masculine; or
passive, dry and moist, which are feminine. Upon this
principle they call the Sun, Jupiter, Saturn, and Mars,
masculine; and the Moon and Venus feminine. Mercury,
they suppose, partakes of both characters. Amongst the
signs, Aries, Libra, Gemini, Leo, Sagittarius, and Aquarius,
are masculine; Cancer, Capricornus, Taurus, Virgo, Scor¬
pio, and Pisces, are feminine.
MASINA, a kingdom of Western Africa, situated to
the east and north of Bambara, and to the west of Tim-
buctoo, upon the northern bank of the Niger. It is inha¬
bited by the Foulahs, who are engaged chiefly in pasturage.
MASHAM, a town of Yorkshire, in the wapentake of
Hang‘East, in the north riding, 224 miles from London.
It stands on the river Ure. Near to it was formerly the
large Cistertian Abbey of Jervaux, founded in 1145, whose
walls, which may now be traced, extended nearly two
miles. There is a market, which is held on Tuesday.
The population amounted in 1801 to 1012, in 1811 to
1014, in 1821 to 1171, and in 1831 to 1276.
MASINISSA, a king of the Massyli, a tribe of the Nu-
midians, in Africa, was son of Gala, and born about 239
b. c. He died 149 b. c. The earlier part of his life seems
to have been spent in Carthage, where he attracted so
much of the attention of Asdrubal, the son of Gisgo, that
he offered to him his daughter in marriage. His previous
admiration of the young lady, who was called Sophonisba,
made him willingly accept of the proposal; but before the
marriage was consummated, he accompanied Asdrubal into
Spain, where the Carthaginians were then carrying on war
against the Romans, b. c. 212, towards the beginning of
the second Punic war. (Liv. xxv. 34; Appian. Pun. 10,
37 ; Hisp. 25, 27.) Whilst Asdrubal and his intended
son-in-law were employed in opposing Scipio, the Cartha¬
ginians were alarmed by the declaration of Syphax, a
powerful prince of Numidia, that unless Sophonisba, of
whom he had become enamoured, were given him in mar¬
riage, he would join the Romans in an attack on Carthage.
To this demand of Syphax the Carthaginians agreed with¬
out the knowledge of Asdrubal, and to the great mortifica¬
tion of Masinissa when he was made acquainted with it. It
induced him to enter into a private alliance with the Ro¬
mans, towards whom he felt well inclined from their kind¬
ness in releasing from captivity his nephew Missiva, b. c.
207. Asdrubal having become apprised of his intrigues
with the Romans, determined to put him to death pri¬
vately ; but Masinissa, discovering his intentions, escaped
to Africa, where he found his father dead, and part of his
kingdom possessed by Syphax. Here he collected a con¬
siderable army, and employed himself in bringing it into
a proper state of discipline. The Carthaginians and Sy¬
phax, believing that the army was intended to be employ¬
ed against them, determined to anticipate him in the at¬
tack, and marched with a large army into his kingdom,
b. c. 204. Syphax defeated him, and compelled him to
lie concealed for a time. He collected another army on
MasUyne-the frontiers of his kingdontij and was again obliged to spect to annual parallax than he had expected. His voyage Maskelyne.
fly. Upon the arrival of Scipio in Africa* n. c. 203* JVlasi- was* however* of great use to navigation* by promoting the
nissa hastened to join him with all the troops he could introduction of lunar observations for ascertaining the lon-
M A S
MAS
277
collect, and contributed in a great measure to the victory
gained over Asdrubal and Syphax. He proceeded in
pursuit of Syphax, and took him prisoner. Having got
possession of Cirta, the capital of Syphax, he found there
Sophonisba, who persuaded him that her marriage with
Syphax had been much against her inclinations. He
married her, but was soon obliged to dissolve this union,
as Scipio highly disapproved of his being united to a wo-
gitude ; and he taught the officers of the ship which con¬
veyed him the proper use of the instruments, as well as the
mode of making the computations.
He performed a second voyage, in 1763, to the island of
Barbadoes, in order to determine the rates of Harrison’s
watches, and also to make experiments with Irwin’s marine
chair, on board of the Princess Louisa, Admiral Tyrrel, act¬
ing at the same time as chaplain to the ship. The chair he
man who was supposed to bear an implacable hatred to found of very little use for observing the eclipses of Jupi-
the Romans. Masinissa found himself obliged to yield, and ter’s satellites ; and the maker of the chronometers was not
furnishing Sophonisba with poison, advised her to employ satisfied with his report of their performance, fancying that
it, that she might escape from the hands of the Romans, he was too partial to the exclusive employment of lunar
The honours which he received from the Romans, and observations for determining the longitude. The liberality
the hope he entertained of becoming sole king of Numi- of the British government, however, bestowed on Harrison
dia, made him bear the loss of Sophonisba with more equa- the whole reward that he claimed; and Maskelyne having
nimity. Masinissa contributed much to the victory which been appointed to the situation of astronomer-royal, and
Scipio gained over Hannibal at Zama, B. c. 202, and was soon
afterwards re-instated in the possession of his hereditary
dominions, to which was added the kingdom of Syphax.
He and his successors were from that time honoured with
the title of kings of Numidia. (Appian. Pun. 10-70;
Liv. xxix. xxx.) From this time he was for many years
having thus become a member of the Board of Longitude,
was extremely active in obtaining a few thousand pounds
for the family of Professor Mayer, who had computed lunar
tables, and a compliment of L.300 for Euler, whose theo¬
rems had been employed in the investigation.
I he merits of Mayer’s tables having been fully establish-
employed in promoting peaceful habits amongst his people, ed, the Board of Longitude was induced to promote their
and in changing their erratic propensities. He was never application to practical purposes, by the annual publication
on very amicable terms with the Carthaginians, and we of the which was arranged and conducted
find him at war, b. c. 193, when commissioners were sent entirely under Maskelyne’s direction for the remainder of
from Rome to settle the dispute ; but they seem to have his life. He was also actively employed, without any other
left it undecided. (Liv. xxxiv. 62.) He was again at war, motive than the love of science and of his country, in almost
b. c. 182, when the Romans became mediators between every decision which was required of the Board of Longi-
the contending parties. (40, 17, 34.) Towards the end of tude ; and he had to give his opinion of the merits of an fn-
his life, b. c. 150, he was engaged in war with the Car- finite number of fruitless projects which were continually
thaginians, whom he conquered in several battles; and submitted to his judgment. He must of course have made
when the Romans commenced the third Punic war, he
joined them with all his forces. He died the same year,
b. c. 149, and left three sons, Micipsa, who succeeded
him, Gulussa, and Manastabal. (Appian. Pun. 71, 105.)
MASKELYNE, Nevil, a most industrious and accurate
astronomer, born in London on the 6th of October 1732,
was the son of Mr Edmund Maskelyne, a gentleman of
respectable family in Wiltshire
many enemies amongst the weak and illiberal; but the uni¬
versal impartiality and the general accuracy of his deter¬
minations were acknowledged by all candid persons ; and
it must be admitted that the longitudinary speculators of
Great Britain do in general submit to discouraging remarks
from persons in authority, with wonderful fortitude and
with great personal civility.
During the forty-seven years that he held the situation
At the age of nine he was sent to Westminster School, of astronomer-royal, he acquired the respect of all Europe
and continued to apply with diligence to the usual pursuits by the diligence and accuracy of his observations, which he
of that place, until the occurrence of the great solar eclipse never neglected to conduct in person whenever it was in
of 1748, which made a strong impression on his mind, and his power, and he required only one assistant. The French
was the immediate cause of his directing his attention to had a handsome building to amuse the public by its exterior
astronomy, and beginning with great ardour the study of magnificence ; but the establishment of the observers was
the mathematics, as subservient to that of astronomy. It never arranged in so methodical a manner as that of the
is remarkable, that the same eclipse is said to have made English National Observatory, and the fruits of their la-
an astronomer of Lalande, who was only three months older hours were never systematically made public, the attempt
than Maskelyne. He soon afterwards entered as a member which was once made by Lemonnier, in his Histoire Celeste,
of Catherine Hall, Cambridge, but in a short time remov- having been interrupted and discontinued. Dr Maskelyne,
ed to Irinity. He took a degree as bachelor of arts with on the other hand, obtained leave from the British govern-
great credit in 1754, and proceeded regularly afterwards ment to have his observations printed at the public ex-
through the succeeding stages of academical rank in divi- pense, under the direction of the Royal Society, who are the
mty. He was ordained in 1755 to a curacy at Barnet, and legal visitors of the observatory, appointed by the king’s
the next year he obtained a fellowship at Trinity. In 1758 sign manual. The early observations of Flamsteed and of
he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society; having pre- Bradley were considered as private property. Flamsteed
viously become intimate with Dr Bradley, and determined published his own, and Bradley’s w ere very liberally bought
to make astronomy the principal pursuit of his life, feeling of his family, and afterwards printed by the University of
its perfect compatibility with an enlightened devotion to Oxford, who are still as liberal in bestowing them where
the duties of his own profession.
In 1761 he was engaged by the Royal Society to under¬
take a voyage to St Helena, in order to observe the transit
of Venus. He remained ten months in that island, but the
weather prevented his observing the transit to advantage ; gree in the year 1777
and the faulty attachment of the plumb-line of his quadrant, He made several improvements in the arrangement and
«meh was of the construction then usually employed, ren- employment of the instruments, particularly by enlarging
dered his observations on the stars less conclusive with re- the slits through which the light was admitted ; by making
they are likely to be employed for the benefit of science.
Flamsteed was the astronomer-royal from 1690 to 1720,
then Halley to 1750, Bradley to 1762, and Bliss to 1765,
when Maskelyne was appointed. He took his doctor’s de-
278
M A S
MAN
Maskelyne. the eye-glass of his transit telescope moveable to the place
of each of the wires of the micrometer; and, above all, by
marking the time to tenths of a second, which had never
been attempted before, but which he found it practicable to
effect with surprising accuracy, as the comparison of the ob¬
servations at the different wires sufficiently demonstrated.
The object of his expedition to Shehallien is well known.
Bouguer had made an unsuccessful attempt to measui’e the
attraction of a mountain in South America, and had been
obliged to conclude that the mountain was hollow, in con¬
sequence of the eruption of a volcano, the attraction being
too little sensible. Dr Maskelyne’s results, on the other
hand, as computed by Dr Hutton, made the mountain more
dense than could well have been expected ; but those who
are acquainted with the difficulty of executing astronomi¬
cal measurements without an error of a single second of
space, will be ready to allow that the deviation of 5" or 6",
attributed to the effect of the mountain, is liable to a much
greater proportional uncertainty than the results obtained
by Mr Cavendish with the apparatus invented by Mr Michell.
(See Cavendish.) The geodesical operations which were
soon afterwards performed with his concurrence and assist¬
ance, for determining the relative situations of Greenwich
and Paris, were equally creditable to the English artists
who constructed the instruments, and to the astronomers
and geographers who made the observations with them;
and, even by the confession of their rivals, they excelled
every thing "that had ever been effected in former measure¬
ments of the same kind.
As no man had done more for practical astronomy than
Dr Maskelyne, so there was none whose merits were more
justly appreciated. He made every astronomer his friend,
as well by his personal kindness as by his professional la¬
bours; and he obtained the rare distinction of being made
one of the eight foreign associates of the French Acade¬
my of Sciences. His example and encouragement contri¬
buted to the establishment of several private observatories,
wffiich must always be, if not immediately, at least remote¬
ly, beneficial to astronomy, as tending to promote the im¬
provement of instruments, and of the methods of employ¬
ing them.
He was modest, and somewhat timid, in receiving the
visits of strangers ; but his usual conversation was cheer¬
ful, and often playful, with a fondness for point and for
classical allusion. He inherited a good paternal property,
and he obtained considerable preferment from his college ;
he also married, somewhat late in life, the sister and co¬
heiress of Lady Booth of Northamptonshire. His sister was
the wife of Robert Lord Clive, and the mother of the Earl
of Powis. He died on the 9th of February 1811, in his
seventy-ninth year, leaving a widow and an only daughter.
1. Dr Maskelyne’s first communication to the Royal So¬
ciety is a Proposal for discovering the Annual Parallax
of Sirius. {Phil. Trans, li. 1760, p. 889.) It is founded on
Lacaille’s observations made at the Cape of Good Hope,
which appeared to indicate a maximum amounting to 8".
2. A Theorem for Spherical Aberration (hi. 1761, p. 17),
dated from the Prince Henry, St Helen’s Roads, the calcu¬
lation being adapted to the object-glasses of achromatic te¬
lescopes. 3. The next article (p. 21) is a letter from La-
caille, I’ecommending that he should make observations at
St Helena on the lunar parallax, and remain some time in
the island for that purpose, and promising, on his own part,
to make corresponding observations. It is followed by a
letter from Maskelyne, proposing some additional joint
observations. 4. Observation of the Transit of 1761 (p.
196). The sun was lower than had been expected, and
the instant of contact uncertain, from a tremulous motion
in the apparent discs. 5. Observations on a Clock of Shel¬
ton, 1762 (p. 434) ; giving the proportion of *99754 to 1
for the comparative force of gravity at Greenwich and at
St Helena. 6. A Letter on the Mode of observing and Mask 1
computing Lunar Distances (p. 558) ; dated from St He-N—^
lena: the first demonstration of the practicability and
utility of the method. He found the error of observation
not to exceed half a degree of longitude, an error which
was very strangely suffered to remain as a fair allowance
for the uncertainty of observation, in the acts for encourag¬
ing the perfection of the lunar tables, only recently re¬
pealed. 7. On the Tides at St Helena (p. 586) ; observa¬
tions made in a harbour, for about two months. 8. Note
to Lalande (p. 607), on lunar distances and occultations.
9. Rules for correcting Lunar Distances {Phil. Trans.
1764, p. 263) ; a demonstration of the rules before pub¬
lished in the Transactions and in the British Mariner's
Guide. 10. Remarks on the Equation of Time (p. 336);
correcting a mistake of Lacaille and an inadvertence of
Lalande, and giving a formula, which, though not geome¬
trically perfect, is abundantly accurate for all practical
purposes. 11. Astronomical Observations made at St
Helena (p. 348). The observations for determining the
lunar parallax were too few to afford a satisfactory result.
The author suggests that the figure of the earth might
be ascertained by repeated and comparative observations
of the apparent distance of the moon from neighbouring
stars. 12. Observations made at Barbadoes (p. 189), espe¬
cially on Jupiter’s satellites. 13. Introduction to two Pa¬
pers of Mr Smeaton (Iviii. 1768, p. 154); the one on the
menstrual parallax, the other on observing stars out of the
meridian. 14. Introduction to the Observations of Mason
and Dixon (p. 270). 15. Conclusion respecting the Length
of a Degree (p. 323, 325). Mr Charles Mason had been
sent with Mr Dixon to observe the transit of 1761, at Ben-
coolen; but their voyage was interrupted by accidental
circumstances, and they made their observations at the
Cape of Good Hope, with tolerable success. They then
proceeded to join Maskelyne at St Helena, and to assist
in his operations there. They were afterwards engaged by
Lord Baltimore and Mr Penn, to determine the boundaries
between Maryland and Pennsylvania; and having com¬
pleted their survey, they suggested to the council of the
Royal Society the eligibility of measuring a degree in the
country bordering on the Delaware and the Chesapeake.
Their proposals were readily accepted, and the results of
their measurement are here recorded. Dr Maskelyne
afterwards employed Mason in his operations on Shehal-
lien, in computing Bradley’s observations, and in im¬
proving Mayer’s tables, by a comparison with them; but
he was so fearful of admitting any empirical corrections,
not founded on the most general principles, that he would
not allow some of the equations discovered by Mason to
be introduced into the computation of the Nautical Al¬
manac, until M. de Laplace had proved their dependence
on the theory of gravity. Lalande tells us, that Mason was
dissatisfied because he did not receive a public reward for
the success of his labours; but he was, in fact, little more
than the agent of Maskelyne, and of the Board of Longi¬
tude ; and he was fairly repaid for the time and labour
which his computations had required. Delambre says,
that he died in Pennsylvania in 1787. Dixon is said to
have been born in a coal mine, and to have died at Dur¬
ham in 1777. 15. Postscript respecting French and English
Measures (p. 325). The result of this comparison agrees
admirably well with the later measurement of Pictet, Pro-
ny, and Captain Kater. 16. Observation of the Transit ot
1769, made at the Royal Observatory (p. 355). 17. Eclipses
and Occultations, 1769 (p. 399), chiefly for the longitude ot
Glasgow. 18. On the Use of Dolland’s Micrometer, 1771
(p. 536). On the application of the divided object-glass
micrometer to determining differences of right ascension
and of declination, especially in the case of transits; a
part of the instructions sent with the observers to the South
MAS
M A S
279
* raskc
ne. Seas. 19. On the Adjustment of Hadley’s Quadrant, 1772,
—'p. 99; especially for the back observation, and to insure
the parallelism of the glasses. 20. Deluc’s Rule for Mea¬
suring Heights, 1774 (p. 158) ; adapted to English mea¬
sures, and rendered somewhat more convenient. 21. Ob¬
servations at Greenwich and in America compared (p, 184,
190). 22. Proposal for Measuring the Attraction of a Hill,
1775 (p. 495); read in 1772. 23. Observations made on
Shehallien (p. 500) ; a paper which obtained its author the
honour of a Copleian medal. Mason had been sent to ex¬
amine the hills of Scotland, and had recommended Shehal¬
lien ; the funds were supplied by the remainder of the
royal grant for observing the transit of Venus. Mr Reuben
Burrow and Mr Menzies were principally employed in as¬
sisting the astronomer-royal in his observations and sur¬
veys; and Dr Hutton afterwards made the necessary
computations for determining the attraction of the moun¬
tain. 24. Description of a Prismatic Micrometer, 1777,
(p. 799), consisting of one or more prisms sliding in the
axis of the telescope, and resembling in its operation that
of Rochon, which has in great measure superseded it. 25.
On the Longitude of Cork, 1779 (p. 179) ; observations
for correcting the computed times of the eclipses of Jupi¬
ter’s satellites. 26. On the Comet expected in 1789 (Phil.
Trans. 1786, p. 426) ; supposing those of 1532 and 1661 to
be the same. (See Mechain.) 27. On the Latitude and
Longitude of Greenwich, 1787 (p. 151); with Cassini’s
Memoir on its uncertainty, which he states as amounting
to IP in longitude, and 15" in latitude. Dr Maskelyne,
however, shows that it is confined within much narrower
limits, though he approves of the object of the memoir in
promoting a survey. 28. On a Difficulty in the Theory
of Vision, 1789 (p. 256). This paper sufficiently proves
that Euler was mistaken in thinking the eye achromatic ;
and that any appearance of colour vwiiich it could produce,
according to the common laws of refraction, would be im¬
perceptible in ordinary circumstances. But that there
are circumstances under which such appearances may be
observed, was afterwards shown by Dr Young and Dr
Wollaston. 29. Account of an Appearance of Light on
the Dark Part of the Moon, 1793 (p. 429); seen "by Mr
Wilkins, and by a servant of Sir George Booth, and sup¬
posed to have arisen from a volcano. 30. Observations of
the Comet of 1793 (Phil. Trans. 1794, p. 55) ; discovered
by the Rev. E. Gregory of Langar, in Nottinghamshire.
31. The earliest of Maskelyne’s separate publications was
the British Mariner’s Guide, London, 1763, 4to; a small
volume, which has become scarce, having been superseded
by later works.
. The Nautical Almanac and Astronomical Epheme-
ns for 1767 appeared in 1766; and the publication has
been regularly continued upon the same plan to the pre¬
sent time, by the computers and comparers whom Dr Mas¬
kelyne had trained by his instruction and example. His
successor in the observatory, though admirably qualified
to equal, and perhaps to excel him in the practical depart¬
ment, had it not in his power to devote so much of his at¬
tention to the publication as Dr Maskelyne’s paternal af¬
fection for a child of bis own had induced him to bestow
°n it; and the Board of Longitude was very liberally fur¬
nished by government with the means of obtaining some
further assistance to supply his place.
33. Tables requisite to be used with the Nautical Al¬
manac, London, 1766, 1783, 1802, 8vo; now partly super¬
seded by Professor Lax’s new edition.
34. Ihe volume of Selections, from the additions that
mve been occasionally made to the Nautical Almanac,
London, 1812, 8vo, contains several papers of Dr Maske-
yne ; for example, Instructions relating to the Transit of
Venus in 1769, N. A. 1769; Elements of Lunar Tables,
and Remarks on Hadley’s Quadrant, N. A. 1774; Adver¬
tisement of the Comet expected in 1788, N. A. 1791;
and on the Disappearance of Saturn’s Ring in 1780, N. A.
1791.
35. The Astronomical Observations made at Greenwich,
from 1765 to 1811, were published annually in folio, mak¬
ing three volumes, and part of a fourth, London, 1774.
They are allowed to constitute the most perfect body of
astronomy in detail that was ever presented to the public.
The first volume contains a variety of useful tables, ac¬
companying the observations for 1772, and principally
serving for the correction of the places of the stars, and
for facilitating the solution of other astronomical problems.
Many of them have been reprinted in Vince’s Astronomy,
but, in some cases, without the necessary explanations.
(Kelly in Rees’s Cyclopaedia, art. Maskelyne. Chal¬
mers, Biographical Dictionary, xxi. 8vo, London, 1815.
Delambre, Mem. de I'lnst. des Sc. 1811, H. lix.; and Bio¬
graphic Universelle, xxvii. 8vo, Par. 1820.)
Maskelyne’s Islands, a cluster of small islands in the
South Pacific Ocean, lying off the south-east point of Mal-
licollo Island. Long. 167. 59. E. Lat. 16. 32. S.
MASON, William, an English poet of distinction, born
in the year 1725, was the son of a clergyman who held the
living of Hull. He took his first degree at St John’s Col¬
lege, Cambridge, in 1745, whence he removed to Pem¬
broke College, of which he was admitted a fellow in 1747.
The Earl of Holdernesse presented him to the valuable
rectory of Aston, in Yorkshire, and procured for him the
office of chaplain to his majesty. His ode on the instal¬
lation of the Duke of Newcastle as chancellor of the Uni¬
versity of Cambridge was the first specimen of his poetical
talents, and gained him considerable reputation, although
the subject was not popular. His monody to the memory
of Pope, and Isis an elegy, added to his fame, which was
still further increased by his dramatic poems of .Mfn'da
in 1752, and Caractacus in 1759. He did not succeed in
writing tragedy, as he did not compose for the modern
stage, but wished to revive the manner of the ancients.
He published a small collection of odes in 1756, intended
as an imitation of his friend Gray. In 1763, he gave the
world some elegies, which are in general marked with the
simplicity of language that is proper to this species of com¬
position, yet breathe noble sentiments of freedom and of
virtue. In point of morality he may justly be considered
as the purest of poets, and one of the warmest friends of
civil liberty. The first book of his English Garden made
its appearance in 1772, being a didactic poem in blank
verse, of which the fourth and last book was printed in the
year 1781. Some good critics consider this poem as rather
stiff; and the dry minuteness of the preceptive part pre¬
vented it from bringing the author any great degree of
popularity. In 1775 he published the poems of Gray, to
which he prefixed memoirs of his life and writings. His
observations on the character and genius of his illustrious
friend do honour to his taste and feelings, and justlv merit
the favour with which the volume was received. At the
place of his residence he acted with the friends of reform,
and the enemies of such measures as were deemed incom¬
patible with the liberties of freemen. During the conti¬
nuance of the American war, he addressed an ode to the
naval officers of Great Britain, on the acquittal of Admiral
Keppel in 1779, in which he execrated the war then carry¬
ing on against the people of America. When Mr Pitt rose
to power in 1782, Mason addressed an ode to him, which
contained many patrioticand manly sentiments; but his lyric
imagery did it considerable injury. He published, in 1783,
a poetical translation ofFresnoy’s Latin poem on the art of
painting, which unites great elegance of language and ver¬
sification with a correct representation of a difficult original.
Besides the living with which he was presented soon after
taking orders, he obtained the preferments of precentor
Maske¬
lyne’s
Islands
Mason.
280 MAS
Masonry, and canon residentiary of the cathedral of York. At that
Free, church he, in theyear 1788, preached an occasional discourse
on the subject of the slave-trade, full of animated declama¬
tion against the inhumanity of the traffic. The centenary
commemoration of the Revolution in that year produced
his secular ode, which breathed his usual spirit of free¬
dom. An additional volume of his poems was given to the
world in 1797, consisting of miscellaneous pieces, the re¬
vised productions of his youth, and the effusions of his old
age. In his Palinode to Liberty, we behold the change
wrought in his political principles by the disastrous events
of the French Revolution. Mr Mason died in April 1797,
at the age of seventy-two, of a mortification occasioned by
a hurt in his leg. He had married an amiable lady, who
died of consumption in 1767, and was buried at Bristol
cathedral, under a monument upon which are inscribed
some very tender and beautiful lines by her husband.
The character of Mason in private life was exemplary for
wrorth and active benevolence. A tablet has been placed
to his memory in the poets’ corner in Westminster Abbey.
MASONRY, Free, denotes the rule or system of mys¬
teries and secrets peculiar to the society of free and ac¬
cepted masons.
One of the first objects of man, in a rude state of being,
is to screen himself and his family from the heat of the
tropical sun, from the inclemency of the polar regions, or
from the sudden changes of more temperate climates. If
he has arrived at such a degree of improvement as to live
under the dominion of a superior, and under the influence
of religious belief, the palace of his king and the temple
of his gods will be reared in the most magnificent style
which his skill can devise and his industry accomplish, and
will be decked with those false ornaments which naturally
catch the eye of unpolished men. From that principle
which impels the lower orders to imitate the magnificence
and splendour of their superiors, a foundation will be laid
for improvement in the art of building ; and it is extreme¬
ly probable, from those circumstances which have been
mentioned, as well as from others which the slightest re¬
flection will suggest, that building or architecture will be
the first profession to which men will exclusively devote
their attention, and for which they will be trained by an
established course of preparatory education.
But there is another consideration which entitles archi¬
tecture to a decided pre-eminence amongst the other arts.
It is itself the parent of many separate professions, and re¬
quires a combination of talents, and an extent of know¬
ledge, for which other professions have not the smallest oc¬
casion. An acquaintance with the sciences of geometry
and mechanical philosophy, with the arts of sculpture and
design, and Other abstruse and elegant branches of know¬
ledge, are indispensable requisites in the education of a
good architect, and raise his art to a vast height above
those professions which practice alone can render familiar,
and which consist in the mere exertion of muscular force.
From these considerations, it appears that there is some
foundation in the very nature of architecture for those ex¬
traordinary privileges to which masons have always laid
claim, and which they have almost always possessed ; pri¬
vileges which no other artists could have confidence to ask
or liberty to enjoy: and there appears also to be some
foundation for that ancient and respectable order of free
masons, whose history we are now to investigate.
MAS
But, that wfe may be enabled to discover free masonry un- jfasM)
der those various forms which it has assumed in different Free
countries and at different times, before it received the''—v
name which it now bears, it will be necessary to give a
short description of the nature of this institution, without
developing those mysteries, or revealing those ceremonial
observances, which are only known to the brethren of the
order.
Free masonry is an ancient and respectable institution,
embracing individuals of every nation, of every religion, and
of every condition in life. In order to confirm this institution,
and attain the ends for which it was originally formed, every
candidate comes under a solemn engagement never to di¬
vulge the mysteries of the order, nor communicate to the
uninitiated the secrets with which he may be intrusted,
and the proceedings and plans in which the fraternity may
be engaged. After the candidate has undergone the ne¬
cessary ceremonies, and received the usual instructions,
appropriate words and significant signs are imparted to
him, that he may be enabled to distinguish his brethren of
the order from the uninitiated vulgar, and convince others
that he is entitled to the privileges of a brother, should he
be visited by distress or by want in a distant land. If the
newly-admitted member be found qualified for a higher
degree, he is promoted, after due intervals of probation,
till he has received that masonic knowledge which enables
him to hold the highest offices of trust to which the frater¬
nity can raise its members. At regular and appointed
seasons, convivial meetings of the fraternity are held in
lodges constructed for this purpose ; and temperance, har¬
mony, and joy characterise these mixed assemblies. All
distinctions of rank seem to be laid aside, all differences in
religious and political sentiments are forgotten ; and those
petty quarrels which disturb the quiet of private life cease
to agitate the mind. Every one strives to give happiness to
his brother ; and men seem to recollect, for once, that they
are sprung from the same origin, that they are possessed
of the same nature, and are destined for the same end.
Such are the prominent features of an institution which
has produced a great division in the sentiments of the
learned respecting its origin and tendency. Whilst a cer¬
tain class of men,1 a little over-anxious for the dignity of
their order, have represented it as coeval with the world,
others, influenced by an opposite motive, have maintained
that it was the invention of English Jesuits, to promote the
views of that intriguing and dangerous association.2 Some
have laboured to prove that free masonry arose during the
crusades ; that it was a secondary order of chivalry ; that
its forms originated from that warlike institution, and were
adapted to the peaceful, orderly habits of scientific men.3
Mr Clinch4 has attempted, with considerable ingenuity and
learning, to deduce its origin from the institutions of Pytha¬
goras. M. Barruel5 supposes it to be a continuation of the
society of knights templars ; whilst others have imputed its
origin to secret associations, averse to the interests of true
government, and pursuing the chimerical project of level¬
ling the distinctions of society, and freeing the human mind
from the obligations of religion and morality. But without
adopting any of these untenable opinions, or attempting
to discover the precise period when free masonry arose, it
may be sufficient to^ establish its claim to an early origin,
and to show that it has existed in different ages of the world
under different forms and appellations.6
1 Anderson’s History and Constitutions of Free Masonry, p. 1 ; Preston’s Illustrations of Masonry, p. 6, tenth edition.
2 Manuscript of Bode of Germany, in the possession of Mounier.
3 Leyden’s Preliminary Dissertation to the Complaynt of Scotland, p. G7, et seq.
4 Anthologia Hibernica, for January, March, April, and June 1794- 5 Memoirs of Jacobinism, vol. ii. p. 377, et se(l-
6 Mounier observes, that if the order of free masons had existed amongst the ancients, it would have been mentioned by contempo¬
rary w-riters. This argument, however, for the recency of their origin, is far from being conclusive. For though it is allowed by®
that free masonry has existed in this country for at least 300 years, yet the association is never once mentioned in any of the histo¬
ries of England.
MASONRY, FREE.
281
hiRonry, In Egypt, and in those countries of Asia which lie con-
req. tiguous to that favoured kingdom, the arts and sciences
W—'were cultivated with success, whilst other nations were in¬
volved in ignorance. It is here, therefore, that free ma¬
sonry would flourish, and here only can we discover marks
of its existence in the remotest ages. It is extremely pro¬
bable that the first and the only object of the society of
masons, was the mutual communication of knowledge con¬
nected with their profession ; and that those only would
gain admittance into their order whose labours were sub¬
sidiary to those of the architect. But vhen the ambition
or vanity of the Egyptian priests prompted them to erect
huge and expensive fabrics for celebrating the worship of
their gods, or perpetuating the memory of their kings,
they would naturally desire to participate in that scienti¬
fic knowledge which was possessed by the architects they
employed; and as, amongst a superstitious people, the sa¬
cerdotal order seldom fail to gain the objects of their am¬
bition, they would, in this case, succeed in their attempts,
and be initiated into the mysteries, as well as instructed
in the science, of free masons. These remarks will not
only assist us in discovering the source from which the
Egyptian priests derived that knowledge for which they
have been so highly celebrated; but they will also aid us
in accounting for those changes which were superinduced
on the forms of free masonry, and for the admission of
men into the order whose professions had no connection
with the royal art.
When the Egyptian priests had in this manner pro¬
cured admission into the society of free masons, they con¬
nected the mythology of their country, and their meta¬
physical speculations concerning the nature of God and
the condition of man, with an association formed for the
exclusive purpose of scientific improvement, and produced
that combination of science and theology which, in after
ages, formed such a conspicuous part of the principles of
free masonry. The knowledge of the Egyptians was care¬
fully concealed from the vulgar ; and when the priests did
condescend to communicate it to the learned men of other
nations, it was conferred in symbols and hieroglyphics, ac¬
companied with particular rites and ceremonies, marking
the value of the gift they bestowed. What those cere¬
monies were which were performed at initiation into the
Egyptian mysteries, we are unable, at this distance of
time, to determine. But as the Eleusinian and other mys¬
teries had their origin in Egypt, we may be able perhaps
to discover the qualities of the fountain, by examining the
nature of the stream.
The immense population of Egypt, conjoined with other
causes, occasioned frequent emigrations from that enlight¬
ened country. In this manner it became the centre of ci¬
vilization, and introduced into the most distant and savage
regions the sublime mysteries of its religion, and those in¬
ventions and discoveries which originated in the ingenuity
of its inhabitants. The first colony of the Egyptians which
arrived in Greece was conducted by Inachus, about 1970
years before the Christian era; and about three centuries
afterwards, he was followed by Cecrops, Cadmus, and Da-
naus.1 The savage inhabitants of Greece beheld with as- Masonry,
tonishment the magical tricks of the Egyptians; and re- Free.'
garded as gods those skilful adventurers, who communicat-
ed to them the arts and sciences of their native land.2 In
this manner were sown those seeds of improvement which
in future ages exalted Greece to such pre-eminence amongst
the nations.
After the Egyptian colonies had obtained a secure set¬
tlement in their new territories, and were freed from those
uneasy apprehensions which generally trouble the invaders
of a foreign land, they instituted, after the manner of their
ancestors, particular festivals or mysteries, in honour of those
who had benefited their country either by arts or by arms.
In the reign of Ericthonius (b. c. 1500), the mysteries of
the Egyptian Isis were established at Eleusis, under the
name of the Eleusinia. They were instituted in honour of
Ceres, who having come to Greece in quest of her daugh¬
ter Proserpine, resided with Triptolemus at Eleusis, and
instructed him in the knowledge of agriculture, and in the
still more important knowledge of a future state.3
About the same time the Panathensea were instituted
in honour of Minerva; and the Dionysian mysteries in
honour of Bacchus, who invented theatres,4 and instructed
the Greeks in many useful arts, but particularly in the cul¬
ture of the vine.5 That the Eleusinian and Dionysian mys¬
teries were intimately connected with the progress of the
arts and sciences, is manifest from the very end for which
they were formed ; and that they were modelled upon the
mysteries of Isis and Osiris, celebrated in Egypt, is proba¬
ble from the similarity of their origin, as well as from the
consent of ancient authors.6 If there be any plausibility
in our former reasoning concerning the origin of know¬
ledge in Egypt, it will follow that the Dionysia and the
mysteries of Eleusis were, like the societies of free masons,
formed for scientific improvement, though no doubt tinc¬
tured with the doctrines of the Egyptian mythology.
But it is not from conjecture only that this conclusion
may be drawn. The striking similarity amongst the external
forms of these secret associations, and the still more striking
similarity of the objects which they had in view, are strong
proofs that they were only different streams issuing from a
common fountain. Those who were initiated into the Eleu¬
sinian mysteries, were bound by the most awful engage¬
ments to conceal the instructions they received, and the
ceremonies that were performed.7 None were admitted as
candidates till they had arrived at a certain age ; and parti¬
cular persons were appointed to examine and prepare them
for the rites of initiation.8 Those whose conduct was found
irregular, or who had been guilty of atrocious crimes, were
rejected as unworthy of initiation; whilst the successful
candidates were instructed, by significant symbols, in the
principles of religion,9 were exhorted to quell every turbu¬
lent appetite and passion,10 and to merit, by the improve¬
ment of their minds, and the purity of their hearts, those
ineffable benefits which they were still to receive.11 Sig¬
nificant words were communicated to the members; grand
officers presided over their assemblies;12 their emblems wrere
exactly similar to those of free masonry ;13 and the candi-
I Voyage du Jeune Anacharsis en Grece, 4to, tom. i. p. 2. Cecrops arrived in Attica in !Go7 n. c.; Cadmus came from Phoenicia to
Boeotia in 1593 n. c. ; and Danaus to Argolis in 1586 b. c. 2 Herodotus, lib. i. cap. 58.
3 Isocrates Paneg. tom. i. p. 132. 4 Polydor Virg. de Rerum Invent, lib. iii. cap. 13.
5 Robertson's Greece, p. 59. Bacchus or Dionysius came into Greece during the reign of Amphictyon, who flourished about 1497 b. c.
4 En adsum natura parens tuis Luci admota precibus summa numinum ; cujus numen unicum, multiformi specie, ritu vario, to-
tus veneratur orbis. Me primogenii Phryges Pessinunticam nominant deum matrem ; hinc Autochtones Attici Cecropiam Miner-
vam : illinc Cretes Dictynnam Dianam, &c. Eleusinii vetustam Deam Cererem ; priscaque doctrina pollentes Egyptii, ceremoniis
me prorsus propriis percolentes, appellant vero nomine reginam Isidem. (I.. Apuleii Metamorph. lib.xi.)
7 Andoc. de M/jst. p. 7- Meursius in Elens. Myst. cap. 20. This latter author has collected all the passages in ancient writers
about the Eleusinian mysteries. ' 8 Hesychius in ‘T^«v.
II Clemens Alexand. Strom, lib. i. p. 325, lib. vii. p. 845. 12 Robertson’s Greece, p. 127.
io Porphyr. ap. Stob. Eclog. Phys. p. 142. 13 Euseb, Prepar. Evangel, lib. in. cap. 12, p. 117-
Arrian in Epictet. lib. iii. cap. 21, p. 440.
VQL. xiv. 2 N
282
masonry, free.
Masonry, date advanced from one degree to another, till he had re-
Free. ceived all the lessons of wisdom and virtue which the priests
's'—-v—could impart.1
It may, however, be objected here, that there were circum¬
stances in the celebration of the Eleusinian mysteries which
have no counterpart in the ceremonies of free masonry.
The sacrifices, the purifications, the hymns, and the dances,
which were necessary in the festival of Ceres, have indeed
no place in the society of free masons. But these points of
dissimilarity, instead of weakening, rather strengthen our
opinion. It cannot be expected that, in the reign of Poly¬
theism, just sentiments of the Deity should be entertained;
and much less that the adherents of Christianity should
bend their knees to the gods of the heathens. The ancients
worshipped those beings who conferred on them signal
benefits, with sacrifices, purifications, and other tokens of
their humility and gratitude. But when revelation had
disclosed to man more amiable sentiments concerning the
Divine Being, the society of free masons banished from
their mysteries those useless rites with which the ancient
brethren of the order attempted to appease and requite
their deities ; and they modelled their ceremonies upon this
foundation, that there is but one God, who must be wor¬
shipped in spirit and in truth.
The mysteries of Ceres were not confined to the city of
Eleusis; they were introduced into Athens about 1356
b. c.2 and, with a few slight variations, were observed in
Phrygia, Cyprus, Crete, and Sicily.3 They had reached
even to the capital of France ;4 and it is highly probable
that, in a short time afterwards, they were introduced into
Britain, and other northern kingdoms.5 In the reign of
the Emperor Hadrian,6 they were carried into Rome, and
were celebrated, in that metropolis, with the same rites an'd
ceremonies which were performed in the humble village of
Eleusis. They had contracted impurities, however, from
the length of their duration, and the corruption of their
abettors; and though the forms of initiation were still sym¬
bolical of the original and noble objects of the institution,
yet the licentious Romans mistook the shadow for the sub¬
stance, and, whilst they underwent the rites of the Eleusi¬
nian mysteries, they were strangers to the object for which
they were framed.
About the beginning of the fifth century, Theodosius
the Great prohibited, and almost totally extinguished, the
Pagan theology in the Roman empire ;7 and the mysteries
of Eleusis suffered in the general devastation.8 It is pro¬
bable, however, that these mysteries were secretly cele¬
brated, in spite of the severe edicts of Theodosius ; and that
they were partly continued during the dark ages, though
stripped of their original purity and splendour. We are
certain, at least, that many rites of the Pagan religion were
performed, under the dissembled name of convivial meet¬
ings, long after the publication of the emperor’s edicts ;9
and Psellus16 informs us, that the mysteries of Ceres sub¬
sisted in Athens till the eighth century of the Christian era,
and were never totally suppressed.
We shall now endeavour to exhibit a rapid sketch of the
progress of free masonry after the abolition of the heathen
rites in the reign of Theodosius; and, though the friends
and enemies of the order seem to coincide in opinion upon
this later part of its history, the materials are as scanty as
before, and the incidents equally unconnected. In those Masonrt
ages of ignorance and disorder w'hich succeeded the de- Free.'’
struction of the Roman empire, the minds of men were too'^^V'*--
much debased by superstition, and contracted by bigotry,
to enter into associations for promoting mental improve¬
ment and mutual benevolence. The spirit which then
raged was not a spirit of inquiry. The motives which
then influenced the conduct of men wrere not those bene¬
volent and correct principles of action which once distin¬
guished their ancestors, and which still distinguish their
posterity. Sequestered habits and unsocial dispositions
characterized the inhabitants of Europe, in this season of
mental degeneracy ; whilst free masons, actuated by very
different principles, inculcate on their brethren the duties
of social intercourse, and communicate to all within the pale
of their order the knowledge which they possess and the
happiness which they feel. But if science had existed in
these ages, and if a desire of social intercourse had ani¬
mated the minds of men, the latter must have languished
for want of gratification, as long as the former was im¬
prisoned within the walls of a convent, by the tyranny of
superstition, or by the jealousy of power. Science was in
those days synonymous with heresy ; and had any bold and
enlightened man ventured upon philosophical investiga¬
tions, and published his discoveries of the world, he would
have been regarded by the vulgar as a magician, and pu¬
nished as a heretic by the church of Rome. These re¬
marks may be exemplified and confirmed by an appropriate
instance of the interfering spirit of the church of Rome, even
in the sixteenth century, when learning had made consi¬
derable advancement in Europe. The celebrated Baptista
Porta having, like the sage of Samos, travelled into dis¬
tant countries for scientific information, returned to his na¬
tive country, and established a society which he denominat¬
ed the Academy of Secrets. He communicated the infor¬
mation which he had collected to the members of this asso¬
ciation, who, in their turn, imparted to their companions
the knowledge which they had individually obtained. But
this little fraternity, advancing in respectability and science,
soon trembled under the rod of ecclesiastical oppression,
and experienced in its dissolution, that the Romish hierar¬
chy was determined to check the ardour of investigation,
and retain the human mind in its former fetters of igno¬
rance and superstition. How then could free masonry
flourish, when the minds of men had such an unfortunate
propensity to monkish retirement, and when every scienti¬
fic and secret association was overawed and persecuted by
the rulers of Europe ?
But, though the political and intellectual condition of
society was unfavourable to the progress of free masonry,
and though the secret associations of the ancients were
dissolved in the fifth century by the command of the Ro¬
man emperor, yet there are many reasons for believing
that the ancient mysteries were observed in private long
after their public abolition, by those enemies of Christiani¬
ty who were still attached to the religion of their fathers.
Some authors11 even inform us that this was actually the
case, and that the Grecian rites existed in the eighth cen¬
tury, and were never completely abolished. These con¬
siderations enable us to connect the heathen mysteries
with that trading association of architects which appeared
1 Petay. ad Themist. p. 414. Anacharsis, tom. iii. p. 582.
4 Fiayfau’s Chronology. 3 Lucii Apuleii Metamphor. lib. xi. p. 107, 198.
• °jSk^ch °f the French Capital, 1803. by S. West. This author observes, in the preface to his work, that Par
hlkhmpnt . built b?side a teml)le dedlcated to that goddess; that this temple was demolished at the est;
hi'shment of Christianity, and that there remains to this day, in the Petits Augustins, a statue of Isis nursing Horus.
Omit to Meusinam sanctam illam et augustam, ubi iuitiantur gentes terrarum ultima:. Cic. de Nat. Deorum.tib. i. sub line.
A. JJ. ilj. Potter s Antiq. vol. 1. p. 389.
7 Gibbon s History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 8vo, vol. v. p. 120.
8 Zozim. Hist. lib. iv. 9 Qj^on vqj ^ ^ ^
n Gibbon^vcTvoTv ^pTlO ‘‘ 'Exx>,y!;> quoted by Clinch m the Anthologia Ilibernica'for January 1794, p.3
MASONRY FREE.
Kaonry, during the middle ages, under the special authority of the
ree. see of Rome.
The insatiable desire for external finery and gaudy cere¬
monies which was displayed by the Roman Catholic priests
in the exercise of their religion, introduced a correspond¬
ing desire for splendid monasteries and magnificent ca¬
thedrals. But as the demand for these buildings was
urgent, and continually increasing, it was with great dif¬
ficulty that artificers could be procured, even for the erec¬
tion of such pious works. In order to encourage the pro¬
fession of architecture, the pontiffs of Rome, and the
other potentates of Europe, conferred on the fraternity of
free masons the most important privileges, and allowed
them to be governed by laws, customs, and ceremonies,
peculiar to themselves. The association was composed of
men of all nations, of Italian, Greek, French, German, and
Flemish artists, who were denominated free masons, and
who, ranging from one country to another, erected those
elegant churches and cathedrals which, though they
once gratified the pride and sheltered the rites of a cor¬
rupted priesthood, now excite the notice of antiquaries,
and administer to the grandeur of kingdoms. The govern¬
ment of this association was remarkably regular. Its
members lived in a camp of huts, reared beside the build¬
ing in which they were employed. A surveyor or master
presided over and directed the whole. Every tenth man
was called a warden, and overlooked those who were un¬
der his charge; and such artificers as were not members
of this fraternity were prohibited from engaging in those
buildings which free masons alone had a title to rear.1 It
may seem strange, and perhaps inconsistent with what we
have already said, that the fraternity of free masons should
have been sanctioned, and even protected, by the bishops
of Rome. Secret associations, indeed, are always a terror
to temporal and to spiritual tyranny. But the church of
Rome, instead of approving of the principles of free ma¬
sonry, by the encouragement and patronage which they
gave to architects, only employed them as instruments for
gratifying their vanity and satiating their ambition. For
in after ages, when masons were much more numerous, and
when the demand for religious structures was less urgent,
than before, the pontiffs of Rome deprived the fraternity
of those very privileges which had been conferred upon
them without solicitation, and persecuted, with unrelent¬
ing rage, the very men whom they had voluntarily taken
into favour, and who had contributed to the grandeur of
their ecclesiastical establishment.
Wherever the Roman Catholic religion was taught, the
meetings of free masons were sanctioned and patronized.
I he principles of the order were even imported into Scot¬
land,-where they continued for many ages, in their primi¬
tive simplicity, long after they had been extinguished in the
continental kingdoms. In this manner, Scotland became
the centre from which these principles again issued, to
illuminate, not only' all the nations of the continent, but
every civilized portion of the habitable world. What those
causes were which continued the societies of free masons
longer in Britain than in other countries, it may not, per-
haps, be easy to determine; but as the fact itself is un-
questionable, it must have arisen, either from some favour¬
able circumstances in the political state of Britain, which
did not exist in the other governments of Europe, or from
the superior policy by which the British masons eluded
the suspicion of their enemies, and the superior prudence
283
with which they maintained the primitive simplicity and Masonry
respectabihty of their order. The former of these causes Free.' ’
had, without doubt, a considerable share in producing the ^*"*" v-~—
effect under consideration ; and we know for certain that
in our own days, the latter has preserved free masonry in
a flourishing condition throughout these united kingdoms,
whilst, in other countries, the imprudence and foolish in¬
novations of its members have exposed it to the most se¬
vere and just censure, and, in many cases, to the most vio¬
lent persecutions. It is a fact requiring no confirmation,
and resulting from the most obvious causes, that free ma¬
sonry never flourishes in seasons of public commotion ;
and even in Great Britain, though the seat of war is com¬
monly in foreign countries, it has universally declined.
But in those lands which are the theatre of hostilities, it
will be neglected in a still greater degree ; and, if these
hostilities are long continued, or frequently recur, the very
name and principles of the order must soon be extinguish¬
ed. Amidst those continual wars, therefore, which, dur¬
ing the middle ages, distracted and desolated the conti¬
nent of Europe, the association of architects would soon
be dissolved; whilst in the humble village of Kilwinning,
on the western coast of Scotland, they found a safe retreat
from the violent convulsions of continental wars.
That free masonry was first introduced into Scotland by
those architects who built the abbey of Kilwinning, is ma¬
nifest, not only from authentic documents, by means of
which the existence of the Kilwinning lodge has been
traced back as far as the end of the fifteenth century, but
by other collateral arguments, which amount almost to a
demonstration. In every country where the temporal and
spiritual jurisdiction of the pope was acknowledged, there
was a continual demand, particularly during the twelfth
century, for religious structures, and consequently for
operative masons, proportional to the piety of the inhabi¬
tants, and the opulence of their ecclesiastical establish¬
ment ; and there existed no kingdom in Europe where the
zeal of the inhabitants for popery was more ardent than in
Scotland, where the kings and nobles were more liberal
to the clergy, and where, of consequence, the church was
more richly endowed.3 The demand, therefore, for elegant
cathedrals and ingenious artists must have been propor¬
tionally greater than in other countries, and that demand
could be supplied only from the trading association on the
continent. When we consider, in addition to these facts,
that this association monopolized the building of religious
structures in Christendom, we are authorized to conclude,
that those numerous and elegant ruins which still adorn
various parts of Scotland were erected by foreign masons,
who introduced into this island the customs of their order.
It was probably about this time, also, that free masonry
was introduced into England; but whether the English
received it from the Scottish masons at Kilwinning, or from
other brethren who had arrived from the continent, there
are now no means of determining. The masonic fraternity
in England, however, maintain, that St Alban, the proto¬
martyr, who flourished about the end of the third century,
was the first who brought masonry to Britain; that the
brethren received a charter from King Athelstane, and
that his brother Edwin summoned to meet at York all the
lodges which formed the first grand lodge of England.'1 *
But these are merely assertions, and not only incapable of
proof from authentic history, but also inconsistent with
several historical events which rest upon indubitable evi-
Henry’s History of Great Britain, vol. viii. p. 273, b. iv.
1 Wren’s Parentalia, or a History of the Family of Wren, p. 306, 307.
cnap. o, § 1. Robison’s Proofs of a Conspiracy, p. 21.
3 V ide Statistical Account of Scotland, vol. xi. Parish of Kilwinning ; or Edinburgh Magazine for April 1802, p. 243.
< A noon P°ss<\ssef arb°ve one half of the property in the kingdom. Robertson’s History of Scotland, vol. i. pp. 137, 65, 269.
1778 ’ ' 1 reston s Illustrations of Masonry, p. 148. Smith’s Use and Abuse of Free Masonry, p. 51. Free Mason's Calendar,
284
MASONRY, FREE.
Masonry, dence.1 In support of these opinions, indeed, it is alleged
Free, that no other lodge has laid claim to greater antiquity than
vthat of York, and that its jurisdiction over the other
lodges in England has been invariably acknowledged by
the whole fraternity. But this argument only proves that
York was the birth-place of free masonry in England. It
brings no additional evidence in support of the improbable
stories about St Alban, Athelstane, and Edwin ; and if the
antiquity of free masonry in Britain can be defended only
by the forgery of silly and uninteresting stories, it does
not deserve to be defended at all. Those who invent and
propagate such tales, do not, surely, consider that they
bring discredit upon their order by the warmth of their
zeal; and that, by supporting what is false, they prevent
thinking men from believing what is true.
After the establishment of the Kilwinning and the York
lodges, the principles of free masonry were rapidly dif¬
fused throughout both kingdoms, and several lodges were
erected in different parts of the island. As all these de¬
rived their existence and authority from the two mother
lodges, they were likewise under their jurisdiction and con¬
trol ; and when any differences arose that were connect¬
ed with the art of building, they were referred to the ge¬
neral meetings of the fraternity, which were always held
at Kilwinning and at York. In this manner did free ma¬
sonry flourish for a while in Britain, after it was completely
abolished in every other part of the world. But even here
it was doomed to suffer a long and serious decline, and to
experience those successive alternations of advancement
and decay which mark the history of every human insti¬
tution. And although, during several centuries after the
importation of free masonry into Britain, the brethren of
the order held their public assemblies, and were some¬
times prohibited from meeting by the interference of the
legislature, it can scarcely be said to have attracted gene¬
ral attention till the beginning of the seventeenth century.
The causes of this remarkable retardation which the pro¬
gress of masonry experienced, it is by no means difficult
to discover. In consequence of the important privileges
which the order received from the church of Rome, many
persons chose the profession of architect, which, though at
all times an honourable employment, was in particularly
high request during the middle ages. On this account, the
body of operative masons increased to such a degree, and
the rage as well as the necessity for religious edifices
was so much diminished, that a more than sufficient num¬
ber of hands could at any time be procured for supplying
the demands of the church and those of pious individuals.
There being now no scarcity of architects, the very rea¬
son which prompted the church to protect the fraternity
ceased to exist; they, therefore, withdrew from them that
patronage which they had spontaneously proffered, and de¬
nied them even the liberty of holding their secret assem¬
blies. But these were not the only causes which produ¬
ced such a striking change in the conduct of the church
towards the masonic order. As we have already stated, the
spirit of free masonry was hostile to the principles of the
church of Rome. The intention of the one was to en¬
lighten the mind; the object and policy of the other were
to retain it in ignorance. When free masonry flourished, the
power of the church must have decayed. The jealousy
of the latter was therefore aroused; and, as the civil
power in England and Scotland was almost always in the Masonrr
hands of ecclesiastics, the church and the state were com- Free.'’
bined against the principles and the practice of free ma-
sonry.2 But besides the causes here specified, the domestic
and bloody wars which convulsed the two kingdoms from the
thirteenth to the seventeenth century conspired, in a great
degree, to produce that decline of the fraternity for which
we have been attempting to account.
Yet notwithstanding these unfavourable circumstances,
free masonry seems to have flourished, and attracted the
attention of the public in the reign of Henry VI. who,
when a minor, ascended the throne of England in 1422.
In the third year of his reign, indeed, the parliament pass¬
ed a severe act against the fraternity, at the instigation
of Henry Beaufort, bishop of Winchester, who was then
intrusted with the education of the young king. They
enacted that the masons should no longer hold their chap¬
ters and annual assemblies; that those who summoned
such chapters and assemblies should be considered as fe¬
lons ; and that those who resorted to them should be sub¬
jected to fine and imprisonment.3 But it would appear
that this act was never put in execution ; for, in the year
1429, about five years after it was framed, a most respect¬
able lodge was held at Canterbury under the patronage of
the archbishop himself.4 When King Henry was able to
take into his own hands the government of his kingdom,
and to form an independent opinion respecting the use and
tendency of the masonic fraternity, in order to atone for
the rigorous conduct of his parliament, he not only per¬
mitted theorder tohold their meetings without molestation,
but even honoured the lodges by his presence as a brother.
Before he was initiated, however, into the mysteries of the
order, he seems to have examined, with scrupulous care,
the nature of the institution, and to have perused the
charges and regulations of the fraternity, which had been
collected from their ancient records.
Whilst free masonry was flourishing in England under
the auspices of Henry VL, it was at the same time pa¬
tronised, in the sister kingdom, by King James I. By the
authority of this monarch, every grand master who was
chosen by the brethren, either from the nobility or clergy,
and approved of by the crown, was entitled to an annual
revenue of four pounds Scots from each master mason,
and likewise to a fee at the initiation of every new mem¬
ber. He was empowered to adjust any differences which
might arise amongst the brethren, and to regulate those af¬
fairs connected with the fraternity which it was improper
to bring under the cognizance of the courts of law. The
grand master also appointed deputies or wardens, who re¬
sided in the chief towns of Scotland, and managed the
concerns of the order when it was inconvenient to appeal
to the grand master himself.5
In the reign of James II. free masonry was by no means
neglected. The office of grand master was granted by the
crown to William St Clair, earl of Orkney and Caithness,
baron of Roslin, and founder of the much-admired chapel
of Roslin. On account of the attention which this noble¬
man paid to the interests of the order, and the rapid pro¬
pagation of the royal art under his administration, King
James II. made the office of grand master hereditary to
his heirs and successors in the barony of Roslin ; in which
family it continued till the institution of the grand lodge
1 See Dr Plot’s Natural History of Staffordshire, chap. viii. p. 316, et seq.
As a proof of the hostility of the church of Rome to secret associations which pretended to enlighten the mind, we may mention
its treatment of the Academy of Secrets, instituted in the sixteenth century for the advancement of physical science. When a local
and temporary institution drew down the vengeance of the lioman see, what must have been its conduct to a lodge of masons? A
further account of the Academy of Secrets may be found in Priestley’s History of Vision, vol. ii.
tHeary' caP‘ A’ P' ^425, see Ruff head’s Statutes. Plot’s Natural History of Staffordshire, chap. viii. p. 318.
Manuscript Register of William Morlat, prior of Canterbury (p. 28),; entitled Liberatio generalis Domini Gnlielmi prioris Ecclesia
Chnsti Cantuarensis, erga festum natalis Domini, 1429. In this register are mentioned the names of the masters, wardens, and other
members of the lodge. > Charter. Hay’s MSS.
MASONRY, FREE.
285
[ onry, of Scotland. The barons of Roslin, in the capacity of went to Ireland, where he continued a considerable time ; Masonry,
fee. hereditary grand masters, held their principal annual meet- and, in consequence of his departure, the second charter Free,
ings at Kilwinning, the birth-place of Scottish masonry, was granted to his son Sir William St Clair, investing him
whilst the lodge of that village granted constitutions and with the same powers which his father enjoyed. It de¬
charters of erection to those brethren of the order who serves also to be remarked, that in both these deeds, the
were anxious that regular lodges should be instituted in appointment of William Sinclair, earl of Orkney and Caith-
different parts of the kingdom. These lodges all held of ness, to the office of grand master, by James II. of Scot-
the lodge of Kilwinning; and, in token of their respect land, is spoken of as a fact well known and universally ad-
and submission, they joined to their own name that of mitted. These observations will set in a clear point of
their mother lodge, from which they derived their exist
ence as a corporation.1
During the reigns of the succeeding Scottish monarchs,
free masonry still flourished, though very little information
can be procured respecting the state of the fraternity. In the
records of the privy seal, however, there exists a letter dated
at Holyroodhouse, the 25th September 1590, and grant¬
ed by King James VI. “ to Patrick Copland of Udaught,
for using and exercising the office of wardanrie over the
art and craft of masonrie, over all the boundis of Aber¬
deen, Banff, and Kincardine, to had wardan and justice
courts within the said boundis, and there to minister jus¬
tice.”2 This letter confirms what has already been stated
concerning the state of masonry in Scotland. It proves
beyond dispute that the kings of Scotland nominated the
office-bearers of the order; that these provincial masters,
or wardens as they were then called, administered justice
view what must hitherto have appeared a great inconsis¬
tency in the history of Scottish masonry. In the deed by
which William St Clair of Iloslin resigned the office of
hereditary grand master in 1736, it is stated that his an¬
cestors William and Sir William St Clair of Roslin had been
constituted patrons of the fraternity by the Scottish masons
themselves ; whilst it is well known that the grant of here¬
ditary grand master was originally made by James II. of
Scotland, to their ancestor, William Sinclair, earl of Ork¬
ney and Caithness. But when we consider that James VI.
by not exercising his power, virtually transferred to the
craft the right of electing their own office-bearers, the in¬
consistency vanishes ; for Sinclair and his predecessors,
as far back as the date of these charters, held their office
by the appointment of the fraternity itself. Lest any of
Sinclair’s posterity, however, might, after his resignation,
lay claim to the office of grand master, upon the pretence
in every dispute which concerned the “ art and craft of that this office had been bequeathed to them by the grant
•” that lodges had been established in all parts of of James II. to the Earl of Caithness and his heirs, he re-
Scotland, even in those remote, and, at that time, uncivi¬
lized counties of Aberdeen, Banff, and Kincardine ;—and it
completely overturns the unfounded assertion of Dr Robi¬
son, who maintains3 that the celebrated antiquary Elias
Ashmole, who was initiated in the year 1646, is the only
distinct and unequivocal instance of a person being admit¬
ted into the fraternity who was not an architect by profes¬
sion.
The records of St Mary’s chapel, which is the oldest curred durin
lodge in Edinburgh, extend as far back as the year 1598 ; the century.
nounced not only the right to the office which he derived
from the brethren, but any right also which, as a descen¬
dant of the Earl of Caithness, he might claim from the
grants of the Scottish monarchs.
Notwithstanding those civil commotions which disturb¬
ed Britain in the seventeenth century, free masonry flou¬
rished in Scotland under the auspices of the St Clairs of
Roslin. No particular event worthy of notice, however, oc-
that time, or even during the remainder of
The annual assemblies of the fraternity were
but as they contain only the ordinary proceedings of the still held at Kilwinning, and many charters and constitu-
lodge, we can derive from them no particular information tions were granted by the lodge of that village, for the
respecting the customs and conditions of the fraternity. It erection of other lodges in different parts of the kingdom.
appears, however, from these minutes, that Mr Thomas
Boswell of Auchinleck was made a warden of the lodge
in the year 1600 ; and that the Honourable Robert Moray,
quartermaster-general to the army in Scotland, was creat¬
ed a master mason in 1641. These facts are deserving of
notice, as they show, in opposition to Dr Robison, that
persons were early admitted into the order who were not
architects by profession.
In the year 1736, William St Clair of Roslin, who was
then grand master of Scotland, was under the necessity of
disposing of his estate, and, as he had no children of his own,
he was anxious that the office of grand master should not be¬
come vacant at his death. Having, therefore, assembled the
Edinburgh and neighbouring lodges, he represented to them
the utility which would result to the order from having a
gentleman or nobleman of their own choice as grand
When James VI. ascended the throne of England, he master of masonry in Scotland; and, at the same time, he
seems to have neglected his right of nominating the office- intimated his intention to resign into the hands of the
bearers oi the craft. In Hay’s manuscript in the Advocates’ brethren every title to that office which he then possess-
Library, there are two charters granted by the Scottish ma- ed, or which his successors might claim from the grants of
sons, appointing the St Clairs of Roslin their hereditary the Scottish kings and the kindness of the fraternity. In
grand masters. The former of these is without a date, but is consequence of this representation, circular letters were
signed by several masons who appoint William St Clair of despatched to all the lodges of Scotland, inviting them to
Roslin, his heirs and successors, their “ patrons and judges.” appear, either by themselves or their proxies, on next St An-
Ihe latter is in some measure a ratification of the former, drew’s day, to concur and assist in the election of a grand
and dated 1630, in which they appoint Sir William St master. When that day arrived, about thirty-two lodges
Clair of Roslin, his heirs and successors, to be their “ pa- assembled, and, after receiving the deed of resignation
trons, protectors, and overseers, in all time coming.” In from William St Clair, proceeded to the election of another
the first of these deeds, which seems to have been written grand master ; when, on account of the zeal which WJlliam
a little after the union of the crowns, it is stated, that for St Clair of Roslin had always shown for the honour and
some years the want of a protector had engendered many prosperity of the order, he was unanimously elected to
corruptions amongst the masons, and had considerably re- that high office, and proclaimed grand master mason of all
tarded the progress of the craft; and that the appointment Scotland. And thus was instituted the grand lodge of
oi William St Clair was by the advice and consent of Scotland, an event memorable in the annals of free mason-
William Shaw, master of work to his majesty. After pre- ry, but beyond which it would be unprofitable and unin¬
siding over the order for many years, William St Clair teresting to continue the history of the institution.
Such as Canongate Kilwinning, &c.
Privy Seal Book of Scotland, 61, f. 47.
3 Proofs of a Conspiracy, p. 21.
286
MASONRY.
Masonry.
Masonry
defined.
Early his¬
tory.
Greek
masonry.
Roman
masonry.
Early Eng¬
lish mason,
ry.
1. Masonry is the art of building with stones. The art
of reducing stones to regular or determinate forms is some¬
times called stone-cutting, but is usually considered a branch
of masonry. Workers in marble are also called masons ;
but it is stone-masonry only which we intend to treat of in
this article, as marble masonry is rather a manual than a
scientific art.
2. The art of building with stone is undoubtedly of great
antiquity; and its early history is difficult to trace beyond
the existing remains of ancient buildings, the oldest of
which are objects of wonder, chiefly on account of the diffi¬
culty of moving, with ordinary powers, the immense stones
of which they are formed. There is one thing remarkable
in these stupendous efforts of human labour: its directors
have often been happy in the choice of almost imperishable
materials, for a lasting evidence of their command of power.
The remains of this kind of gigantic masonry are found in
various parts of the earth ; some of the finest specimens are
the ancient Egyptian buildings, which seem to have been
intended to resist the power of men, as well as the slow
operations of time.
3. The masonry of the ancient Greeks closely resembles
that of the Egyptians. It is a more refined application of
the same principles of construction, to a series of chaste and
beautiful architectural forms, in which the ornamental part
of the art has evidently attained to that state of perfection,
which is rarely, if ever surpassed. The roof of the Octagon
Temple of the Winds maybe considered as the best example
of their constructive skill, whilst it betrays their ignorance
of the principles of the arch.
4. In Homan masonry wre find less of ponderous strength,
and of solid construction, than in the Egyptian and Greek,
and rarely anything approaching to the accurate and highly
finished labours of the latter, but considerably more artifi¬
cial and economical knowledge. If the manner of forming
arches and domes1 was not actually invented by the Ro¬
mans, at least the merit of applying them successfully, in
the art of building, was undoubtedly theirs; and they also
excelled in the composition of mortars and cements. Hence,
they found it easy to construct large works at a moderate
expense, which could not have been accomplished by the
limited methods of building known to their predecessors. It
gives us a high notion of the intrinsic value of the art of ma¬
sonry, to examine its application by the Romans, whether
it be in the celebrated Cloacae, Aqueducts, Bridges, or the
Military Roads of that enterprising people. To them also
we owe the beautiful idea of covering a temple with a dome.
5. After the decline of the Romans, the art of masonry,
in Europe, gradually acquired its former importance, through
its application to the construction of castles, towers, and
other places of defence ; and eventually, it gained a com¬
plete ascendancy over the other building arts, in the con¬
struction of cathedrals, monasteries, and such like edifices.
In our own island it made an equal if not a greater degree
of progress than it did upon the continent. The science of
masonry2 appears to have attained the most perfect state it
arrived at in those times, about the period when King’s Masonn.
College Chapel, at Cambridge, w as built, that is, about 1512.
From that time, or soon after, the knowledge of construction
declined; but the researches of men of science have, in mo¬
dern times, more than replaced those lost principles which,
there can be little doubt, the elder free-masons possessed.
Unfortunately, such principles are, even at the present time,
as inaccessible to a plain workman as the mysteries of the
master-mason were to the apprentice and fellow-craft of
former ages ; unless it be in some rare instances, where the
force of natural genius has risen superior to all difficulties,
and a mere workman, like the “ ’prentice of Roslin Castle,”
has outstripped the masters of technical science.
6. The most important principle of the free-masons, or, Principles
as they are usually called, the “ Gothic builders,” was thatof Cmfe
of reducing all the pressures of a vaulted roof to a few prin-inasoiir)’'
cipal supports. These supports were either strong pillars,
or buttresses, accordingly as the support was within the
area, or formed a part of the external wall. The buttresses
were made of considerable depth in the direction of the
pressure, with a thin wall from buttress to buttress, for
enclosing the building. If they had made the external
walls of uniform thickness, according to the modern prac¬
tice, a much greater quantity of material would have been
required to balance the pressure of the vaulting. For simi¬
lar reasons, the strength of their best vaulting consists in
deep-moulded ribs; the spaces between these ribs being
formed of thin light stones, supported from rib to rib. The
principles of construction of the Gothic builders may be
readily shewn by a model of wicker work, in the manner of
Sir James Hall’s truly elegant mode of explaining his ideas
respecting the origin of Gothic vaulting.3 The earliest
notice wre have seen, in architectural works, of anything
resembling the principles of construction just noticed, is
given by Alberti, who, alluding to a method of building
known to former architects, says, “ The arches upon which
the roof was placed were drawn quite down to the founda¬
tion with wonderful art, known but to few; so that the
work upheld itself by being only set upon arches; for those
arches having the solid earth for a chain, no wonder they
stood firm without any other support.”4
7. Masonry, with some other arts, having been drawn Masonry of
out of their ordinary course by the peculiar state of society^6 SIX'
in the middle ages, fell back to their common level, if not
teenth and
below it, at the Reformation; and the natural consequence ofteent|1
this change was the loss of the greater part of the know-turieSl
ledge which had been gained by the experience of several
centuries. But even in the most depressed state of masonry,
there were individuals in whom the love of that excellence
which animated their predecessors, was not subdued by
want of encouragement; and some scattered works were ex¬
ecuted which are deserving of notice, if our limited plan
would allow of it.
8. When Britain had happily become free from all inter- Present
nal disturbances, and there was little to occupy the time state of
and attention of a rapidly increasing population, except the ^r'1'1 a:
sonry.
1 Perhaps the oldest arches, at present known, are those which Mr. Belzoni discovered in Egypt; they are executed in bricks of the
same size, and of the same material, as those which the Egyptians used in the construction of their walls and pyramids. For further re¬
marks upon the subject of Arches, see the Article Bkidge; and the Earl of Aberdeen’s Inquiry respecting Grecian Architecture, page 191
2 What other term than science can be applied to that knowledge, which enables a mason to dispose large masses of stone-work over a
considerable area, with only a few distant supports ?
3 Essay on the Origin, History, and Pi'inciples of Gothic Architecture, London, 1813, Ware has collected most of the forms employed,
in his Tracts on Vaults, See. London, 1822.
4 Architecture of Leo Baptista Alberti (Leoni’s translation), book i. chap. xii.
s
ititerf
ni«047 on
:lie Ci ti-
iciit.
Prenc
lliSof.
MASONRY
51a nry. improvement of their own condition in life, the chief fruit
w—^ of their exertions for this purpose was, an unprecedented
extension of the foreign and domestic trade of the country;
wharfs, docks, harbours, and lighthouses vcere constructed ;
canals, locks, roads, and bridges, became the necessary ap¬
pendages of this new state of things; and, accordingly, it
was found desirable again to cultivate the art of masonry.
These important works also called forth a new profession,
of which the celebrated Smeaton has been called the father.
Smeaton’s first work was the Eddystone Lighthouse, which,
in originality of design, and soundness of construction, has
not been equalled. Since its erection, such a succession of
lx>ld and useful works have been accomplished, that it
would be difficult to enumerate them ;l and it may be suf¬
ficient to remark, that the masonry of our own age and
country, as it is exhibited in these works, is without a par¬
allel in preceding times.
9. In the northern states of Europe, their best w^orks are
chiefly modelled after ours; and, with the exception of
France, there is not in the southern states any considerable
degree of encouragement given to any branch of masonry.
It may nevertheless be remarked, that the principles of
construction form a popular subject of study in Italy.
10. In France masonry has always been a popular art;
partly, perhaps, from Paris being situated in the midst of a
district which abounds in excellent building stone. The
French government has constantly directed a considerable
share of attention to the construction of roads, bridges, and
military works; and, consequently, has afforded sufficient
scope for its improvement. When, however, the larger
works of the French masons are compared with those of our
own countrymen, one very remarkable difference may be
observed: the French works have more of the character of
daring experiments, than that which ought to belong to the
works of regular professors of an art; whilst the British
works of the same kind have evidently been directed by
men much better versed in practical construction than, in the
refinements of science. There is, perhaps, more of novelty
in the French works than is to be found in ours; but it
may be remarked, that this novelty of character is often
obtained by a sacrifice of fitness, as in the catenarian dome
of the Pantheon ; or of strength, as in the bridges of Nogent,
Neuilly, and others. The true criterion of excellence in a
useful art seems to be, fitness for producing the desired end
in the best possible manner.
287
ater (3.
atun f
aies.
I.—OF MATERIALS USED IN MASONRY.
11. The first object of attention, in a treatise on mason¬
ry, ought to be, the nature of the materials employed in it,
because the greater part of the principles of an art always
depend on the nature of the substances it is to be exercised
upon.
Of Stones.
12. Building stone is a dense, coherent body, of consi¬
derable hardness and durability, but generally brittle. It
possesses these qualities in various degrees, according to
the nature of its chemical elements, or the state of aggre¬
gation of its parts. The structure of stones is either lami¬
nated or granulated, or of a mixed kind. The chemical con¬
stituents of building stones are silica, alumina, lime, mag¬
nesia, and metals, combined with acids, water, and sometimes
with alkalis; some other chemical elements are found in
building stones, but not often in sufficient quantity to affect
the nature of the stones.
13. Laminated stones consist of thin plates, or layers,
cohering more or less strongly together; but when the layers Masonry,
are of considerable size, and cohere so slightly that they
may be easily separated, the stones are said to be slaty.
The layers are always nearly parallel to the quarry-beds of
the stone, and they should always be horizontal, or as nearly
so as possible, in a building, otherwise the action of the
weather will cause them to separate, and fall off in flakes.
In sandstones, the direction of the layers may often be dis¬
covered by their different shades of colour; and in others, by
the position of minute scales of mica, which always lie
parallel to the layers. In most stones the direction of the
layers may be ascertained by the facility with which the
stone yields to the tool in that direction; but a considerable
degree of practice is necessary to acquire so nice a discri¬
mination of resistance, and good workmen only attain it.
Amongst laminated stones, those are the most durable in
which the laminae are least distinct, and the texture uniform.
When the laminae do not perfectly cohere, they are soon in¬
jured by frost, and they are wholly unfit for places alternate¬
ly wet and dry.
14. Granular stones consist of distinct concretions resem- Granular
bling grains, either of the same or of different simple miner- stones,
als cohering together. When the structure is uniform, and
the grains or concretions are small, stones of this kind are
always strong and durable, if the concretions themselves be
so. Granular stones are sometimes open and porous, but
when they are uniformly so, they seldom suffer materially
by frost, because their uniform porosity allows the expan¬
sive force of congealing water to be distributed in every di¬
rection.
15. Stones of a compound structure, partly laminate and Compound
partly granular, have more or less of the characters of thestones-
two classes before described; for it maybe observed in coarse¬
grained granite that the laminated structure of some of its
parts renders it very susceptible of disintegration. All kinds
of stone obtained from quarries are found divided by vertical
or inclined seams, which are sometimes so close that they
cannot be distinguished till the stones are wrought; but
they often separate under the tool at such seams; and it is
not safe to employ stone to resist any considerable transverse
strain on account of the difficulty of knowing where those
seams are.
16. In the present state of our knowledge of this impor-Durability
tant subject, we may attribute the failure of building stones stones,
to two causes; the one chemical, and the other mechani¬
cal, which we shall here distinguish by the terms decom¬
position and disintegration.
17. Decomposition consists in the chemical elements ofDecompo-
a stone entering into new combinations with water, oxygen,fiition-
or carbonic acid gas. Stones containing such elements as
are readily acted upon by these external causes will be found
most subject to decomposition; and the process will be, in
many kinds, much hastened by a loose texture. Stones
containing saline matter, as the felspar of some granites, are
acted upon by water, particularly where the soluble salt is
in considerable proportion; and in some stones the applica¬
tion of salt water soon destroys them. Dolomieu says, the
houses at Malta are built with a fine-grained limestone, of
a loose and porous texture, which speedily moulders away
when it has been wetted with sea water.2 Stones contain¬
ing iron, which is not in a maximum state of oxidation, are
often destroyed by the absorption of oxygen and carbonic
acid ; the presence of moisture accelerates their decompo¬
sition, and it is always still further hastened by increase of
temperature. According to the observations of Kirwan,
stones containing iron, in a low state of oxidation are of a
black, a brown, or a bluish colour ; and in some instances,
when united with alumina and magnesia, they are of a grey,
See the Articles Bell-Rock Lighthouse, Bridge, Breakwater, and Caledonian Canal Docks.
Kirwan s Geological Essays, p. 148, 149.
288
MASONRY.
Masonry, or of a greenish grey; the former, as they become more oxy-
genized, change to purple, red, orange, and finally pale
yellow ; the latter become at first blue, then purple, red, &C.1
But stones containing iron, combined with its maximum of
oxygen, do not readily decompose, such are red porphyry,
jaspers, &c. When stones contain manganese, lime, alumina,
carbon, or bitumen, in particular states, they are subject to
decomposition, from the affinities of one or other of these
bodies ; but nothing very decisive is, or perhaps can be,
known respecting such changes, till some impi’ovement be
made in analytical chemistry, by which the state of combi¬
nation of the constituents of minerals can be determined
with more certainty.
Disintegra- 18. Disintegration is the separation of the parts of stones
tion. by mechanical action. The chief cause is the congelation
of water in the minute pores and fissures of stones, which
bursts them open, or separates small parts according as the
structure is slaty or irregularly granulated. The south
sides of buildings, in northern climates, are most subject to
fail; because the surface is often thawed and filled with
wet in the sunny part of the day, and frozen again at night.
This repeated operation of freezing is also very injurious to
sea walls, the piers of bridges, and other works exposed al¬
ternately to water and frost.2 The decay and destruction
of rocks being the effects of the same natural causes, the
reader will find some further illustration of this subject in
the article Mineralogy.
Resistance 19- The resistance of stones to wear and tear is, for many
to wear. purposes, a subject which it would be useful to investigate,
since on this resistance depends also the labour of working
them. From some experiments made by Rondelet, it ap¬
pears that granite will bear eight times as much wear as
veined white marble ; and that the labour of sawing gran¬
ite was about ten times greater than that of sawing veined
white marble.3
Scotland abounds in quarries of excellent building sand¬
stone ; such, in particular, are the quarries at Culello, in
Fifeshire,wThich furnished the stones for the monument erect¬
ed at Yarmouth to the memory of Lord Nelson, and that at
Edinburgh to the memory of Lord Melville. Nothing can
exceed the beauty of the sandstone used in those noble
structures ; and besides beauty, and other valuable quali¬
ties, it has a high degree that of being easily chiselled
into the smoothest and finest forms.
Mortars
and ce
merits.
Nature of
-common
mortar.
Of Mortars and Cements.
20. In the greater part of works executed in stone, it is
necessary to use some kind of cementitious matter for con¬
necting the parts together, to render them firm and com¬
pact. Works to be exposed to the action of water, immedi¬
ately after being built, require this cementitious matter to
be of such a nature that it will indurate under water.
Hence it is, that we have occasion for two species of mor¬
tar ; one which will set and harden under water, called a
water mortar, or cement; and common mortar.
21. II a piece of limestone, or chalk, be slowly calcined,
so as to expel the whole, or nearly the whole, of its car¬
bonic acid, it loses about 44 per cent, of its weight; and on
a small quantity of water being added, it swells, gives out
heat, and falls into a finely divided powTder, called slacked
lime. Ihe bulk of the powder is about double that of the
limestone. If this powder be rapidly formed into a stiff
paste with water, it sets or solidifies as a hydrate of lime,
and ultimately hardens by the absorption of carbonic acid
from the air. This constitutes common building mortar.
Hydrate of lime consists of lime, 100 parts, and water 31
parts.
22. If any substance, reduced to powder, and containing Mason
much iron in a low state of oxidation, be mixed with slacked
lime, the mixture w ill become harder and more coherent Water
than when lime alone is employed ; and it possesses themorta1''
valuable property of acquiring an equal, or perhaps greater
degree of hardness, if it be immersed in wrater as soon as it
is formed into a paste. This constitutes water mortar. A
paste of hydrate of lime alone softens and dissolves in water.
Alumina, silica, and manganese, are endow ed with the same
property as oxide of iron, but in an inferior degree. It
may be observed, in forming such combinations, that when
the lime is in excess, it separates ; and in favourable situa¬
tions, either crystallizes or forms stalactites ; indicating that
there is a definite proportion according to which the ma¬
terials should be combined to form the best cement.
23. If some kind of matter, in the state of particles or uSe 0f
of grains, be mixed with the cementing material, and then sand in
the mixture be formed into a paste with water, the strength mortar,
and hardness of the cement will greatly depend on the na¬
ture of the particles added to it. In order that the cement
may be improved by such addition, it is necessary that the
hardness of the particles should at least be equal to the
greatest degree of hardness the cement can acquire; and
also, that the affinity between these particles and the ce¬
menting matter should exceed the affinity between the parts
of the cement itself. From this explanation it will readily
appear, that any substance which is added to a cement for
the purpose of increasing its bulk, its hardness, or its strength,
ought to be in particles or grains ; and that no soft, earthy,
or pulverent matter is fit for this purpose. It will be equally
apparent, to those who have considered the nature of che¬
mical combination, that the cementing part of the materials
employed in the composition of mortars and cements, should
be in the finest state of division that it is possible to reduce
them to.
An attentive consideration of these principles will afford
an easy solution of some of the most interesting questions
to which this important subject gives rise ; and correct some
errors that have originated from a partial examination of the
phenomena. We have now to examine the qualities of
those materials which naturally occur in the earth ; from
these must be selected the kinds that can be obtained at
the least expense for the place they are to be employed at,
when their quality is suitable to the nature of the work.
24. The cementing materials are chiefly obtained from Limestones
the different species of limestone, to which may be added puz-
zolana, terras, iron ores, basalt, and other substances of a
like character. The limestones may be divided, as regards
cements and mortars, into three classes ; common lime¬
stone, poor limestones (chaux maigre of the French), and
cement stones.
25. Common limestones consist of carbonate of lime with Common
very little of any other substance ; they produce a white limestone
lime, which slacks freely when well burned ; they dissolve
in diluted muriatic acid with only a small portion of residue,
and never contain more than a trace of iron. They differ
much in external characters, as chalk, marble, common com¬
pact limestone, &c. These limestones do not form water
cements without the addition of other kinds of cementing
matter ; and hence they are usually employed for common
mortar. The hardest marble and the softest chalk make
equally good lime w hen well burned ; but chalk lime will
slack when not perfectly burned, and, therefore, has seldom
a sufficient quantity of fire ; whereas stone lime must have
sufficient to make it slack. It has also been observed, that
stone lime does not re-absorb carbonic acid so rapidly as
chalk lime.4
is
%
%
1 Kirwan’s Geological Essays, p. 145, 6.
? The decayed state of the piers ot Westminster and Blackfriars’ Budges shews us how very little this important subject has been
studied ; as well as the necessity of studying it.
3 Traite de Van de batir, tome i. p. 95. 4 Higgins on Mortars and Cements, p 29.
IJf.mry. Lime, made from common limestones, sustains very little
ip.-w'injury from being kept after it has been formed into a thin
paste with water, provided the air be effectually excluded;
indeed, Alberti mentions an instance of some which had
been covered up in a ditch for a very long time, that was
of an excellent quality.
pof)] 26. Poor limestones consist of carbonate of lime united
linie*»nes. with silica, alumina, and metalic oxides. They in general
produce a buff-coloured lime, but sometimes it is white.
When the lime is white, there are no metalic oxides present.
They contain a considerable portion of matter, which is
insoluble in acids. They differ considerably in external cha¬
racters ; the blue lias, the Sussex clunch, and Sutton lime¬
stones, may be cited as instances. The lime of poor lime¬
stones does not slack freely ; and it would always be desir¬
able to reduce it to powder by grinding, in preference to
slacking, because in slacking a part of its setting property
is destroyed. When poor lime is slacked, it should be made
into mortar, and used immediately. Moisture does such
lime more injury than the re-absorption of carbonic acid;
masonry.
289
weight. The quantity of lime may be about 30 per cent. Masonry,
or 53 per cent, of carbonate of lime ; the silica and alumina'
emg m equal portions; and hence, in the raw materials,
one hundred parts by weight may consist of
Carbonate of lime 53
Protoxide of iron 18
Silica and alumina 29
tifici
‘lent.
100
. o _ . .   die BUUjeVL 10
vitrify in burning, unless the heat be increased gradually;
but by a little management in this respect they will bear a
heat sufficiently intense to convert them into good lime.
Ihe lime of poor limestones makes excellent common mor¬
tar, when the precautions we have pointed out have been
attended to. It is much superior to mortar made from com¬
mon limestones. It is not, however, sufficiently powerful for
,erae:
ones)
29. There are several mineral bodies which, combined
with lime, form good cements. Some of these may be used
in their natural state, but others require calcination. Puz-
zolana and tarras are of the former kind; basalt, iron ores,
and ferruginous clay, belong to the latter class.
Puzzolana is a volcanic production much used in making Puzzolana.
water cements. It was known to the Romans, and employ-
ed by them both in ordinary buildings and in water works.
Its colour is reddish or reddish brown, and grey or grey-
and examined by a magnifying glass it appears to be a
spongy substance, with innumerable cavities like a cinder,
and not much harder. It comes to this country in pieces
varying in size from the bulk of a nut to that of an egg. It
is very brittle, and has an earthy smell; its specific gravity
being from 2'5/0 to 2-/85. It does not effervesce with
^^L^wd^.ofabr^n colour’ of different TgTes fomfingT water cem^ntwffh AberteaT lime ; ValsTob-
served that tarras is inferior for work which is to be alter¬
nately wet and dry.
31. If any stone be employed in which the iron is per¬
fectly oxidized, it will be necessary to abstract some
portion of the oxygen from the iron in the process of calci-
^ ,, ui umereiiL
of intensity according to the nature of the stone. Those
now used to make cement are found in rolled pieces, or in
nodules, with septa of carbonate of lime, on the sea-coast
®neppy, Harwich, and near Whitby, and at Boulogne on
t e rench coast. The nodules are plentifully dispersed
tfirnnn*!,, . A t , —uispeiseu portion ot tfte oxygen from the iron in the process of calri-
Whitby; th v “i0n’ “ ** ““ Principie as the reduction of iron front
•tTri . y tuiLA L1IC ctlUIIl MId.it; UI
vvmtby; they are termed clay-balls, Indus helmontii, sep-
tana, &c. Cement stones are also liable to vitrify in burning,
either from being quickly exposed to a strong heat, or by
raa^ng the heat too intense.
When cement stones have been calcined and ground, the
pow e. thus obtained should be kept in a very dry place,
a* lts setting property is soon destroyed by moisture. It
absorbs moisture rapidly from the air; and, therefore, it
snoukl be as little exposed as possible ; but when closely
Oftmu ln a dry place’it; may be kepta considerable time.
^ I here are perhaps few mineral bodies which would
becltewlr011 aSi cIay"balls fbr making cement, unless it ot me materials. And, since we cannot imagine incom-
the means of fbmV 5 bUt ^ Very feW sltuations where pressible fulcra, nor that the materials of masonry are infi-
manner of pLceecW must SndTnTn tee V nitelyhard and inflexible, as writers on elementary mechanics
substances PeSvcd In .enpr^ T n u consider tbem t0 be’ tbe^fore, it is essential teat the re¬
mix slacked lime with te< sE Jnre 1- •C necfssary to ^stance of materials should be considered, and the effect of
mina and nvid - f • * f f containing silica, alu- their weight allowed for in estimating the power of the
afW a f ,0f iron’ and calcine them together, and straining force. 8 1
protoxide^ ^unT „f thC StatteK°f c The 0,fsto”s >>“"!? Jependent on their state
VOL. XIV. amount oi hom 13 to 18 per cent, by of aggregation, and not on the hardness or density of their
2 o
the ore is effected. (See Iron-Making.) It is also neces¬
sary to employ similar means to restore the cementing power
of materials that have attracted moisture after being cal¬
cined.
II OF THE PRINCIPLES OF STABILITY AND
STRENGTH IN MASONRY.
32. The strength and the stability of stone-work depends
partly on its mass or weight, and partly on the resistance
of the materials. And, since we cannot imagine incom-
290
MASONRY.
Masonry, elementary parts, their comparative strength cannot be
v-—^ judged of by these qualities ; indeed, there are few kinds of
materials of which the resistance is so uncertain as that ot
stone, and hence, it is not at all adapted for any support
where its resistance depends on its cohesion only, unless it be
very carefully examined, and abundant strength be allowed.
(See § 15.) The resistance of stone to compression is less
affected by its irregular nature, particularly as it is usually
employed in blocks of inconsiderable height; and, in gene¬
ral, there is scarcely any reason to be sparing of a material
which it is often more expensive to reduce than to employ
in large blocks. When, however, works of great magni¬
tude are to be constructed, the weight of the materials
themselves forms the chief part of the straining force ; and,
consequently, in such cases it becomes desirable to form a
tolerably accurate estimate of their power.
33. This power is limited by a property of bodies, that has
not received that degree of attention which its importance
would lead us to expect. We shall in this place make it the
basis of an investigation of the power of materials to resist
a force applied in any given direction, and shew its appli¬
cation to some of the cases where a mason is most likely to
need the assistance of calculation.
When any material is strained beyond a certain extent,
every time the strain is increased to the same degree, there
is a permanent derangement of the structure of the material
produced; and afrequent repetition will increase the derange¬
ment till the parts actually separate. (See the article Car¬
pentry.) When a small base rests upon a considerable
mass of matter, as a pier on the ground, the quantity of de¬
rangement will increase only till the mass be compressed to
that degree which renders the increase insensible; but in
many cases a number of years will elapse before the settle¬
ment becomes insensible.
34. The strain which produces permanent derangement
in the structure of a material varies from one-fourth to two-
fifths of that which would destroy its direct cohesion. In
stone the lower value should be taken, on account of its
being subject to so many defects; and, for the present, let
this strain be denoted by /lbs. upon a superficial foot.
35. Imagine ABCD to be a block, Plate CCCXLV. fig. 1,
strained either in the direction EF or FE, by a force W;
and let BDF be a line drawn in the same plane as the di¬
rection of the straining force, and perpendicular to the
axis cib of the block. Now, if we consider the resistance
of the block to be collected at the centres of resistance t
and c; then <F will represent a lever acted upon by three
forces ; that is, the resistance at t and c, and the straining
force at F. If the angle FE^/, be denoted by os/ then, the
effect of the force W, reduced to a direction perpendicular
to the lever, will be expressed by cos. aW. (!•)
Also, if T be the resistance at t, and C the resistance at
c, we shall, in the case of equilibrium, have C—T=cos. a
W. (2.)
And, by the property of the lever,
X T .
: W cos. a (3-)
p(±d—z), &ndip{\d+z) the respective distances of the
centres of resistance t and c from the neutral'
point; and, consequently,
jwfcthe distance, ct, between them. And,
g(±d—z), and g(\d-\-z) the respective distances of the
centres of gravity of the sections into which the
neutral axis divides the block, counted from the
neutral point.
The leverage, cF, expressed in this notation, will be
l sin.—l w_i (—p)z ; consequently, equation (4)
cos. a
becomes
pd
l sin. a
+ (i—~p)z
A-
(5.)
37. Now, it has been shewn, by writers on the resistance
of solids, that the resistance of any section, collected at its
centre of pressure, is equal to its cohesive force multiplied
by the distance of its centre of gravity from the neutral
axis, and divided by the distance of the point of greatest
strain from the neutral axis. (Emerson’s Mechanics, prop.
77. 4to. ed.)
Accordingly we have
„ ■fbg(\d—z)8
And T=^-^3-7   (7-)
¥+z
Therefore-^5 which being substituted in equa-
T {\d—zf
tion (5), we obtain
(3#—2).z2—‘Iz (-by') +{pd2—0 (8.)
v \ cos. a J
(6.)
If the block be rectangular P—zg and> therefore, the
distance of the neutral point from the axis is
d2
z=-
12
(l sin. a \
(>W7r+y)
(9-)
38. The value of z for a rectangular section being deter¬
mined, the magnitude of the straining force is easily found,
so that it may not exceed the power of the material; for,
by the properties of the lever,
pdC   
W cos. a=
L sin. a
and since C
+y-\-\pd+z(}—p)
cos. a
—fbg(\d-\-z) by equation (6), and
d*
fl sin. a . \
12 +y)
\ cos. a J
of the section, we have
fbcP
by equation (9), and g~\ by the form
W=-
(10.)
cF
tc C
Hence, -=--=:7fr—1
cF 1
(4.)
36. Without stopping to notice some maxims furnished
by this equation, (see the article Bridge.) We will pro¬
ceed to explain the notation used in the investigation which
follows:
fcthe length AB.
G?=:the depth BD, measured in the same plane as the
direction of the strain.
irrthe breadth.
z=the distance of the neutral point c from the axis ab.
3/—the distance of the point g from the axis ab.
'd cos. a+61 sin. a+61/ cos. a
39. In particular cases this formula becomes more simple;
as, for example, when the distance of the point g from the
axis ab is 0, that is, when y—o,
fbd2 01-)
W:
' d cos. a+ 61 sin. a
In a column, or pillar, the section of greatest strain mil
be at the middle of the length, as at BD in fig. 2; and tne
direction EF of the straining force is usually parallel to tne
axis; and then sin. azzo, and cos. a=l, and therefore,
W=^
d+6y
(12.)
When the direction of the straining force coincides with
masonry.
j/;onry. the axis, or when y=zo, the strain on a column or pillar is
expressed by the equation Wr=fbd (13-)
These equations apply also to tensile forces.
When the strain becomes transverse, or when EF is per- have, by equation, 04),
pendicular to the axis, as in fig. 3, then cos. a=o, and sin ’ J i > V vv — 0
291
a—\, hence W
fbd*
61
(14.)
If the block be supported at the ends, and the load be
applied in the middle of the length, as in fig. 4, the fracture
will take place at BD ; and W in equation (14) will be the
pressure on either supnort, which is obviously half the load
in the middle.
40. In any of these equations it is perfectly immaterial
how the load be distributed, provided the line of direction be
that which passes through the centre of gravity of the mass
supported, and the weight be the whole weight of that
mass. Or, if the strain be the combined effect of several
pressures, then the direction must be that of the resultant
of these pressures, as determined by the principles of me¬
chanics. (See the article Carpentry.)
41. If a slab of equable thickness and width be supported
along two of its sides, as at AC, AB in fig. 5, and it be
strained by a force acting at D, in a direction perpendicu¬
lar to its surface, and DE be made equal to DB, then the
fracture will take place in the direction EB; for it may be
shown, by the principles of the maxima and minima of Masonry
quantities, that the resistance, according to that line, is a v v—
minimum. And since, in that case, EB—2 FD, we shall
(15.)
A force uniformly diffused over the surface of the slab
would fracture it in the direction CB, shown by a dotted
line in the figure, and if w be the load in pounds upon a
square foot of the surface, then the proper values being
substituted for the leverage and breadth in equation, (14),
tvzz
/d* (CD2+DB2)
CD*+DB2 (16‘)
The strength of a series of steps bearing upon one ano¬
ther, as in the perspective sketch, fig. 6, may be determined
with sufficient accuracy by the last equation, supposing the
depth to be the mean vertical depth of any one step; as,
for example, taken at GH in fig. 7, the figure showing the
ends of the steps.
42. The case to which equation (14) applies, affords the
most convenient, as well as the most accurate, means of
determining the value of /for any material; and, suppos¬
ing it to be one-fourth of the absolute cohesion (§ 34), the
last column of the following table of experiments gives its
value for various stones, mortars, &c. in the nearest simple
numbers under the calculated value.
Table ^Experiments on the Transverse Strength of Stones, S,c. to the Case Equation (14.)
No. of
Expts.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
Substance tried.
Weight of a
Cubic Foot.
Length l.
Statuary marble, 
Ditto, 
Ditto, 
Dundee stone 
Portland stone, 
Ditto, 
Ditto, 
Ditto, 
Craigleith white sandstone, 
White sandstone from Hailes Quarry-
White sandstone from Longannet,..
Ditto, 
Ditto, 
Bath stone, 
Bed porphyry, 
Welsh roof slate, 
Scotch roof slate, 
Common brick, new, 
Ditto old, 
Best stock brick, 
Mortar from an old castle in Sussex,
Mortar, common, 
Mortar in the joints of two inch
cubes of stone, one month after
being joined,  
169-12 lbs.
163-80
132
147-6
134-8
138-25
15 inches.
7-5
7
7
21
12
6
15
7
7
9
4-5
3.5
2-75
2-5
6
6
4
4
4
3
0-75
Depth d. | Breadth b.
8 pou.
1-075 in.
1-08
1-075
1-5
1-5
1-45
1-55
1-25
1-55
1-5
1-525
1-45
1- 55
1
0-4
0-25
0-25
2- 5
2-5
2-5
1
0-35
2 pou.
Breaking
Weight.
Values of/=^
of the absolute
strength of a
Square Foot.
1-075
1-05
1-075
1- 45
2
2
2- 07
1-2
1-55
1-55
1-45
1-525
1-55
1
1
n
4
4
4
4
1
If
2 pou.
bs.
25
55
65
207
28
50
135
30
68-5
61-5
46
80
116-5
29
60
30
25
201-5
171-5
222
18-5
11-5
6-75 liv.
65,000 lbs
73,000
78,000
95,000
28,000
30,000
35,000
26,000
26,000
26,000
26,000
23,000
24,000
17,000
101,000
414,000
345,000
6,900
5,900
7,600
12,000
9,300
1,400
Numbers 18, 19, and 20, are from Barlow’s iWorc tie
strength of Timber, (p. 250), each being a mean of three
tnals. Number 23 is from Rondelet’s Traite de V Art de
beitir, (tome ni. p. 377), lowest result; the rest of the ex-
Were mat*e ky writer of this article,
e have not here availed ourselves of the experiments of
. authey (Rozier’s Journal de Physique, tome iv.) on the
transverse strength of stones ; because those he fixed at one
na appear to have been injured in fixing, and only a cal¬
culated result is given for the other specimens supported
at both ends. As to this, see the article on the Strength
of Materials.
43. Several experiments have also been made, with the
intention ol measuring the direct resistance to extension or
compression ; but theory indicates so nice an adjustment
of the direction of the straining force as necessary in these
experiments, that the reader may expect the results to differ
as widely amongst themselves as they are found to differ
from theoretical calculation.
OQ2
/'•v c/ ^
Masonry.
M A S O N It Y.
Table ll^-Experiments on the Direct Resistance of Stones, fc. to the Case Equation (13.)
Masonn
No. of
Expts.
Substance tried.
Weight of
a Cubic
Foot.
Area of
Specimen.
Hard stone of Givry, 
Tender stone of Givry,   
Mortar of sand and lime sixteen years old, 
Plaster of Paris, ;•;•••••*:  
Adhesion of mortar to lias stone, joined six months,
Adhesion of mortar to brick, joined six months,.
Adhesion of mortar to tile, joined six months,....
147 lbs.
130
Weight N«e °f/=i
that pulled of the absolute
it asunder.
96 lines
;324
1 ponce
1
4
4
4
164 livres
183
53
76
64
138
141
strength of a
Square Foot.
8.400 lbs.
1.400
1,800
2,500
547
1,180
1,200
• , -»T o A (] nml 7 are extracted (See 5 34.) Rondelet has observed, that the load under
S' Mtk itome i. p.’ 312.) ' Nos. 1 which a stone began to split was neariy
of that which crushed it; but that stone of some kinds began
from llondelet’s L’Art de batir, (tome i-P- 312-)
and 2, are by Gauthey, (llozier’s Journal de Physique, tome
iv. p. 414.)
44 In the resistance to actual fracture, from a compres¬
sive force, the joint effect of cohesion and friction is con¬
cerned, and, therefore, a much greater force is required to
crush than to tear asunder the same quantity of material.
The resistance to fracture might be investigated on principles
analogous to those we intend to employ in determining the
pressure of earth against retaining walls,-&c. (See the article
Carpentry.) But we conceive, that it is neither pi udent,
nor useful, nor necessary, to load the parts of a structure be¬
yond that limit we have made the basis of our investigation.
to split with half the load that crushed it, (JJArt de batir,
iii. 86 et 101). The value of/should, therefore, not exceed
one-fourth of the force which splits stone, and supposing
the splitting froce to be always half the crushing one, we
shall have /—one-eighth of the crushing force.
45. In this, as in the preceding tables, the reader will
observe, that the results of all experiments are given in the
original weights and measures; but that the value of/and
the weight of a cubic foot, are in English pounds avoirdu¬
pois, and for an English foot. The foreign weights and
measures are distinguished by their foreign names.
Table III. Experiments on the Resistance to Crushing*
No. of
Expts.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
Substance tried.
Weight of a
Cubic Foot.
Porphyry,.
Granite, Aberdeen blue, 
  Peterhead, hard and close grained,.
   Cornish, 
 gray, 
   rose Oriental,..
Marble, white statuary,
- veined white, Italian, 
variegated red, Devonshire,
Dundee stone,.
Craigleith stone, with strata,.
Do.,
Bromley Fall sandstone near Leeds, with the strata.
Portland stone, 
Do., 
Culello white sandstone,  
Yorkshire paving stone, 
Hard stone of Givry, 
Tender stone of'Givry,   
Saillaneourt stone, of which the arches of the 1
bridge of Neuilly are constructed,   f
Fourneaux stone, used for the pillars of All (
Saints, at Angers,   j
Bagneux stone, used for the lower part of the j
pillars of the pantheon at Paris, /
Stone used for the bridge of St. Maxence, 
Caserte stone, in Italy, ••••■
Stone of which the temples at Pits turn are built,..
Travertine, of which the chief of the ancient j
buildings at Rome are built, {
Derbyshire grit, a friable red sandstone,  
179’44 lbs.
174-9
164-06
166-37
171-06
166-32
172-5
168- 37
170-37
158-12
153-25
156-62
151-43
151-43
156-68
147-31
129-43
141-31
160-68
137-12
156-25
169- 87
140-87
147-37
144-75
Area of Spe¬
cimen.
20 lines
4 ponces
2-25 inch.
2-25
2-25
4 pouces
4
2-25 inch.
1
4 pouces
2-25 inch.
2-25
2-25
2-25
2-25
2-25
2-25
4
2-25
2-25
324 lines
576
4 pouces
Weight that
crushed it.
Value of/=§ of
the Crushing
Force for a
Square Foot.
5.208 livres
119,808
24,556 lbs.
18,636
14,302
39,168 livres
52,704
13,632
3,216
19,584 livres
21,783 lbs.
16,172
14,918
15,550
12,346
13,632
10,284
14,918
10,264
12,856
11.208 livres
5,880
7,280
25 centim.
4 pouces
4
4
2-25 inch.
26,600
6,125 kilog.
23,380 livres
36,142
13,720
18,112
7,070 lbs.
640,000 lbs.
500,000
196,000
149,000
114,000
165,000
220,000
109,000
57,000
83,000
174,000
129,000
119,000
124,000
98,000
109,000
82,000
67,000
82,000
102,000
85,000
25,000
30,000
110,000
62,000
97,000
150,000
58,000
77,000
56,000
MASONRY.
M onry.
Actu
t>ad
m st ;e
No of
Expts.
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
Substance tried.
Ditto, from another quarry,..
Roe stone, Gloucestershire,..
Tufa, from Rome, 
Chalk, 
Pumice-stone, 
Brick, hard and well burnt,..
 pale red, 
 red, mean of two trials,.
Stourbridge fire,.
Weight of a
Cubic Foot.
Mortar of lime and sand well beat together, 18 1
months old,  r
Do. 16 years old, 
Do. not beaten, 18 months old, 
Do. of lime and pit sand, 18 months old, 
Do. beaten together, 18 months old, 
Do. of lime and pounded tiles, 18 months old, 
Do. beaten together, 18 months old, 
Do. do. 16 years old, 
Do. from an ancient wall at Rome, 
Do. from the Pont du Gard, 
Lastrico, brought from Naples, 
151-75
76-00
37-81
97-31
130-31
135-5
118-31
101-56
99-25
118-93
91-06
103-93
89-37
93-75
62-5
Area of Spe
cimen.
2-25
2-25
4 pouces
2-25 inch.
4 pouces
378 lines
2-25 inch.
2-25
2-25
4 pouces
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4 •
Weight that
crushed it.
9,776
1,449
3,520
1,127 lbs.
2,100
5,280
1,265 lbs.
1,817
3.864
2,552 livres
2.864
1,866
2,475
3,420
2,896
3,970
4,948
4,248
3,090
4,664
Value ofT=8 °f
the Crushing
Force for a
Square Foot.
78,000
11.500
15,000
9,000
8.900
34,000
10,100
14.500
30.900
10.900
12,000
7.900
10,600
14,600
12,300
16.900
21,000
18,000
13,000
19,400
The experiments, Nos. 1, 21, 22, and 36, were made by
Gauthey. (Rozier, Journal de Physique, tome iv. p. 406.)
Those numbered 3, 4, 5, 8, 9, 11, to 20, 30, 31, 32, 34,
37, 38, and 39, were made by Mr. George Rennie. (Philo¬
sophical Transactionsfor the year 1818.) The others were
made by Rondelet. (Traite de VArt de bdtir, tome i. and
tome hi.) We have selected those which will be most
useful, with others of a more interesting and curious nature ;
such are Rondelet’s experiments on the effect of beating
mortar, the strength and density of ancient mortar, and the
resistance of stones used in ancient and in modern structures.
46. It was observed by M. Rondelet, in the course of his
very numerous experiments, that it was not the heaviest
stones which offered the greatest degree of resistance to
compression, but those of a fine even grain and close tex¬
ture, with a deep colour; that of granites, the most com¬
pact and perfectly crystallized were the strongest, (PArt de
bdtir, tom. i. 213, 215); and that, when all other qualities
were the same, the strength was in proportion to some func¬
tion of the specific gravity.
The writers who have contributed to our experimental
knowledge of the strength of stones are not numerous. The
chief are Emerson, in his Mechanics, 4to. ed. p. 115;
Gauthey, in his Mfmoirc sur la Charge quepeuventporter
les Pierres in Rozier’s Journal de Physique, tome iv.
1774, and in his Construction des Ponts, tome i. p. 267;
Coulomb, in his Me moires presentes d V Academic, 1773;
Rondelet, in his Trade de VArt de hdtir, tome i. et iii.
(I he latter volume contains the experiments made by Per-
Ronet and Soufflot); Rennie, in the Philosophical
t ransactions for 1818, or Philosophical Magazine, vol. liii.;
290 ^BEI>G0Ijr)’ Philosophical Magazine, vol. Ivi. p.
47. The last column in each of the three tables of expe¬
riments shows the greatest load that we suppose should be
“pra.ice k°rne. by a. suPerhcial foot of the different kinds of stone
contained in those tables. We now propose to give the
fhd* _ fbd
d -j- 67/
T
W
(17.)
If the pressure on the Bagneux stone in the piers of the
dome of the Pantheon at Paris be estimated by this for-
293
Masonry.
results of some calculations respecting the extent to which
stone has in practice been loaded. The foreign ones are
reduced to our own weights and measures, and the whole
stated in round numbers.
The pillars of the Gothic church of All-Saints at Angers,
of the stone, No. 24, Table III. support on each superficial
foot a pressure of 86,000 lbs.1 The pillars of the dome of
the Pantheon at Paris, the lower part of which are of Bao--
neux stone, (No. 2151, Table III.), support on each superfi¬
cial foot 60,000 lbs.2 The pillar in the centre of the chap¬
ter-house at Elgin, which is of red sandstone, supports on
each superficial foot 40,000 lb$.° The piers which support
the dome of St. Pauls, in London, sustain a pressure on
each superficial foot of 39;0001bs.2 The piers which sup-
poi t the dome of St. Peter s at Rome, sustain a pressure on
each superficial foot of 33,000 lbs.2 The pressure on the
key-stone (No. 23, Table III.) of the Bridge of Neuilly has
been estimated for each superficial foot at 18,000 lbs.4
In regard to these examples we have to remark, that the cal¬
culators of them have considered the pressures as uniformly
distributed over the pressed surface ; but this can only be
true when the direction of the resultant of the straining force
coincides with the axis of the pier or pillar; besides, stones
cannot be wrought absolutely level, nor bedded in perfect
contact. From these circumstances, the strength of piers,
columns, pillars, and arch-stones, should be estimated by
equation (12), and when the line of direction falls within
the pier, always making half the least dimension of the
section, an allowance which will include the effect of the
greatest possible inequality of action. We shall, in that
case, have
» 2aUtjV’ Fr°Zr'S, J™rnal de Physique, tom. iv. p. 409, and Construction des Ponts, tom. i. p. 273.
' Kondelet, L'Artde batir, tom. iii. p. 74. k
5 Telford, Edinburgh Encyclopcediu, Art. Bridge, p. 505.
4 Gauthey, Construction des Ponts, tome i. p. 260.
294
MASONRY.
Pressure
of earth
against
walls.
Masonry, mula, it will be found that it is sufficient to split the stones,
and this has actually happened.1
Principles 48. The chief elements of the theory of arches have
of arches, already been given in the Article Bridge, (sect, ii.) to
domes, &c. which we refer the reader, at the same time expressing a
hope that the excellent article referred to will be useful in
correcting some absurd notions respecting catenarian and
other curves, which are too commonly entertained. The
conical support of the lantern of St. Paul’s is a fine example
of an appropriate form, whilst the catenarian dome of the
French Pantheon exemplifies a scientific blunder of the
first magnitude.2
The principles of domes, of groins, and of vaulting of
every kind, are the same as those of arches, excepting that
each kind has its peculiar manner of distributing the load
on the different parts. See prop. M and N, art. Bridge.
Of the Pressure of Earth, Fluids, fyc., against Walls.
49. When a high bank of earth, or a fluid, is to be sus¬
tained by a wall, as it is often necessary to do in forming
bridges, locks, quays, reservoirs, docks, and military works,
the construction is very expensive, however economical the
means employed may be; hence it is desirable to devote
some space to an object of which the importance is manifest.
Let EC, Plate CCCXLV. fig. 8, be the line according to
which the earth would separate, if the wall were to yield in
a small degree; then AEC will represent the section of
the prism of earth, the pressure of which causes the wall to
yield.
Put W=the weight of the prism AEC, when its length is
unity.
R=.the resistance of the wall, when its length is unity.
a=the angle ECa, which the plane of fracture makes
with a vertical line.
e=the angle AC«, which the back of the wall makes
with a vertical line.
Err the friction of the earth when the pressure is
unity.
Azzthe vertical height of the wall aC in feet,
and 8=the weight of a cubic foot of earth, water, or other
matter to be supported.
If.? be the centre of gravity of the prism of earth, the
triangles rpg, C«E, being similar, the effort of the prism to
slide, in the direction EC, reduced for the friction, will be
W(1—F tan. a)
^ sec* (18->
This effort is to be opposed by the resistance of the wall,
which let us suppose to be collected at c, the centre of
pressure, and, reducing it to the direction CE, the effect of
friction being allowed for, it becomes
R(F+ tan. a\
(19.)
Hence, in the case of equilibrium,
W(1—F tan. a) R(F + tan. d)
sec. a sec. a ’
Masonry,
Or, R=w( LZiinj_i\
\ F + tan. a )
(20.)
the radius being
F-j-tai
50. But, in the case now considered
unity, W=— ^tan. a— tan. c^. Therefore, R=:
/i2SP (tan, a—tan, c) x (1 —F tan, d)~| (21.j
L F + tan. a
And, from the state of the variable quantities in this
equation, it is obvious that it has a maximum value, which
determines the angle of fracture. By the principles of
maxima and minima, the maximum pressure takes place
when
tan. a
=-F+ (
l + Ftan.c+'i^+I-p (22.)
If the angle which the plane of repose (Bridge, Sect. III.)
makes with a vertical plane be denoted by i, then
F= ;; and tan. azz
tan. 1
—1 -f- (tan. c tan. zi-f-tan. H -J- tan. c tan. * + 1 (23.)
tan. i
If the back of the wall be vertical, tan. c~o, and then
this equation reduces to the simple form, which Prony ob¬
tained, of tan. «=tan. \i. (24.)
51. When we substitute in equation (21) the value of
the tan. a, which has been found in equation (23), it be-
A2S f 2
comes R~—  tan. f 4-tan. c. 4 
2 tan. e ( 1 1 ‘
-2(tan. c tan. f-J-
tan. c 4.1
tan. 1
4-1
tan. 1
n
(25.)
And, when the back of the wall is vertical, it becomes
R= -o"(tan. 2l2). (26.)
sec. a
The tan. i being the co-tangent of the angle of repose, if
the matter to be supported be of so fluid a nature that it
naturally assumes a sensibly level surface when at rest, the
tan. \i becomes equal to unity, and consequently,
R=-^- (27.)
The same result may be obtained from the common prin¬
ciples of hydrostatics in the case of fluids.
Since the only variable quantity which enters into the
calculation of the distance of the centre of pressure is the
height h, whatever the nature of the supported material
may be ; therefore that distance counted from the base will
always be fh, as in the pressure of fluids. (See Hydro¬
statics.)
52. Table IV,
• Table of Constant Quantities necessary for calculating the Pressure of some Materials.
Substance.
Water, 
Fine dry sand, 
Do. moist, 
Quartz sand (dry),
Angle of
Repose.
0°
33°
35°
Weight of a
Cubic Foot
= S
62‘5 lbs.
92 _
119 —
102 —
Value of R in
Equation (26.)
R=31i/«2
R=13-8£2
R=17*8542
R=13-77A2
Value of R in
Equa. (25) when
c=10°.
R=3l£A2
R=4-842
R=6*27<2
Rz=4-64A2
1 Gautbey, Construction des Fonts, tome i. p. 273.
( 7W VArtde S>,diTaS8.)Ue ^ P°rter k S°n sommet’ a ddterniin^ ^ choisir pour la courbe de son ceintre la chainette.
MASONRY.
jlibnry. In sand, clay, and earthy bodies, the natural slopes should
^ be taken when the material is dry, and the clay and earth
pulverised. When any of these bodies are in a moist state,
the parts cohere, and the angle of repose is greater, though
the friction be actually less. The preceding Table shews
that the pressure of water is greater than that of any of the
other kinds of matter, and from the nature of fluids it is
evident, that if water be suffered to collect behind a re¬
taining wall, calculated to sustain common earth only, it
will most likely be overturned. Such accidents may be
prevented by making proper drains.
53. The preceding analysis will apply, without sensible
error, to the curved w alls which have lately become fashion¬
able. Fig. 10 is a section of one of these w^alls, as execut¬
ed from a design by Rennie. The vertical height, AB, 21
feet; the wall of uniform thickness, with counterforts 15
feet apart; and the front of the walls described by a 69 feet
radius, with the centre in the horizontal line DA produced.
The wall is built of brick, and the uniform part is 4-5 feet
thick. The radius is usually thrice the vertical height of
the wall; when this proportion is adhered to, the angle c
will be ten degrees, for which the value of R is calculated
in the Table.
Resistance of Walls.
Resiunce 54. In the first place, we propose to investigate the re-
'V1 ’• sistance a wall offers to being overturned ; and, in so doing,
it appears desirable that the resistance of the mortar in the
joints should be considered one of the elements of the
strength of the wall. Good mortar adds much to the
firmness of walls, and still more to their durability, and, all
things considered, its first cost is less than that of bad; be¬
sides, the resistance of mortar to compression must be con¬
sidered, for, in practice, we have no perfectly hard arrises
to fulfil the conditions of common mechanical hypotheses.
Put A=the area of the wall.
wzrthe weight of a cubic foot of masonry.
y=the horizontal distance, go,, between the vertical
passing through the centre of gravity of the wall, and the
point where the axis cuts the plane of fracture, the same
notation being applied to the other quantities as in the
foregoing equations.
Let G, fig 9, be the centre of gravity of the wall; and
on the vertical Qg set off g\, the height of the centre of
pressure : also, let IK represent A xw=the weight of the
wall, and HI the force R of the earth.
Then, completing the parallelogram, El will represent
the direction and intensity of the straining force ; conse-
295
When the section of the wall is a rectangle y=o, therefore Masonry,
equa. (31) reduces to » * > i ^ A
d= / 2RF
V f—hfo (33.)
This last equation is also correct for a wall of which the
back is vertical, and the front sloping. We suppress the in¬
vestigation, to afford the young student an opportunity of
proving that the diminution of weight is exactly counter¬
balanced by the alteration of the distance of the centre of
gravity from the axis.
The tendency of a wall to slide forward may be easily
prevented, by giving an inclination to the joints.
55. To illustrate these rules we shall give two examples,
and in these shew the construction of a table, which the
reader may enlarge at his pleasure.
Example I. Let it be required to determine the thick¬
ness of a rectangular wall for supporting the front of a
wharf 10 feet in height, the earth being a loose sand, and
the wall to be built of brick.
I he weight of a cubic foot of brick-work may be esti¬
mated at 100 lbs., and the resistance of mortar being valu¬
ed at 5000 lbs. per superficial foot, the experimental value
being 7900 lbs., Table III. Experiment 42, and the differ¬
ence an allowance for any irregularity in building, conse¬
quently,/=5000; 100 ; and by Table IV. R=13-8^ ;
hence equa.
(33), X 13-8 xX3_
f—hw 5000—1004—
y-
h5
quently,—-- = tan. a
Which determines its direction, and its intensity is
W= Aw
cos.a
But, we have found, equa. (10),
W =
(28.)
(29.)
tot —o When h—10 feet, then the thickness of
the wall c?=2-644 feet. If h be made successively 10, 20,
30, 40, &c. feet, the numbers under the head of dry sand
in the following Table will be obtained, observing that
they are only calculated to the nearest tenth of a foot.
The proper thickness being found for supporting one
kind of material, that for any other may be easily deter¬
mined ; as the thickness varies as the square root of R,
equa. (33). Let the thickness for dry sand be d, then
s/31 •25.’ i dl l‘5d the thickness for supporting
water. x/l3’8 I^/l7*85! Lldt? the thickness for sup¬
porting moist sand. In this manner, by means of Table
IV. the thicknesses for other kinds are easily calculated.
Example II. If a retaining wall be intended to support
a sandy and loose kind of earth, to be constructed of brick,
and to be inclined 10 degrees from the vertical, the thick¬
ness being uniform ; it is required to determine that thick¬
ness for any given height.
ft?w f 3 tan. c
By equa. (32), dzz.
f—hw
0
-+
<=10°, tan
fbd?
; and as W:
d cos. a -}- 67 sin. a + % cos. a
Aw / \ R
—( equa. (29.) j j tan.a=_i equa. (28.); fc^art.
'V ’ and 6=unity; the equation reduces to fiP—Adw—6
Am^=2R4. (30)
It the section of the wall be a parallelogram, then A—hd,
am ~t>li tan. c—g ; these values of A and y being substi-
^ - e(lua* (30), it becomes —whd'1 -f/rf2 + 3liLwd tan.
  (31.)
Or, 3 tan, c ^A\\{ f—hw)
o) ° ‘
h3w2
3 tan. c.
c=-18,
hence -—=-27, and its square=-0729. Also/=:5000,
and w=100, consequently, d=
h2
50—h
(-27+
h*
For sandy earth R—4-8A2, therefore d——-—
50—h
7-
+
-hwj 2
9 tan. 2c
h3w-
(32)
^ -fo ’Olisj ; and making h successively 10,
20, &c. feet, the numbers obtained wall be the same within
296
MASONRY.
Masonry, one-tenth of a foot, as those in the following Table, co-
lumn fifth.
56. Table V.—A Table of the Thicknesses for Retaining
Walls, Revetments, Rock-walls, fyc.
Construe-
tion of
walls.
Height of
Wall.
10 feet
20
30
40
Thickness of Rectangular Walls
to support.
Water.
4-0 feet
12-9
29-2
62-5
Dry Sand. Moist Sandl 10°.
2-7 feet
8-6
19-4
41-7
Thickness of
Leaning and
Curved Walls
for supporting
Dry Sand, the
angle of incli¬
nation being
3*1 feet
9-8
22-2
47-5
IT feet
2-8
5-2
9-2
Our investigation informs us that the mortar of high walls
must be of a superior strength ; indeed, we know that when
its consolidation takes place, under considerable pressure, it
is of much greater strength. According to what function
of the pressure the strength increases, we have not experi¬
ments to determine, and we therefore point out the circum¬
stance to the notice of experimental inquirers.
57. The preceding analysis being confined to the condi¬
tions under which the equilibrium could not be disturbed by
the pressure, it would be quite unnecessary to consider the
phenomena of actual fracture, if it were not for the proof
which even these phenomena afford of the defects of the
common mode of constructing these walls. The back of the
wnll is generally formed of inferior materials, hence the
technical term face mortar and backing mortar ; but, even
with inferior mortar, the workmanship is so carelessly done,
towards the back of the wrall, that when it fractures a por¬
tion is left behind. A moment’s attention to the direction
of the pressure (see fig. 9) must shew the importance of
using good mortar, and making good bond at the back of
the wall; if any part be neglected it ought to be the middle,
which is of least importance, provided the wall be wTell bound
together by cross bond stones.
The strength of a wall to sustain earth will always be
greatly increased by any roughness or irregularity in the
back of the wall, such as projecting stones or bricks ; in
stone work it is easy to gain much stability by this means.
The friction against a smooth wall must add much to its
strength; we have not thought it necessary to include its
effect in our calculations, but intend that, with counterforts,
it should be considered as a set-off against accidental pres¬
sures, &C.1
Counterforts are usually placed at about three times the
thickness of the wall apart, and are made of the same width
as the thickness of the wall. In fig. 11 is shewn a plan for
building a wall to sustain the pressure of earth according to
the form proposed by Vitruvius, (lib. vi. cap. ix.) And
fig. 12 is a plan from Perrault’s Notes. Various other plans
have been proposed, the chief of which Colonel Pasley has
collected in his Course of Fortification ; but most of them
have little to recommend them. It seems desirable that
every kind of curved work should be avoided ; and perhaps
that plan which unites the most economy with the greatest
stability is shewn by figs. 13 and 14, Plate CCCXLVI.
The spaces A, A, A, are proposed to be filled with gravel
or fragments of stone ; the whole of the stone-work to be
well bonded ; and the front and back wall of that thickness
which is best suited for bond, in the kind of material to be
employed.
Bond of Walls and Cramps. Masonr
58. It is not sufficient to depend entirely upon the ce-Bond of
menting power of mortar in the construction of walls; thewa^St
stones themselves should also be bound together by their
disposition. The art of disposing stones for this purpose is
called bonding. Part of the longest stones should be em¬
ployed to bind the wall in length, and the other part to bind
it cross-ways ; the former are called stretchers, the latter
headers.
Figs. 15, 16, 17, 18, and 19, shew various methods of
bonding walls; these are selected from Greek and Roman
examples. The courses of stone are often irregular, as in
fig. 17 ; and in some works we find both irregular courses
and broken ones; that is, such as are intercepted by large
blocks of stone. Broken courses should be avoided, because
they occasion irregular settlements.
The bond of walls requires to be most carefully attended
to in the construction of piers, angles, and, in general, every
part exposed to great strain.
On this subject it may also be remarked, that crossing
the joints properly is a more effectual means of bonding a
wall than that of employing very long stones, unless they be
very strong ones. For if a stone exceed about three times
its thickness in length, it cannot be so equally bedded but
that it is liable to break from unequal pressure ; and the
fracture commonly takes place opposite to a joint, and there¬
fore destroys the bond of the wall. This defective mode of
construction we have often had occasion to notice.
In works of hewn stones destined to support great pres¬
sure, or to bear the action of a heavy sea, it is necessary
that the stones should be of great bulk, and connected in
the firmest manner. Sometimes this is effected by forming
the stones so as to lock them together. The Eddystone and
Bell-Rock Light-houses are bound together at the base on
this principle.
Where less strength is required, iron cramps are used,
and sometimes pieces of hard stone are dove-tailed into the
adjoining blocks. We think cramps of cast-iron might be
employed with much advantage in all these cases.
59- The proper quantity of mortar to be employed in
stone-work is another point to which it will be useful to di¬
rect the mason’s attention. A stone cannot be very firmly
bedded upon a very thin layer of mortar; and if the stone
be of an absorbent nature, the mortar will dry too rapidly to
acquire any tolerable degree of hardness, (Vitruvius, lib. ii.
cap. viii.), however well it may have been prepared. On
the other hand, if the bed of mortar be thicker than is neces¬
sary to bed the stone firmly, the work will be a long time
in settling, and will never be perfectly stable.
When the internal part of a wall is built with fragments
of stone, they should be closely packed together, so as to
require as little mortar as possible. Walls are often bulged
by the hydrostatic pressure of mortar, when it is too plen¬
tifully thrown into the interior, to save the labour of filling
the spaces wuth stones.
The walls of houses are frequently built with hewn stone
on the outside, and rubble stone on the inside. The settle¬
ment of these two kinds of stone-work during the setting of
the mortar are so different, that the walls often separate;
or where this separation is prevented by bond stones, the
wall bulges outwards, and bears unequally on its base. These
evils are best prevented by using as little mortar as possible
in the joints of the interior part of the wall, and not raising
the wall to a great height at one time.
Foundations.
Founds-
60. The nature of the materials employed in masonry tKjn5i
1 See Philosophical Magazine, vol. li. p. 401, where the effect of such friction is considered.
MASONRY.
297
Masc/y. having been considered, and also the methods of uniting
them, vve have, in the next place, to turn our attention to
the nature of those foundations on which it is commonly re¬
quired to raise permanent structures of such heavy matter.
In founding on dry ground, the nature of the foundation
is ascertained without much difficulty. When it is found to
be of firm hard rock, that will bear the action of the weather,
no particular precautions are necessary; but in all other
cases it is desirable to level the trenches to such a depth as
will prevent them from being affected by the change of sea¬
sons. Frost, we believe, seldom penetrates so low as two
feet below the surface, (see the article Climate) ; but
in clayey ground, the effect of shrinkage, by heat, is often
sensible at four feet below the surface; for to that depth the
cracks in summer often extend. Consequently, in clay, the
depth of the foundations should never be less than four feet,
and in heavy buildings, deeper in proportion to the weight
they are to support.
In large works it is also necessary to examine the matter,
inclination, and thickness of the under strata, particularly
when the upper stratum is of inconsiderable thickness. For
this purpose, the older writers on architecture, with much
propriety, recommend that a well should be dug near the
place, to ascertain these points. A knowledge of the incli¬
nation and nature of the strata will also be of use in plan¬
ning drains, a subject of no small importance to the durabi¬
lity and comfort of a mansion.
In soft ground the base of the wall should be made wide,
and it may be reduced to the proper thickness by small off¬
sets or steps, as in fig. 20. On clay or dry sand the breadth
at the bottom may be double the thickness of the wall. On
compact gravel or chalk the breadth may be to the thickness
as 3 is to 2.
If the ground be soft and wet, with a firm bottom within
the reach of piles, then piles may be employed with advan¬
tage ; but they are very likely to rot in a few years, where
the ground is not wet; and, therefore, in the case of soft
ground, not sufficiently wet to preserve piles from decay, we
should recommend, in preference, a very wide base or foot¬
ing, well bonded together with bars of cast-iron, disposed so
that one part could not settle without causing the adjoining
ones to go down at the same time ; and the whole of the
base should, for greater strength, be built in the best water
cement.
It is a practice with some architects to employ timber
beams and planking in such cases, and in consequence of its
decay, in many instances it has been necessary to replace
the timber with stone and brick at an enormous expense.
It should be a maxim in construction never to employ tim¬
ber in a uermanent structure, where it is not either abso¬
lutely wet or perfectly dry.
When ground is very soft and wet, and the solid stratum
is beyond the reach of piles, a solid mass may be formed to
erect the superstructure upon, by means of a grating of tim¬
ber, planked over. The brick or stone-work which is built
upon the planking should be joined with a water cement.
When such ground is not absolutely wet, instead of plank¬
ing we w ould employ a connected grating of cast-iron, with
stone or brick-work built in water mortar.
In all these cases the greatest difficulty consists in pre¬
venting irregular settlements; and hence the advantage of
employing wood or iron to bind the base together, and ren¬
der it as far as possible an inflexible and solid mass.
In all edifices which press perpendicularly on their foun¬
dations, the centre of pressure should coincide, as nearly as
may be, with the centre of gravity of the surface which sus¬
tains it. In wharf walls, terrace walls, abutments and piers
of bridges, and the like, the resultant of the pressures should
fall in the centre of gravity of the surface which supports it. Masonry.
Foundations are most difficult to manage where the ground v-- '
is irregular, particularly for highly finished buildings, which
are so much disfigured by a small settlement. In such cases
we would endeavour to procure an inflexible base by means
of cast-iron beams. It is a good plan to form counter arches
under the openings, provided these arches be carefully built;
but where they are not well built, they yield so much as to
be no better than common walling. Excavating and re¬
moving the earth from foundations is frequently a consider¬
able part of the expense of large works; hence the peculiar
species of management which will economize this branch of
labour, has become an interesting subject of investigation.
We intended to give an outline of the manner of treating
it, but we find that it would extend this article far beyond
its proper limits.
61. Founding in water may be done in various ways; but New me-
most of them are very expensive, presenting many difficulties thod of
in deep and rapid water. We shall confine our attention tothisToun(^ing
case only. The best method now in use consists in exclud- water•
ing the water from the space to be founded upon by means
of a dam, called a coffer-dam, formed by rows of piles, with
bricks or clay between the rows. When bricks are used, it
is necessary to caulk the interstices between pile and pile.
The space is kept clear of water by means of engines, and
the foundation deepened and piled if necessary.
Considering the immense expense and risk of life which
is encountered in excluding water of thirty or forty feet
depth, we shall here propose, for suitable ground, a more
economical and safe method, which is adapted for founding
piers, abutments, sea-walls, &c. The space for the founda¬
tion being cleared, let the space it is to occupy be inclosed
by a single row of piles, driven near to one another, but not
so close as is necessary for a dam. The upper ends of these
piles must be high enough for a stage to be formed upon
them; which should be just above the height of floods or
tides, as the case may be. From this stage the ground
within the inclosure may be excavated, by means of a ma¬
chine, formed so as to combine the principle of the field
plough with that of the dredging-machine. (See Dredg¬
ing-Machine.) When the foundation has been cleared to
a proper depth by this process, and levelled, the stone-work
may be built in courses with a proper bed and joint of water
cement. (See sect. i. art. 22.) A simple machine might
easily be contrived for the purpose. If brick be employed
instead of stone, it may be dpne by forming the bricks into
blocks of three feet long and eighteen inches square, with
cement, and using these blocks instead of stones. This
method of building with blocks is already in use for con¬
structing sewers in London. When the work is brought to
that height which will enable the workmen to proceed in the
ordinary manner, either then or afterwards, the piles may be
cut off at low-water line, and a cap-sill being fixed upon
their tops, they will remain, and serve as a protection to the
work below water.
62. For many purposes it would not be necessary to ex¬
cavate, nor yet to build in courses ; for example, let us sup¬
pose it to be the pier of a light bridge, the row of piles
being driven in an. elliptical form, a strong chain should en¬
circle it at one or two places, and the internal space filled
with rough stones, thrown in with water cement, to fill the
interstices between them. As the cement indurated, the
whole mass would become one solid stone. This mode of
construction is effected on the same principle as that which
the French term “ Lesenrochements enbeton;nx and we have
the advantage of a much superior cement to any they have
employed.
2 p
vol. xiv.
Gauthey, Construction des Fonts, ii. p. 276-
298
MASONRY.
Masonry.
III.—STONE-CUTTING.
Of the beds 63. Before we proceed to explain the methods of forming
or joining stones to the particular shapes required for arches, vaults,
surfaces. &c., it may be remarked, that the young mason should be
extremely careful to avoid making the beds of stones con¬
cave or hollow; for if this be done in any case where the
stones have to bear much pressure, they will flush, or break
off in flakes at the joints, and entirely disfigure the work. It
is better that they should be slightly convex. In the con¬
struction of piers and columns, where perfectness of form is
at least as much regarded as strength, this maxim should be
carefully attended to. Nothing can be more offensive to
the eye than a flushed joint, *;ince it not only deforms, but
also gives the idea of want of strength.
Methods of 64. Stone-cutting may be equally well done by various
stone-cut- methods ; the most certain consists in forming as many
tino* plane surfaces to the stone as may be necessary, in such
manner that these surfaces may include the intended form,
Jvith the least waste of stone, or in the most convenient way
for applying the moulds. Upon the plane surfaces thus pre¬
pared, the proper moulds are to be applied, and the stone
worked to them. It will generally happen that the bed of
the stone will be one of the first plane surfaces, and the ar¬
rangement should always be made, so that there may be as
little re-working as possible.1
Describing 65. When an arch is square to the face of the wall, the
arches. only difficulty is in drawing it to the proper curve. When
the arch is circular, it may be described from a centre, unless
the centre be very distant; and in that case a method pro¬
posed by Dr. T. Young2 will be found extremely convenient
for the mason’s purposes. Fig. 21 represents the instru¬
ment. Three points in the curve being known, it is easily
adjusted to the curve, and will also answer as a mould in
many cases. AB is a straight bar of any convenient length;
at each end, a small roller is fixed by means of two plates
of brass; against these rollers the elastic bar CD slides as
it adapts itself to a regular curvature, when moved by the
screw E. The natural form of the elastic bar is shewn by
C’ IT, the depth in the middle, H, should be double the
depth at either end, and the breadth uniform throughout the
length. This bar, when of wood, should be of straight¬
grained ash, or lance-wood; the latter is best.
An elliptic arch may be described by continued motion,
in the following manner. On a straight bar AB, fig. 22, if
AC be made equal to the height of the arch, and CB equal
to half the span, then if the end A be moved along a straight
edge, ED, while the point B moves along another straight
edge, ED, the point C will describe an ellipse.3 If the bar
be made to move on rollers, an arch on a large scale may be
easily and accurately described in this way, when a tramnael
would become very unmanageable. For other methods see
Elliptograph.
To 6nd the direction of the joints, with a radius equal to
half the span, from the point K, fig. 22, as a centre describe
the arc GH, which determines the points G,H, called the
j'ttt t lt: n0W be recluirefi to draw the joint I, join IG,
and IH, draw LI to bisect the angle GIH, and it is the joint
at I. A parabolical arch may be drawn very easily on a
large scale by means of tangents. Make AE, fig. 23, equal
to the rise CA, and join ED and EB. Draw FG parallel to
DB, and divide DF and EG (which are equal) each into the
same number of equal parts, then join 11, 22, 33, &c., as is
shewn in the figure; a curve drawn to touch these tangents
is a parabola. Arches are most conveniently drawn on a
large scale by means of parallel ordinates; and an extremely
simple method of this kind, for a parabolic arch, has been
described by Sir John Leslie. (Inquiry into the Nature or
Heat, p. 503.) Let AB, fig. 24, be the span, and CD the
height. Divide AB into twenty equal parts, and raise a
perpendicular from each point of section. Let CD he 100
by a scale of equal parts, make the next ordinate on each
side 99 parts, or 9 X 11, by the scale ; the next pair of or¬
dinates make 96 parts, or 8 x 12, and so on; those numbers
being respectively as the rectangles of the segments into
which AB is divided. To draw the joints of a parabolic
arch, let I be a point, at which a joint is to be drawn, fk
24; draw Id parallel to BA, and make DT equal to Dcf-
join IT, and make El perpendicular to IT, which is the joint
required.
66. The finest form for a Gothic arch is a cubic parabola, Gotv
which is easily constructed from its equation. Observing that arc J
the vertex of the curve is at the springing of the arch, and
making x the abscissa, and y its corresponding ordinate, by
the nature of the curve a?= —
a
Now, if we make y suc¬
cessively equal to 1, 2, 3, &c., feet, we shall have
a
VI. 343_ VII
a ’a ’a 5 a ’ a ^ ’ a ’
512 vm 729 ix
—x  —x 5 &c. 1 o find a, when x is equal to half
a a
the span CD, fig. 25, Plate CCCXLVII, and y=the height
AD3
AD; we have a — If it be desirable that the ordi-
CD
nates should be 1—wth part of a foot apart, then divide
each by the rc3, which gives the dimensions in feet.
Example. In a Gothic building it is proposed to make
an arch to an opening 10 feet wide, the height of which is
to be 4 feet 6 inches above the springing line. There CD
—5 feet, and AD—4'5 feet, therefore a— =
18-225. And using this number for a divisor, the ordinates
are easily found, by once setting a slide rule, to be,
i i
x =-0548 feet o =-0068 feet
ii
x — ’438 ...
m ii
x = 1-48 ... o — -185 ...
IV
a? = 3-51 ...
v
x - 6-86
m
o = -857 ...
And dividing the first, third, and fifth, each by 8 (consider¬
ing ran 2), gives the intermediate ordinates; o, q1 , ^. The
advantage of this method consists in the facility of setting
out the work on either a large or small scale. Every prac¬
tical man is aware of the trouble of dividing a distance into
equal parts, or of performing other geometrical operations on
a platform or floor; but here, by an easy arithmetical ope¬
ration, this is avoided. Draw the springing line CD, and
the middle line AD, and let the line EC be drawn parallel
h'rez'Lr may he consulted with advantage on this subject. Coupe des Pierres, tome ii. p. 14.
3 Natural Philosophy, vol. i. plate vi. fig. 83. This instrument might be usefully applied in ship-building.
hu Mr vo ’ Y1, P‘ 3?7* A most ingenious extension of the principles of describing curved lines has been invent-
JoPlln?> and Promises to be of much use in the arts, as well as a curious subject for mathematical speculation. The
don 7823. ^ obscurely announced m a pamphlet, entitled The Septenary System of Generating Curves by Continued Motion. Lon-
MASONRY.
299
ches
;e
dges
to AD. Beginning at D, make a mark at every six inches
on DA, and also on CE, beginning at C; then, through
these divisions draw the parallel ordinates. Let the ab¬
scissas be measured off on these ordinates, from the line CE,
by a rod divided into feet, tenths and hundredths of a foot.
Put a nail in at each point found in the curve, and bend an
uniform lath against the nails, and mark the curve.
67. Our next example is for the purpose of shewing the
principles of constructing an arch for a bridge, when the
span is considerable. In the article Bridge, prop. S, the
equation of the curve of equilibrium is found to be y—
iax -, for a disposition of the load which has place
tion of the joint. To find the depth of the key-stone, let Masonry,
the horizontal thrust ran 935 be multiplied by the mean^
specific weight of a cubic foot of the materials to form the
bridge, and calculate the depth by equation (17). Suppose
the mean to be 160 lbs., then the horizontal pressure will
be 149,760 lbs., ancl1^— —149,760; which, considering; b
4 ' o
=unity, gives dz
599,040
/
For Craigleith stone, No. 15,
commonly in bridges.
&c. feet, we have
Making x successively 10, 20, 30,
y =“(<-+1<¥)-
yl =—(a+66fi).
in
m
450
y ——(a+1505).
IV
y -
v -
VI
m
—(a+266§5).
m a
(a + 4l6§5).
y — -—-(a+ 6005).
vn
y =—^--(a+8l6§5), &c. &c.
The curve of equilibrium being to pass at the middle of
the depth of the arch-stones, CB, fig. 26, will be the height
=5, and AB the semi-span = S ; also let the depth of the
arch and roadway at the crown, or a, be 7 feet; and sup¬
pose the quantity of matter be so regulated by hollow span-
drils that b— —Under these conditions we shall have
»i=:S‘^a+-5S2j=—^7 + -^-.^ If the semi-span be 72
feet, and the height 24 feet, then m=936, and 5 =-00193.
Calculating the ordinates from these data, we shall have
= -375
= 1-52
y
ii
y
III o r
y — 3-5
y — 6-4
r/ =10-4
,VVI =15-7
VII.
:22-4
AD=24-0
Construct the curve according to these ordinates, and divide
■t lor the arch-stones. The joints should be perpendicular
to this curve; but great accuracy is not necessary in this
> espect, provided the inclination from that perpendicular be
considerably within the angle of repose. (See article Bridge,
prop. Z.) The joints may be drawn thus, with any radius:
rom the next division on one side of the joint a describe an
arc, and from the next division on the other side, with the
s.anie radius describe another arc to intersect the former one,
t irough the intersection and the division a draw the direc-
Table hi., the key-stone should be six feet deep. To find
the depth of the arch-stones at any other part of the arch,
set off Be equal the depth at the key-stone, and draw 5c
parallel to a tangent to the curve of equilibrium at the point
where the depth is to be determined, then 5c is the depth
at that point. The depth at a sufficient number of points
being found as above, and set off equally on each side of the
curve of equilibrium, the form of the intrados will be deter¬
mined, which may be terminated by a circular arc at the
springing ; and it is not a little remarkable that the arch,
thus described from principle, is & pointed arch.
68. When an arch cuts a plane wall in an oblique direc- Oblique
tion, there is a little more scope for the art of the stone-arches,
cutter. But previously to attempting to proceed further,
we would recommend the young student to make himself
master of the principles of projection, development, and
solid angles. The first section of the article Joinery is
wholly restricted to these principles; all of which being
equally applicable to both arts, it will be unnecessary to re¬
peat them in this place. Let an elliptical arch be supposed to
cut a plane wall obliquely, and the wall to be inclined, AB CD,
fig. 27, is the plan of the arch ; EF a section at right angles
to its direction ; IH a section at right angles to the line AB.
Project the inclined face of the wall, as shewn at AO PB, by
the method of projecting planes (Joinery, sect. 1 and 7); and
in doing this it will be found an advantage to produce the
joints till they cut the base line EF, because the angles will
be set out with greater accuracy from long lines. In the
case where the wall is vertical, the section and projection
of the face are not required. Next let the soffit be devel¬
oped, on the supposition that the arch is a polygon of as
many sides as there are arch-stones. (See Joinery, sect. 1,
art. 13.) KLMN shews the development of the soffit or
moulds. The form of the bed of each stone is shewn by
the planes a, 5, c, and d, and is thus found, for the joint, 4,
draw he and mf parallel to EF, and produce the joint 84 on
the development to cut he in g ; set off ge equal to Ai, and
draw ef parallel to 48 ; then, a line drawn from e through
the point 4, will give the bevel at one end, and a line
drawn from/ through 8 gives the bevel at the other end;
its width is equal to 45 on the section. As there are no
curved parts, except the soffit of the arch, the stones may
be worked by means of bevels, without having moulds made
for the soffits and beds.2
69- When a road crosses a canal in an oblique direction, Oblique or
the bridge is often made oblique. When the angle does skew
not vary more than ten or twelve degrees from a right angle, bridges,
the arch-stones may be formed as already described; but
in cases of greater obliquity, a different principle of con¬
struction is necessary. These cases should, however, be
avoided wherever it is possible ; as, however solid the con¬
struction of an oblique bridge may be in reality, it has
neither that apparent solidity nor fitness which ought to
characterise an useful and pleasing object. An oblique arch
may be constructed on the principle of its being a right arch
elusion r ge’ 1!!-an e'ab?rate article on the application of Descriptive Geometry to the use of Architects, has drawn a very erroneous con-
best dirJ^T* . e.J01nt® of vaults and arches ; for it is the direction of the pressure, and not the form of the soffit, which determines the
artirlp nfVT11 -a 5 but tbe vievvs developed in the article Bridge were not known at the time Monge wrote. In other respects, the
s f) " ul>ge is well worthy of the attention of the mason. (See Geometric Descriptive, article 130, 4me ed. Paris, 1820.)
triven l" v ' ■ ^analogous to that called Biaispar Abretja by the French writers. (See Fre'zier, tome ii. p. 133.) Other methods are
c > rezier, Simomn, Rondelet, Nicholson, &c. in the works referred to at the end of this article*
300
MASONRY.
Arches in
circular
walls.
Masonry, of a larger span, as is shewn in fig. 28. Let ABCD be the
v  plan, and EFGH the corresponding points in the eleva¬
tion, in this elevation the dotted lines shew the parts which
would not be seen. The joints of the arch are supposed to
be divided upon the middle section, and therefore drawn to
the mean centre K, which corresponds to the point I on the
plan. Divide AD into any number of equal parts as at 1,
2, 3, &c. and transferring these points to the elevation ; de¬
scribe the arch belonging to each point, and also draw the
parallel lines 11, 22, &c. on the plan. To find the mould
for the arris of any joint, as a, draw ab parallel to the base
line EF, and from a, as a centre, transfer the distances of
the points where the arches cut the joint, to the line ab.
Then let fall perpendiculars from the points in the line ab
to the lines 11, 22, &c. in the plan, whence we find a, m,
n, o, p, in the curve of the mould for the arris of the joint
a. The mould for any other joint may be found in the same
manner. The ends of the arch-stones will be square to the
joints, and pcde will be the mould for one end, and acdf the
mould for the other end. It will be of some advantage in
working the arch-stones to observe, that the arch-stone
being in its place, the soffit should be everywhere perfectly
straight in a direction parallel to the horizon.1
70. If it be required to construct an arch in the wall of
a circular building, as in fig. 29, where ABCD is the plan
of the wall, the elevation EF should be drawn, and the joints
in the same manner, as if the arch were in a plane wall.
The curved surface of the soffit should be correctly develop¬
ed by the process described in the article Joinery, art. 13,
and the moulds made of some flexible material; these soffit
moulds are shewn at a, b, c, &c. The mould for the joint
2 may be found by dividing the joint into any number m,
n, &c. parts ; and let a perpendicular fall from each point of
division to the curved lines representing the faces of the
wall on the plan, and from each point in which the curved
lines are intersected by these perpendiculars, draw a line
parallel to EF. Also, from 2, as a centre, transfer the di¬
visions on the joint to the horizontal line /2, and from
thence let perpendiculars fall, which will cut the lines that
are parallel to EF in the points through which the curves
of the mould must be drawn, as shewn by the shaded part
P on the plan. Any other joint may be described in the
same manner.2 In the figure, the section is drawn, because
it shews somewhat more distinctly the size of the arch¬
stones ; it is not necessary in finding the moulds, except
the face of the wall be inclined, a case of very rare occur-
i ence in practice. An arch in a circular wall always has
the appearance of a want of strength on the convex side ;
and when the curvature is considerable, it becomes abso¬
lutely insecure. The method describing the raking mould¬
ings, so as to mitre with horizontal ones, has been explain¬
ed in the article Joinery, and the same methods apply in
masonry. - 11 J
71. Respecting the general principles of stairs, we may
also refer the reader to Joinery, art. 39,40, where the pro¬
portions of steps, &c. are shewn; in masonry the kinds
termed geometrical stairs are the only ones which offer any
considerable difficulty in the execution. Each step of a
geometrical stair is partly supported by wedging its end in¬
to the wall of the staircase, and it is further strengthened
by resting upon the step below it. The outward end of a
seriesof these steps is represented by fig. 7, Plate CCCXLV •
the line abc shews the form of the joint between two ad¬
joining steps; in the straight part of a flight of stairs, ab is
made about an inch, and the part be is made perpendicular
to the soffit of the stair, and of such a depth as may be re- M*
quired for the kind of stone. As this depth is determined^
by the mean depth necessary to render a stair safe, we shall
here give an example of computing the mean depth of a step
for Craigleith stone, by equa. 16 (art. 41). Put w=;the
greatest uniform load on a square foot, including the weight
ofthe stone itself, = 300 lbs. the horizontal distance between
C and D (fig. 6), =10 feet, and the length ofthe step BD
=6 feet, then^D^xCM)^
/(CD2+DB2) ’
Stairs.
/ 300x 100x36
^ 26,000 x (100 + 36)-65 feet’the mean dePth GH’ %-7'
That part of a step which is inserted into the wall of the
staircase is made about eight or nine inches long for ordi¬
nary staircases, but ought to be longer when the steps are
longer. Steps, and landings, and balconies, should be made
to bear as evenly and firmly as possible upon their supports;
and from a little consideration of the nature of the strains
to be resisted in such operations, the mason may perhaps
derive some instruction, since a mistaken view of the sub¬
ject is likely to be attended with serious consequences.
Let AB, fig. 30, Plate CCCXLVIL, be a step fixed in a
wall, CD being the face of the wall, and CA the part in¬
serted in the wall. It will be obvious that the weight of
the projecting part DB, of the step, with any load upon it,
will tend to raise the fixed part at A, and to depress it at
C. But it will require a less force at A to sustain the step
than at any other point between A and D ; and the nearer
to D, the greater the strain will be, consequently a greater
risk of failure. Hence the effectual resistance on the upper
side should be at the extremity, A, of the step, and the sup¬
port at C should be immediately at the face of the wall.
We have often observed in stone stairs where steps are al¬
ternately in straight flights and winding ones, the soffit of
the stair to be irregular, with sudden and abrupt changes
of form where the winding steps began and terminated.
These may always be avoided, by making a development
of the ends of the steps, and forming the abrupt changes
into easy curves, as a joiner does the hand-rail of a stair.
(See Joinery, fig. 43.)3
The earliest author on stone-cutting appears to have been Writers
Philibert De L’Orme, who, in the introduction to the fourthst0ne.ciii
book of his work, remarks, that he had “never heard of ting,
anything that had been w'ritten on stone-cutting, either by
ancient or modern architects.” The labours of De L’Orme
on this subject form the third and fourth books of his Trea¬
tise on Architecture, Paris, 1567, in folio. We shall close
this article with the following list of some other authors
on stone-cutting, in the order they were publishedMa-
thurin Jousse, Le Secret de VArchitecture, 1642, folio. Fran¬
cois Derrand, VArt des Traits et Coupe des Voutes, Paris,
1643, folio. Abraham Bosse, Practique du Trait d preuves
de M. Desargues, 1643. J. B. De la Rue, Trade de la
Coupe des Pierres, folio, 1728 ; this was a republication
of Derrand’s work, with additions. Batty Langley, An¬
cient Masonry, London, 1733, folio. Frezier, Trade de
la Coupe des Pierres, 3 tomes 4to, 1737-1739. Ency¬
clopedic, article MA90NNERIE. Encyclopedic Mdthodique,
Ma^onnerie, 1785. Simonin, Trade Elementaire de la
Coupe des Pierres, 4to, 1792. P. Nicholson, Carpenteri
and Joiners' Assistant, 4to, London, 1797. J. Rondelet,
Trade Theorique et Practique de VArt de batir, tom. ii.
4to, Paris, 1804. (G. G. G. G.)
Chapman^TnRUs^cSSrarf'^iinvV1* b,ri<^eS’ the. reader may consult Gauthey, Construction des Fonts, tom. i. p. 390;
• Otbe’r methods b, to - «>« Edinburgh Encyclopedia.
3 The French methods of (*onsfriif*tinnr  • _ * ■» /»
rp, -p ^ j A (NIC.
much to explain them ; °t he re fore *' t h r'mid e r maTcon^n ^ns'de™bly Rom those of our own country ; but it would extend this article too
detailed. ’ ‘y C0Ilsuh the works of Frdzier, Rondelet, and Simonin, where he will find these methods
MAS
jljj.ra. MASORA, a term in the Jewish theology, signifying a
work on the Bible, performed by several learned rabbin,
in order to secure it from any alterations which might
otherwise happen.
The work of the Masorites regards merely the letter of
the Hebrew text, in which they have, first, fixed the true
reading by vowels and accents ; secondly, they have num¬
bered not only the chapters and sections, but the verses,
words, and letters of the text, finding in the Pentateuch
5245 verses, and in the whole Bible 23,206. The Masora is
called by the Jews the hedge orfence of the law, because this
enumeration of the verses, words, and letters, is a means of
preserving it from being corrupted and altered. They
have also marked whatever irregularities occur in any of
the letters of the Hebrew text; such as the different size
of the letters, their various positions and inversions, &c.
and they have been fruitful in finding reasons for these ir¬
regularities, as well as in discovering mysteries in them.
They are further supposed to be the authors of the Keri
and Chetib, or the marginal corrections of the text in
our Hebrew Bibles.
The text of the sacred books, it is to be observed, was
originally written, like an inscription, without any breaks or
divisions into chapters or verses, or even into words; so that
a whole book, in the ancient manner, was but one continued
word. Of this kind we have still several ancient manu¬
scripts, both Greek and Latin. As, therefore, the sacred
writings had undergone an infinite number of alterations,
whence various readings had arisen, and the original had
become much mangled and disguised, the Jews had re¬
course to a canon, which they judged infallible, to fix and
ascertain the reading of the Hebrew text; and this rule
they call Masora, or tradition, as if this criticism were no¬
thing but a tradition which had been handed down to
them from their forefathers. Accordingly they say, that
when God gave the law to Moses upon Mount Sinai, he
taught him, first, the true reading of it, and, secondly, its
true interpretation ; and that both these were handed down
by oral tradition, from generation to generation, until at
length they were committed to writing. The former of
these, or the true reading, forms the subject of the Maso¬
ra ; the latter, or true interpretation, is that of the Mishni
and Gemara.
According to Elias Levita, the Jews of a famous school
at Tiberias, about five hundred years after Christ, were
the persons who composed, or at least began, the Masora,
whence they are called Masorites and Masoretic Doctors.
Aben Ezra makes them the authors of the points and ac¬
cents in the Hebrew text, as we now find it, the former
of which serve as vowels.
The age of the Masorites has been much disputed. Arch¬
bishop Usher places them before Jerome, Capel at the end
of the fifth century, and Father Morin in the tenth cen¬
tury. Basnage says that they were not a society, but a
succession of men; and that the Masora is the work of
many grammarians, who, without associating and commu¬
nicating their notions, composed this collection of criti¬
cisms on the Hebrew text. It is urged that there were
Masorites from the time of Ezra and the men of the great
synagogue, till about the year of Christ 1030; and that
Ben Asher and Ben Naphtali, who were the best of the
profession, and who, according to Basnage, were the in¬
ventors of the Masora, flourished at this time. Each of
these published a copy of the whole Hebrew text, as cor¬
rect as they could make it. The eastern Jews have fol-
*°wed that of Ben Naphtali, and the western that of Ben
Asher; and all that has been done since is to copy after
them, without making any more corrections or Masoretic
criticisms.
The Arabs have done the same thing with the Koran
mas
that the Masorites did with the Bible ; nor indeed do the
Jews deny having borrowed this expedient from the Ara-
bians, who first put it in practice in the seventh century.
There is a great and little Masora printed at Venice
and at Basil, with the Hebrew text in a different charac¬
ter. Buxtorf has written a Masoretic commentary, which
he calls Tiberias.
MASQUE, or Mask, a cover for the face, contrived
with apertures for the eyes and mouth, and originally worn
chiefly by women of condition, either to preserve their
complexion from the weather, or out of modesty to prevent
their being known. Poppsea, wife of Nero, is said to have
been the inventor of the masque, which she used to guard
her complexion from the sun and weather, as being the
most delicate woman, in regard to her person, that had
then been known.
Theatrical masques were in common use both amongst
the Greeks and the Romans. Suidas and Athenaeus ascribe
the invention of them to the poet Choerilus, a contempo¬
rary of Thespis, and Horace attributes them to AEschylus;
but Aristotle informs us that the real inventor, and conse¬
quently the time of their first introduction and use, were
unknown. Brantome observes, that the common use of
modern masques was not introduced till towards the end
of the sixteenth century. Masque also used to signify
any thing used to cover the face, and prevent a person be¬
ing known.
Masque, in Architecture, is applied to certain pieces of
sculpture, representing forms hideous or grotesque, used
to fill up and adorn vacant places in frizes, the panels of
doors, the keys of arches, and the like, but particularly in
grottos.
MASQUERADE, an assembly of persons masked or
disguised, who meet to dance and divert themselves. This
was once much in use with us, and has been long a com¬
mon practice abroad, especially in carnival time. The
word comes from the Italian mascarata, and that from the
Arabic mascara, which signifies raillery or buffoonery.
Granacci, who died in the year 1543, is said to have been
the inventor of masquerades.
MASRAKITHA, a pneumatic instrument of music
amongst the ancient Hebrews, being composed of pipes
of various sizes, fitted into a kind of wooden chest, open
at the top, and stopped at the bottom with wood covered
with a skin. Wind was conveyed to it from the lips, by
means of a pipe fixed to the chest; the pipes were of lengths
musically proportioned to each other; and the melody was
varied at pleasure by stopping and unstopping with the fin¬
gers the apertures at the upper extremity.
MASS, in Mechanics, the matter of any body cohering
with it, that is, moving and gravitating along with it. In
this sense mass is distinguished from bulk or volume,
which is the expansion of a body in length, breadth, and
thickness. The mass of any body is rightly estimated by
its weight; and the masses of two bodies of the same weight
are in the reciprocal ratio of their bulks.
Mass, Missa, in the church of Rome, means the office
or prayers used at the celebration of the eucharist; or, in
other words, in consecrating the bread and wine into the
body and blood of Christ, and offering them so transub¬
stantiated as an expiatory sacrifice for the living and the
dead. As the mass is in general believed to be a repre¬
sentation of the passion of our blessed Saviour, so every
action of the priest, and every particular part of the ser¬
vice, is supposed to allude to the particular circumstances
of his passion and death.
Nicod, after Baronius, observes that the word missa
comes from the Hebrew missach, oblatum, or from the
Latin missa, missorum,because in former times the catechu¬
mens and excommunicated persons were sent out of the
301
Masque
It
Mass.
302
MAS
MAS
Mass church when the deacons said /fe, missa est, after sermon
,. ^ , ar,d reading of the epistle and gospel; they not being al-
* ST' lowed to assist at the consecration. Menage derives the
, word from missio, dismissing; and others from missa, mis¬
sing, sending, because in the mass the prayers of men on
earth are sent up to heaven.
The general division of masses consists of high and low.
The first is that which is sung by the choristers, and cele¬
brated with the assistance of a deacon and sub-deacon; low
masses are those in which the prayers are barely rehearsed
without singing.
There are many different or occasional masses in the
Latin church, some of which have nothing peculiar but
the name; such as the masses of the saints; that of St
Mary of the snow, celebrated on the fifth of August; that
of St Margaret, patroness of lying-in women; that of
the feast of St John the Baptist, at which are said three
masses; that of the innocents, at which the Gloria in ex-
celsis and the Alleluia are omitted, and, it being a day of
mourning, the altar is of a violet colour. As to ordinary
masses, some are said for the dead. At these masses the
altar is put in mourning, and the only decorations are a
cross in the middle of six yellow wax-lights ; the dress of
the celebrant and the mass-book are black; many parts of
the office are omitted, and the people are dismissed with¬
out the benediction. If the mass be said for a person dis¬
tinguished by his rank or virtues, it is followed with a fu¬
neral oration. They erect a chapelle ardente, that is, a re¬
presentation of the deceased with branches and tapers of
yellow wax, either in the middle of the church or near the
tomb of the deceased, where the priest pronounces a so¬
lemn absolution of the deceased. There are likewise pri¬
vate masses said for stolen or strayed goods or cattle, for
health, for travellers, &c. which go under the name of vo¬
tive masses. There is still a further distinction of masses,
which are denominated from the countries in which they
were used. Thus the Gothic mass, or Missa Mosarabum,
is that which was used amongst the Goths when they were
masters of Spain, and is still kept up at Toledo and Sala¬
manca ; the Ambrosian mass is that composed by St Am¬
brose, and used only at Milan, of which city he was bishop;
the Gallic mass is that used by the ancient Gauls; and
the Roman mass is the one used by almost all the churches
in the communion of the Roman Catholic church.
Mass of the Presanctified {Missa Prcesanctijicatorum) is
a mass peculiar to the Greek church, in which there is no
consecration of the elements; but, after singing some hymns,
they receive the bread and wine which was before conse-
crated.. This mass is performed during the whole of Lent,
excepting on Saturdays, Sundays, and the Annunciation.
Ihe priest counts upon his fingers the days of the ensu¬
ing week on which it is to be celebrated ; cuts off as many
pieces of bread at the altar as he is to say masses; and
after having consecrated them, steeps them in wine, and
then puts them in a box, out of which, upon every occasion,
he takes a portion with a spoon, and putting it on a dish,
sets it upon the altar.
MASSA, a small independent state in Italy, called a
duchy the sovereign of which is a female of the house of
Lste, at whose death it falls to her son the Duke of Mo¬
dena. It contains about ninety square miles, with two
cities, two towns, thirty-seven villages, and 27,500 inhabi¬
tants. It produces some little corn, with much oil, silk, and
wine, and yields a revenue of L.20,000 yearly. The chief
place is a city of the same name situated on the river Fri-
gido; and on an elevation near it is the ducal palace. It is
the seat of a bishop and has a cathedrai and several other
churches, with 65o0 inhabitants.
MASSACHUSETTS, one of the United States of North
America, is bounded on the north by New Hampshire and
Vermont, on the south by Connecticut and Rhode Island, Mass
on the east by the Atlantic Ocean, and on the west by the" settsU'
state of New York. It extends from long. 69. 50. to 73.
10. and from lat. 41. 23. to 43. 52. being 180 miles in length
from east to west, and ninety-six miles in breadth from
north to south. The mean width is about fifty miles, and
the area about 7500 square miles. This state presents a
surface pleasantly undulated with hills and valleys, and is
naturally divided into three distinct zones. The first
stretching along the sea-shore, and extending twenty miles
into the interior, is a belt of marine alluvium, little elevated
above the ocean, and naturally fertile only at intervals. This
plain is succeeded by a fine hilly tract, which crosses the
state from north to south, and from which rivers are poured
in every direction. The second or middle zone includes
part of the beautiful valley of Connecticut, and is followed
by the mountainous but highly fertile county of Berkshire,
which comprises the whole western part of the state. The
soil of Massachusetts is exceedingly various, comprising
every description, from the most sterile to the most pro¬
ductive. In the eastern and south-eastern parts it is in
general light and sandy, interspersed, however, with nume¬
rous fertile tracts. Towards the sea-coast bn the north it
is of better quality, though not distinguished for fertility.
By careful cultivation, however, both this and other parts
of the state have been rendered highly productive. The
middle and western regions have for the most part a strong,
rich soil, excellent for grazing, and suited to most other
agricultural purposes. Viewed at a glance, the surface of
this state swells from the Atlantic Ocean to the hills, then
sinks into the richly decorated valley of Connecticut, and
again rises into the mountainous region of Berkshire. The
principal mountains are a part of the Green Mountain
range, which stretches from north to south through the
western part of the state. Ihe most elevated summits of
this ridge are Saddle Mountain, near the north-western
angle of the state, and T ahconick on the western border.
These mountains present a great variety of beautiful and
impressive scenery, noble elevations alternating with dark
gieen forests and pleasant well-sheltered valleys. Mount
Tom and Mount Holyoke, near the Connecticut River, are
remarkable elevations, which from their summits afford a
beautiful prospect of the surrounding country. A second
ridge passes through the state near its centre. The great¬
est elevation of this ridge is thatof Wachuset, in the town of
Princeton. Ihe state abounds in small lakes, which are
generally called ponds. The largest of these are the Assa-
vvapset and Long Ponds in Middleburgh, Podunk and
Quabang Ponds in Brookfield, and the Naukeag Ponds
in Ashburnham. The last named are situated more than
1100 feet above the level of the sea, and several other ponds
in the western part of the state have a still higher eleva¬
tion. Massachusetts has no very large rivers wholly within
its bounds. The Connecticut traverses it from north to
south, and is navigable by steam-boats of small draught.
The Merrimac passes out of New Hampshire into the
northern division of the state, and empties itself into the
sea at Newburyport. The Housatonic, Charles, Ipswich,
Concord, Blackstone, Miller’s, Chickopee, Deerfield, West-
field, Neponset, and Taunton, though they have short
courses, are pleasant streams. Indeed no country is better
provided with rivers and streams which flow in all direc¬
tions, and afford abundance of water for every necessary
purpose. Ihe rivers abound in falls, admirably adapted
for mill-sites appropriated to manufacturing operations.
Every product which the northern states furnish, and
much that is not indigenous to the soil and climate, have
been naturalized in Massachusetts by skill and careful cul¬
tivation. The principal productions are Indian corn, rye,
wheat, oats, barley, peas, beans, buck-wheat, potatoes, hops,
: fass:
Massachusetts.
303
of »uch emolument «o the proprietors. AMa^ehu.
the county of Berkshire in particuiar is distinguish^ for ^ ^ 1 ^^pSroSs^tin^eTlX 1::
nUc of that town to the navigable port of Boston Har¬
bour. Three railroads have been very recently constructed
from Boston, one to the town of Lowell, a distance of about
twenty-five miles ; another to Worcester, forty miles lono-;
common beverage of the Inhabitants. There areseveral t0 ^0Vldence’ about the same length. From
valuable mines in Massachusetts. Bog-iron ore is found tn ■ p106 & ^ road ^as commenced in 1833 to Stoving-
in several parts, and there are nutnerouf e tahii h^I"” 'Zon^ZTX’ ■ ^ ^7^ ml,es-
Amongst the public improvements of various kinds which
have been made, may be mentioned the numerous bridges
over the Connecticut and other rivers, and over the arms
of Boston Harbour.
The principal literary institution is Harvard University,
at Cambridge, three miles west by north of Boston. It is
 — “ ”, auu ui cxccuenc quality ;
the county of Berkshire in particular is distinguished for its
extensive dairies. This state is particularly celebrated for
its orchards, where the finest fruits are produced in abun¬
dance. Those principally cultivated are apples, peaches,
pears, quinces, plums, cherries, and currants. Great quan¬
tities of cider are annually made, and this constitutes the
common beverage of the inhabitants. There are several
valuable mines in Massachusetts. Bog-iron ore is found
in several parts, and there are numerous establishments for
working it. There is a lead mine in Southampton county,
to which a subterranean passage of one thousand feet has
been opened, chiefly through solid rock; but the cheap¬
ness of lead from Missouri and Illinois has suspended ope¬
rations in this mine. There are inexhaustible quarries
of marble and limestone, and an abundance of granite of th / ge,! u m„es 'T1 hy north of Boston. It is
the best description for buildinff. Soapstone. slaL nrhJ S .We 1 as the most ancient institution of
the best description for building. Soapstone, slate, ochre*
and other mineral productions, are also to be met with in
various parts.
There are a greater number of individuals engaged in
commerce^ in this than in any other state in the Union.
It shares in the greater proportion of the bank and whale*
fisheries of the United States. This pursuit employs many
... •tt .   Hi a 11IU nun ui
lOQQ i m 116 ^n‘ted States, having been founded in
1538, less than twenty years after the settlement of New
Lngland. It has a president, eight professors, and six
tutors and other teachers, besides four professors of the
medical school and two of the law school. It has a library
containing above 36,000 volumes of choice books, a large
and valuable cabinet of minerals, an excellent anatomical
thousands of men, furnishes one of the most imnnrfW vaiuaDIe cabinet of minerals, an excellent anatomical
i^in these parts of the states, and trains vast numbers
William s Colleere in William’s Town in /'■»f yxt4
of intrepid and experienced mariners. The shipping is
more extensive than that of any other state ; and, in the
extent of its foreign commerce, Massachusetts is second
only to New York. The principal articles of export are fish,
beef, pork, lumber, ardent spirits, flax-seed, whale oil, sper¬
maceti, and various manufactures. The latter are nume¬
rous, the principal being those of cotton cloths, boots and
, shoes, ardent spirits, leather, cordage, wrought and cast
iron, nails, woollens, straw bonnets, hats, cabinet-work,
paper, oil, and muskets There is an extensive national
establishment for the manufacture of arms at SDrino1-
field. r &
There being no large rivers in Massachusetts to facili¬
tate intercourse with the interior country, a number of ar¬
tificial channels of communication have been constructed
The Middlesex Canal leaves the Merrimac Canal above its
lower falls, and terminates at Charlestown, opposite Bos¬
ton, being about twenty-seven miles in length. Concord
River crosses the line of the canal on the summit-level,
twenty-two miles from Charlestown, and five from the
junction of the canal with the Merrimac, thus affording an
ample supply of water and lockage in both directions.
there^is^a canal ^ZltTth ^Y f ^ n° C0Unt^ in ^ -ore strSfy auUTdT/or Jot
there is a canal cut through the solid rock, more than
forty feet deep, and three hundred feet long. There are
other falls on the Connecticut, above and below South
Hadley, which have been overcome by canals, dams, and
other improvements, so that the river is now navigable for
boats through the whole of its course in this state, and as
bigh as Bath in New Hampshire. The Blackstone Canal
's about forty-five miles in length, extending from Provi¬
dence to Worcester, and has been in operation for several
tears. The Farmington Canal extends from the city of
Newhaven to the south line of Massachusetts, where it
s connected with the Hampshire and Hampden Canal,
Xit7• n • * n . —J wwtjwucco ci a uni vci fciiy.
V\ ilham s College in William’s Town, in the north-west
corner of the state, was incorporated in 1793; and Amherst
College in Hampshire county in 1825. They have each
a president, and several professors and tutors. At Ando¬
ver there is a richly endowed and flourishing theological
seminary; and also an academy, the best endowed and
most distinguished in the state. There are, besides, a great
number of other academies throughout Massachusetts, and
common schools are universally established at the public
expense. The laws require that every town or district
containing fifty families shall be provided with a school
or schools equivalent in time to six months for one school
in a year, one containing a hundred families twelve
months, and so on; and the several towns in the state are
authorized and directed to raise such sums of money as are
necessary for the support of the schools, and to assess and
collect the money in the same manner as other town taxes.
Each town is also required to choose annually a school
committee of three, five, or seven persons, to take the ge¬
neral charge and superintendence of the public schools.
The charitable and other establishments are too numerous
to be particularly specified. In respect to education, there is
universally diffused. Religious sects are of course nume¬
rous in Massachusetts. The Congregationalists have 491
churches, and 423 ordained ministers, of whom 118 are
Unitarians ; the Baptists have 129 churches, the Method¬
ists seventy-one preachers, the Universalists forty-six so¬
cieties, the Episcopalians thirty-one ministers, the New
Jerusalem church eight societies, the Presbyterians nine
ministers, the Roman Catholics four churches, and the
Shakers four societies.
There are now no slaves in this state, nor was their
number ever very considerable. Previously to the de¬
claration of independence, public opinion was strongly ex-
.,L* l , -vj .i r v^aiiaJj ClardLlon or iiiQGpenQer
listanr»!wfr i° ,or(t. ia-pt°n on the Connecticut River, a pressed against slavery. The first‘article in the declara-
urnnikp VT 1 lirtT"^ve miles‘ great number of tion of rights contained in the general constitution is that
3 1 h S i aVG, b'en TfruCted by ™-Pames incor_ „ all mengare born free and ^ anCd°this was decided
ntersect thecountrv^neve/vdir^u' lliese Pubhcworbs by tbe supreme court of Massachusetts, in 1783, to be
leiliinf-nrl fi ,U f ^ — every direction, and have greatly equivalent to an abolition of slavery, which was accord-
idhtated the trade of the state, without, however, being ingly carried into effect. 7
304
Counties.
Suffolk.
Essex..
Middlesex.
Plymouth..
Norfolk....
Bristol.
Barnstable.
Nantucket.
Dukes 
Worcester.
Hampshire.
Hampden...
Franklin....
Berkshire...
MASSACHUSETTS.
Population of the Counties and County Towns.
Males.
Females.
Total.
28,586
39,431
38,107
20,905
20,436
23,366
13,997
3,339
1,702
41,545
14,999
15,288
14,447
18,310
31,693
42,929
39,348
21,678
21,296
25,178
14,363
3,584
1,768
42,449
14,995
16,003
14,765
18,510
Coloured.
1,883
527
513
410
169
930
165
279
48
371
225
349
132
1,005
294,458 308,559 7,006
Total
Popula¬
tion.
62,162
82,887
77,968
42,993
41,901
49,474
28,525
7,202
3,518
84,365
30,219
31,640
29,344
37,825
610,023
County Towns.
Boston  
f Salem 
^ Newbury port..
( Ipswich  
J Cambridge 
Concord 
Plymouth 
Dedham 
|New Bedford.
Barnstable 
Nantucket 
Edgartown 
Worcester 
Northampton....
Springfield 
Greenfield 
Lenox 
Popula¬
tion.
61,392
13,886
6,388
2,951
6,071
2,017
4,751
3,057
7,592
6,045
3,975
7,202
1,509
4,172
3,613
6,784
1,540
1,355
N umber of Miles
from
Boston
14
37
27
3
17
36
10
52
32
68
100
97
39
91
87
95
133
from
Washing¬
ton.
432
446
466
452
431
427
439
422
458
431
466
531
495
394
376
363
396
363
setts.
For a description of Boston, the capital of Massachu¬
setts, and of Charlestown, which is connected with it by a
bridge over Charles River, see the articles Boston and
Charlestown in this work. In the vicinity of Boston
there are a great number of beautiful villages, some of them
large enough to be classed in the rank of towns. Amongst
these may be mentioned Roxbury, Dorchester, Milton,
Cambridge, Waterton, Medford, Chelsea, and Lynn. Sa¬
lem, situated thirteen miles north-east of Boston, is built
on a projection of land formed by two arms of the sea
called North and South Rivers. Overtheformer is a bridge
more than fifteen hundred feet in length, connecting Salem
with the populous town of Beverley. The South River
forms the harbour, which has good anchorage, but contains
only about twelve feet of water. The situation of the
town is low, but healthy. It is vi^ell built, partly of brick,
and many of the houses are large and elegant, with gar¬
dens attached to them. Salem contains a court-house,
jail, alms-house, market-house, East India marine museum,
and a lyceum. It has eight banks, five insurance compa¬
nies, one mutual insurance company, and an institution for
savings. There are two libraries, an athenaeum contain¬
ing 6000 volumes, and a mechanics’ library. Three half¬
weekly and two weekly papers are published. There are
two white-lead factories, sixteen tanneries, eleven rope
and twine factories, and a chemical laboratory. There
are a number of places of worship for various religious
sects, and great attention is paid to the education of youth.
In 1801 a society was incorporated, composed of such per¬
sons as had sailed from this port round the Cape of Good
Hope or Cape Horn in the capacity of masters or supercar¬
goes of vessels. This East India Marine Society is designed
to afford relief to indigent members or their families, and
to promote the knowledge of navigation and trade to the
East Indies, upon which Salem principally depends, and
in which it has a large amount of capital embarked. This
town is the second in Massachusetts in point of population,
and probably also in respect of wealth ; but New Bedford
now surpasses it in its amount of shipping, and Lowell and
some other towns greatly exceed it in manufactures.
Lowell, the chief seat of the cotton manufacture in the
United States, is situated twenty-five miles north-west
from Boston, at the confluence of the rivers Merrimac and
Concord. It was formerly a section of the town of Chelms¬
ford, and derives its name from Francis Lowell, who in¬
troduced the manufacture of cotton into the state. It
contains a number of churches and public buildings, and
has had a very rapid growth, having risen into manufac¬
turing importance only of late years. The source of its
riches and power is the water of the Merrimac, which is
conducted to the town by a canal one mile and a half in
length, eight feet deep, and sixty wide, distributed by la¬
teral branches, and again discharged either into the Mer¬
rimac or Concord, the fall being thirty-two feet. Lowell
communicates with Boston by a canal and a railway. The
manufactures comprehend those of cotton and woollen of
various kinds, gunpowder, and other articles. The chief
manufacturing establishment is that of the Merrimac
Company, which, in 1832, employed four hundred males
and nine hundred females, and had one thousand looms
and twenty-six thousand spindles at work. In 1833 there
were in Lowell altogether 3494 looms and 97,400 spin¬
dles, which gave employment to 1155 males and 4595 fe¬
males. The number of bales manufactured per annum
was 32,607, or 36,044,000 yards. Of the thirty-six mil¬
lions of yards of cloth made, eight millions were printed.
Including the printed goods, which sell at twenty and
twenty-eight cents, the whole may be calculated at ten
cents per yard, making about three and a half millions
of dollars per annum. Lowell is connected with the vil¬
lage Belvedere by a bridge over the river Concord, the
water of which is also employed in giving motion to
machinery. Seven newspapers are published, one of which
is a daily print. There are no less than forty religious
and benevolent societies, an unusually large number for
the population of the place, but probably arising from the
zeal of the religious sects to outvie each other in good
deeds. By the census of 1832, the population amounted
to 10,254.
Marblehead is situated on a peninsula extending more
than three miles into Massachusetts Bay, and varying in
breadth from one to two miles. It is four miles and a half
MASSACHUSETTS.
305
lU- south-east of Salem, and sixteen north-east of Boston, in lunatic hospital, town-hall, and four places of public wor-Massachu-
t latitude 42. 32. north, longitude 70. 51. west. The town is ship. There are three printing offices, from which four setts.
compactly built, but the streets are crooked and irregular, newspapers are issued weekly. The American Antiqua'
It contains five places of public worship, and a custom- rian Society has here a handsome hall, a valuable cabinet,
house. The harbour, which is a mile long and half a mile and a library containing about 8000 volumes, amono-st
wide, is very safe, except when storms from the north-east which are many ancient and rare works on American iTis-
prevail. This town was settled very soon after Salem, by tory. The town was incorporated in the year 1722, and,
a number of fishermen, and the inhabitants have been on the’erection of Worcester county, in 1732, became the
principally devoted to the Bank fisheries. In this business capital. Springfield, a town of some size, is situated on the
Marblehead has greatly excelled all the other American
towns. Previously to the revolution it was in a very
flourishing state, but during that struggle, and also during
the last war, it suffered severely. In 1830 it contained a
east side of Connecticut River, ninety-seven miles south¬
west of Boston. The houses are well built, and the town
has an appearance of great industry and wealth. There
are many new and elegant erections, including several
population of 5150. Beverley is a wealthy mercantile town, places of public worship, and the county buildings. On
and, like the preceding, largely engaged in the fisheries.
It has a population of between four and five thousand.
Newbury port, a post-town and port of entry, is situated
on the south bank of the Merrimac, three miles from its
mouth, twenty-four miles north of Salem, and thirty-two
Mill River, which flows into the Connecticut, there are
very extensive mills and factories of various kinds. In
the town is a very extensive government establishment
for the manufacture of arms. The arsenal is situated on
an elevated plain, about half a mile from the town. Spring-
north-north-east of Boston, in latitude 42. 49. north, and field is connected with West Springfield by an elegant
i (70 ko n  a.. • i—  xt .i  . .  • 0
longitude 70. 52. west. This town is very pleasantly si¬
tuated, and handsomely built. The streets are regular,
and cross each other nearly at right angles. The dwelling-
houses are uncommonly good, and the public buildings are
constructed in a very handsome style. It contains a court¬
house, a jail, a market, a town-hall, several school-houses,
and seven churches. There are several distilleries, a
brewery, and manufactures of carriages, shoes, hats, cord¬
age, morocco leather, and gold and silver plate. It has a
respectable amount of shipping and foreign commerce, and
is largely engaged in the fisheries. Ship-building is car¬
ried on to a considerable extent; and although the town is
scarcely in so flourishing a condition as it was formerly, it
is still interesting and important, and is improving. Glou¬
cester is situated on the peninsula of Cape Ann, sixteen
miles north-east of Salem. It is one of the most consider¬
able fishing towns in the commonwealth, containing six
churches, with several public buildings, and between six
and seven thousand inhabitants.
New Bedford, a post-town and port of entry, is situated
fifty-two miles south of Boston, in latitude 41. 38. north,
longitude 70. 56. west. It stands on an arm of Buzzard’s
flay, and is laid out upon ground sloping to the water, in
streets intersecting each other at right angles. This town
has rapidly increased in trade and population, and the in¬
bridge. Northampton, a post-town, is situated on the west
bank of Connecticut River, ninety-five miles west of Bos¬
ton. It is well built, and chiefly consists of two streets
proceeding like radii from a circle, though with many ir¬
regularities. It contains several handsome public buildings,
and a number of respectable seminaries of education, A
stream passes near the centre of the town, on which are
erected numerous mills and manufactories, and amongst
these are two for making woollen stuffs. A bridge above
1000 feet in length, connecting this town with Hadley,
was built in 1826. In the vicinity of Northampton there is
a noted mine, which is visited by strangers as a curiosity.
Waltham, a post-town, is situated on the north side of
Charles River, ten miles u'est of Boston. It contains three
cotton manufactories, which are amongst the most exten¬
sive and best conducted establishments of the kind in the
country. The quantity of cotton annually used amounts
to about 700,000 pounds, and the cloth made to 2,000,000
yards. There are also bleaching works, at which two tons
of goods are daily bleached, calendered, and packed. In
1830 the population of this place was 1859. Cambridge,
a post-town, is situated on the north side of Charles River,
at the distance of three miles from Boston. It consists
of three principal parts or divisions, namely, Old Cam¬
bridge, which contains the university' already noticed, a
habitants possess great enterprise, and are very wealthy, state arsenal, and several places of public worship ; Cam-
The whale fishery constitutes their principal business, and bridge-Port, which is a considerable trading village, con -
in it they have engaged about 150 ships and fifteen brigs, taining four places of public worship, and is connected
The fishing of cod on the grand banks is also carried
on ; and the people are extensively engaged in many other
branches of commerce. New Bedford contains a court¬
house, a jail, an alms-house, three banks, two insurance
offices, an academy, a flourishing lyceum, four printing
with the capital of the state by West Boston Bridge ; and
East Cambridge, which is a flourishing manufacturing vil¬
lage, situated on Lechmere Point, and connected with Bos¬
ton by means of Craigie’s or Canal Bridge. It contains a
court-house, a jail, a large glass manufactory, and three
offices (one of which issues a daily, and the others weekly places of public worship. Concord, a post-town, is plea-
newspapers), eleven churches, and a chapel for seamen.
Blymouth, a post-town and port of entry, is situated thir¬
ty-six miles south-south-east of Boston. It is remarkable
as the place where the first settlers of New England land¬
ed, on the 22d of December 1620. The harbour is spa¬
cious, but shallow. The town has considerable commerce,
and valuable manufactures of iron. An elegant hall has
aeen erected for the use of the pilgrim society ; and there
s a court-house, which stands in latitude 41. 57. north,
and longitude 70. 42. 30. west. A part of the x’ock on
which the puritan emigrants landed on their arrival from
santly situated upon the western bank of the river Merri¬
mac, sixty-three miles north-north-west of Boston. It
contains a state-house and state-prison, both built of stone,
a court-house, three places of public worship, and about
two hundred dwelling-houses. Much of the trade of the
upper country centres here ; and the importance of the
place is increased by the boat navigation which is opened
between this place and Boston, by means of the Merri¬
mac River and Middlesex Canal. There are two bridges
in Concord across the Merrimac, one in the north part,
the other connecting the town with Pembroke. Taunton
England, has been conveyed to the centre of the town, is situated at the junction of Canoe, Rumford, and Taun
Worcester is an inland town, situated forty miles west by ton Rivers, thirty-two miles south of Boston. It is a hand-
south of Boston. It is a neat and flourishing place, with some and flourishing place, containing the county build-
'onsiderable trade and manufactures. Amongst the pub- ings, a bank, an academy, and seven meeting-houses. It
ie buildings are a court-house, jail, county penitentiary, has the command of excellent water power, and there are
vol. xiv. 2 Q
306
MASSACHUSETTS.
Massachu- here several factoriefs for cotton,' paper, nails, and various
setts. kinds of iron work. Lynn, a post-town, is situated nine
'miles north-north-east of Boston. It is noted for the ma¬
nufacture of shoes, about 1,500,000 pairs of women’s shoes
being made here annually. There is a medicinal spring
in this place, near which is a house for the accommoda¬
tion of visitors. In 1830 the population was 6138. An¬
dover, a post-township, is situated on the south-east side
of the Merrimac, twenty miles north of Boston. It is a
pleasant and flourishing place, containing three parishes,
in each of which there is a congregational meeting-house.
Andover has some manufactures, but it is chiefly cele¬
brated for its literary institutions, particularly the theolo¬
gical seminary already noticed. The population is about
4000. Amongst the manufacturing towns not already de¬
scribed are Fitchburg and Milbury in the county of Wor¬
cester, Bridgewater and Middleborough, noted for their
manufactures of iron, Leominster, Mendon, Troy, Leices¬
ter, and various other places too numerous to mention.
Nantucket is an island of Massachusetts, situated to the
south of the peninsula of Cape Cod, at the distance of 120
miles south-south-east of Boston. It is fifteen miles in
length, and at its widest part eleven miles in breadth, being
situated in long. 69. 56. to 70. 13. west, lat. 41. 13. to 41.
22. north. The island, town, and county of Nantucket have
the same limits ; but the county of Dukes is associated with
it for several political purposes. A great proportion of the
inhabitants are Quakers, and the land is held in common ;
but it is sandy and unproductive. Little attention is paid
to agriculture, and the sheep and cows of all the inhabi¬
tants feed on one extensive common. The right of the
island was originally granted by William earl of Stirling,
to Thomas Mayhew, and conveyed by him to nine pro¬
prietors, who divided it into twenty-seven shares in 1659.
It is mostly a joint property to this day, but the number
of shares has been increased to several thousands. The
inhabitants are chiefly engaged in the whale-fishery, and
the seamen are celebrated for their skill and daring. Their
trade suffered severely during the late war, and also by
the war of the revolution, but it is now flourishing; and se¬
veral very extensive spermaceti works are in full operation.
Ihe port of Nantucket is situated upon the north-west
side of the island, and has a very good harbour. It con¬
tains two banks, two insurance offices, and seven houses
of public worship. Education is well attended to, and the
habits of the people are generally moral and industrious.
For many years the island has been destitute of indige¬
nous trees, and few are cultivated. In 1820 the amount
of shipping was 28,512 tons. To the west of Nantucket
is another island called Martha’s Vineyard, but it is of
comparatively little importance.
In the year 1831 there were in Massachusetts 8981 mills
and 339,777 spindles at work. At the same time, 69,880
spindles were in the course of being erected. There were
sold of yarn during that year 807,366 pounds, and of cloth
/9,231,000 yards. W oollen goods are also manufactured
to a very considerable extent, and there are several glass¬
houses, and paper and other manufactories. In 1833 two
lead manufactories existed in Salem, and made the follow¬
ing quantities, viz. white lead 2,081,894 pounds, red lead
42,236 pounds, and acetate of lead 20,586 pounds; the
value of the whole being 195,000 dollars. The making of
braid or straw bonnets, and palm-leaf hats, is a branch of
industry carried on to a considerable extent; and in 1830
common salt was manufactured in this state to the amount
of 56/,239 bushels. Ihe preparing of flax and hemp, the
making of combs and buttons, also constitute considerable
branches of domestic industry. 1 he following are returns
for the yeai 1830 of the quantity of shipping belon^in0- to
Massachusetts:
Of registered vessels, 402 ships, 433 brigs, 141 schoon-
ers, and three sloops ; of enrolled and licensed vessels 55
brigs, 1546 schooners, 472 sloops, and eight steam-boats-
of licensed vessels under twenty tons, 54 schooners, and
47 sloops. The total number of vessels was 3161, manned
by 23,270 mariners. Massachusetts monopolizes nearly
the whole of the North American whale-fishery. By
returns for the winter of 1834, above 434 vessels were
engaged in this trade, of which 286 belonged to the
state of Massachusetts. The number of vessels employed
in the sperm fishing in New Bedford and Nantucket
during the same year was 181, and there were a few
more from other ports of Massachusetts. The follow¬
ing is a statement of the commerce of the state for the
year ending September 1833. Imported in American
vessels 19,447,267; in foreign vessels 493,644; total
amount of imports 19,940,911 dollars. Domestic produce
exported in American vessels 4,779,492 ; in foreign vessels
371,092; total 5,150,584. Foreign produce exported in
American vessels 4,301,004; in foreign vessels 231,534;
total 4,532,538. Total value of domestic and forewn
produce exported, 9,683,122 dollars. At the commence¬
ment of 1834 there were in Massachusetts 102 banks.
The capital amounted to 28,236,250; notes issued were
7,889,110; specie and specie funds 922,309; deposits
11,666,122; discounts of notes, &c. 45,261,008 dollars.
The amount of postage received for the year ending 31st
March 1832 was 129,712,20 dollars. In 1810 only thirty-
two newspapers were published in Massachusetts, but in
1834 there were no less than 108 established in the state.
The number of monthly, quarterly, and other periodicals
is proportionally great.
The first English settlement made in New England was
formed by 101 persons, who fled from religious persecution
in England, landed at Plymouth on the 22d of December
1620, and laid the foundation of Plymouth colony. The
settlement of the colony of Massachusetts Bay was com¬
menced at Salem in 1628, and in 1630 Boston wras settled.
For many years the colonies styled the Plymouth colony
and the colony of Massachusetts continued separate, each
electing its own governor and managing its own afiairs in¬
dependently of the other. In 1685—86, however, they, with
the rest of the New England states, were deprived of their
charters, and placed under the government, first of Joseph
Dudley, and afterwards of Sir Edmond Andros. In 1692
they were united into one colony under a new charter,
and the governors were afterwards appointed by the king.
The constitution was formed in the yearl780, and amended
in 1821. Ihe legislative power is vested in a senate and
House of Representatives, which together are styled the
General Court of Massachusetts. The members of the
House of Representatives are elected annually, and consist
in all of between 500 and 600 individuals. Every corpo¬
rate town having 150 rateable polls may elect one repre¬
sentative, and another for every additional 225 rateable
polls. The senate consists of forty members, who are
chosen by districts annually. The governor or supreme
executive magistrate is also elected annually, and is assist¬
ed in his office by a council of nine members, who are
chosen, by the joint ballot of the senators and representa¬
tives, from amongst the senators. The general court meets
at Boston on the first Wednesday of January. The right
of suffrage is granted to every male citizen twenty-one
years of age (excepting paupers and persons under guar¬
dianship) who has resided within the commonwealth one
year, and within the town or district in which he may
claim a right to vote, six calendar months immediately pre¬
ceding any election, and who has paid a state or county
tax assessed upon him within two years preceding such
election; and also every citizen who may be by law ex-
Mass
se
M A S
Mas • empted from taxation, and who may be in all other respects
gets! qualified as above mentioned. The judiciary power is vest
~n ourwomo anrl Q onnvf /-\-T mr\t-t v\1r»oci
[ass
MAS
.307
ed in a supreme court and a court of common pleas, con-
li4‘ sisting of four members each, besides such other courts as
l*"v" the legislature may establish. The judges are appointed
by the governor, by and with the advice and consent of the
council, and they hold their offices during good behaviour.
Justices of the peace have original and exclusive jurisdiction
in all civil cases in which the debt or damages demanded do
not exceed twenty dollars, except where the title to real pro¬
perty comes in question. They have concurrent criminal ju¬
risdiction as to breaches of the peace not aggravated in their
nature, and in cases of larceny where the goods stolen do
not exceed the value of five dollars. The court of com¬
mon pleas has an appellate jurisdiction in all civil and crimi¬
nal cases tried originally before a justice of the peace. It
has original and exclusive jurisdiction in all civil common-
law cases, where the damage or debt demanded exceeds
the sum of twenty dollars ; and final jurisdiction where the
damages demanded do not exceed one hundred dollars.
Its criminal jurisdiction depends generally upon particular
statutes. In relation to offences at common law, its juris¬
diction includes everything where the punishment does not
extend to life, demembration, or banishment, except where
the punishment is by statute to be administered by the
supreme court. In cases of mortgages, and of forfeitures
annexed to contracts, this court has a concurrent chancery
jurisdiction. The supreme judicial court has appellate ju¬
risdiction in all cases where the debt or damage exceeds
one hundred dollars, and in all criminal cases originally
tried in the court of common pleas or the municipal court
of the city of Boston. It has concurrent jurisdiction in all
criminal cases cognisable by the inferior courts, and origi¬
nal and exclusive jurisdiction in all capital cases. It has
also original and exclusive jurisdiction in all cases of ali¬
mony and divorce ; and chancery powers in cases of trusts,
specific performance of contracts in writing, mortgages,
settlement of partnership accounts,waste, nuisance, and for¬
feitures annexed to contracts. It is the supreme court of
probate, entertains appeals from the probate courts of the
counties, and has a general superintending power over all
inferior tribunals by writ of error, certiorari, quo warranto,
&c. The probate courts, of which there is one in each
county, consisting of a single judge, have original and ex¬
clusive jurisdiction in the probate of wills, settlement of
estates, and guardianship of minors, idiots, lunatics, and
others. There is in Boston a police court, consisting of
three justices ; a justices’ court for the county of Suffolk ;
and a municipal court, consisting of one judge who takes
cognizance of all crimes not capital committed within the
county of Suffolk, and appellate jurisdiction in all criminal
cases tried before the police court. (k. r. r.)
MASSAGETiE, an ancient people, about whose original
seat there is as much doubt as about that of the Amazons,
libullus and Ammianus place them near Albania, beyond
the Araxes, which sometimes denotes the Oxus; and it
is probable they dwelt to the east of Sogdiana. (Dionysius
1 enegetes, Herodotus, Arrian).
MASSALIANS, a set of enthusiasts who sprang up
about the year 361, in the reign of the Emperor Constan-
tms, and maintained that men have two souls, a celestial
and a diabolical, and that the latter is driven out by prayer.
MASSANIELLO. See Naples.
MASSE’S Island, an island in the South Pacific Ocean,
so called by Captain Marchand, and forming one of the
jioup called Hergest’s Islands.
MASSILIA, in Ancient Geography, a town of Gallia
arbonensis, peopled by a colony of Thoceans, from Pho-
jca, a city of Ionia, and universally celebrated, not only
or its port, commerce, and strength, but especially for the
politeness and learning of its inhabitants. It is now J/ar-Massillon.
seilles, a maritime city of Provence.
MASSILLON, Jean Baptiste, one of the greatest pul¬
pit orators of France, and in the pathetic department of sa¬
cred eloquence the first, was the son of Francis Massillon,
a notary of Hieres in Provence. He was born on the 24th
of June 1663, and entered, when very young, into the col¬
lege of the Oratory in that city. Whilst yet a boy, his fa¬
vourite amusement was to collect around him his compa¬
nions, and repeat to them the more striking portions of the
sermons he had heard, which he declaimed in an agreeable
and animated manner. Having been destined by his father
for the profession of notary, he was early withdrawn from
college ; but as he never ceased to return thither at his lei¬
sure hours, the superiors, remarking his dispositions, ad¬
dressed solicitations to his father, in order to obtain his per¬
mission to attach the youth to themselves ; and, in the year
1681, young Massillon entered into the congregation, where
he studied theology under Father Beaujeu, afterwards
bishop of Castres. He perused the sermons of Father Le-
jeune, which pleased him exceedingly; and he also made
some essays of his own, which were thought good, but did
not satisfy his own taste. In the year 1689, he wrote to
Father Abelde Sainte-Marthe, general of the Oratory, that,
as his talents and his inclination equally disqualified him for
the pulpit, he conceived that some employment in teaching
philosophy or theology would suit him better. Neverthe¬
less, having been ordained priest, some panegyrics preached
by him, in which instruction was happily blended with eulo-
gium, determined his superior to direct his talents to the
ministry of the pulpit. But Massillon dreading, as he said,
the demon of pride, sought to escape the seductions of self-
love, by devoting himself to retirement. It is one of the
traditions of the Oratory, collected by D’Alembert, whose
statement in this respect is beyond all suspicion, that he
went to bury himself in the monastery of Sept-Fonts, the
habit of which he assumed ; but the abbot having instruct¬
ed him to reply to Cardinal de Noailles, who had addressed
an order to the head of the establishment, the surprise of
the cardinal on receiving from this Thebaid an answer full
of elegance and refinement, drew compliments to the ab¬
bot. The latter immediately named the young novice to
the prelate ; and as his eminence did not choose that so
fine talents should remain longer concealed, Massillon was
restored to the Oratory.
After having professed the belles-lettres and theology
at Pezenas, Montbrison, and Vienne, and made some fu¬
neral orations, which were not the first he delivered (since
Massillon himself says the contrary in the oration on M.
de Villars), he was in 1696 called to Paris, where he was
already known, to assume the direction of the seminary of
Saint-Magloire. It was there that Massillon composed his
first ecclesiastical Conferences. Although the tone of
these compositions, which is simple enough, be different
from that of his sermons, yet they are not deficient in vi¬
vacity, especially when he has occasion to describe the
consequences of the disorder or ignorance of the clergy.
They are also much more analogous to the amiable mood
of his eloquence than the severer conferences which he
composed at an advanced age. These preparatory exer¬
cises developed and fixed his talent. Hence, when Father
de Latour asked him what he thought of the preachers of
the capital, he replied, “ I find them possessed of great
genius and talent; but if I preach, I will not preach like
them.” He admired Bourdaloue too much ever to confound
him with the preachers who were then followed. But he
did not take him in everything as a model, because he
wished to open a new path for himself. The pathetic
grounded upon strong feeling and intimate self-knowledge
was at that time entirely wanting to the eloquence of the
308
MASSILLON.
Massillon, pulpit. The absurd mixture of profane and sacred maxims
had already been banished from it; but subtile mysticism
and extravagant metaphors had not yet yielded to the high
reason and the austere eloquence of Bourdaloue. Massil¬
lon observed, that they were too much occupied with ex¬
terior manners, or vague and general moralities; and he
sought in the heart of man the secret interests of the pas¬
sions, in order to discover their motives, and combat the
illusions of self-love by reason and sentiment, as well as by
the attraction of happiness united to religion. Such in¬
deed was the distinctive character of his eloquence.
At the period of the controversies which took place by
order of Louis XIV., he was intrusted with a mission, and
in 1698 went to preach during Lent at Montpellier, where
he was warmly received, notwithstanding Bourdaloue had
not been forgotten. The sermons of Father Lejeune, called
the missionary of the Oratory, were, according to him, a
mine from which he did not fail to derive profit; and he
may, no doubt, have obtained some ideas from these dis¬
courses ; but he must have been endowed with great facili¬
ty to compose sermons so rich in developments, in which
he perhaps indulged to excess, but which appear to arise
the one from the other, and to spring forth, as it were, by
a single impulse. Eight or ten days at the most were suf¬
ficient for those compositions which are so full of reason and
of unction. Being now known, he could no longer fly from
his renown, which soon recalled him to the capital. It was
in 1699 that he preached during Lent at Paris, in the
church of the Oratory. The triumph which he then ob¬
tained would have intoxicated a preacher who had less self-
knowledge, with, perhaps, greater pretensions to humility.
Ona particular occasion, being felicitated byoneof hisbreth-
ren on the admirable manner in which he had preached;
“ Stop, Father,” said he; “ the devil has already told it me
more eloquently than you.” Father Bourdaloue having gone
to hear him, was so much satisfied with his appearance, that
on seeing him descend from the pulpit, he pointed him
out to his brethren who were inquiring his opinion, and ob¬
served to them in the words of the precursor of the Mes¬
siah, “ Hunc oportet crescere, me autem minui.” This, on
the part of such a judge, was an humble acknowledgment of
the excellence of that merit which shone forth, notwithstand¬
ing the retiring and modest demeanour of the orator. Mas¬
sillon appeared in the pulpit, not with his eyes shut like the
celebrated Jesuit, but with downcast looks, without gesture,
and without parade. Nevertheless, when he warmed with
his subject, his look and gesture became so expressive, that
at a period when the sacred orators served as models to the
declaimers of the stage, Baron, the celebrated actor, hav¬
ing gone to hear him, was so much struck with the correct¬
ness of his delivery, that he observed to one of his com¬
panions, “ My friend, here is an orator ; but as to us, we are
only actors.” The player, however, could only admire with¬
out being affected. But Laharpe has mentioned a circum¬
stance which gives us a deeper insight into the real source
of the preacher’s power. It appears that a person belong¬
ing to the court, when on his way to see a new opera per¬
formed, found his carriage stopped by a double file of ve¬
hicles, one set of which were proceeding to the opera, and
the other moving to the Quinze-Vingts, where Massillon
was to preach. Impatient of the delay thus occasioned, he
entered the church from curiosity, and immediately applied
to himself the emphatic apostrophe, Tu es ille vir, of the
sermon on the Word of God. The man of the world heard
the orator to the end, and, in going away, felt that he was
a8|l
altogether a different person from what he had been whenut
he entered the church of the Quinze-Vingts. \r
At Versailles there was a general desire to hear Massil-
Ion. Being appointed preacher to the court for the advent
of 1699, the father of the Oratory appeared there without
pride and without timidity. As Flechier had done in simi¬
lar circumstances, he chose for the text of his first sermon,
on All-Saints-Day, before a court which was wholly en¬
grossed with the glory of the king, Beati qui lugent, Bless¬
ed are they w ho mourn. But, with infinite art, he employed
dialogue as well as apostrophe, and dexterously put the
eulogium in another mouth than that which had uttered the
lesson : “ If the world were speaking here in the place of
Jesus Christ—Happy, would the world say, happy the prince
who has never fought except to conquer. But, Sire, Jesus
Christ does not speak like the world.” It was after this
first advent that Louis XIV. addressed to him, in presence
of the whole court, the well-known words, “ Father, I have
heard several great orators, and I have been satisfied with
them ; but as to you, whenever I hear you, I am dissatisfied
with myself.” Massillon succeeded at Versailles as he had
done at Paris. The court of Louis XIV., composed of
sprightly and polished men, required to be moved rather
than convinced. Massillon, in delineating the passions with
that searching truth which destroys illusion, contented him¬
self with opposing to the seductions of vice the delineations
of a morality which he knew well how to render amiable
and interesting, even to those whose inclinations he unveil¬
ed. In a word, the language of Massillon, though noble,
was not the less simple, and adapted to the comprehension
of the vulgar ; it was always natural and just, without la¬
bour and without affectation, and hence it had equal at¬
tractions for persons of all classes. We cannot have a bet¬
ter proof of this than the rude but expressive remark of
a common woman, who, finding herself pressed by the
crowd entering Notre-Dame, where Massillon was to
preach, exclaimed indignantly, in her peculiar idiom, “ Ce
diable de Massillon, quand il preche, remue tout Paris.”
The first time that he delivered his celebrated sermon
on the small number of the Elect, was at Saint-Eustache.
In his peroration, the orator, suddenly addressing himself
to the assembly, “ I suppose, my brethren,” said he, “ that
this is your last hour, and the end of the world ; that Jesus
Christ is about to appear in his glory, in the midst of this
temple, to judge us. Think you that he would find in it even
ten righteous men ? Appear ; where are you ? Remnant of
Israel, pass to the right. Oh God, where are thine elect?
and what remains for thy portion P”1 These few words pro¬
duced a sudden movement; the whole auditory rose up,
at once transported and dismayed. In the chapel of Ver¬
sailles the same passage excited a similar commotion, whicli
was shared by Louis XIV., and Massillon was observed to
cover his face with his hands, and to remain silent for a
few moments. This prosopopoeia, which still astonishes
in the perusal, has been chosen by Voltaire in the article
Eloquence in the Encyclopedic, as an example presenting
“ la figure la plus hardie, et 1’un des plus beaux traits d’elo-
quence qu’on puisse lire chez les anciens et les modernes.’
The impression produced by the pathos of the discourses,
as well as by the charm of the sentiments, with which the
orator appeared penetrated, and which he diffused through¬
out the whole of his auditory, attracted to him numerous
proselytes. Of these, one of the most distinguished was
Count Rosemberg, nephew of Cardinal Forbin de Janson,
who had been wounded at the battle of Marsaille. Attack-
> “ Je suppose, mes freres, que c’est votre derniere heure, et la fin de I’univers ; que Jesus-Christ va paraitre dans sa gloire, au
nnheu de ce temple, pour nous juger...Croyez-vous qu’il s’y trouvat seulement dix justes ?...Paraissez ; ou ctes-vous ? Restes d’Israel,
passez a Ja droite. O Uieu ! ou sont vos dlus ? et que reste-t-il pour votre partage ?”
MASSILLON.
sj m. ed by a painful malady, the consequence of this wound,
~ —'he had recourse to a spiritual director, and did not call in
vain upon Father Massillon. After his recovery he became a
model of virtue, and, in retirement, led a most exemplary
and edifying life.
In 1704, when Bossuet and Bourdaloue were both re¬
moved by death, Massillon preached a second Lent at court,
and with such success that Louis XIV. expressed a desire
to hear him every two years. But though henceforth
without an equal, jealous mediocrity or rival intrigue kept
him at a distance, and Massillon never again appeared in
the pulpit of Versailles during the last years'of the reign
of Louis XIV. whose funeral oration he was destined to
pronounce. In 1709, he likewise pronounced that of the
Prince of Conti, in the church of Saint Andre-des-Arc.
This discourse, which was much applauded when delivered,
though criticised after it had been printed, was the only
one which he gave to the public through the press. Soon
afterwards, in his sermon on Alms, preached at Notre-
Dame in Paris, the picture which he drew of the scarcity
of 1709 moved even to tears all who heard it, and excited
a commiseration which, so far from being a sterile and tran¬
sitory sentiment, displayed itself in acts of beneficence.
To show the deep impression produced by this preacher,
we may here relate an anecdote which is very well authen¬
ticated. The pious Rollin having conducted the boarders
of the college of Beauvais to Saint-Leu, where Massillon
was to preach on the Holiness of the Christian, these chil¬
dren, in listening to him, forgot the levity natural to their
age ; they returned to their school in profound silence, and
several subjected themselves to privations, the rigour of
which their good and kind master found it expedient to
moderate. After the death of Flechier, in 1710, Massil¬
lon, now the last remaining orator of that remarkable age,
was called to pronounce at Sainte-Chapelle the funeral ora¬
tion of the dauphin; a grand painting, in which he intro¬
duced portraits of Montausier and Bossuet, the preceptors
of that prince. In 1715 he rendered a similar homage to
the memory of Louis XIV. Taking as his tpxt on this
occasion the words of Solomon, Ecce magnus effectus sum,
“ Lo, I have become great,” he commenced by repeating
them slowly, seeming as it were to recollect himself; then
he fixed his eyes on the assembly in mourning; next he
surveyed the funeral enclosure, with all its solemn pomp;
and, lastly, turning his eyes to the mausoleum erected in
the midst of the temple—after some moments of silence,
exclaimed, “ Dieu seul est grand, mes freres,” “ My bre¬
thren, God alone is great.” This sudden burst, worthy of
Bossuet himself, is much more than a fine or happy ex¬
pression ; it is a profound and penetrating stroke of in¬
spired eloquence, which in an instant reduced to nothing
all the grandeur and the vanity of human life.
After more than twenty years spent in preaching, Mas¬
sillon, promoted by the regent to the bishopric of Cler¬
mont, in 1717, was appointed to preach before the king
during Lent. This was his last effort, but it is also his
masterpiece. Racine was more than fifty when he pro¬
duced his Athalie ; Massillon had nearly attained his fifty-
v fifth year when he composed his Petit-Careme, which
made him be called the Racine of the pulpit. It was in
retirement, at a country-house belonging to the Oratory,
that he completed, in six weeks, the ten sermons which
formed the station (as it was called) of the court, and which,
by reason of the tender age of the monarch, was reduced
to a simple dominical, in other words, to the Sunday lec¬
tures or sermons. Although he had in view the instruc¬
tion of the prince and of the great, it was rather as a pa¬
rent than a master that he sought to convey it. Huma¬
nity, tenderness, goodness, are the motives which predo¬
minate in the sermons of Massillon; and to these he con¬
tinually recurs, by painting the opposite qualities in the
309
most striking colours. This might at first appear to circum- Massillon.
scribe his eloquence in the moral part, and to betray him   
into repetitions; but, happily, the variety and richness of
his expressions aggrandise the field of his discourses, which
expands with every movement he makes, and thus affords
him ample space to expatiate in, notwithstanding the fer¬
tility, and in some cases the redundancy, of his illustra¬
tions. The same motives, and above all that of humanity,
prevail in his but refined views and deli¬
cate moralities compensate, by elegance and grace of ex¬
pression, for the bolder ornaments and deep pathos of his
ordinary style. An eloquence more gentle and more insi¬
nuating, because intended to make an impression upon a
young prince, thus forms the characteristic of the Petit-
Careme; it is in fact a new creation of the preacher,
wherein the unction of paternal eloquence, which his ma¬
ture age authorized him to assume, is happily blended
with all those gentle and persuasive attractions calculated
to make an impression upon the youthful mind. Marshal
Villeroi having asked on the part of the king for the ma¬
nuscript of the preacher, Louis XV. learned by heart the
more beautiful passages of these sermons, which were the
first he had heard. Several passages, particularly in the
discourse on the Humanity of the Great, call to mind the
verses of Racine, which, according to Voltaire, Massillon
had by heart; but these imitations are so original that even
Voltaire himself has, on more than one occasion, trans¬
fused them into his own verses. He had always on his
desk the Petit-Careme, which he regarded as one of the
best models of eloquence in prose ; and Buffon, in his dis¬
course on style, has pronounced the same judgment. De¬
lineations of manners so lively, so natural, and at the same
time so touching, required only to be expressed in order to
be felt. When the voice of Massillon was no longer heard,
he was read and appreciated; and though the diflFuseness
of the style is rendered more sensible in reading than in
hearing, yet this has in no degree enfeebled its vivacity,
because the diction is at once the effusion of natural sen¬
timent and the pure expression of reason.
When Massillon was promoted to the bishopric of Cler¬
mont on account of his eminent talents, he had not where¬
withal to pay his bulls, the expense of which was defrayed
by the regent. He was consecrated by Cardinal Fleury,
in presence of the king; and in the year 1719 he was re¬
ceived into the French Academy. But he was far from
being dazzled by these honours, and soon set out for his
diocese, which he only left, in 1721, to pronounce at St
Denis the funeral oration of the Duchess of Orleans. Mas¬
sillon, though he had acquired the episcopal dignity by
great labour and success in preaching, did not think Riat
this afforded him any dispensation from ascending the pul¬
pit to instruct the people of his diocese; only he confined
himself to familiar exhortations, |whieh all could under¬
stand, and by which even the most ignorant could profit.
With regard to his sermons, which are so full of eloquence,
he confessed to Cardinal de la Rochefoucauld, his metro¬
politan, that the faithlessness of his memory having caused
him to discontinue preaching them, they had entirely es¬
caped from his recollection. The cardinal, however, ex¬
horted him to revise them, for the purpose of final correc¬
tion, and at the same time to compose instructions for the
pastors of his diocese. The Bishop of Clermont followed
this advice, and preached, or rather read, those episcopal
Conferences, so full at once of earnestness and severity, in
which, notwithstanding his age, and the known qualities
of his eloquence, he displays a warmth and force which
pastoral authority and zeal could alone have infused. Flis
Discours Synodaux and his Mandements are, on the other
hand, grave instructions, conveyed in language remarkable
for simple and natural elegance. In a ritual, at once ju¬
dicious and useful, he combined all the observances and
310
M A S
Massinger, all the practices necessary for the clergy of his diocese in
—^ the discharge of their ministerial functions.
The conduct of Massillon, as a pastor and bishop, cor¬
responded to his zeal. He abolished those indecent pro¬
cessions which ages of ignorance had until then perpe¬
tuated amongst the people; and put down certain super¬
stitious usages, of which mention is made in the Origines
of Clermont. On the subject of the bull Unigenitus, re¬
specting the liberties of the Gallican church, he directed
that, for the sake of peace, it should be received ; but he
disapproved of the appeal, as contrary to the opinion of the
majority of the bishops. All his actions were character¬
ized by a wise and amiable moderation. At his country-
house he took pleasure in assembling members of the Ora¬
tory and Jesuits, whom he engaged in parties at chess, at
the same time enjoining them never to make war upon
each other in any more serious contest. His charitable
was not less effective than his religious zeal. He suc¬
coured the indigent with his pen as well as his credit.
His letters on this subject equalled the most touching of his
discourses, by the feelings of humanity which they raised,
and the generous results which they produced. He is
said to have remonstrated against the injustice of the war
of 1741; and it is certain that he addressed the minister
of the day on the excess of the imposts laid on the pro¬
vince of Auvergne, of which he obtained a considerable
diminution. In a word, his whole life was a practical
commentary on the divine precepts which he had so elo¬
quently enforced ; and he died, as he had lived, breathing
sentiments of the most exalted piety, and leaving behind
him neither money nor debts. His death, which was oc¬
casioned by apoplexy, took place on the 18th of Septem¬
ber 1742.
The collection of the works of the Bishop of Clermont,
made by his nephew, Father Joseph Massillon, priest of
the Oratory and prefect of the College of Riom, is really the
first. It contains, 1. Sermons to the number of nearly an
hundred, of which the Petit-Carcme discourses, though
the last in date, form the first in order; 2. Conferences
Synodaux, Mandements, et Discours Synodaux; 3. Para¬
phrase de Plusieurs Psaumes, thirty-one in number; 4.
Pensees sur differents Sujets de Morale et de Piete ; 5.
Discours inedit sur le Danger de Mauvaises Lectures, fol¬
lowed by various other pieces ; 6. Fragment of the Sermon
delivered at the Quinze-Vingts, in presence of the Duch¬
ess of Orleans, forming part of the Morceaux Choisies de
Massillon, ou Recueil de ce que ses ecrits ont de plus par-
fait sous le rapport du style et de feloquence, published
by Renouard, Paris, 1812; 7. Rituel du Diocese de Cler¬
mont, ; 8. Lettres, eight in number. The Eloge de Mas-
sillon by D’Alembert was read to the French Academy in
1774, and printed in the first volume of the History of the
Academy in 1719. Besides this Eloge, the reader may
consult the Principes and the Essai sur VEloquence de
la Chaire of the Abbe Maury, and the Cours de Littera-
> ure of Laharpe, both of whom have criticised with ability
tne eloquence of Massillon. Marmontel, in his Memoires,
las traced a portrait of the venerable prelate, whom he had
&een at^Beauregard, a country-seat belonging to the bishop¬
ric of Clermont. ' ^ ^1
MASSINGER, Philip, a distinguished dramatic wri-
</er, was born at Salisbury in 1584, and educated at Wil¬
ton, the seat of the Earl of Pembroke, to whose family his
father was attached. In May 1602, he became a com-
monei of Alban Hall, Oxford, where he studied for some
time; but he left the university abruptly, without taking
a degiee, probably in consequence of having exchanged
the Protestant for the Catholic religion. “ A close and
repeated perusal of Massinger’s works,” says Mr Gifford,
“ has convinced me that he was a Catholic.” But what-
t \ei might be the cause, the period of his misfortunes
MAS
commenced with his arrival in London, where he was At
flriv£>n Tnr liic r»o/^ocoi4-i/'»c« 4-s^ /T/~»/T‘H~-C 4.^ ai _ . ‘wSlUj!
driven by his necessities to dedicate himself to the services^?
of the stage. This expedient, though not the most pru- ^
dent, nor indeed the most encouraging to a young adven¬
turer, w'as not altogether hopeless. Men who w ill ever be
considered as the pride and boast of their country, Shak-
speare, Jonson, and Fletcher, were solely, or in a consider¬
able degree, dependent upon it; nor were there wanting
others of an inferior rank, such as Rowley, Middleton,
Field, Decker, Shirley, and Ford, writers to whom Massin¬
ger, without any impeachment of his modesty, might con¬
sider himself as fully equal, who subsisted on the emolu¬
ments derived from dramatic writing. Little is known of
him, however, from the year 1606, the period of his first
appearance in London, until 1622, when his Virgin Martyr,
the first of his printed works, was given to the public!
This long interval of sixteen years Mr Gifford endeavours
to account for, by supposing that at first his modesty de¬
terred him from attempting to write alone, and that he lent
his assistance to others of a more confirmed reputation,
who could depend upon a ready vent for their joint produc!
tions. He afterwards produced in succession a variety of
plays, of which ten or twelve have been lost, and eighteen
preserved. Massinger died on the 17th of March 1640.
He w^ent to bed in good health, and was found dead in the
morning, in his own house on the Bankside. He w>as bu¬
ried in the churchyard of St Saviour’s ; but it does not ap¬
pear that a stone, or inscription of any kind, marked the
spot where his dust was deposited; and even the memo¬
rial of his mortality is given wuth a pathetic brevity, which
accords but too wrell with the obscure and humble pas¬
sages of his life. Of his private life so little is knowm that
all his editor has presumed to give is merely the history of
the successive appearance of his works, for which the rea¬
der is referred to Mr Gifford’s Introduction. But though
w e are ignorant of every circumstance respecting Massin¬
ger, except that he lived, wrote, and died, wre may yet form
to ourselves some conception of his personal character from
the incidental hints which are scattered throughout his
w'orks. In what light he wras regarded, may be collected
from the recommendatory poems prefixed to his several
plays, in which his panegyrists express an attachment, ap¬
parently derived not so much from his talents as his vir¬
tues. All the writers of his life unite in representing him
as a man of singular modesty, gentleness, candour, and af¬
fability ; nor does it appear that he ever made or found an
enemy. He speaks, indeed, of opponents on the stage;
but the contention of rival candidates for popular favour
must not be confounded with personal hostility. Yet, not¬
withstanding all this, he appears to have maintained a con¬
stant struggle wuth adversity ; since not only the stage,
from which his natural reserve seems to have prevented him
from deriving the usual advantages, but even the bounty of
his particular friends, on which he chiefly relied, left him
in a state of absolute dependence. Jonson, Fletcher, Shir¬
ley, and others not superior to him in abilities, had their
periods of good fortune, their bright as well as their stormy
hours ; but Massinger seems to have enjoyed no gleam of
sunshine. His life was all one wintry day, and shadows,
clouds, and darkness rested on it. Davies finds a servility
in his dedications which no one else has been able to dis¬
cover. 1 hey are principally characterized by gratitude and
humility, without a single trait of that gross and servile
adulation which distinguishes and disgraces the addresses
of some of his contemporaries. Poverty made him no flat¬
terer, and, what is still more rare, no maligner, of the great;
nor is there one symptom of envy manifested in any part
of his compositions. His patriotism is unimpeached, and
his morality is superior to that of his contemporaries. His
loyalty is combined w ith just and rational ideas of political
freedom ; and guilt of every kind is usually left to the pa-
MAS
nfe nishment of divine justice. Nor is the rectitude of his
mind less apparent in the uniform respect with which he
Ma: treats religion and its ministers. No priests are introduced
by him, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to
laugh at their licentious follies; the sacred name is not
lightly invoked nor daringly sported with ; nor is Scripture
profaned by blasphemous distortions or buffoon allusions
put into the mouths of fools and women. Compared with
the other dramatic writers of his age, Massinger appears
more natural in his characters, and more poetical in his
diction, than Jonson or Cartwright, more elevated and ner¬
vous than Fletcher, the only writers who can be supposed
to contest his pre-eminence. It must indeed be confessed,
that in comedy he falls considerably below Shakspeare. His
wit is less brilliant, and his ridicule less delicate and va¬
rious ; but, in his Great Duke of Florence, he exhibits a
specimen of elegant comedy, of which there is no arche¬
type in the productions of his great predecessor. In tra¬
gedy he is rather eloquent than pathetic. If not a master
of the passions, he is a powerful ruler of the understand¬
ing; with the heavy disadvantage of succeeding Shakspeare,
there is still much original beauty in his works; and the
most extensive acquaintance with poetry will hardly dimi¬
nish the pleasure which they afford on perusal. His occa¬
sional grossness is to be considered as the vice of the age
rather than as the fault of the writer. Of the editions of
Hell in 1761 and Davies in 1779 it is unnecessary to say
any thing, much less to point out their numerous faults and
imperfections. They have been completely superseded by
that of Mr Gifford, which has revived the fame of Massin¬
ger, and fulfilled the most sanguine expectations of the
lovers of our dramatic literature. This, which is perhaps
the most correct edition of any of our ancient poets, was
published in 1805, in four vols. 8vo, and reprinted in 1813.
It displays a genuine spirit of research, united with great
acuteness and critical ability, in detecting and rectifying
the mistakes of former editors ; and it admirably explains
the customs, and manners, and language which obtained at
the time when Massinger lived and wrote. (A0
MASSIVE, amongst builders, an epithet given to what¬
ever is heavy and solid. Thus a massive column is one
short and thick for the order whose capital it bears; and
a massive wall is one the openings or lights of which are
small in proportion.
MASS UAH, a town of Egypt, situated on an island of
the Red Sea, not more than three quarters of a mile in
length. Ihe houses are built chiefly of wooden poles and
thatch; but a few are composed of a kind of stone, in
which shells are embedded. When the commerce with
India flowed through this channel, the trade of Massuah
was very extensive ; but it declined, and the town fell into
decay, when the Turks, who had subjugated it, established
there an arbitrary and barbarous government. It has since
japidly declined in importance; but. its situation necessari-
y enables it to command some trade, by rendering it the
only mart for the commodities which Abyssinia produces.
Its intercourse is almost entirely with Mocha and Jidda,
on the opposite coast; and from these ports it brings India
cotton, wool, and piece-goods, European iron, copper, and
manufactured articles, to the amount of about 400,000
dollars annually. The exports are the usual African sta-
ples, rhinoceros’horns, gold, ivory, honey, slaves, and wax.
tassuah is governed by a naybe, who has now acquired an
a aiost independent authority, and levies ten per cent, ad
cff/orem on all goods which pass through the place.
MAST, a long round piece of timber, elevated perpen¬
dicularly upon the keel of a ship, to which are attached the
vm s, the sails, and the rigging. See Ship-Building.
Ihe mast which is placed at the middle of the ship’s
e»gth is called the main-mast; that which is placed in the
we part, the fore-mast; and that which is towards the
nem is termed the mizen-mast.
M A S
311
Master
MASTER, a title given to several officers and persons
of authority and command, particularly to the chiefs of the
orders of knighthood, and some others. Thus we say, the Master of
grand master of Malta, of St Lazarus, of the golden fleece, the Rolls-
of the free masons, and so of others.
Master^ (Magister) was a title frequent amongst the
Romans. They had their master of the people, magister
populi, who was the dictator; the master of the cavalry,
magister equitum, who held the second post in an army af¬
ter the dictator ; and there were also masters of the infan¬
try, magistri peditum, and a master of the census, magister
census, who had nothing of the charge of a censor, or sub¬
censor, as the name seems to intimate, but was the same
with the propositus frumentariorum.
Master of the Militia (magister militice) was an officer in
the lower empire, created, as is said, by Diocletian, and
having the inspection and government of all the forces,
somewhat like a constable of France. At first there were two
of these officers instituted, the one for the infantry and
the other for the cavalry; but the two were united into
one under Constantine. Afterwards, as their power was
increased, so was also their number; and there was one
appointed for the court, another for Thrace, a third for
the East, and a fourth for Illyria. They were afterwards
called comites and clarissimi. Their power was only a
branch of that of \X\eprcefectusprcetorii, who by this means
became a civil officer.
Master of Arms (magister armorum) was an officer or
comptroller under the master of the militia.
Master of ihe Offices (magister officiorum) had the su¬
perintendence of all the officers of the court; he was also
called magister officii palatini, simply magister, and his post
magisteria. This officer was the same in the western em¬
pire with the curopalates in the eastern.
Master at Arms is an officer appointed to teach the of¬
ficers and crew of a ship of war the exercise of small arms,
to confine and plant sentinels over prisoners, and to super¬
intend whatever relates to them during their confinement.
Master of Arts, the first degree taken in foreign uni¬
versities, but the second in ours; candidates not being ad¬
mitted to it till they have studied in the university a cer¬
tain number of years.
Master-Attendant is an officer in the royal dock-yards,
appointed to hasten and assist at the fitting out or dis¬
mantling, removing or securing vessels of war and others,
at the port where he resides.
Master of the Ceremonies is an officer instituted by
King James I. for the more solemn and honourable recep¬
tion of ambassadors and strangers of quality, whom he in¬
troduces into the presence.
Masters of Chancery are usually chosen out of the bar¬
risters of the common law, and sit in chancery, or at the
rolls, as assistants to the Lord Chancellor and the Master
of the Rolls.
Master of the Horse is reckoned the third great officer
of the court, and is an office of great honour and antiquity,
and always, when not put in commission, filled by noble¬
men of the highest rank and abilities.
Master of the Household is an officer under the trea¬
surer of the household. His business is to survey the ac¬
counts of the household.
Master of the Mint was anciently the title of him who
is now called Warden of the Mint, whose office is to re¬
ceive the silver and bullion which comes to the mint to be
coined, and to take charge thereof.
Master oj the Ordnance. See Ordnance.
Master oj the Ilevels, an officer whose business it was
to order all things relating to the performance of plays,
masks, balls, and other amusements, at court.
Master of the Rolls, a patent officer for life, who has the
custody of the rolls and patents which pass the great seal,
and of the records of the chancery. In the absence of the
312
MAS
mat
Master Lord Chancellor or Lord Keeper, he also sits as judge in
ot a Ship thg court of chancery, and is by Sir Edward Coke called
,, '*,• his assistant. At other times he hears causes in the rolls
tam. * chapel, and makes orders and decrees. He is also the first
. of the masters of chancery, and has their assistance at the
rolls; but all hearings before him are appealable to the
Lord Chancellor.
Master of a Ship, an officer to whom is committed the
direction of a merchant vessel, who commands it in chief,
and is charged with the merchandises on board.
Master of a Ship of War is an officer appointed by the
commissioners of the navy, to take charge of navigating a
ship from port to port under the direction of the captain.
Master of the Temple. The founder of the order of the
Templars, and all his successors, were called magni templi
magistri; and ever since the dissolution of the order the
spiritual guide and director of the house is called by that
name.
Master Load, in mining, a term used to express the
larger vein of a metal, in places where there are several
veins in the same mountain. Thus it happens that there
are seven, sometimes five, but more usually three veins or
loads, parallel to each other, in the same mountain. Of
these the middle vein is the largest, and is called the mas¬
ter load.
MASTICATION, the action of chewing or agitating
the solid parts of our food between the teeth, by the mo¬
tion of the jaws, the tongue, and the lips, whereby it is
broken into small pieces, impregnated with saliva, and so
fitted for deglutition and a more easy digestion.
MASTICH, a kind of resin exuding from the lenticus
tree, and brought from Chio, in small yellowish transpa¬
rent grains or tears, of an agreeable smell, especially when
heated or set on fire.
MASTICOT, Massicot, or Yellow Lead, is the calx
or ashes of lead, gently calcined, by which it is changed to
yellow of lighter or deeper tint, according to the degree of
calcination.
MASTIFF Dog, Band Dog (canis villaticus or cate-
narius), is a species of great size and strength, and having
a very loud bark. See Mammalia.
MASTIGADOUR, or Slabbering-bit, in the manege,
a snaffle of iron, all smooth, and of a piece, guarded with
paternosters, and composed of three halfs of great rings,
made into demi-ovals of unequal size, the lesser being
enclosed within the greater, which ought to be about half
a foot high.
MASULI, a large island, 160 miles long by 60 broad,
formed by the Brahmaputra River. It is intersected
throughout by channels of communication, by which it i§
converted into a cluster of islands. It is of a very rich soil.
MASULIPATAM, or Muchilipatam, a considerable
sea-port of Hindustan, in the Northern Circars, and district
of Condapilly. It is defended by a fort, which is of an oblong
square figure, 800 yards in length by 600 in breath, and
situated in the midst of a salt morass, close to an inlet or
canal, which communicates with the sea and the Krishna,
so that the adjoining grounds may be inundated at plea¬
sure ; and this constitutes its principal defence. The town
is situated a mile and a half to the north-west of the fort,
on a plat of ground rising above the fort, and communi¬
cates with the fort by a strait causeway 2000 yards in
length. It is extensive, and is bounded by another morass,
which is never dry, even in the driest season. Masulipa-
tam is situated in a fertile and well-watered territory, and
has been long famous for the manufacture of chintzes,
which are not, however, so handsome nor of so good a qua¬
lity as European chintzes. It carries on an extensive trade
with China, Pegu, Bengal, Persia, and Arabia. Masuli-
patam is the only port from Cape Comorin at which the
sea is still, and it is capable of receiving vessels of 300
tons burden. It became at an early period a great com-
mercial resort, and still carries on an extensive trade; but *'
rice is yet an article of import, notwithstanding the fertili- M«er
ty of the adjacent country. To the Maidive Islands chintz JleJie
goods and snuff are exported, and cocoa nuts brought back'^v>
in return. In one year the number of vessels that left the
harbour was 755, measuring 31,277 tons; and those that ar¬
rived amounted to 727 vessels, measuring 31,048 tons. The
Mahommedans conquered Masulipatam in the year 1480.
It afterwards came into the possession of the nizam of the
Deccan, by whom it was made over to the French in 1751,
From them the British took it by storm in 1759, and have
ever since retained possession of it; and it is now the resi¬
dence of the judge, collector, &c. of the district. It is 764
miles travelling distance from Calcutta, 1084 from Delhi,
292 from Madras, and 203 from Hyderabad. Long. 81
10. E. Lat. 16. 10. N.
MASWEY, a town of Hindustan, in the nabob of Glide’s
territories, and district of Lucknow, 16 miles north-north¬
east from the city of Lucknow. Long. 80. 40. E. Lat. 27
4. N.
MATAN, a small island amongst the Philippines, near
the port of Sibu, where the celebrated Magellan was kill¬
ed in 1521, in an engagement with the natives.
MAT ARAM, a large town of Asia, formerly the capi¬
tal of an empire of that name in the island of Java. It is
strong by situation, and is seated in a very fertile, plea¬
sant, and populous country, surrounded with mountains.
Long. 111. 25. E. Lat. 7. 55. S.
MATARO, a city of the province of Catalonia, in Spain.
It is about four leagues from Barcelona, in a fertile district,
which produces large quantities of the red wine called
Bencarlo. It is also a place of considerable manufactures,
and makes silks of various kinds, cotton goods, laces, and
glass ware. It contains about 15,000 inhabitants, who are
very industrious and rich.
MATCH, a kind of rope, slightly twisted, and prepared
to retain fire for the uses of artillery, mines, fireworks, and
the like.
MATE of a Ship of War, an officer under the direction
of the master, by whose choice he is generally appointed,
to assist him in the several branches of his duty. Accord¬
ingly, he is to be particularly attentive to the navigation
in his watch, to keep the log regularly, and examine the
line and glasses by which the ship’s course is measured,
and to adjust the sails to the wind in the fore part of the
ship. He is to have a diligent attention to the cables, see¬
ing that they are well coiled and kept clean when laid in
the tier, and sufficiently served when employed to ride the
ship. Finally, he is to superintend and assist at the stow¬
age of the hold, taking especial care that all the ballast and
provisions are properly stowed therein.
Mate of a Merchant Ship, the officer who commands in
the absence of the master thereof, and shares the duty
with him at sea; being charged with everything that re¬
gards the internal management of the ship, the direction
of her course, and the government of her crew.
MATERA, a city, the capital of a district of the same
name, in the province of Basilicata, in the kingdom of Na¬
ples. It is the seat of the Archbishop of Matera and Ace-
renza, is well built, and contains, besides a cathedral, six
monasteries, with their churches, a collegiate institution for
the education of nobles, and a Latin public school. The
.population amounts to 11,150.
MATERIA MEDICA. The signification given to
this term by different authors has varied very much in¬
deed, some employing it to denote the whole range, and
others only a particular department, of that branch of me¬
dical science which relates to the means employed for the
prevention or in the treatment of diseases. Prophylactic
or preventive and remedial or curative means may be re-
MAT
rfjte a ferret! to three principal divisions; 1st, the performance of
Hed a manual operations ; 2d, the regulation of what have been
[II termed the non-naturals, as of diet, exercise, temperature,
aftie*3- clothing, &c.; and, 3d, the employment of medicinal sub-
toc stances. Manual operations, as far as their mode of per-
l^v’ formance is concerned, fall under the domain of surgery;
the regulation of the non-naturals is the object of dietetics
and hygiene. As to the third division, medicinal sub¬
stances, they may be considered either in reference to the
sources from which they are derived, or to the modes in
which they are prepared for medical use ; or they may be
considered, along with the other two classes of means, in
reference to the immediate purposes for which they are
employed in the treatment of diseases, and the indications
which they are intended to fulfil. Now, the term materia
medica has by some been understood as embracing the
consideration of remedies in all these respects. But by
others, and, as we conceive, more correctly, it has been li¬
mited to signify the natural and commercial history of me¬
dicinal substances. Those processes by which medicinal
substances are fitted for use constitute the department of
pharmacy, whilst the purposes for which remedies are em¬
ployed form the objects of consideration in therapeutics.
Some have employed the word pharmacology as a general
term, to include the whole of the knowledge that has been
obtained relative to remedies.
The natural and commercial history of medicinal sub¬
stances, materia medica properly so called, and the means
by which they are rendered fit for internal administration
or external application in the treatment of diseases, or
pharmacy, are subjects of great importance to the medical
practitioner; but it would scarcely be possible to render
them interesting to the general reader, and we are unwil¬
ling, therefore, to occupy our pages in their discussion.
The case is different, however, in regard to the action of
M A T 313
remedies upon the human economy, or therapeutics. It is, Material
we think, of great importance that the public generally II
should understand what are the immediate objects which Mathema-
medical practitioners propose to themselves to effect by the, _,tlc's' ^ ,
administration of remedies in the treatment of diseases, or
the changes in the morbid actions of the economy, by which
they endeavour to restore it to a healthy condition. The
want of accurate notions on this subject is the source of
much of that encouragement which quackery receives,
whether practised by irregular or by regular practitioners,
and which unfortunately is by no means confined to the
less educated classes of society. Under the article The¬
rapeutics, therefore, we shall endeavour to give a popular
view of medical indications, and of the means by which
they may be fulfilled.
MATERIAL denotes something composed of matter,
in which sense the word is opposed to immaterial. See
Metaphysics.
MATERIALISTS, a sect in the ancient church, com¬
posed of persons who, being prepossessed with the maxim
of the ancient philosophy, Exnihilo nihil Jit, out of nothing
can arise nothing, had recourse to an eternal matter, upon
which they supposed that God wrought in the creation,
instead of admitting that God alone was the sole cause of
the existence of all things. Tertullian vigorously opposes
the doctrine of the materialists in his treatise against Her-
mogenes, who was one of their number.
Materialists is also a name given to those who main¬
tain that the soul of man is material; or that the princi¬
ple of perception and thought is not a substance distinct
from the body, but merely a result of corporeal organi¬
zation. (See Metaphysics.) There are others called
by this name, who, like Spinoza, have maintained that there
is nothing but matter in the universe, and that the Deity
himself is material.
MATHEMATICS.
Initi
■tor'
. MATHEMATICS are divided into two kinds, pure and
mixed. In pure mathematics magnitude is considered in
the abstract; and as they are founded on the simplest no¬
tions of quantity, the conclusions to which they lead have
the same evidence and certainty as the elementary prin¬
ciples from which these conclusions are deduced. This
branch of mathematics comprehends, 1. Arithmetic, which
treats of the properties of numbers ; 2. Geometry, which
treats of extension as endowed with three dimensions,
length, breadth, and thickness, without considering the
physical qualities inseparable from bodies in their natural
state ; 3. Algebra, sometimes called universal arithmetic,
which compares together all kinds of quantities, whatever
be their value; and 4. The direct and inverse method of
fluxions, or the differential and integral calcidi, which con¬
sider magnitudes as divided into two kinds, constant and
variable, the variable magnitudes being generated by mo¬
tion, and which determines the value of quantities from
the velocities of the motions with which they are generat¬
ed. Mixed mathematics are the application of pure ma¬
thematics to certain established physical principles, and
comprehend all the physico-mathematical sciences, as, 1.
mechanics ; 2. hydrodynamics ; 3. optics ; 4. astronomy ;
o. acoustics ; 6. electricity ; and, 7. magnetism.
In attempting to discover the origin of arithmetic and
geometry, it would be a fruitless task to conduct the
reader into those ages of fable which preceded the records
of authentic history. Our means of information upon
this subject are extremely limited and imperfect; and it
would but ill accord with the dignity of a science the
principles and conclusions of which are alike irresistible, to
VOL. xiv.
place its history upon a conjectural or fabulous basis. But
notwithstanding the obscurity in which the early history
of the sciences is enveloped, one thing appears certain,
that arithmetic and geometry, and some of the physical
sciences, had made considerable progress in Egypt, when
the mysteries and theology of that favoured kingdom were
transplanted into Greece. It is highly probable that much
natural and moral knowledge was taught in the Eleusinian
and Dionysian mysteries, which the Greeks borrowed from
the Egyptians ; and that several of the Grecian philoso¬
phers were induced by this circumstance to travel into
Egypt in search of those higher degrees of knowledge
which an acquaintance with the Egyptian mysteries had
taught them to look for in that country.
We accordingly find that Thales and Pythagoras wrere Thales,
successively under the tuition of the Egyptian priests, and
returned into Greece loaded with the intellectual trea¬
sures of Egypt. By the establishment of the Ionian school
at Miletus, Thales instructed his countrymen in the know¬
ledge which he had received, and gave birth to that spirit
of investigation and discovery with which his followers
were inspired. He taught them the method of ascertain¬
ing the height of the pyramids of Memphis by the length
of their shadows; and there is reason to believe that he
was the first who employed the circumference of a circle
for the mensuration of angles. That he was the author of
greater discoveries, which have been either lost or ascrib¬
ed to others, there can be little doubt; but these are the
only facts in the history of Thales of which we have any
certain information.
The science of arithmetic was one of the chief branches
2 R
314
MATHEMATIC S.
II 1
Mathema- of the Pythagorean discipline. Pythagoras attached se-
tics. veral mysterious virtues to certain combinations of num-
bers. He swore by four, which he regarded as the chief
xa"°" of numbers. In the number three he supposed that many
wonderful properties existed; and he regarded a know¬
ledge of arithmetic as the chief good. But of all Pytha¬
goras’s discoveries in arithmetic, none has reached our
times except his multiplication table. In geometry, how¬
ever, the philosopher of Samos seems to have been more
successful. The discovery of the celebrated proposition
which forms the forty-seventh of the first book of Euclid’s
Elements, that in every right-angled triangle the square
of the side subtending the right angle is equal to the sum
of the squares of the two sides containing it, has immor¬
talized his name ; and whether we consider the inherent
beauty of the proposition, or the extent of its application
in the mathematical sciences, we cannot fail to class it
amongst the most important truths in geometry. From
the same proposition its author concluded that the diago¬
nal of a square is incommensurable with its side ; and this
gave occasion to the discovery of several general properties
of other incommensurable lines and numbers.
(Enopidus During the time which elapsed between the birth of
and Zeno- Pythagoras and the destruction of the Alexandrian school,
dorus. tjie mathematical sciences were cultivated with great ar¬
dour and success. Many of the elementary propositions
of geometry were discovered during this period ; but his¬
tory does not enable us to refer each discovery to its pro¬
per author. The method of letting fall a perpendicular
upon a right line from a given point (Euclid, b. i. prop.
11), of dividing an angle into two equal parts (Euclid, b.
i. prop. 9), and of making an angle equal to a given angle
(Euclid, b. i. prop. 23), were invented by (Enopidus of
Chios. About the same time Zenodorus, some of whose
writings have been preserved by Theon in his commen¬
tary on Ptolemy, demonstrated, in opposition to the opi¬
nion then entertained, that isoperimetrical figures have
equal areas. Coeval with this discovery was that of the
theory of regular bodies, for which we are indebted to the
Pythagorean school.
Duplica- About this time the celebrated problem of the duplica-
cube°*tiie ^0ri t^ie cu^e began to occupy the attention of the
Greek geometers. In this problem it was required to
construct a cube whose solid content should be double
that of a given cube ; and the assistance of no other in¬
strument but the rule and compasses was to be employed.
The origin of this problem has been ascribed by tradition
to a demand of one of the Grecian deities. The Athe¬
nians having, offered some affront to Apollo, were afflicted
with a dreadful pestilence; and upon consulting the oracle
at Delos, received for answer, “ Double the altar of Apol¬
lo.” The altar alluded to happened to be cubical; and
the problem, supposed to be of divine origin, was investi¬
gated with ardour by the Greek geometers, though it af¬
terwards baffled all their acuteness. The solution of this
difficulty was attempted by Hippocrates of Chios. He
discovered, that if two mean proportionals could be found
between the side of the given cube and the double of that
side, the first of these proportionals would be the side of
the cube sought. In order to effect this, Plato invented
an instrument composed of two rules, one of which moved
in grooves cut in two arms at right angles to the other,
so as always to continue parallel with it; but as this me¬
thod was mechanical, and likewise supposed the descrip¬
tion of a curve of the third order, it did not satisfy the
pure taste of the ancient geometers. The doctrine of
conic sections, which was at this time introduced into
geometry by Plato, and which was so widely extended as
to receive the name of the “ higher geometry,” was suc¬
cessfully employed in the problem of doubling the cube.
Menechmus found that the two mean proportionals men¬
tioned by Hippocrates might be considered as the ordi-q a
nates of two conic sections, which being constructed ac- titT3
cording to the conditions of the problem, would intersect
one another in two points proper for the solution of the
problem. The question having assumed this form, gave
rise to the theory of geometrical loci, of winch so many
important applications have been made. In doubling the
cube, therefore, we have only to employ the instruments
which have been invented for describing the conic sec¬
tions by one continued motion. It was afterwards found
that instead of employing two conic sections, the problem
could be solved by the intersection of the circle of the pa¬
rabola. Succeeding geometers employed other curves for
this purpose, such as the conchoid of Nicomedes and the
cissoid of Diodes. An ingenious method of finding the two
mean proportionals, without the aid of the conic sections
was afterwards given by Pappus in his mathematical col¬
lections.
M
}
Another celebrated problem, the trisection of an angle, Thetr*
was agitated in the school of Plato. It was found that thistionofF
problem depended upon principles analogous to those of^gk
the duplication of the cube, and that it could be constructed
either by the intersection of two conic sections, or by the
intersection of a circle with a parabola. Without the aid of
the conic sections, it was reduced to this simple proposition:
To draw a line to a semicircle from a given point, which
line shall cut its circumference, and the prolongation of the
diameter that forms its base, so that the part of the line
comprehended between the two points of intersection shall
be equal to the radius. From this proposition several easy
constructions may be derived. Dinostratus of the Plato¬
nic school, and the contemporary of Menechmus, invented
a curve by which the preceding problem might be solved.
It had the advantage also of giving the multiplication of
an angle, and the quadrature of a circle, from which it de¬
rived the name of quadratrix.
Whilst Hippocrates of Chios was paving the way for the Hippo-
method of doubling the cube, which was afterwards givencrate5,
by Pappus, he distinguished himself by the quadrature of
the lunulae of the circle ; and had from this circumstance
the honour of being the first who found a curvilineal area
equal to a space bounded by right lines. He was likewise
the author of Elements of Geometry, a work which, though
highly approved of by his contemporaries, has shared the
same fate with some of the most valuable productions of
antiquity.
After the conic sections had been introduced into geo-Conicsec-
metry by Plato, they received many important additions do115'
from Eudoxus, Menechmus, and Aristeus. The latter of
these philosophers wrote five books on conic sections,
which, unfortunately for science, have not reached our times.
About this time appeared Euclid’s Elements of Geome-Euclid,
try, a work which has been employed for two thousand
years in teaching the principles of mathematics, and whic|i
is still reckoned the most complete work upon the subject.
Peter Ramus has ascribed to Theon both the propositions
and the demonstrations in Euclid. But it is the opinion
of some that the propositions belong to Euclid and the
demonstrations to Theon, whilst others have ascribed to
Euclid the honour of both. It seems most probable, how¬
ever, that Euclid merely collected and arranged the geo¬
metrical knowledge of the ancients; and that he supplied
many new propositions in order to form that chain of rea¬
soning which runs through his Elements. This great work
of the Greek geometer consists of fifteen books, eleven ot
which contain the elements of pure geometry, and the
rest embrace the general theory of ratios, together with
the leading properties of commensurable and incommensu¬
rable numbers.
Archimedes, the greatest geometrician amongst the an-M1111
cients, flourished about half a century after Euclid. Hedes'
ithe>
tics
olio-
MATHEMATICS.
was the first who found the ratio between the diameter of
a circle and its circumference; and, by a method of ap¬
proximation, he determined this ratio to be as 7 to 22.
This result was obtained by taking an arithmetical mean
between the perimeters of the inscribed and circumscrib¬
ed polygon, and is sufficiently accurate for every practical
purpose. Many attempts have since been made to as¬
sign the precise ratio of the circumference of a circle to
its diameter; but, in the present state of geometry, this
problem does not seem to admit of a solution. The limits
of the present article will not permit us to enlarge upon
the discoveries of the philosopher of Syracuse. We can
only state, that he discovered that the superficies of a
sphere is equal to the convex surface of the circumscrib¬
ed cylinder, or to the area of four of its great circles, and
that the solidity of the sphere is to that of the cylinder as
3 to 2. He discovered that the solidity of the paraboloid
is one half that of the circumscribed cylinder, and that
the area of the parabola is two thirds that of the circum¬
scribed rectangle ; and he was the first who pointed out
the method of drawing tangents and forming spirals.
These discoveries are contained in his works on the di¬
mension of the circle, on the sphere and cylinder, on co¬
noids and spheroids, and on spiral lines. Archimedes was
so fond of his discovery of the proportion between the so¬
lidity of the sphere and that of the cylinder, that he or¬
dered to be placed upon his tomb a sphere inscribed in a
cylinder, and likewise the numbers which express the ra¬
tio of these solids.
Whilst geometry was thus advancing with rapid strides,
Apollonius Pergaeus, who was so called from being born at
Perga in Pamphylia, followed in the steps of Archimedes,
and widely extended the boundaries of the science. In
addition to several mathematical works, which are now
lost, Apollonius wrote a treatise on the theory of the conic
sections, which contains all their properties with relation
to their axes, their diameters, and their tangents. He
demonstrated the celebrated theorem, that the parallelo¬
gram described about the two conjugate diameters of an
ellipse or hyperbola is equal to the rectangle described
round the two axes, and that the sum or difference of the
squares of the two conjugate diameters is equal to the sum
or difference of the squares of the two axes. In his fifth book
he determines the greatest and the least lines that can be
drawn to the circumferences of the conic sections from a
given point, whether this point be situated in or out of the
axis. This work, which contains everywhere the deepest
marks of an inventive genius, procured for its author the
appellation of the Great Geometer.
'elau There is some reason to believe that the Egyptians
Ahc were a little acquainted with plane trigonometry; and
ls‘ there can be no doubt that it was known to the Greeks.
Spherical trigonometry, which is a more difficult part of
geometry, does not seem to have made any progress till
the time of Menelaus, an excellent geometrician and as¬
tronomer. In his work on spherical triangles, he gives the
method of constructing them, and of resolving most of the .
cases which were necessary in the ancient astronomy. An
introduction to spherical trigonometry had already been
given to the world by Theodosius in his Treatise on Sphe¬
rics, where he examined the relative properties of different
circles formed by cutting a sphere in all directions.
Though the Greeks had made great progress in the
science ol geometry, they do not seem to have hitherto
considered quantity in general or in the abstract. In the
writings of Plato we can discover something like traces of
geometrical analysis; and in the seventh proposition of
Archimedes’s work on the sphere and the cylinder, these
| traces are more distinctly marked. He reasons about un¬
known magnitudes as if they were known, and he finally
arnves at an analogy, which, when transferred into the
315
language of algebra, gives an equation of the third degree, Mathema-
which leads to the solution of the problem. tics-
* It was, however, reserved for Diophantus to lay the^T^  
foundation of the modern analysis, by his invention of the?lophan'
analysis of indeterminate problems ; for the method which ‘
he employed in the resolution of these problems has a
striking analogy to the present mode of resolving equa¬
tions of the first and second degrees. He was likewise
the author of thirteen books on arithmetic, several of
which are now lost. The works of Diophantus were ho¬
noured with a commentary by the beautiful and learned
Hypatia, the daughter of Theon. But the same fanaticism
which led to the murder of this accomplished female was
probably the cause that her works have not descended to
posterity.
Near to the end of the fourth century of the Christian Pappus,
era, Pappus of Alexandria published his mathematical col¬
lections, a work which, besides many new propositions of
his own, contains the most valuable productions of ancient
geometry. Out of the eight books of which this work con¬
sisted, two have been lost; and the rest are occupied with
questions in geometry, astronomy, and mechanics.
Diodes, whom we have already had occasion to men- Diodes,
tion as the inventor of the cissoid, discovered the solution
of a problem proposed by Archimedes, namely, to cut a
sphere by a plane in a given ratio. The solution of Diodes
has been conveyed to us by Eutocius, who wrote com¬
mentaries on some of the works of Archimedes and Apol¬
lonius, in the year 520. About the time of Diodes flou¬
rished Serenus, who wrote two books on the cylinder and
cone, which have been published at the end of Halley’s
edition of Apollonius.
Geometry was likewise indebted to Proclus, the headprodus.
of the Platonic school at Athens, not only for his patron¬
age of men of science, but also for his commentary on the
first book of Euclid. Mathematics were likewise cultivated
by Marines, the author of the Introduction to Euclid’s
Data ; by Isidorus of Miletus, who was a disciple of Pro¬
clus ; and by Hero the younger, whose work, entitled Geo-
desia, contains the method of determining the area of a
triangle from its three sides.
Whilst the mathematical sciences were thus flourishing Destruc-
in Greece, and were so successfully cultivated by the phi-tion of the
losophers of the Alexandrian school, their very existence AJ.exaip
was threatened by one of those great revolutions with,dnan li_
v • i . i i , v' i , .... brary.
. ^ °
which the world has been convulsed. The dreadful ra
vages which were committed by the successors of Ma-
hommed in Egypt, in Persia, and in Syria, the destruction
of the Alexandrian library by the caliph Omar, and the
dispersion of a number of those illustrious men who had
flocked to Alexandria as the cultivators of science, gave a
deadly blow to the progress of geometry. When the fa¬
naticism of the Mahommedan religion, however, had sub¬
sided, and the termination of war had turned the minds of
the Arabs to the pursuits of peace, the arts and sciences
engaged their affection, and they began to rekindle those
very intellectual lights which they had so assiduously en¬
deavoured to extinguish. The works of the Greek geo¬
meters were studied with care ; and the arts and sciences,
reviving under the auspices of the Arabs, were communi¬
cated in a more advanced condition to the other nations
of the world.
The system of arithmetical notation at present adopted Arabian
in every civilized Country had its origin amongst the Ara-notation'
bians. Their system of arithmetic was made known to
Europe by the famous Gerbert, afterwards Pope Sylvester
II. who travelled into Spain when it was under the domi¬
nion of that nation.
The invention of algebra has been ascrtbed to the Arabs j1UT [
by Cardan and Wallis, from the circumstance of their of Algebra
using the words square^ cube, quadrato-quadratum, &c. in-
316
MATHEMATICS.
bians in
geometry.
Algebra
Mathema- stead of the second, third, fourth, &c. powers, as employed
tic^ ^by Diophantus. But whatever truth there may be in this
supposition, it appears that they were able to resolve cubic,
and even biquadratic equations, as there is in the Leyden
library an Arabic manuscript, entitled the Algebra of Cu¬
bic Equations, or the Solution of Solid Problems,
ofthe Ara various works of the Greek geometers were trans-
ie" ia lated by the Arabs, and it is through the medium of an
Arabic version that the fifth and sixth books of Apollo¬
nius have descended to our times. Mahommed Ben Musa,
the author of a work on Plane and Spherical Figures, and
Geber Ben Aphla, who wrote a commentary on Plato,
gave a new form to the plane and spherical trigonometry
of the ancients. By reducing the theory of triangles to a
few propositions, and by substituting, instead of the chords
of double arcs, the sines of the arcs themselves, they sim¬
plified this important branch of geometry, and contribut¬
ed greatly to the abridgment of astronomical calculation.
A treatise on the art of surveying was likewise written by
Mahommed of Bagdad.
After the destruction of the Alexandrian school found¬
ed by Ptolemy Lagus, one of the successors of Alexander,
the dispersed Greeks continued for a while to cultivate
their favourite sciences, and exhibited some marks of that
genius which had inspired their forefathers. The magic
, squares were invented by Moschopulos, a discovery more
remarkable for its ingenuity than for its practical use.
The same subject was afterwards treated by Cornelius
Agrippa in his work on occult philosophy ; by Bachet de
Meziria, a learned algebraist, about the beginning of the
seventeenth century; and in later times by Frenicle de
Bessi, M. Poignard of Brussels, De la Hire, and Sauveur.
The science of the pure mathematics advanced with a
introduced doubtful pace during the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fif-
byLeon teenth centuries. The algebra of the Arabians was in-
ardo di Pi.tr°duced into Italy by Leonardo di Pisa, who, in the course
1202, commercial speculations in the East, had consider¬
able intercourse with the Arabs. A work on the Planisphere,
and ten books on arithmetic, were written by Jordanus
Nemorarius. The Elements of Euclid were translated by
Campanus of Novara. A work on algebra, entitled Sam-
ma de Arithmetical Geometria, Proportione et Proportion-
alitate, was published by Lucas Paccioli; and about the
same time appeared Regiomontanus’s treatise on trigono¬
metry, which contains the method of resolving spherical
triangles in general, when the three angles or three sides
are known.
During the sixteenth century, algebra and geometry
advanced with rapidity, and received many new discove¬
ries from the Italian philosophers. The formula for the
solution of equations of the third degree was discovered
by Scipio Ferri, professor of mathematics at Bologna, and
perhaps by Nicholas Tartalea of Brescia; and equations
ol the fourth order were resolved by Louis Ferrari, the
disciple of Hieronymus Cardan of Bononia. This last ma-
thematician published nine books of arithmetic in 1539 ;
and in 1545 he added a tenth, containing the doctrine of
cubic equations, which he had received in secrecy from
Tartalea, but which he had so improved as to render them
in some measure his own. The common rule for solving
cubic equations still goes by the name of Cardan’s Rule.
Ihe iiieducible case in cubic equations was successfully
illustrated by Raphael Bombelli of Bologna. He has shown
in his algebra, what was then considered as a paradox, that
the parts of the formula which represents each root in the
irreducible case, form, when taken together, a real result;
but the paradox vanished when it was seen from the de-
monstiation of Bombelli that the imaginary quantities con¬
tained in the two numbers of the formula necessarily de¬
stroyed each other by their opposite signs. About this
time Maurolycus, a Sicilian mathematician, discovered the
sa.
1228
Bombelli.
1579.
method of summing up several seriesesof numbers, such as:
the series 1, 2, 3,4, &c.; 1, 4, 9, 16, &c.; and the series of ties
triangular numbers, 1, 3, 6, 10, 15, 21, &c.
The science of analysis is under great obligations toy
Francis Vieta, a native of France. He introduced thebornr
present mode of notation, called literal, by employing the died It
letters of the alphabet to represent indefinite given quanti¬
ties ; and we are also indebted to him for the method of
transforming one equation into another, whose roots are
greater or less than those of the original equation by a
given quantity ; for the method of multiplying or dividing
their roots by any given number, of depriving equations of
the second term, and of freeing them from fractional co¬
efficients. The method which he has given for resolving
equations of the third and fourth degree is also new and in¬
genious, and his mode of obtaining an approximate solu¬
tion of equations of every order is entitled to still higher
praise. We are also indebted to Vieta for the theory.of
angular sections, the object of which is to find the general
expressions of the chords or sines for a series of arcs that
are multiples of each other.
Whilst analysis was making such progress on the con-Loga.
tinent, Napier of Merchiston in Scotland was bringing torithrmii.
perfection his celebrated discovery of the logarithms, a setvTentei
of artificial numbers, by which the most tedious operations fapier.;
in multiplication and division may be performed merely by
addition and subtraction. This discovery was published 6
at Edinburgh in 1614, in his work entitled" Logarithmorum
Canonis Descriptio, sen Arithmetica Supputaiionum Mira-
bilis Abbreviatio. It is well known that there is such a
correspondence between every arithmetical and geome-
fical progression, viz. | ^ } that an,
terms of the geometrical progression maybe multiplied or
divided by merely adding or subtracting the correspond¬
ing terms of the arithmetical progression; thus the pro¬
duct of four and eight may be found by taking the sum of
the corresponding terms in the arithmetical progression,
viz. 2 and 3, for their sum 5 points out 32 as the product
of 4 and 8. The numbers 0, 1,2, 3, &c. are therefore the
logarithms of 1, 2, 4, 8, &c. The choice of the two pro¬
gressions being altogether arbitrary, Napier took the arith¬
metical progression which we have given above, and made
the term 0 correspond with the unit of the geometrical
progression, which he regulated in such a manner that
when its terms are represented by the abscissae of an equi¬
lateral hyperbola in which the first absciss and the first or¬
dinate are equal to 1, the logarithms are represented by
the hyperbolic spaces. In consequence, however, of the
inconvenience of this geometrical progression, Napier, after
consulting upon the subject with Henry Briggs of Gresham
College, substituted the decuple progression, 1, 10, 100
1000, ot which 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, &c. are the logarithms. No
thing now remained but to construct tables of logarithms
by finding the logarithms of the intermediate numbers be
tween the terms of the decuple progression. Napier, how
ever, died before he was able to calculate these tables
but his loss was in some measure supplied by Mr Briggs
who applied himself with zeal to this arduous task, and pub¬
lished in 1618 a table of the logarithms of all numbers
from 1 to 1000. In 1624 he published another table con¬
taining the logarithms from 1000 to 20,000, and from
90,000 to 100,000. The defects in Briggs’s tables were
filled up by his friends Gellibrand and Hadrian Vlacq, who
also published new tables containing the logarithms of sines,
tangents, &c. for 90 degrees.
During the time when Napier and Briggs were doing Harriot
honour to their country by completing the system of lo-bow l^1'
garithms, algebra was making great progress in the hands "
of our countryman Harriot. His Artis Analyticce Praxis,
which appeared in 1620, contains, along with the discove-
M A T H E
^ ries of its author, a complete view of the state of algebra,
ics. He simplified the notation, by substituting small letters in-
-y'"'stead of the capitals introduced by Vieta; and he was the
first who showed that every equation beyond the first de¬
gree may be considered as produced by the multiplication
of as many simple equations as there are units in the expo¬
nent of the highest power of the unknown quantity. From
this he deduced the relation which exists between the roots
of an equation and the co-efficients of the terms of which it
consists.
iel ail About the same time, a foreign author named Fernel,
who was physician to King Henry II. of France, had the
merit of being the first wdio gave the measure of the earth.
By reckoning the number of turns made by a coach-wheel
from Amiens to Paris, till the altitude of the pole star was
increased one degree, he estimated the length of a degree
of the meridian to be 56,746 toises, which is wonderfully
near the truth. He also wrote a work on mathematics,
entitled De Proportionibus. About this time it was shown
by Peter Metius, a German mathematician, that if the dia¬
meter of a circle be 113, its circumference will be 355.
This result, so very near the truth, and expressed in so few
figures, has preserved the name of its author,
arte. The next author whose labours here claim our attention
1^; is the illustrious Descartes. We do not allude to those
wild and ingenious speculations by which this philosopher
endeavoured to explain the celestial phenomena, but to
those great discoveries with which he enriched the kind¬
red sciences of algebra and geometry. He introduced the
present method of marking the powers of any quantity by
numerical exponents. He first explained the use of nega¬
tive roots in equations, and showed that they are as real
and useful as positive roots; the only difference between
them being founded on the different manner in which the
corresponding quantities are considered. ITe pointed out
the method of finding the number of positive and negative
toots in any equation where the roots are real; and deve¬
loped the method of indeterminates, which Vieta had ob¬
scurely hinted at.
Though Regiomontanus, Tartalea, and Bombelli, had re¬
solved several geometrical problems by means of algebra,
('et the general method of applying geometry to algebra
vas first given by Vieta. It is to Descartes, however, that
ve are indebted for the beautiful and extensive use which
lie made of his discovery. His method of representing the
lature of curve lines by equations, and of arranging them
n different orders according to the equations which dis-
inguished them, opened a vast field of inquiry to subse-
|uent mathematicians; and his methods of constructing
:urves of double curvature, and of drawing tangents to
mrve lines, have contributed much to the progress of geo-
netry. The inverse method of tangents, which it was
eserved for the fluxionary calculus to bring to perfection,
'riginated at this time in a problem which Florimonde de
leauue proposed to Descartes. It was required to con-
1 tract a curve in which the ratio of the ordinate and sub-
ungent should be the same as that of a given line to the
ortion of the ordinate included between the curve and a
ne inclined at a given angle. The curve was constructed
y Descartes, and several ofits properties detected ; but he
as unable to accomplish the complete solution of the prob-
| ira. These discoveries of Descartes were studied and im-
roved by his successors, amongst whom we may number
ie celebrated Hudde, who published, in Schooten’s com-
lentary on the geometry of Descartes, an excellent me-
uidof determining whether an equation of any order con-
lins several equal roots, and of discovering the roots which
contains.
The celebrated Pascal, wdio was equally distinguished
■ i ,y library and his scientific acquirements, extended
llet le boundaries of analysis by the invention of his arithme-
M A TICS. su
tical ti iangle. By means of arbitrary numbers placed at Mathema-
the vertex of the triangle, he formed all the figurate num- tics-
bers m succession, and determined the ratio between the  '
numbers of any two cases, and the various sums resulting
from the addition of all the numbers of one rank taken in
any possible direction. Ibis ingenious invention gave
rise to the calculation of probabilities in the theory of games
of chance, and formed the foundation of an excellent trea¬
tise of Huygens, entitled Be Ratiociniis in Ludo Alece
published in 1657.
. Several curious properties of numbers were at the same Fermat ;
time discovered by Termat at Toulouse. In the theory born 1590,
of prime numbers, particularly, which had first been con-died ld63.
sidered by Eratosthenes, Fermat made great discoveries ;
and in the doctrine of indeterminate problems he seems
to have been deeply versed, having republished the arith¬
metic or Diophantus, and enriched it with many valuable
notes of his own. He invented the method of discoverino-
the maxima and minima of variable quantities, which serves
to determine the tangents of geometrical curves, and paved
the way for the invention of the fluxionary calculus.
^ Another step towards the discovery of fluxions was at Cavalleri’s
tins time made by Gavalleri in his geometry of indivisi- method of
bles. In this work, which was published in 1635, its au-indivisi-
thor supposes every plane surface to consist of an infinite bles’ 1635‘
numbei of planes ; and he lays it down as an axiom, that
these infinite sums of lines and surfaces have the same
ratio when compared with the unit in each case as the su¬
perficies and solids to be measured. This ingenious me¬
thod was employed by Cavalleri in the quadrature of the
conic sections, and in the curvature of solids generated bv
revolution ; and in order to prove the accuracy of his the¬
ory, he deduced the same results from different principles.
I robiems of a similar kind, which had been solved by Jtoberval
Fermat and Descartes, now occupied the attention of Ro- 1634.
berval. The latter of these mathematicians began his in¬
vestigation of this subject about a year before the publica¬
tion of Cavalleri’s work, and the methods which both of
them employed were so far the same as to be founded on
the principles of indivisibles. In the mode, however,
which Roberval adopted, planes and solids were consider¬
ed as composed of an infinite number of rectangles, whose
altitudes and the thickness of their sections were infinite¬
ly small. By means of this method, Roberval determined
the area of the cycloid, the centre of gravity of this area,
and the solids formed by its revolution on its axis and
base. Fie also invented a general method for tangents,
similar in metaphysical principles to that of fluxions, and
applicable both to mechanical and geometrical curves.
By means of this, he determined the tangents of the cy¬
cloid ; but there were some curves which resisted its ap¬
plication. Considering every curve as generated by the
motion of a point, Roberval regarded this point as acted
upon at every instant by two velocities which were ascer¬
tained from the nature of the curve. He constructed a
parallelogram having its sides in the same ratio as the two
velocities; and he assumed as a principle, that the direc¬
tion of the tangent must fall on the diagonal, the position
of which being ascertained, gave the position of the tan¬
gent.
In 1644, solutions of the cycloidal problems formerly Torricelli,
resolved by Roberval were published by Torricelli as in-1644.
vented by himself. The demonstrations of Roberval had
been transmitted to Galileo, the preceptor of Torricelli,
and had also been^ published, in 1637, in Mersenne’s Urn-
versal Harmony, liie Italian philosopher was consequent¬
ly accused of plagiarism by Roberval, and the charge so
deeply affected his mind as to bring him prematurely to
the grave. It is obvious, however, from the demonstra¬
tions of lorricelli, that he had never seen those of Rober¬
val, and that he was far from meriting that cruel accusa-
MATHEMATICS.
318
Mathema- tion which deprived science of one of its brightest orna-
v c ments.
Furth'Jr^ The cycloid having attracted the notice of geometers,
discoveries ^rom ^le number and singularity of its properties, the ce-
of Pascal, lebrated Pascal proposed to them a variety of new prob-
1658. lems relative to this curve, and offered prizes for their so¬
lution. These problems required the area of any cycloi¬
dal segment, the centre of gravity of that segment, the
solids, and the centres of gravity of the solids, which are
generated either by a whole revolution, a half, or a quarter
of a revolution, of this segment round an abscissa or an or¬
dinate. The resolution of these problems was attempt¬
ed by Huygens, Sluze, Sir Christopher Wren, Fermat, and
Roberval. Sluze discovered an ingenious method of find¬
ing the area of the curve. Huygens squared the segment
comprised between the vertex, and as far as a fourth of the
diameter of the generating circle; and Sir Christopher
Wren ascertained the length of the cycloidal arc included
between the vertex and the ordinate, the centre of gravity
of this arc, and the surfaces of the solids generated during
its revolution. These attempts were not considered by their
authors as solutions of Pascal’s problems, and therefore
they did not lay claim to his prize. Our countryman
Wallis, however, and Lallouere a Jesuit, gave in a solu¬
tion of all the problems, and thought themselves entitled
to the proffered reward. In the methods employed by
these mathematicians, Pascal detected several sources of
error : and it was reserved for that great genius to furnish
a complete solution of his own problems. Extending his
investigations to curtate and prolate cycloids, he proved
that the length of these curves depends on the rectifica¬
tion of the ellipse, and assigned in each case the axis of
the ellipse. From this method he deduced this curious
theorem, That if two cycloids, the one curtate and the
other prolate, be such that the base of the one is equal
to the circumference of the circle by which the other is
generated, the length of these two cycloids will be equal.
Wallis. Whilst these discoveries were making on the continent,
1655. t]ie frjen(Js 0f science in Britain were actively employed
in promoting its advancement. In 1655, Wallis publish¬
ed his Arithmetica Infinitorum, a work of great genius.
He attempted to determine, by the summation of infinite
series, the quadrature of curves, and the curvature of solids;
subjects which were afterwards investigated in a different
manner by Ishmael Bullialdus. By Wallis’s method, curves
were squared when their ordinates were expressed by one
term; and when their ordinates were complex quantities
raised to entire and positive powers, these ordinates were
resolved into series, of which each term was a monomial.
Wallis attempted to extend his theory to curves the ordi¬
nates of which were complex and radical, by attempting to
interpolate the series of the former kind with a new series;
but he was unsuccessful.
Newton. It was reserved for Newton to remove this difficulty. He
solved the problem in a more direct and simple manner by
the aid of his new formula for expanding into an infinite
series any power of a binomial, whether its exponent was
positive or negative, an integer or a fraction. Algebra was
also indebted to this illustrious mathematician for a sim¬
ple and extensive method of resolving an equation into
commensurable factors ; for a method of summing up the
powers of the roots of an equation, of extracting the roots
of quantities partly commensurable and partly incommen¬
surable, and of finding by approximation the roots of lite¬
ral and numerical equations of all orders;
Lord About this time, William Lord Brouncker, in attempt-
Brounck- ing to demonstrate an expression of Wallis on the magni-
er ; tude of the circle, discovered the theory of continued frac-
tions. When an irreducible fraction is expressed by num-
ie 1684. kers t00 great an(j complicated to be easily employed by
the analyst, the method of Lord Brouncker enables us to
substitute an expression much more simple, and nearlyMati
equivalent. This theory, which enables us to find a very Ti!'
accurate relation between the diameter and circumference^,
of the circle, was employed by Huygens in the calculation
of his planetary automaton for representing the motions
of the solar system, and was enlarged and improved by
other celebrated geometers. Lord Brouncker had like¬
wise the merit of discovering an infinite series to repre¬
sent the area of the hyperbola. The same discovery was
made by Nicholas Mercator, who published it in his Zo-
garithmotechnia in 1668.
The subject of infinite series received considerable ad-jame
dition from Mr James Gregory. He was the first whoGre®
gave the tangent and secant in terms of the arc, and, in¬
versely, the arc in terms of the tangent and secant. He
constructed series for finding directly the logarithm of
the tangent and secant from tbe value of the arc, and the
logarithm of the arc from that of the tangent and secant; i
and he applied this theory of infinite series to the rectifi¬
cation of the ellipsis and hyperbola.
The differential triangle invented by the learned DrDrEs ,
Barrow, for drawing tangents to curves, may be regarded
as another contribution towards the invention of fluxions.
This triangle has for its sides the element of the curve and
those of the absciss and ordinate, and those sides are treat¬
ed as quantities infinitely small.
The doctrine of evolutes had been slightly touched upon Huyg
by Apollonius. It remained, however, for the illustrious 1673.
Huygens to bring it to perfection. His theory of evolutes
is contained in his Horologium Oscillatorium, published in
1673, and may be regarded as one of the finest discoveries
in geometry. When any curve is given, Huygens has
pointed out the method of constructing a second curve, by
drawing a series of perpendiculars to the first, which are
tangents to the second; and of finding the first curve
from the second. From this principle he deduces several
theorems on the rectification of curves, and that remark¬
able property of the cycloid, in which an equal and simi¬
lar cycloid is produced by evolution.
In contemplating the progress of analysis from the be-Histo '
ginning of the seventeenth century to the invention ofd'^1
fluxions, we cannot fail to perceive the principles of that™^1
calculus gradually unfolding themselves to view. The u
human mind seemed to advance with rapidity towards
that great discovery ; and it is by no means unlikely that
it would soon have arrived at the doctrine of fluxions,
even if the superior genius of Newton had not accelerated
its progress. In Cavalleri’s Geometria Indivisibilmn we
perceive the gerrn^ of the infinitesimal calculus; and the
method of Iloberval for finding the tangents of curves
bears a striking analogy to the metaphysics of the flux¬
ionary calculus. It was the glory of Newton, however, to
invent and illustrate the method of fluxions; and the ob¬
scure hints which he received from preceding mathema¬
ticians do not in the least detract from the merit of our il¬
lustrious countryman.
On the claims of Leibnitz as a second inventor of flux-Dispu
ions we shall not here enter at any considerable length.
We shall merely give a brief view of the facts which re'^n(jp
late to the discovery of the higher calculus, and makenjtz
a few observations on the conclusions to which they lead.
(See Professor Playfair’s Dissertation, prefixed to this
work.)
In the year 1669, a paper of Sir Isaac Newton’s, enti¬
tled He Analgsi per Hquationes numero terminorum ivjinitas,
was communicated by Dr Barrow to Mr Collins, one ot
the secretaries of the Royal Society. In this paper the
author points out a new method of squaring curves, both
when the expression of the ordinate is a rational quantity,
and when it contains complex radicals, by evolving the ex¬
pression of the ordinate into an infinite number of simple
>' tic
M A T H E M A TICS.
319
ei. terms, by means of the binomial theorem. In a letter
ics; from Newton to Collins, dated 10th December 1672, there
■"'is contained a method of drawing tangents to curve lines,
without being obstructed by radicals; and in both these
works, an account of which was circulated on the conti¬
nent bv the secretaries of the Royal Society, the principles
of the fluxional calculus are plainly exhibited; and it is
the opinion of all the disputants, that those woi’ks prove that
Newton must have been acquainted with the method of
fluxions when he composed them.
Leibnitz came to London in the year 1673 ; and though
there is no direct evidence that he saw Newton’s paper I)e
Amlysi per Equationes, yet it is certain that he had seen
Sir Isaac’s letter to Collins of 1672 ; and it is highly impro¬
bable that such a man as Leibnitz should have been igno¬
rant of a paper of Newton’s, which had been four years in
the possession of the public, and which contained discus¬
sions at that time interesting to every mathematician.
A letter from Newton to Oldenburg, one of the secre¬
taries of the Royal Society, dated 24th October 1676, was
communicated to Leibnitz. This letter contains several
theorems without the demonstrations, which are founded
on the method of fluxions, and merely states that they re¬
sult from the solution of a general problem. The enuncia¬
tion of this problem he expresses in a cipher, the meaning
of which was, an equation in which any number of flowing
quantities being given, it was required to find the fluxions,
and inversely. In reply to this communication, Leibnitz
transmitted a letter to Oldenburg, dated 21st June 1677,
where he explains the nature of the differential calculus,
and affirms that he had long employed it for drawing tan¬
gents to curve lines.
The correspondence between Leibnitz and Oldenburg
having been broken off by the death of the latter, Leibnitz
published, in the Acta Eruditorum Lips, for October 1684,
the principles of the new analysis, under the title of Nova
Metkodus pro maximis et minimis, itemque tangentibus, quce
necfractas, nec irrationales quantitates moratur, et singular is
pro illis calculus. This paper contains the method of dif¬
ferencing simple, fractional, and radical quantities, and the
application of the calculus to the solution of some physical
and geometrical problems. In 1685 he likewise published
two small pamphlets on the quadrature of curves, contain¬
ing the principles of the Calculus Summatorius, or the In¬
verse Method of Fluxions; and in 1686 there appeared
another tract by the same author, On the Recondite Geome-
tn/, and the Analysis of Indivisibles and Infinites, contain¬
ing the fundamental rule of the integral calculus.
Towards the close of the year 1686, Sir Isaac Newton
gave to the world his immortal work entitled Philosophice
Naturalis Principia Mathematica. Some of the most dif¬
ficult problems in this work are founded on the fluxional
calculus; and it is allowed by Bossut, one of the defenders
ot Leibnitz, “ that mathematicians did Newton the justice
to acknowledge, that at the period when his Principia was
published, he was master of the method of fluxions to a
high degree, at least with respect to that part which con¬
cerns the quadrature of curves.” The claim of Leib¬
nitz as a separate inventor of the differential calculus is
evidently allowed by Newton himself, when he observes,
that Leibnitz had communicated to him a method similar
to his own for drawing tangents, &c., and differing from it
only in the enunciation and notation.
About this time it became fashionable amongst geometers
to perplex each other by the proposal of new and difficult
i )n.ju: , r<;hlems; a practice which powerfully contributed to the
progress of mathematics. The dispute in which Leibnitz
vms engaged with the Cartesians respecting the measure of
active forces, which the former supposed to be as the sim¬
ple velocity, whilst the latter asserted that they were as
the sT,are of the velocity, led him to propose the problem
wtm:
of the isochronous curve, or “ to find the curve which a Mathema-
heavy body must describe equally, in order to approach or tiC8'
recede from a horizontal plane in equal times.” This' 
curve was found by Huygens to be the second cubic para¬
bola ; but he gave only its properties and construction,
without the demonstrations. In 1689, the same solution,
along with the demonstration, was given by Leibnitz, who,
at the same time, proposed to geometers to find the para¬
centric isochronal curve, or the curve in which a body
would equally approach to or recede from a given point in
equal times.
It was at this time that the two brothers, James and
John Bernoulli, began to display those talents from which
the physical and mathematical sciences received such im¬
mense improvements. James was born in 1654, and died
in 1705; and John, who was his pupil, was born in 1667,
and lived to the advanced age of sixty-eight years. In
1690, James Bernoulli gave the same solution of the iso¬
chronous curve which had been given by Huygens and
Leibnitz, and proposed the celebrated problem of the ca¬
tenary curve, which had formerly perplexed the ingenuity
of Galileo. In two memoirs, published in 1691, he deter¬
mined, by means of the inverse method of fluxions, the
tangents of the parabolic spiral, the logarithmic spiral, and
the loxodromic curve, and likewise the quadratures of their
respective areas.
The problem of the catenary curve having occupied the
attention of geometers, was resolved by Huygens, Leib¬
nitz, and John Bernoulli. In these solutions, however, the
gravity of the catenary curve was supposed to be uniform ;
but James Bernoulli extended the solution to cases where
the weight of the curve varies from one point to another,
according to a given law. From this problem he was also
conducted to the determination of the curvature of a bend¬
ed bow, and that of an elastic bar fixed at one extremity,
and loaded at the other with a given weight. In the hopes
of contributing to the progress of navigation, the same ma¬
thematician considered the form of a sail swollen with the
wind. When the wind, after striking the sail, is not pre¬
vented from escaping, the curvature of the sail is that of
the common catenarian curve ; but when the sail is suppos¬
ed to be perfectly flexible, and filled with a fluid pressing
downwards on itself, as water presses on the sides of a ves¬
sel, the curve which it forms is one of those denominated
lintearice, which is expressed by the same equation as the
common elastic curve, where the extensions are reckoned
proportional to the forces applied at each point. The same
problem was solved by John Bernoulli, in the Journal des
Spavans for 1692 ; but there is satisfactory evidence that
it was chiefly borrowed from his brother James.
The attention of James Bernoulli w as now directed to James
the theory of curves produced by the revolution of one Bernoulli,
curve upon another. He considered one curve rolling upon 1692-
a given curve equal to the first, and immoveable. He de¬
termined the evolute and the caustic of the epicycloid, de¬
scribed by a point of the moving circle; and he deduced
from it other two curves, denominated the anti-evolute and
pericaustic. He found also that the logarithmic spiral was
its own evolute, caustic, anti-evolute, and pericaustic ; and
that an analogous property belonged to the cycloid.
. About this time Signor Viviani, an Italian geometer, dis- Viviani.
tinguished as the restorer of Aristeus’s conic sections, requir¬
ed the solution of the following problem, viz. That there ex¬
isted a temple of a hemispherical form, pierced with jfour
equal windows, with such skill that the remainder of the
hemisphere might be perfectly squared. With the aid of
the new analysis, Leibnitz and James Bernoulli immediate¬
ly discovered a solution, whilst that of Viviani was founded on
the ancient geometry. He proved that the problem might
be solved by placing, parallel to the base of the hemisphere,
two right cylinders, the axes of which should pass through
320
Tschirn-
hausen.
1689.
MATHEMATICS.
John Ber¬
noulli.
The Mar¬
quis de
1’Hospital.
Solid of
leastresist
ance.
the centres of two radii, forming a diameter of the circle of
the base, and piercing the dome each way.
Prior to some of these discussions, the curves called
caustic, and sometimes Tschirnhausenian, were discovered
by Tschirnhausen. These curves are formed by the cross¬
ing of the rays of light, when reflected from a curved sur¬
face, or refracted through a lens so as not to meet in a sin¬
gle point. With the assistance of the common geometry,
Tschirnhausen discovered that they are equal to straight
lines when they are formed by geometrical curves; and he
also found out several other curious properties. By the aid
of the higher calculus, James Bernoulli extended these re¬
searches, and added greatly to the theory of caustics pro¬
duced by refraction.
The problem of the paracentric isochronal curve, pro¬
posed by Leibnitz in 1689, was solved by James Bernoulli,
who took for ordinates parallel straight lines, and for ab¬
scissas the chords of an infinite number of concentric cir¬
cles described about the given point. In this way he ob¬
tained a separate equation, constructed at first by the rec¬
tification of the elastic curve, and afterwards by the recti¬
fication of an algebraic curve. The same problem was
solved by John Bernoulli and by Leibnitz.
In 1694, a branch of the new analysis, called the expo¬
nential calculus, was invented separately by John Bernoulli
and by Leibnitz. It consists in differencing and integrating
exponential quantities or powers with variable exponents.
To Leibnitz the priority in point of invention certainly be¬
longs, but John Bernoulli was the first who published the
rules and uses of the calculus.
The Marquis de 1’Hospital, who, in 1695, had solved the
problem about the curve of equilibration in draw-bridges,
and shown it to be an epicycloid, published in the follow¬
ing year his Analysis of Infinites for the understanding of
Curve Lines. In this celebrated work, the differential cal¬
culus, or the direct method effluxions, was fully explained
and illustrated; and as the knowledge of the higher geo¬
metry had been hitherto confined to a few, it w^as now des¬
tined to enlighten the different nations of Europe.
The methods which were employed by Descartes, Fer-
■ mat, and others, for finding the maxima and minima of quan¬
tities, yielded in point of simplicity and generality to that
which was derived from the doctrine of fluxions. Another
class of problems, however, of the same kind, but more com¬
plicated, from their requiring the inverse method of flux¬
ions, began now to exercise the ingenuity of mathematicians.
A problem of this class, for finding the solid of least resist¬
ance, was solved by Newton in the thirty-fourth proposi¬
tion of the second book of his Principia. After having
determined the truncated right cone, which being moved
in a fluid by the smallest base (which is unknown), expe¬
riences the least resistance, he gave, without any demon¬
stration, the ratio from which might be derived the diffe¬
rential equation of the curve that generates by a revolution
of its axis the solid of least resistance. A general solution,
however, was still wanting, until the attention of geometers
was directed to the subject by John Bernoulli, who pro¬
posed, in 1697, the celebrated problem of the Brachysto-
chronon, or the curve along the concave side of which if a
heavy body descend, it will pass in the least time possible
from one point to another, the two points not being in the
same vertical line. This problem was resolved by Leib¬
nitz, Newton, the Marquis de 1’Hospital, and James Ber¬
noulli, who demonstrated that the curve of quickest de¬
scent is a cycloid reversed. This result will appear at first
surprising, when we consider a line as the shortest dis¬
tance between two points; but the surprise will cease,
when we reflect, that in a concave curve lying between the
two given points, the moving body descends at first in a
more vertical direction, and therefore acquires a greater
velocity than when it rolls down an inclined plane. It fol¬
lows that this addition to its velocity, at the commence-jjat
ment of its path, may balance the increase of space through ti
which it has to move. 'w
At the close of this discussion commenced, between is
James and John Bernoulli, that celebrated dispute aboutmetr
isoperimetrical problems, in which the qualities of the%>r
head were much more conspicuous than those of the heart.
These illustrious characters, connected by the strongest
ties of affinity, were, at the commencement of their distin¬
guished career, united by the warmest affection. John
was initiated by his elder brother into the mathematical
sciences ; and a generous emulation, softened by friendship
in the one, and gratitude in the other, continued for some
years to direct their studies, and accelerate their progress.
There are few men, however, who can support at the same
time the character of a rival and a friend. The success of
the one party is apt to awaken the envy of the other, and
success itself is often the parent of presumption. A foun¬
dation is thus laid for future dissension ; and it is a me¬
lancholy fact in the history of learning, that the most ar¬
dent friendships have been sacrificed on the altar of lite¬
rary ambition. Such was the case between the two Ber-
noullis. As soon as John w as settled as professor of ma¬
thematics at Groningen, all friendly intercourse between
the two brothers came to an end. Regarding John as the
aggressor, and provoked at the ingratitude which he exhi¬
bited, his brother James challenged him by name to solve
the following problems :—1. To find, amongst all the isope¬
rimetrical curves between given limits, such a curve that,
constructing a second curve, the ordinates of which shall
be the functions of the ordinates or arcs of the former, the
area of the second curve shall be a maximum or a mini¬
mum. 2. To find amongst all the cycloids which a heavy
body may describe in its descent from a point to a line,
the position of which is given, that cycloid which is de¬
scribed in the least possible time. A prize of fifty florins
was promised to John Bernoulli, if, within three months,
he engaged to sofve these problems, and publish within a
year legitimate solutions of them.
In a short time John Bernoulli produced his solution,
and demanded the prize. He succeeded in constructing
the problem of swiftest descent; but his solution of the
other problem was radically defective. This failure mor¬
tified the vanity with which he gloried in his apparent
success. He acknowledged the mistake in his solution,
and, with the same imperious tone, transmitted a new re¬
sult, and re-demanded the prize. This new solution, which
was still defective, drew down the wit and ridicule of
James Bernoulli, which his brother attempted to repel by
a torrent of coarse invective.
Leibnitz, Newton, and the Marquis de 1’Hospital, being
appointed arbiters in this dispute, James Bernoulli pub¬
lished, in 1700, the formulae of the isoperimetrical problem,
without any demonstration ; and John transmitted his so¬
lution to the French Academy in February 1701, on con¬
dition that it should not be opened till his brother’s de¬
monstrations were published. In consequence of this,
James Bernoulli published his solution in May 1701, in
the Acta Eruditorum, under the following title, Analysis
magni Problematis Isoperimetrici, and gained great honour
from the skill which it displayed. For five years John
Bernoulli was silent upon the subject; but his brother dy¬
ing in 1705, he published his solution in the Memoirs ot
the Academy for 1706. About thirteen years afterwards,
John Bernoulli having perceived the source of his error,
confessed his mistake, and published a new solution, not
very different from that of his brother, in the Memoirs of
the Academy for 1718.
In the problem relative to the cycloid of swiftest de¬
scent, John Bernoulli obtained a result similar to that of
his brother, by a very ingenious method, which extended
MATHEMATICS.
321
fanfi
arcn
1 id Si,
'•n. 1
ia- the bounds of the new analysis. In his investigations he
employed the synchronous curve, or that which cuts a se¬
ries of similar curves placed in similar positions; so that
the arcs of the latter included between a given point and
the synchronous curve shall be described by a heavy body
in equal times. He demonstrated, that of all the cycloids
thus intersected, that which is cut perpendicularly is de¬
scribed in less time than any other terminating equally at
the synchronous curve. But being unable to give a gene¬
ral solution of the problem, he applied to Leibnitz, who
easily resolved it, and at that time invented the method
of differencing de curva in curvam.
About a month after the death of the Marquis de PHos-
pital, John Bernoulli declared himself the author of a rule,
given by the marquis in his Analysis of Infinites, for find¬
ing the value of a fraction the numerator and denominator
of which should vanish at the same instant, when the vari¬
able quantity that enters into it has a certain given value.
The defence made by the marquis’s friends only induced
John Bernoulli to make greater demands, till he claimed
as his own the most important parts of the Analysis of In¬
finites. But it does not appear, from an examination of the
subject, that there is any foundation for his claims.
Towards the close of 1704, Sir Isaac Newton published,
at the end of his Optics, his Enumeratio Linearum Tertice
Ordinis, and his treatise De Quadratura Curvarum. The
first of these papers displays great ability, but is founded
t only on the common algebra, and the doctrine of series
which Newton had brought to such perfection. His trea¬
tise De Quadratura Curvarum contains the resolution of
fluxional formulae, with one variable quantity which leads
to the quadrature of curves. By means of certain series
he obtains the resolution of several complicated formulae,
by referring them to such as are more simple ; and these
series being interrupted in particular cases, give the flu¬
ents in finite terms. From this several interesting proposi¬
tions are deduced, amongst which is the method of resolv¬
ing rational fractions. In 1711 Newton published his Me¬
thod of Fluxions. The object of this work is to determine,
by simple algebra, the linear co-efficients of an equation
that satisfies as many conditions as there are co-efficients,
and to construct a cui^ve of the parabolic kind passing
through any number of given points. Hence arises a sim¬
ple method of finding the approximate quadrature of
curves, in which a certain number of ordinates are deter¬
minable. It has been the opinion of some able mathema¬
ticians that this treatise contains the first principles of the
integral calculus with finite differences, afterwards invent¬
ed by Dr Taylor. A posthumous work of Newton’s, enti¬
ced the Method of Fluxions and of Infinite Series, was
published by Dr Pemberton about nine years after the
death of its author; but it does not contain any investiga¬
tions which may be considered as having accelerated the
progress of the new analysis.
'» 1 he mathematical sciences were at this time indebted
to the labours of Manfredi, Parent, and Saurin. The
„ former of these geometers published a very able work, De
Constructione Equationum differentialium primi gradus.
lo Parent we are indebted for the problem by which we
obtain the ratio between the velocity of the power and the
weight, for finding the maximum effect of machines ; but
his reputation was much injured by the obscurity of his
writings. Saurin was celebrated for his theoretical and
practical knowledge of watchmaking, and he was the first
who elucidated the theory of tangents to the multiple
points of curves.
Whilst the science of analysis was thus advancing with
rapidity, the dispute between Newton and Leibnitz began
to be agitated amongst the mathematicians of Europe.
Ihese illustrious rivals seemed to have been hitherto con¬
tented with sharing the honour of having invented the
vol. xiv.
fluxionary calculus. But as soon as the priority of inven- Mathema-
tion was attributed to Newton, the friends of Leibnitz ^cs-
came forward with eagerness to support the claims of their v v-*-'
master.
In a small wmrk on the curve of swiftest descent and the
solid of least resistance, published in 1699, Nicholas Facio
de1' Duillier, an eminent Genoese, attributed to Newton
the first invention of fluxions, and hinted that Leibnitz,
as the second inventor, had borrowed from the English
philosopher. Exasperated at this improper insinuation,
Leibnitz came forward in his own defence, and appealed to
the admission of Newton in his Principia, that neither
had borrowed from the other. He expressed his convic¬
tion that Facio de Duillier was not authorized by Sir
Isaac to prefer such a charge, and he threw himself upon
the testimony and candour of the English geometer.
I he discussion rested in this situation for several years,
until our celebrated countryman Dr Keill, instigated by an
attack upon Newton in the Leipsic Journal, repeated the
same charge against Leibnitz. The German philosopher
made the same reply as he did to his former opponent, and
treated Dr Keill as a young man incapable of judging upon
the subject. In 1711 Dr Keill addressed a letter to Sir
Hans Sloane, secretary to the Royal Society, and accused
Leibnitz of having adopted the differential notation, in or¬
der to have it believed that he did not borrow his calculus
from the writings of Newton.
Leibnitz was with reason irritated at this accusation,
and called upon the Royal Society to interfere in his be¬
half. A committee of that learned body was accordingly
appointed to investigate the subject, and their report was
published in 1712, under the title of Commercium Episto-
licum de Analysipromota. In this report the committee
maintain that Leibnitz was not the first inventor, and ab¬
solve Dr Keill from all blame in giving the priority of in¬
vention to Newton. They were cautious, however, in stat¬
ing their opinion upon that part of the charge in which Leib¬
nitz was accused of plagiarism.
In answer to the arguments advanced in the Commer-
cAum Epislolicum, John Bernoulli, the particular friend of
Leibnitz, published a letter, in which he has the assurance
to state that the method of fluxions did not precede the
differential calculus, but that it might have taken its rise
from it. The reason which he assigns for this strange as¬
sertion is, that the differential calculus was published be¬
fore Newton had introduced an uniform algorithm into the
method of fluxions. But it may as well be maintained
that Newton did not discover the theory of universal‘gra¬
vitation, because the attractive force of mountains and of
smaller portions of matter was not ascertained until the
time of Maskleyne and of Cavendish. The principles of
fluxions are allowed to have been discovered before those
of the differential calculus; and yet the former originated
from the latter, because the fluxionary notation w'as not
given at the same time.
Notwithstanding the ridiculous assertion of John Ber-
noulli, it has been admitted by all the foreign mathemati-0n the con-
cians that Newton was the first inventor of the method oftroversy.
fluxions. The point at issue, therefore, is merely this:—
Did Leibnitz see any of the writings of Newton which con¬
tained the principles of fluxions, before he published, in
1684, his Nova Methodus pro maximis et minimis? The
friends of Leibnitz have produced some presumptive proofs
that he had never seen the treatise of Newton De Analysi,
nor the letter to Collins, in both of which the principles
of the new calculus were to be found ; and in order to
strengthen their argument, they have not scrupled to as¬
sert that the writings already mentioned contained but a
vague and obscure indication of the method of fluxions,
and that Leibnitz might have perused them without hav¬
ing discovered it. This subsidiary argument, however,
2 s
322
MATHEMATIC S.
Doctrine
of chance.
1708.
Orthogo¬
nal trajec¬
tories.
Integra¬
tion of
rational
fractions.
1710.
rests upon the opinion of individuals ; and the only way of
repelling it is to give the opinion of an impartial judge.
Montucla, the celebrated historian of the mathematics,
who, being a Frenchman, cannot be suspected of partiality
to the English, has admitted that Newton, in his treatise
De Analysis has disclosed, in a very concise and obscure
manner, his principles of fluxions, and “ that the suspicion
of Leibnitz having seen this work is not destitute of pro¬
bability ; for Leibnitz admitted, that in his interview with
Collins, he had seen a part of the epistolary correspond¬
ence between Newton and that gentleman.” It is evi¬
dent, therefore, that Leibnitz had opportunities of being
acquainted with the doctrine of fluxions before he had
thought of the differential calculus ; and as he was in Lon¬
don, where Newton’s treatise was published, and in com¬
pany with the very men to whom the new analysis had
been communicated, it is very likely that he then acquired
some knowledge of the subject. In favour of Leibnitz,
however, it is but justice to say, that the transition from
the method of tangents by Dr Barrow to the differential
calculus is so simple, that Leibnitz might very easily have
perceived it; and that the notation of his analysis, the nu¬
merous applications which he made of it, and the perfec¬
tion to which he carried the integral calculus, are consi¬
derable proofs that he was innocent of the charge which
the English have attempted to fix upon his memory.
In 1708, Ilemond de Montmort published a curious
work, entitled the Analysis of Games of Chance, in which
the common algebra was applied to the computation of
probabilities, and the estimation of chances. Though this
work did not contain any great discovery, yet it gave ex¬
tent to the theory of series, and admirably illustrated the
doctrine of combinations. The same subject was after¬
wards discussed by M. Demoivre, a French Protestant
residing in England, in a small treatise entitled Mensura
Sortis, in which are given the elements of the theory of
recurrent series, and some very ingenious applications of
it. Another edition was published in English in 1738,
under the title of the Doctrine of Chances.
A short time before his death, Leibnitz proposed to the
English geometers the celebrated problem of orthogonal
trajectories, which was to find the curve that cuts a series
of given curves at a constant angle, or at an angle varying
according to a given law. This problem was put into the
hands of Sir Isaac Newton when he returned to dinner
greatly fatigued, and he brought it to an equation before
he went to rest. Leibnitz being recently dead, John Ber¬
noulli assumed his place, and maintained that nothing was
easier than to bring the problem to an equation, and that
the solution of the problem was not complete until the dif¬
ferential equation of the trajectory was resolved. Nicholas
Bernoulli, the son of John, resolved the particular case in
which the intersected curves are hyperbolas with the same
centre and the same vertex. James Hermann, and Nicho¬
las Bernoulli, the nephew of John, treated the subject by
more general methods, which applied to the cases in which
the intersected curves were geometrical. The most com¬
plete solution, however, was given by Dr Taylor in the
Philosophical Transactions for 1717, though it was not suf¬
ficiently general, and could not apply to some cases capa¬
ble of resolution. This defect was supplied by John Ber¬
noulli, who, in the Leipzig Transactions for 1718, published
a very simple solution, embracing all the geometrical curves,
and a great number of the mechanical ones.
During these discussions, several difficult problems on
the integration of rational fractions were proposed by Dr
Taylor, and solved by John Bernoulli. This subject, how¬
ever, had been first discussed by Roger Cotes, professor of
mathematics at Cambridge, who died in 1710. In his post¬
humous work, entitled Uarmonia Mensurarum, published
in 1716, he gave general and convenient formulae for the
integration of rational fractions; and we are indebted to Math
this young geometer for his method of estimating errors in ti "
mixed mathematics, for his remarks on the differential me-^ /
thod of Newton, and for his celebrated theorem for resolv¬
ing certain equations.
In 1715, Dr Taylor published his learned work, entitledDrT;.
Methodus Incrementorum directa et inversa. In this work
the doctor gives the name of increments or decrements of
variable quantities to the differences, whether finite or in¬
finitely small, of two consecutive terms, in a series formed
according to a given law. When the differences are infinite¬
ly small, their calculus belongs to fluxions; but when they
are finite, the method of finding their relation to the quan¬
tities by which they are produced forms a new calculus,
called the integral calculus of finite differences. In conse¬
quence of this work, Dr Taylor was attacked anonymously
by John Bernoulli, who lavished upon the English geome¬
ter all that dull abuse and angry ridicule which he had
formerly heaped upon his brother.
The problem of reciprocal trajectories was at this tiraeProblij;
proposed by the Bernoullis. This problem required therecipr
curves which, being constructed in two opposite directionstrajec
in one axis, given in position, and then moving parallel to™8'
one another with unequal velocities, should perpetually in-
tersect each other at a given angle. It was long discussed
between John Bernoulli and an anonymous writer, who
proved to be Dr Pemberton. By an elegant solution of
this problem the celebrated Euler first began to be dis¬
tinguished amongst mathematicians. He was a pupil of
John Bernoulli, and continued throughout the whole of his
life the friend and rival of his son Daniel. The great ob¬
ject of his labours was to extend the boundaries of analy¬
sis ; and before he had reached his twenty-first year he
published a new and general method of resolving differen¬
tial equations of the second order, subject to certain con¬
ditions.
The common algebra had been applied by Leibnitz and Count •
John Bernoulli to determine arcs of the parabola, the dif-nani'
ference of which is an algebraic quantity; imagining that
such problems, in the case of the ellipse and hyperbola, re¬
sisted the application of the new analysis. The Count de
Fagnani, however, applied the integral calculus to the
arcs of the ellipsis and hyperbola, and had the honour of
explaining this new branch of geometry.
In the various problems depending upon the analysis ofCoum •
infinites, the great difficulty is to resolve the differential®1,
equation to which the problems may be reduced. Count
James Riccati having been puzzled with a differential equa¬
tion of the first order, with two variable quantities, pro¬
posed it to mathematicians in the Leipzig Acts for 1725.
This question baffled the skill of the most celebrated ana¬
lysts, who were merely able to point out a number of
cases in which the indeterminate can be separated, and
the equation resolved by the quadrature of curves.
Another problem, suggested by that of Viviani, was pro-Offc-fi ■
posed in 1718 by Ernest Von Offenburg. It was requir¬
ed to pierce a hemispherical vault with any number of el¬
liptical windows, so that their circumferences should be
expressed by algebraic quantities ; or, in other words, to
determine on the surface of a sphere, curves algebraically
rectifiable. In a paper on the rectification of spherical
epicycloids, Hermann imagined that these curves were al¬
gebraically rectifiable, and therefore satisfied the question
of Offenburg ; but John Bernoulli (Mem. Acad. Par. 1732)
demonstrated, that as the rectification of these curves de¬
pended upon the quadrature of the hyperbola, they were
only rectifiable in certain cases, and gave the general me¬
thod of determining the curves which are algebraically rec¬
tifiable on the surface of a sphere.
The same subject was also discussed by Nicole and byCair
Clairaut (Mem. Acad. r734<). The latter of these mathe-
lochr
jus
irve<
tic
M A T H E
, maticians had already acquired fame by his Recherches
^ sur les Courbes a double Courbure, published in 1730, be¬
fore he was twenty-one years of age ; but his reputation
was extended by a method of finding curves whose pro¬
perty consists in a certain relation between these branches
expressed by a given equation. In this research Clairaut
pointed out a species of paradox in the integral calculus,
which led to the celebrated theory of particular integrals,
which was afterwards fully illustrated by Euler and other
geometers.
The celebrated problem of isochronous curves began at
this time to be re-agitated amongst mathematicians. The
object of this problem is to find such a curve that a heavy
body descending along its concavity shall always reach the
lowest point in the same time, from whatever point of the
curve it begins to descend. Huygens had already shown
that the cycloid was the isochronous curve in vacuo. New¬
ton had demonstrated that the same curve was isochro¬
nous when the descending body experiences from the air
a resistance proportional to its velocity ; and Euler and
John Bernoulli had separately found the isochronous curve
when the resistance was as the square of the velocity.
These three cases, and even a fourth in which the resist¬
ance was as the square of the velocity added to the pro¬
duct of the velocity by a constant co-efficient, were all re¬
solved by Fontaine, by means of an ingenious and original
method; and it is very remarkable that the isochronous
curve is the same in the third and fourth cases.' The me¬
thod of Fontaine was illustrated by Euler, who solved a
fifth case, including all the other four, when the resistance
is composed of three terms, the square of the velocity, the
product of the velocity by a given co-efficient, and a con¬
stant quantity. He found also an expression of the time
which the body employs to descend through any arc of
the curve.
Igcb iof The application of analytical formulae to the physico-
ncs i>l mathematical sciences was much facilitated by the algebra
of sines and cosines with which Frederick Christian May¬
er and Euler enriched geometry. By the combination of
arcs, sines, and cosines, formulae are obtained which fre¬
quently yield to the method of resolution, and enable us
to solve a number of problems which the ordinary use of
arcs, sines, and cosines would render tedious and compli¬
cated.
esoii About this time a great discovery in the theory of dif-
n'ferential equations of the first order was made separately
ions. ' ky Euler, Fontaine, and Clairaut. Hitherto geometers
had no direct method of ascertaining if any differential
equation were resolvable in the state in which it was pre¬
sented, or if it required some preparation prior to its re¬
solution. For every differential equation a particular me¬
thod was employed, and their resolution was often effect¬
ed by a kind of tentative process, which displayed the in¬
genuity of its author, without being applicable to other
equations. The conditions under which differential equa¬
tions of the first order are resolvable were discovered by
the three mathematicians whom we have mentioned. Eu¬
ler made the discovery in 1736, but did not publish it till
1740. Fontaine and Clairaut lighted upon it in 1739, and
Euler afterwards extended the discovery to equations of
higher orders.
al . ^le ^rst tr‘ices of the integral calculus with partial dif-
fences appeared in a paper of Euler’s in the Peters-
xtiaii^g iransactions for 1734; but D’Alembert, in his work
ency $ur les Vents, has given clearer notions of it, and he was
the first who employed it in solution of the problem of
vibrating chords proposed by Dr Taylor, and investigat¬
ed by Euler and Daniel Bernoulli. The object of this
calculus is to find a function of several variable quantities
when we have the relation of the co-efficients which affect
the differentials of the variable quantities of which this
M A T I C S. 323
function is composed. Euler exhibited it in various points Mathema-
of view, and showed its application to a number of physi- tics,
cal problems ; and he afterwards, in his paper entitled In- '
vestigatio Functionum ex data Differentialium conditions,
completely explained the nature and gave the algorithm
of the calculus.
Whilst the analysis of infinites was making such rapid DrBerke-
progress on the continent, it was attacked in England by fey. 1734.
the celebrated Dr Berkeley, bishop of Cloyne, in a work
called the Analyst, or a Discourse addressed to an Infidel
Mathematician, wherein it is examined whether the ob¬
ject, principles, and inferences of the Modern Analysis are
more distinctly conceived than Religious Mysteries and
Points of Faith. In this work the doctor admits the truth
of the conclusions, but maintains that the principles of
fluxions are not founded upon reasoning strictly logical
and conclusive. This attack called forth Robins and Mac-
laurin. The former proved that the principles of fluxions
were consistent with the strictest reasoning; whilst Mac-
laurin, in his Treatise of Fluxions, gave a synthetical de¬
monstration of the principles of the calculus after the man¬
ner of the ancient geometricians, and established it with
such clearness and satisfaction that no intelligent man
could refuse his assent. The differential calculus had been
attacked at an earlier period by Nieuwentiet and Rolle,
but the weapons wielded by these adversaries were con¬
temptible when compared with the ingenuity of Dr Ber¬
keley.
Notwithstanding this attack upon the principles of the Thomas
new analysis, the science of geometry made rapid advances Simpson,
in England in the hands of Thomas Simpson, Landen, and1^40-
Waring. In 1740, Mr Simpson published his Treatise on
Fluxions, which, besides many original researches, contains
a convenient method of resolving differential equations by
approximation, and various means of hastening the conver-
gency of slowly converging series. We are indebted to the
same geometer for several general theorems for summing
different series, whether they are susceptible of an absolute
or an approximate summation. His Mathematical Disser¬
tations, published in 1743; his Essays on several Subjects
in Mathematics, published in 1740; and his Select Exer¬
cises for Young Proficients in the Mathematics, published
in 1752, contain ingenious and original researches, which
contributed to the progress of geometry.
In his Mathematical Lucubrations, published in 1755, Landen;
Mr Landen has given several ingenious theorems for the died in
summation of series ; and the Philosophical Transactions
for 1775 contain his curious discovery of the rectification
of an hyperbolic arc, by means of two arcs of an ellipsis,
which was afterwards more simply demonstrated by Le¬
gendre. His invention of a new calculus, called the resi¬
dual analysis, and in some respects subsidiary to the me¬
thod of fluxions, has immortalized his name. It was an¬
nounced and explained in a small pamphlet published in
1715, entitled a Discourse concerning the Residual Ana¬
lysis.
The progress of geometry in England was accelerated by Waring,
the labours of Mr Edward Waring, professor of mathema¬
tics at Cambridge. His two works entitled Meditationes
Anahjticce, published in 1769, and Meditationes Algebrai-
cce, and his papers in the Philosophical Transactions on
the summation of forces, are filled with original and pro¬
found researches into various branches of the common al¬
gebra and the higher analysis.
It was, however, from the genius of Lagrange that the Discover-
higher calculus received the most brilliant improvements, ies of La-
This great man was born in Piedmont. He afterwards re- grange-
moved to Berlin, and from thence to Paris. In addition
to many improvements upon the integral analysis, he en¬
riched geometry with a new calculus called the Method
of Variations. The object of this calculus is, when there
M A T
MAT
324
Matlock is given an expression or function of two or more variable
II quantities the relation of which is expressed by a certain
Matron- javv^ £0 gn{j w|la^ function becomes when that law suffers
v ' any variation infinitely small, occasioned by the variation of
one or more of the terms which express it. This calculus
is as much superior to the integral calculus as the integral
calculus is to the common algebra. It is the only means by
which we can resolve an immense number of problems de
maximis et minimis., and it is necessary for the solution of
His theory the most interesting problems in mechanics. His theory
of analyti- 0f analytical functions is one of the most brilliant specimens
cal func- 0f human genius, In the Memoirs of Berlin for 1772 he
had touched upon this interesting subject; but the theory
was completely developed in 1797, in his work entitled
Theorie des Functions Analytiques, contenant les principes
du calcul differentiel, degages de toute consideration, d’in-
finiments petits, ou evanouissements, ou des limites, ou des
fluxions, et reduits d Vanalyse algebraique des quantiles Matrr
finies. In a great number of memoirs which are to be found
in the Memoirs of the Academy of Paris, in those of the Matt;
Academy of Berlin, and in those of the French Academy, WY
Lagrange has thrown light upon every branch both of the
common algebra and of the new analysis.
The new geometry has likewise been infinitely indebtedLaph,
to the celebrated M. de Laplace. His various papers in the
Memoires des Spartans Etrangers, and the Memoirs of the
French Academy, have added greatly to the higher calculus
in all its branches, whilst his application of analysis to the
celestial phenomena, as exhibited in the Mecanique Celeste,
and his various discoveries in physical astronomy, entitle
him to a high rank amongst the greatest promoters of
science.
For further information regarding the history of mathe¬
matical science, see the Dissertations prefixed to this work.
MATLOCK, a town and parish of the county of Derby
and hundred of Wirksworth, 144 miles from London. It
is situated on the river Derwent, in a most picturesque si¬
tuation, and is chiefly remarkable for its warm springs,
celebrated for the cure of incipient consumptions, for which
they are very much resorted to. The scenery around is
highly picturesque; and the air, though warmed by the
springs, remarkably pure, so that even in winter the atmo¬
sphere is genial. The accommodations for visitors are good
and economical, and the objects of attraction are numerous,
especially a cavern and the petrifying spring. Near to the
village are the extensive cotton-works constructed by the
late Sir Richard Arkwright, and now conducted by his fa¬
mily. Many of the inhabitants of Matlock are employed
in converting the spars found here into ornamental articles
of various kinds. The population amounted in 1801 to
2354, in 1811 to 2490, in 1821 to 2920, and in 1831 to
3262.
MATRICE, or Matrix, in dyeing, is applied to the
five simple colours, from which all the rest are derived.
These are, the black, white, blue, red, and yellow or root
colour.
Matrices used by the letter-founders, are those little
pieces of copper or brass, at one end of which are engraven,
dentwise, or en creux, the several characters used in the
composing of books. Each character, each virgula, and even
each point in a discourse, has its respective matrix, and
consequently its puncheon to strike it.
Matrices, used in coining, are pieces of steel in the form
of dies, on which are engraven the several figures, arms,
characters, and legends, wherewith the species are to be
stamped. The engraving is performed with several pun¬
cheons, which, being formed in relievo, or prominent, when
struck on the metal, make an indented impression, which
the French call en creux.
MATRICULA, a register kept of the admission of offi¬
cers and persons entered into any body or society of which
a list is made. Hence those who are admitted into our
universities are said to be matriculated. Amongst eccle¬
siastical authors, we find mention made of two kinds of
matricide ; the one containing a list of the ecclesiastics,
called matricula clericorum, and the other of the poor sub¬
sisted at the expense of the church, called matricula pau-
perum.
Matricula was also applied to a kind of alms-house,
where the poor were provided for. It had certain reve¬
nues appropriated to it, and was usually built near the
church, whence also the name was frequently given to the
church itself.
MATRONALIA, a Roman festival instituted by Ro¬
mulus, and celebrated on the kalends of March, in honour
of Mars. It was particularly observed by matrons, and
bachelors were entirely excluded from any share in the
solemnity. During this festival the men sent presents to
the women, for which a return was made by them at the
Saturnalia, and the women now gave the same indulgence
to their servants which the men gave to theirs at the feast
of Saturn, serving them at table, and treating them as su¬
periors.
MATROSSES are soldiers in the train of artillery,
who are next to the gunners, and assist them in loading,
firing, and sponging the great guns. They carry firelocks,
and march along with the store waggons, both as a guard,
and also to afford assistance in case a waggon should break
down.
MATSMAI, a large town, the capital of the island of
Japan, at the southern extremity of the island. Golownin,
who was taken prisoner by the Japanese, and here con¬
fined, supposes its population to amount to 50,000.
MATT, in a ship, is a name given to rope-yarn, junk,
or the like, beaten flat, interwoven, and used to preserve
the yards from galling or rubbing, in hoisting or lowering
them.
MATTER, in common language, is a word of the same
import with body, and denotes that which is tangible,
visible, and extended; but amongst philosophers it sig¬
nifies that substance of which all bodies are composed,
and in this sense it is synonymous with element.
It is only by the senses that we have any communica¬
tion with the external world ; but the immediate objects
of sense philosophers have in general agreed to term qua¬
lities, which they conceive as inhering in something that
is called their subject or substratum. It is this substratum
of sensible qualities which, in the language of philosophy,
is denominated matter; so that matter is not that which
we immediately see or handle, but the concealed subject
or support of visible and tangible qualities. What the
moderns term qualities, was by Aristotle and his followers
called form ; but, as far as the two doctrines are intelligible,
there appears to be no essential difference between them.
From the moderns we learn that body consists of matter
and qualities ; and the Peripatetics taught the same thing
when they said that body is composed of matter and form.
How plnlosophers were led to analyse body into matter
and form, or, to use modern language, into matter and
qualities ; what kind of existence they attributed to each;
and whether matter must be conceived as self-existent or
created ; these are questions which will be considered
afterwards. (See Metaphysics.) It is sufficient here to
have defined the term.
MATTHEW, or Gospel of St Matthew, a canonical
book of the New Testament. St Matthew wrote his gospel
M A T
MAT
325
I'll ftst- in Judaea, at the request of those whom he had converted ; dence being principally near the junction of the river Ap-
the and it is though the began in the year forty-one, eight years sarus and the haven of Hyssus. The barbarous people
r f*y~/ after Christ’s resurrection. _ It was written, according to treated him with great rudeness and inhumanity ; and, after
the testimony of all the ancients, in the Hebrew or Syriac many labours and sufferings in converting great numbers
language; but the Greek version, which now passes for the to Christianity, he obtained the crown of martyrdom, but
original, is as old as the apostolical times. by what kind of death is uncertain. There existed a ^os-
St Matthew Me Evangelist's Day, a festival of the pel ascribed to St Matthias, but it was universally reiected
Christian church, observed on the 21st of September. as spurious. ^ J
St Matthew, the son of Alpheus, was also called Levi. MATTO-GROSSO, or Great Thicket, is a province
He was of Jewish origin, as both his names discover, and of Brazil. It is bounded on the north by Para, and on the
probably a Galilean. Before his call to the apostleship, south by Paraguay, extending in this direction about nine
he was a publican or toll-gatherer to the Romans, an office hundred miles. The rivers Araguaya and Parana separate
of bad repute amongst the Jews, on account of the cove- it on the east from the provinces of Goyaz and San Paulo ;
tousness and exaction of those who managed it. St Mat- and on the west the rivers Madera, Guapore, Jauru, and
thew’s office particularly consisted in collecting the cus- Paraguay, divide it from Peru and La Plata. Its greatest
toms of all merchandise that came by the Sea of Galilee, breadth, which is in the upper part, where it borders on
and the tribute payable by passengers who went by water ; Para, is about 950 miles, and it continues so for 240 miles,
and here it was that he sat at the receipt of custom when it rapidly narrows till it joins Paraguay. This is one
when our Saviour called him to be a disciple. It is pro- of those Brazilian provinces the greater°part of which still
bable that, living at Capernaum, Christ’s usual place of remains in the hands of the unsubdued Indians, the Portu-
residence, he might have some knowledge of him before guese having only effected partial settlements in the coun-
he was called. St Matthew immediately expressed his sa- try. It comprises nearly four climates, and is naturally par-
tisfaction in being called to this high dignity, by entertain- titioned into three grand districts, of which two are divided
ing our Saviour and his disciples at a great dinner at his into six smaller ones. These seven divisions are Cama-
house, whither he invited all his friends, especially those puania on the south; Matto-Grosso proper, Cuyaba, and Bo-
of his own profession, hoping probably that they might be roronia in the centre ; and Juruenna, Arinos, and Tippira-
influenced by the company and conversation of Christ. St quia on the north. Tippiraquia, so called from the Tippi-
Matthew continued with the rest of the apostles till after raquia Indians, lying between the rivers Araguaya and Xin-
our Lord’s ascension. For the first eight years afterwards gu, is altogether unknown, except along its eastern boun-
he preached in Judaea. Then he betook himself to propa- dary. Arinos and Juruenna, named from the rivers which
gating the gospel amongst the Gentiles, and chose Ethio- intersect them, must also still be considered as terra incoq-
pia as the scene of his apostolical ministry, where, it is nita. The rivers Arinos and Juruenna unite to form the
said, he suffered martyrdom, but by what kind of death is great Tapajos. Bororonia, which takes its name from
altogether uncertain. It is pretended, but without any the Bororo Indians, is situated between Goyaz and Cuvaba
foundation, that Hyrtacus, king of Ethiopia, desiring to and is watered by the San Louren^o. It is destitute of any
marry Iphigema, the daughter of his brother and predeces- settlement, except an arraial and register on the Cuyaba
sor /bghppus, and the apostle having represented to him road.
that he could not lawfully do it, the enraged prince or- Camapuania, the southern division of the province, takes
dered his head to be immediately cut off. Baronius tells its name from the river Camapuan. Except in its north-
us, the body of St Matthew was transported from Ethiopia ern limits, it is nearly a uniform level; and a great part of
to liithyma, and was thence carried to Salernum in the its western half is annually submerged by the inundations
ingdom of Naples, where it was found in 1080, and where of the Paraguay, which is said to cover in some parts more
Juke Robert built a church bearing his name. than seventy miles of plain. In the north it is intersected
Matthew of Paris. See Paris. by a chain of mountains stretching from east to west, and
aitiiew oj Westminster, a Benedictine monk and ac- here the Paraguay and its branches have their origin, flow-
comphshed scholar, who wrote a history from the begin- ing to the southward, and the heads of the Tapajos and the
mng of the world to the end of the reign of Edward I. Xingu, which take a northerly course. This canton is di-
under the title of Flores Historiarum, which was after- vided into east and west by a cordillera of inconsiderable
'vards continued by other hands. He died in 1380. elevation, called the Serra Amambahy. From this chain
i ati hew, St, an uninhabited island, situated off the of hills numerous other rivers have their origin, so that
western coast of Lower Siam, belonging to the Burmans. the whole is in every part well watered, and mTght be ren-
°Makat* N. dered a valuable country in the hands of civilized men.
A i IHIAS, St, an apostle, was chosen instead of Ju- The only povoapoes in this district are the fazenda of
(as. He preached in Judtea and part of Ethiopia, and Camapuan, situated in latitude 19. 36. S.; and Miranda,
su ered martyrdom. (See the Acts of the Apostles, chap, a prezidio on the river Aranhary or Mondego, founded in
icre was a gospel published under Matthias’s name, 1797. Attempts have been made by the Spaniards to es-
U rej^cted as spurious ; there were likewise some tablish themselves at several points in this district, but with-
ra which met with the same fate. out success.
t Matthias s Day, a festival of the Christian church, Of the savage nations who retain undisputed possession
in stl pt1 6 February. St Matthias was an of this country we can afford but a brief account. The
hi 6 °t ^esus Christ, but not of the number of the most formidable are the Guaycurues, who are still a popu-
• 6 ve chosen by Christ himself. He obtained this high lous nation, divided into various hordes, and dwelling chief-
„„„nour ffi)on a vacancy in the college of the apostles, oc- ly on the eastern side of the Paraguay, from 19. 28. to 23.
chn10ne?,, y t le treafon and death of Judas Iscariot. The 36. south latitude. Those who inhabit the western side of
senh06 ill n* ^att^as ^ot» competitor being Jo- this river hold no alliance with other nations. Indeed the
nuaffi^r ,rsakas’ and surnamed Justus. Matthias was various tribes are declared enemies to each other, although
tend' ed °r 116 aP08t^es^*P .by having been a constant at- no difference of origin, idiom, or usage has been observed
He \3nt aar ^av*our during all the time of his ministry, amongst them. They recognise three degrees of rank ; the
bord,aS Pr°bably one of the seventy disciples. After our first, called captains, seems to be equivalent to noblesse or
kea 1 lesarrectlon, he preached the gospel, first in Ju- lords of the soilpthe second, denominated soldiers, are a
■' 11 a terwards, it appears, travelled eastward, his resi- species of hereditary vassals, whose military servitude de-
fMatto-
Grosso.
326 M A T
Matto- scends from sire to son; and the third are captives or slaves,
Grosso, being the prisoners of war and their descendants. The
Guaycurues are of medium stature, well made, healthy,
robust, and capable of executing painful and laborious un¬
dertakings. The men are diligent in hunting, fishing, ga¬
thering honey, and wild fruits, and in the manufacture of
arms and canoes. The women spin, manufacture clothes
and girdles of cotton, and make cords, mats, and other ar¬
ticles. They rear all the species of domestic birds and
quadrupeds introduced into the country, but agriculture
they hold in contempt. They are excellent horsemen, be¬
ing almost constantly on horseback, so that they constitute
a very formidable cavalry in their cruel wars, and are in
consequence much dreaded by the surrounding nations.
Like the Arabs, they have no permanent dwelling-places,
shifting their residences according to circumstances, but
always encamping near some river or lake. The woods
which border on the Igatimy, the Miamaya, and the Esco-
pil, streams flowing from the Serro Amambahy into the
Parana, are inhabited by the Cahans, or people of the
wood, so called to distinguish them from their enemies
the Guaycurues, who keep the open country. From the
accounts which we have of this semi-civilized tribe, they
appear to be descendants of some of the Indians civi¬
lized by the Jesuits of Paraguay. They cultivate the
cotton-tree, the produce of which they spin and weave in
a manner peculiar to themselves. They live in villages,
and have amongst them men who pretend to be at once
surgeons, doctors, divines, and priests. They carry in their
hands a cross; and, in their religious observances, solemni¬
ty is strongly blended with the wildest extravagance.
The cantons of Cuyaba and Matto-Grosso are, properly
speaking, the only districts of the province which have
been colonized. The latter contains the official capital,
Villa Bella, which is situated in a champaign country, near
the margin of the Guapore. It is a neat small city, and
contains, besides the residence of the governor and the
ouvidor, a smelting-house, the parochial church, and two
hermitages. The Guapore, which the Spaniards call
Itenez, whilst it sometimes goes by the name of the Ma-
more, originates nearly one hundred miles north-east of
the capital. After flowing eighty miles in a southerly
course, it runs nearly the same distance in a westerly di¬
rection ; it then curves towards the north-west and west-
north-west, and ultimately joins the Mamore, forming the
majestic Madera. The banks of this stream are for the
most part swampy and unhealthy. From the western side
of a continuation of the Serra Paricis, issue a number of
rivers, which join it by the right margin; but the largest
does not exceed one hundred miles in length. Thirty
miles to the east of the Guapore, the Jauru originates, in
the campos of the Serra Paricis, and, after a lengthened
southerly course, bends to the east-south-east, and falls
into the Paraguay in lat. 16. 24. south. At this conflu¬
ence, one hundred and seventy miles south-east of Villa
Bella, a stone with an inscription was erected in 1754, as
a boundary mark between the Spanish and Portuguese
territories. The northern portion of the canton is occu¬
pied by the Serra Paricis, an elevated range, with exten¬
sive sandy campos on its summits, inhabited by various
aboriginal tribes.
To the east of Matto-Grosso is the canton of Cuyaba,
probably the most valuable, as it is the most richly diver¬
sified part of the province. It is said to abound with
spacious plains, superb woods, and gently undulating ele¬
vations, which occasionally assume the aspect of moun¬
tains, and the greater portion is irrigated by numerous
rivers. The Cuyaba, from which the district derives its
name, traverses it from north to south, and falls into the
Lourenco in lat. 17. 20. The latter river separates it from
Bororonia, on the east and south, whilst the Paraguay
M A T
bounds it on the west. Villa Real de Cuyaba, the capi- jiat ,
tal, is a larger and more flourishing place than Villa Bella. |, -
It is situated near a small river, at one mile’s distance from Mat
the Cuyaba. The streets are mostly paved, and the
houses, as well as a church and three chapels which it
contains, are built of taipe. The population amounts to
about 30,000. The orange-tree grows here luxuriantly,
and the melon, water-melon, and pine-apple also flourish;
as well as mandioc, maize, cotton, and sugar, which are
cultivated by the inhabitants. Villa Maria, which is si¬
tuated on the eastern bank of the Paraguay, twenty-five
miles from the mouth of the Jauru, is the only other place
of any consideration in the canton. Its inhabitants are
chiefly Indian, but its position is excellent, and it may
probably yet become an important commercial town. The
adventurous Paulistas, who first formed settlements in
this remote district, were attracted thither by the gold
which the country afforded. The early explorers found
it in great quantities, and a vast number of persons be¬
longing to San Paulo were induced to undertake long and
laborious voyages in search of the precious metal. Se¬
veral of these expeditions proving fatal to those who em¬
barked in them, it was deemed necessary to despatch a
strong armament to subdue the native Indians. A des¬
perate conflict took place in 1735, which at last termi¬
nated in favour of the Paulistas. A road having been
opened to Goyaz, and intelligence brought of new gold
mines in Matto-Grosso, almost the whole population of
Cuyaba left that town for the west. There still exist,
however, as well in this canton as in that of Matto-Grosso,
various hordes of Bororo Indians ; but the greater part of
the population is stated to consist of Mamalucoes, de¬
scended from the alliance of the Paulistas with the Pari¬
cis Indians. With regard to the gross number of inhabi¬
tants in the province of Matto-Grosso, no idea can be
formed. Dr Von Martius enumerates no less than thirty-
five native tribes as peopling this vast tract of country.
( On the State of Civil and Natural Rights among the
Aboriginal Inhabitants of Brazil; an Essay, by Dr C. F.
Ph. Von Martius, Munich, 1832. See an abstract of the
work in The Journal of the Royal Geographical Society oj
London, volume second.) (r. R. R.)
MATURA, a town and fortress situated near the
southern extremity of Ceylon. The surrounding country
is covered with long grass and wood, and is the resort ot
savages and wild animals ; but it is valuable from the
abundance of elephants which are found here, and which
are esteemed equal, if not superior, to any in India. In
the vicinity of the town is a celebrated temple of Buddh.
MATVIEIEF, an island lying off the coast of Asiatic
Russia, near the Straits of Waigatz, and included in the
government of Archangel.
MAT WAR, a district of Hindustan, in the Mahratta
territories, province of Khandesh, situated between the
twenty-first and twenty-second degrees of north latitude.
The Tuptee, which is the principal river, bounds it on
the south-west, and the chief towns are Sultanpore and
Akrauny.
MATY, Matthew, an eminent physician and polite
writer, was born in Holland in the year 1718. He was
the son of a clergyman, and was originally intended for
the church ; but, in consequence of some mortifications his
father met with from the synod on account of the peculiar
sentiments he entertained respecting the doctrine of the
Trinity, he turned his thoughts to physic. Maty took his
degree of doctor of physic at Leyden, and in 1740 came
to settle in England, his father having determined to quit
Holland for ever. In order to make himself known, he
began in 1749 to publish, in French, an account of the pro¬
ductions of the English press, printed at the Hague, un¬
der the name of the Journal Britannique. This journa,
MAT MAT 327
^tv which continues to hold its rank amongst the best of those
which have appeared since the time of Bayle, answered
the end he had intended by it, and introduced him to the
acquaintance of some of the most respectable literary cha¬
racters of the country he had made his own. It wras to
their active and uninterrupted friendship that he owed the
places he afterwards possessed. In 1758 he was chosen
fellow, and in 1765, on the resignation of Dr Birch, who
died a few months afterwards, and had made him his exe¬
cutor, secretary to the Royal Society. He had been appoint¬
ed one of the under librarians of the British Museum at its
first institution in 1753, and became principal librarian on
the death of Dr Knight in 1772. Useful in all these si¬
tuations, he promised to be eminently so in the last, when
he was seized with a languishing disorder, which in 1776
put an end to a life that had been uniformly devoted to
the pursuits of science and the offices of humanity. He
was an early and an active advocate for inoculation ; and
when there was a doubt entertained that one might have
the small-pox this way a second time, he tried it upon
himself unknown to his family. He was a member of the
medical club (along with Drs Parsons, Templeman, Fo-
thergill, Watson, and others) which met every fortnight
in St Paul’s Churchyard. He was twice married, and left
a son and three daughters. He had nearly finished the
Memoirs of the Earl of Chesterfield, which were completed
by his son-in-law, Mr Justamond, and prefixed to that no¬
bleman’s Miscellaneous Works, 1777, in two vols. 4to.
Maty, Paul Henry, the son of the former, was born in
1745, and educated at Westminster, and at Trinity Col¬
lege, Cambridge, the travelling fellowship of which he held
for three years. He w'as subsequently chaplain to Lord
Stormont at Paris, and soon afterwards vacated his next
fellowship by marrying one of the three daughters of Jo¬
seph Clerk, and sister of Captain Charles Clerk, who suc¬
ceeded to the command on the death of Captain Cook.
On his father’s death in 1776, he was appointed to the
office of one of the under librarians of the British Museum,
and was afterwards preferred to a superior department,
having the care of the antiquities, for which he was emi¬
nently qualified. In 1776 he succeeded his father in the
office of secretary to the Royal Society. In the disputes
respecting the reinstatement of Dr Hutton in the depart¬
ment of secretary for foreign correspondence in 1784,
Mr Maty took a warm and distinguished part, and resign¬
ed the office of secretary; after which he undertook to
assist gentlemen or ladies in perfecting their knowledge
of the Greek, Latin, French, and Italian classics. Mr
Maty was a judicious and conscientious man ; and having
conceived some doubts about the articles he had subscrib¬
ed in early life, he never could be prevailed upon to place
himself in the way of ecclesiastical preferment, though
his connexions were amongst those who could have serv¬
ed him essentially in this point; and soon after his fa¬
thers death he withdrew himself from ministering in the
established church, his reasons for which he publish¬
ed in the forty-seventh volume of the Gentleman’s Maga¬
zine (p. 466). His whole life was thenceforward devot¬
ed to literary pursuits. He received L.100 from the
Luke of Marlborough, with a copy of that beautiful work,
the Gemma Marlburienses, of which only a hundred co¬
pies were worked off for presents, and of which Mr Maty
"rote the French account, as Mr Bryant did the Latin,
hi January 1782 he set on foot a review of publications,
piincipally foreign, which he carried on, with great cre¬
dit to himself and satisfaction to the public, for nearly five
H'ars, when he was obliged to discontinue it on account of
1 Vea]th. He had long laboured under an asthmatic com¬
plaint, which at times made great ravages in his constitu-
tlon’ and at last put a period to his life in January 1787,
at the age of forty-two, leaving behind him one son.
MAUBEUGE, a city of the department of the North, Maubeuge
and m the arrondissement of Avesnes, in France. It is II
strongly fortified, and stands on the river Sambre. It is MauPer-
a well-built place, containing 600 houses, with 5000 inha-. tuis'
bitants, many of whom are occupied in making nails, arti- Y
cles of jewellery, and ornaments of marble ; but the prin¬
cipal occupation of the inhabitants is the making of fire-
arms, both for the cavalry and the infantry, and3 elegant
fowling-pieces, which employ also many workmen in^he
adjoining villages.
MAULEON, an arrondissement of the department of
the Lower Pyrenees, in France, 511 square miles in ex¬
tent. It comprehends six cantons, divided into 147 com¬
munes, and contains 66,400 inhabitants. The capital is
the city of the same name situated on the Gave de Saizan.
It contains only 1130 inhabitants, who chiefly depend on
the cultivation of vineyards. Long. 0. 59. W. Lat. 43
12. N.
MAUNCH, in Heraldry, the figure of an ancient coat
sleeve, borne in many gentlemen’s escutcheons.
MAUNDY Thursday is the Thursday in passion
week, which was called Maunday or Mandate Thursday,
from the command which our Saviour gave his apostles to
commemorate him in the Lord’s Supper, which he insti¬
tuted on that day ; or from the new commandment which
he gave them to love one another, after he had washed
their feet as a token of his love, and also as a lesson of hu¬
mility to them.
MAUPERTUIS, Peter Louis Morceau de, a cele-
bi ated trench academician, was born at St Malo in the year
1698, and privately educated there until he attained the
age of sixteen, wdien he was placed under the celebrated
professor of philosophy M. le Blond, in the college of La
Marche, at Paris. He soon discovered a passion for ma¬
thematical studies, and particularly for geometry. In his
early years he likewise practised instrumental music with
great success, but fixed on no profession till he was twen¬
ty, when he entered into the army. He first served in
the Gray Musqueteers; but, in the year 1720, his father
purchased for him a company of cavalry in the regiment
of La Rocheguyon. He remained only five years in the
army, during which time he pursued his mathematical
studies with great vigour; and it was soon remarked by
Freret and other academicians, that nothing but geome¬
try could satisfy his active soul and unbounded thirst for
knowledge. In the year 1723 he was received into the
Royal Academy of Sciences, and read his first perform¬
ance, which was a memoir upon the construction and form
of musical instruments (15th November 1724). During
the first years of his admission, he did not wholly confine
his attention to mathematics ; he dipped into natural phi¬
losophy, and discovered great knowledge and dexterity
in observations and experiments upon animals. If the
custom of travelling into remote climates, like the sages
of antiquity, in order to be initiated into the learned mys¬
teries, had still subsisted, no one would have conformed to
it with greater eagerness than M. de Maupertuis. His
first gratification of this passion wTas to visit the country
which had given birth to Newton ; and during his resi¬
dence at London he became as zealous an admirer and
follower of that philosopher as any one of his own coun¬
trymen. His next excursion was to Basil in Switzerland,
where he formed a friendship with John Bernoulli and his
family, which continued till his death. At his return to
Paris, he applied himself to his favourite studies with
greater zeal than ever. To ascertain how well he fulfilled
the duties of an academician, it is only necessary to run
over the Memoirs of the Academy from the year 1724 to
1736, in which it appears that he was neither idle nor oc¬
cupied by objects of small importance. The most sublime
questions in geometry and tiie relative sciences received
328
M A U
M A U
Mauper- from his hands that elegance, clearness, and precision, so
tuis. remarkable in all his writings. In the year 1736 he was
sent by the king of France to the polar circle to measuie
a degree of latitude, in order to ascertain the figure or
the earth, accompanied by MM. Clairaut, Camus, Le
Monnier, the Abbe Outhier, and Celsius the celebrated
professor of astronomy at Upsal. This distinction render¬
ed him so famous, that at his return he was admitted a
member of almost every academy in Europe.
In the year 1740 Maupertuis received an invitation trom
the king of Prussia to go to Berlin, which was too flatteiing
to be refused. His rank amongst men of letters had not
wholly effaced his love for his first profession, namely,
that of arms. He followed his Prussian majesty into the
field, and was a witness of the dispositions and operations
which preceded the battle of Mollwitz; but he was de¬
prived of the glory of being present when victory declared
in favour of his royal patron, by a singular kind of adventure.
His horse having, during the heat of the action, run away
with him, he fell into the hands of the enemy, and was at
first but roughly treated by the Austrian soldiers, to whom
he could not make himself known, from ignorance of their
language; but being carried prisoner to Vienna, he re¬
ceived such honours from their imperial majesties as were
never effaced from his memory. From Vienna he return¬
ed to Berlin ; but as the reform of the academy which
the king of Prussia then meditated was not yet mature,
he went back to Paris, where his affairs called him, and
was in 1742 chosen director of the Academy of Sciences.
In 1753 he was received into the French Academy, which
was the first instance of the same person being at the
same time a member of both the academies at Paris. M.
de Maupertuis again assumed the character of a soldier
at the siege of Friburg, and was pitched upon by Mar¬
shal Cogny and the Count d’Argenson to carry the news
to the French king of the surrender of that citadel.
He returned to Berlin in the year 1744, when, by the
good offices of the queen-mother, a marriage was nego¬
tiated and brought about between him and Mademoiselle
de Borck, a lady of great beauty and merit, and nearly
related to M. de Borck, at that time minister of state.
This determined him to settle at Berlin, as he was ex¬
tremely attached to his new' spouse, and regarded this al¬
liance as the most fortunate circumstance of his life.
In the year 1746, M. de Maupertuis was declared by his
Prussian majesty president of the Royal Academy of
Sciences at Berlin, and soon afterwards was honoured with
the order of Merit. However, all these accumulated ho¬
nours and advantages, so far from lessening his ardour for
the sciences, seemed to furnish new allurements to labour
and application. Not a day passed but he produced some
new project or essay for the advancement of knowledge.
Nor did he confine himself solely to mathematical studies.
Metaphysics, chemistry, botany, polite literature, all shared
his attention, and contributed to his fame. At the same
time he had, it seems, a strange inquietude of spirit, with
a morose temper, which rendered him miserable amidstho-
nours and pleasures. Such a temperament did not promise
a very pacific life, and in fact he was engaged in several
quarrels. He had a dispute with Koenig the professor of
philosophy at Franeker, and another of a more serious
ki»d with Voltaire. Maupertuis had inserted in the volume
of Memoirs of the Academy of Berlin for 1746, a dis¬
course upon the laws of motion, which Koenig was not
content with attacking, but attributed to Leibnitz. Mau¬
pertuis, stung with the imputation of plagiarism, engaged
the academy of Berlin to call upon him for his proof,
which Koenig failed to produce, and was in consequence
struck off the academy, of which he was a member. Se¬
veral pamphlets appeared on the subject; and Voltaire,
for some reason or other, took part against Maupertuis.
This is the more unaccountable, because Maupertuis and
Voltaire were apparently upon the most amicable terms;
and the latter respected the former as his master in the
mathematics. Voltaire, however, exerted all his wit and
satire against him ; and, upon the whole, he was so much
transported beyond what was thought right, that he found
it expedient in 1753 to quit the court of Prussia.
Maupertuis’s constitution had long been considerably
impaired by the fatigues of various kinds in which his ac¬
tive mind had involved him ; indeed, to the amazing hard¬
ships he had undergone in his northern expedition, most
of his future bodily sufferings may be traced. The intense
sharpness of the air could only be supported by means of
strong liquors, which served to increase his disorder, and
bring on a spitting of blood, which began at least twelve
years before his death. Yet his mind seemed still to pos¬
sess the greatest vigour ; for the best of his writings were
produced, and his most sublime ideas developed, during
the time of his confinement by sickness, when he was un¬
able to occupy his chair as president at the academy. He
took several journeys to St Malo, during the last years of
his life, for the recovery of his health ; and though he al¬
ways received benefit by breathing his native air, yet, on
his return to Berlin, his disorder returned with greater
violence. His last journey to France w'as undertaken in
the year 1757, when, soon after his arrival there, he was
obliged to quit his favourite retreat at St Malo, on account
of the danger and confusion into which that town was
thrown by the arrival of the English in its neighbourhood.
From thence he proceeded to Bordeaux, hoping there to
meet with a neutral ship to carry him to Flamburg, on his
way back to Berlin ; but being disappointed in that hope,
he went to Toulouse, where he remained seven months.
He had then thoughts of going to Italy, in hopes that a
milder climate would restore him to health; but finding
himself grow worse, he rather inclined towards Germany,
and went to Neufchatel, where for three months he en¬
joyed the conversation of Lord Marischal, with whom he
had formerly been much connected. At length he arrived
at Basil on the I6th of October 1758, and was there re¬
ceived by his friend Bernoulli and his family with the ut¬
most tenderness and affection. He at first found himself
much better there than he had been at Neufchatel; but this
amendment was of short duration; for as the winter ap¬
proached his disorder returned, accompanied by new and
more alarming symptoms. He languished here many months,
during which he was attended by M. de la Condamine,
and died in 1759. The w'orks which he published were
collected into four volumes 8vo, published in 1756 at L)'®11®’
where a new and elegant edition was also printed in 1768.
These consist of, 1. Essai de Cosmologie, first published at
Berlin in 1748 ; 2. Discours sur la Figure des Astres, first
published in 1732; 3. Essai de Philosophic Morale, m
which he maintains that the sum of evil surpasses that
of good ; 4. Reflexions Philosophiques sur I’Origine des
Langues et la Signification des Mots ; 5. Venus Physique,
or an Exposition of the System of Generation ; 6. Systeme
de la Nature, first published in 1751, and which maybe
considered as the sequel of the preceding work ; 7. Lettres,
on various subjects; 3. Elements de Geographic, publisher
at Paris in 1742, and containing an exposition of the means
for determining the figure of the earth ; 9. Relation dun
Voyage fait par ordre du Roi au Cercle Polaire, printe
at Paris as early as 1738; 10. Relation dun Voyage au
fond de la Laponie; 11. Letter on the Comet of 174^, -■
Discours Academiques, pronounced in the French an
Prussian Academies ; 13. Memoire sur la moindre quan
tite d’Action; 14. Astronomic Nautique, a work muc
cried up when it first appeared, but now little read, *>•
Parallaxe de la Lune ; 16. Mesure du Degre du JNoi
Besides these treatises, Maupertuis was the author o a
Maupt
tuis1
tur,
II
writ
St.
M A U
M A U
great number of papers, printed partly in the Memoirs of was transmitted to posterity in a very imnerfeet manner
; ee Iciy BeX? SC,enCeS’ and Part'y m °f nb^UriuS- Chifflatfa Jesu^ discov^edT; gfveTthe
MAUR, St, was a celebrated disciple of St Benedict, maintains ThaTl^hCa°sP;evefr^markl!<f Do.n.Ru,na^t
If we can believe a life of St Maur ascribed to Faustus his Maurice is the patron of a celebrated ord^T^Th^domf
companion he was sent by Benedict on a mission to France, nions of the king of Sardinia, created by Emanuel PhU '
But this life is considered as apocryphal. In reject- bert, duke of Savoy, to reward military me^rdronroved
mg it, however, as well as the circumstances of the mis- by Gregory XIII in 1572 Tint t\L ~ b ana approved
sion, we must beware of denying the mission itself. It iLbau^ion ls“„of co^L^deSTiret'tlt's:
is certain tia it was believed in France as early as the Maurice, mentioned by Theodoret, who suffered martyr
ninth century; and notwithstanding the silence of Bede, dom at Apamea in Syria suneiea martyi-
Gregory of lours, and others, there are several documents Maurice, St, a small city in Switzerland, in the canton
winch prove tins, or at least render .t extremely probable, of Valais. It is remarkable as a pass between lofty rock"
A celebrated society of Benedictines took the name of through which the river Rhone has wrought a passage
bt Maur n the beginning of the seventeenth century, and over which there is a bridge of one arch. It was cleaned
received the sanction of Pope Gregory XV. in 1621. This by the Romans an important pass, and was the efore stroTo.-
society was early distinguished by the virtue and the ly fortified by them; and many of their an iquTties ^e now
learning of its members, and has produced many works found there. The name is taken from the leader ofX
wind are deservedly held m high estimation for their Theban legion, who, according to tradition, here destroyed
great and varied erudmon. See L Msto.re Litteraire de the idols of the heathen inhabitants. It now contains 1250
la Congregation de St Maur, published by Dom Tassin inhabitants. l now contains
at Paris under the name of Brussels, 1770, in 4to. Maurtcp de cm
MAURA, or Moeidie, one of the smallest of the So- the goverameln^f de’L„ v r„,m, “ff’ S'1,CC“det
ciety islands, in the South Pacific Ocean, being about fif- bis Ither William who was kdled in istfby de ftnX
tunnies ,n circuit, and surrounded by a coral reef of Gerard The young prince was then 00^ eighteen“eals
MAURIAC, an arrondissement of the department of HeX awoddd^imgttauT
Cantal, m France, extending oyer 500 square miles. It and be reared that edifice of liberty of which his father had
laid the foundations. Breda submitted to him in 1590;
Zutphen, Deventer, Hulst, Nimeguen, in 1591. F]e gain¬
ed several important advantages in 1592, and in the fol¬
lowing year he made himself master of Gertruydenburg.
W hen be had performed these splendid services, be return¬
ed to the Low Countries by the way of Zealand. His fleet
was attacked by a dreadful tempest, in which he lost forty
vessels, and he himself had very nearly perished. His
death would have been considered by the Hollanders as a
• • . , . . 7^*7*^* ° l,lic41' much greater calamity than the loss of their vessels fl’hev
gion, amounting to six thousand six hundred men. This watched over his safety with exceeding care lii ISfl/
£" h warrai'se.r^ ra ‘ t V1’!’ r"6 0fllis ^ of mi intention to take awat
e e it was raised. It was sent by Diocletian to check his life, and it was generally believed that he had been
I e Bagaiukc, who had excited some disturbances in Gaul, bribed to do this service by the enemies of the remihfic
aunce having earned h.s troops over the Alps, the Em- but he fell a sacrifice at Bruges, Xher to hi, own fanatR
e or Maximunan commanded him to employ his utmost cism, or to the jealous anxiety of the friends of Maurice
(.rtions to extirpate Christianity. This proposal was The Prince of Orange defeated the troons of the Archduke
S WThe emn1’ 1 ^ ^ C°m}mander and bF the Albert in 13^, and drove the Spaniards entirefv out of
ditrs. I he emperor, enraged at their opposition, com- Holland. In 1600 he was obliged to raise the sie^e of Dun
catd h«Xnvtl'ldddeCimatCt!-; theCtm l)ut he to“k
rriudicia to tl e riirivri. fT" dUi be aSain defeat«1 in a pitched battle near Nieuport. Be¬
lli rema ned walnut M dS1,?’ evar>'.te"tl‘ man of tllosc fure the action, this great general sent back the ships which
tedthe em hP !-n d U 1 beir P5rseverance ex- had brought his troops into Flanders. “ My brethren ”
it nothin/r ^ 1°- Sti Srf,ater cruelty ? f°r when he saw said he to his army, “ we must conquer the enemy or drink
i n ZrnS , ridUCe them t0 relm(lulsh their reIi- UP the waters of the sea. Determine for yourselves 1
em in nieceTnMad }S ‘T1’8 t0 surro.und them and cut have resolved I shall either conquer by your bravery,’or
ui heroes and Fv , 0 S7m^der ofJhese Chris- ^ver survive the disgrace of being conquered bv men
uion wliohLlD7 fl P 8 a"d Candldus7 officers of the in every respect our inferiors.” This speech elevated the
: d , efl/ ‘.ost'gated the soldiers to this noble soldiers to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, and the victory
w-as complete. Rhinberg, Grave, and Ecluse, cities in
Flandeis, submitted in the following year to the conqueror.
Maui ice, however, not only laboured for the commonwealth,
hut also for himself. He coveted the sovereignty of Hol¬
land, hut in the prosecution of his design was opposed by
the other hand” it isXfpnXd kVhIV^ T,* th.e Pensio"er Barneveldt But the zeal and activity of this
iter md Kv \ defended^ by Hicks, an English wise republican cost him his life. He was an Arminian •
the conm-elation of °SS7P t V* * benf dlct!n,e ?10nk and at tbis time Maurice defended Gomar against Arminius!
'cede InV'' n 0lf^aint ^annes>ln a work entitled De- In 1619, the prince, taking advantage of the General odium
detnee la LTn mbenne’ 1737- under which the Arminians lay, foufd meLsfo get Barne-
tfre de S llaurdil ^ the1read^r may consult His- veldt condemned. His death, which was wholly owing to
• nctorum for the mont! oTIp 0fe’ h ant the the ambition of the Prince of Orange, made a deep impres-
1 this leln writmu 1 v l , l be "^tyrdom sion on the minds of the Hollanders? The truce with Spain
vol. xfv. ’ f en b> ^t Lucherius, bishop of Lyons, having expired, Spinola laid siege to Breda in 1624; and in
2 T
329
Maurice,
St
II .
Maurice
de Nassau.
' ^ v ~ w V-V KJ k.1 h-C L Lilli » . ^ • 1 |,
comprehends six cantons, which are divided into sixty-
three communes, and contains 62,400 inhabitants. The
capital is the city of the same name, which is built of a
lasalt on a basaltic rock, and contains 360 houses, with a
lopulatiqn, including the parish, of 3450. Its chief trade
insists in the sale of horses and cows reared in the nehdi-
lourhood, and which are of great repute, Long. 2. 14fE.
Lat. 45. 10. N.
MAURICE, St, commander of the Theban legion, was
ii Christian, as were also the officers and soldiers of that
t . - . ;—j luc oumicis iu uns nooie
sistance, signalized themselves by their patience and
eir attachment to the doctrines of the Christian religion,
'ey were massacred at Agaune in Chablais, on the^d
September 286. Notwithstanding many proofs in sup-
r o this transaction, Duhordier, Hottinger, Moyle,
‘niet, and Mosheim, are disposed to deny the fact. But
330
M A U
M A U
Mauri¬
tania.
six months he took the place, though with great slaughter
of his troops. The Prince of Orange, having proved un¬
successful in every attempt to raise the siege, died of vexa¬
tion in 1625, at the age of fifty-five, being reputed the great¬
est warrior of his time. “ The life of this stadtholder,” says
the Abbe Raynal, “ was almost an uninterrupted series of
battles, of sieges, and of victories. Of moderate abilities
in everything else, he shone conspicuous in his military capa¬
city. His camp was the school of Europe ; and those who
received their military education in his armies augmented,
perhaps, the glory of their master. Like Montecuculi, he
discovered inimitable skill in his marches and encampments ;
like Yauban, he possessed the talent of fortifying places,
and of rendering them impregnable; like Eugene, the ad¬
dress to find subsistence for great armies in countries barren
by nature, or ravaged by war; like Yen dome, the happy
talent of calling forth, in the moment when they became
necessary, greater exertions from his soldiers than could
reasonably be expected ; like Conde, that infallible quick¬
ness of eye which usually decides the fortune of battles ; like
Charles XII. the art of rendering his troops almost invinci¬
ble to cold, hunger, and fatigue ; like Turenne, the secret
of making war with the least possible expense of human
blood.” The Chevalier Folard maintains that Maurice was
the greatest commander of infantry since the time of the Ro¬
mans. He studied the military art of the ancients, and ap¬
plied their rules with great exactness in the various occur¬
rences of war. He not only took advantage of the inven¬
tions of others, but he also enriched the science of war with
several improvements. Telescopes were first used by him
for military purposes ; and, besides a kind of gallery in con¬
ducting a siege, and the plan of blockading a strong place,
which were of his invention, he greatly improved the art
by his method of pushing an attack with great vigour, and
of defending, for the greatest length of time, and in the best
manner, a place besieged. In short, the many useful things
which he practised or invented placed him in the highest
rank amongst militar*y men. On one occasion, a lady of
quality asked him, “ Who was the first general of the age ?
Spinola,” replied he, “ is the second.” It was his constant
practice, during sleep, to have two guards placed by his
bed-side, not only to defend him in case of danger, but to
awake him if there should be the least occasion. The war
between Spain and Holland was never carried on with
greater vigour and animosity than during his administra¬
tion. The grand signior, hearing of the quantity of blood
shed in this contest, thought that a great empire must be
depending on the decision. When the object ot so many
battles was pointed out to him on a map, he said cold¬
ly, “ If it were my business, I would send my pioneers,
and order them to cast this little corner of earth into the
sea.” Maurice was succeeded by Frederick Henry, his
brother.
MAURITANIA, an ancient kingdom of Africa, bound¬
ed on the west by the Atlantic Ocean, on the south by
Getulia or Libya Interior, and on the north by the Medi¬
terranean, and comprehending the greater part of the king¬
doms of Fez and Morocco. Its ancient limits are not exactly
mentioned by any historian ; neither can they now be ascer¬
tained by any modern observations, these kingdoms being
but little known to Europeans.
This country was originally inhabited by a people called
Mauri, concerning the etymology of whose name authors
are not agreed. It is probable, however, that the country,
or at least great part of it, was first called Phut, since it
appears from Pliny, Ptolemy, and St Jerome, that a river
and territory not tar from Mount Atlas went by that name.
It likewise appears, from the Jerusalem Targum, that part
of the Mauri may be deemed the offspring of Lud, the son
of Misraim, since his descendants, mentioned in Genesis,
are there called Mauri, or Mauritani. It is certain that
this region, as well as the others to the eastward of it, had M:
many colonies planted by the Phoenicians. Procopius tells ta
us that in his time were to be seen twro pillars of white ^ ^
stone, containing the following inscription in the Phoenician
language and character: “We are the Canaanites who
fled from Joshua the son of Nun, that notorious robber.”
Ibnu Rachic, or Ibnu Raquig, an African writer cited by
Leo, and also Evagriusand Nicephorus Callistus, make the
same statement.
The Mauritanians were, according to Ptolemy, divided
into several cantons or tribes. The Metagonitm were si¬
tuated near the Straits of Hercules, now those of Gibraltar;
the Saccosii, or Cocosii, occupied the coast of the Iberian
Sea ; and under these two petty nations the Masices, Ve-
rues, and Yerbicae or Vervicae, were settled. The Salisas
or Salinsae were situated lower-, towards the ocean; and,
still more to the south were the Volubiliani. The Maurensii
and Herpiditani possessed the eastern part of this country,
which was terminated by the Mulucha. The Angaucani
or Jangacaucani, Nectiberes, Zagrensii, Baniubae, and Va-
cuntae, extended from the southern base of Ptolemy’s At¬
las Minor to his Atlas Major. Pliny mentions the Baniura:,
whom Father Hardouin takes to be Ptolemy’s Baniubse;
and Mela speaks of the Atlantes, whom he represents as
possessing the western part of this district.
The earliest prince of Mauritania mentioned in history
is Neptune; and next to him wrere Atlas and Antaeus his
two sons, both famous in the Grecian fables on account of
their wars with Hercules. Antaeus, in his contention with
that hero, seems to have behaved with great bravery and
resolution. Having received reinforcements of Libyan
troops, he cut off numbers of Hercules’s men. But that
celebrated commander, having at last intercepted a strong
body of Libyans sent to the relief of Antaeus, inflicted on
him a total overthrow, in which both he and the greater
part of his forces were put to the sword. This decisive
action put Hercules in possession of Libya and Maurita¬
nia, and consequently of the riches of these kingdoms.
Hence arose the fable, that Hercules, finding that An¬
taeus, a giant of enormous size with whom he w'as engaged
in single combat, received fresh strength as often as he
touched his mother earth when thrown upon her, at last
lifted him up in the air and squeezed him to death. Hence
likewise may be deduced the fable, which intimates that
Hercules took the globe from Atlas upon his own .shoul¬
ders, overcame the dragon which guarded the orchards of
the Hesperides, and made himself master of all the golden
fruit it produced. Bochart thinks that the fable alluded
chiefly to naval engagements, in which Hercules was for
the most part victorious, though Antaeus from time to time
received succours by sea; but that at last Hercules, com¬
ing up with one of his squadrons which had a strong rein¬
forcement on board, made himself master of it, and thus
rendered Antaeus incapable for the future of making head
against him. The same author likewise insinuates, that
the notion of the gigantic stature of Antaeus, which pre¬
vailed for so many centuries amongst the Tingitanians,
pointed out the size of the vessels of which his fleets and
squadrons were composed. As for the golden apples so
frequently mentioned by the old mythologists, they were
the treasures which fell into Plercules’s hands upon the
defeat of Antaeus ; the Greeks giving to the oriental word
riches, the signification affixed to their own term
^Xa, apples.
With regard to the age in which Atlas and Antaeus
lived, the most probable supposition seems to be that o
Sir Isaac Newton. According to that illustrious author,
Ammon, the father of Sesak, was the first king of Lib)’3’
or of that vast tract extending from the borders of EgyP^
to the Atlantic Ocean, the conquest of which country was
effected by Sesak in his father’s lifetime. Neptune alter
M A U
jfaji. wards excited the Libyans to a rebellion against Sesak, and
ta; i. slew him, and then invaded Egypt under the command of
Atlas or Antaeus, the son of Neptune, Sesaks brother and
admiral. Not long after, Hercules, the general of Thebais
and Ethiopia, reduced a second time the whole territory
of Libya, having overthrown and slain Antaeus near a town
in Thebais, from that event called Antcea or Antaopolis.
Such is the notion advanced by Sir Isaac Newton, who
endeavours to prove that the first reduction of Libya, by
Sesak, happened about a thousand years before the birth
of Christ, as the last, by Hercules, did some years after¬
wards. Now, although we do not pretend to adopt every
particular circumstance of Sir Isaac Newton’s system, yet
we cannot forbear observing, that it appears evident from
Scripture, that neither the western extremity of Libya, nor
even the other parts of that region, could possibly have
been so well peopled before the time of David or Solomon,
as to have sent a numerous army to invade Egypt, since
Egypt and Phoenicia, whence came the greater part of
the ancestors of the Libyans, and which w^ere much nearer
the place whence the first dispersion of mankind took place,
could not have been greatly overstocked with inhabitants
any considerable time before the reign of Saul. That such
an invasion, however, happened in the reign of Neptune,
or at least in that of his son Antaeus, has been most fully
evinced by this distinguished chronologist.
From the defeat of Antaeus nothing remarkable occurs
in the history of Mauritania till the times of the Romans,
who at last brought the wdiole kingdom under their juris¬
diction. With regard to the customs and manners of this
people, it would seem, from what Hyginus insinuates, that
they fought only with clubs, until one Belus, the son of
Neptune (as that author calls him), taught them the use of
the sword. Sir Isaac Newton is of opinion that this Belus
was the same with Sesostris king of Egypt, who overran a
great part of the then known world.
All persons of distinction in Mauritania wTent richly at¬
tired, wearing gold and silver on their clothes. They took
great pains in cleansing their teeth, and curled their hair
in a curious and elegant manner. They combed their
beards, which were long, and always had their nails closely
paired. When they walked out in any numbers they never
touched one another, for fear of disconcerting the curls in¬
to which their hair had been formed.
Ihe Mauritanian infantry, in time of action, used shields
made of elephants’ skins, being clad in those of lions, leo¬
pards, and bears, which they kept on both night and day.
Ihe cavalry of this nation w7ere armed with broad, short
lances, and carried targets or bucklers made of the skins of
tvild beasts. They used no saddles. Their horses were
small and swift, had wooden collars about their necks, and
were so much under the command of their riders, that they
o 'owed them like dogs. The habit of these horsemen
was not much different from that of the foot already men¬
tioned ; they constantly wore a large tunic of the skins of
wild beasts. The Phutaei, of whom the Mauritanians were
a branch, were eminent for their shields, and the excellent
use they made of them, as we learn from Homer, Xeno-
p ion, Herodotus, and Scripture. Nay, Herodotus seems
to intimate that the shield and helmet came from them
to the Greeks.
f ^otv^thstandjng the fertility of their soil, the poorer sorts
u m Mauritanians never took care to manure the ground,
icing strangers to the art of husbandry, but roved about the
country in a wild and savage manner, like the ancient Scy-
nans or Scenil(B. I hey had tents, or mapalia, so ex-
remely small that they could scarcely breathe in them. Their
oodwas corn, herbage, &c. which they frequently ate green,
i unit any manner of preparation, being destitute of
• e’an",a^ fTm elegancies as well as many necessa-
s 0 i e. 1 heir habit was the same both in summer and
M A U
331
winter, consisting chiefly of an old tattered though thick Mauritius.
garment, and over it a coarse rough tunic, which answered v  
probably to that of their neighbours the Numidians. Most
of them lay every night upon the bare ground, though
some ot them strewed their garments thereon, not unlike
tne Kabyles and Arabs of our day, who, according to Dr
fehaw, use their hykes for a bed and covering in the night.
If the most approved reading of Horace may be admit¬
ted, the Mauritanians shot poisoned arrows, which clearly
intimates that they had some skill in the art of preparino-
poisons, and were excellent bowmen. This last observa¬
tion is countenanced by Herodian and Ailian, who entirely
come into it, affirming them to have been in such conti¬
nual danger of being devoured by wild beasts, that they
durst not stir out ot their tents or mapalia without their
darts. Such perpetual exercise must have rendered them
exceedingly skilful in hurling that weapon. The Mauri¬
tanians sacrificed human victims to their deities, like the
1 hcenicians, Carthaginians, and other nations.
Ihe country people were extremely rude and barba¬
rous ; but those inhabiting cities must have had at least
some smattering of the literature of the several nations
from whom they deduced their origin. That the Mauri¬
tanians had some knowledge of naval affairs seems pro¬
bable, not only from the intercourse they had with the
Phoenicians and Carthaginians, as well as the situation of
their country, but likewise from the statement of Orpheus
oi Onomacritus, who asserts that they had made a settle¬
ment at the entrance into Colchis, to which place they
came by sea. To magic and sorceiy, divination and witch¬
craft, they appear to have applied themselves in very
early times. Cicero and Pliny say that Atlas was the in¬
ventor of astrology and the doctrine of the sphere, which
he first introduced into Mauritania. This, according to
Diodorus Siculus, gave rise to the fable of Atlas bearing
the heavens upon his shoulders. The same author relates
that Atlas instructed Hercules in the doctrine of the sphere
and astrology, or rather astronomy, and that the latter af¬
terwards brought these sciences into Greece.
MAURITIUS, or Isle of France, an island in the In¬
dian Ocean, situated between the meridians of 57. 17. and
57. 46. east longitude, and the parallels of 19. 58. and 20.
32. south latitude, one hundred and twenty miles to the
north-east of the Isle of Bourbon, and four hundred and
eighty miles from Madagascar. Its shape is nearly oval,
measuring from north to south forty-four miles, and from
east to west thirty-two miles. Some, however, estimate
its dimensions about ten miles less either way; but the
above appears to be the most correct estimate of its size.
The island of Mauritius was discovered by the Portu¬
guese in the year 1507, and that people retained pos¬
session of it during nearly the whole of the sixteenth cen¬
tury, without, however, making any permanent settlements
upon it. In 1598 it was taken possession of by the Dutch
who changed its name, which had originally been Cerne, to
that of Mauritius. The Hollanders, however, were too
busy extracting the wealth of their other possessions in the
East to pay much attention to this new acquisition, and they
finally abandoned it in the year 1712. It was subsequently
colonized by the French, who took formal possession of it
in 1721, changing its name to Isle de France. The first
regular settlement took place in 1735 under M. dela Bour-
donnais, who paid much attention to agriculture and com¬
merce, introducing the cultivation of the sugar-cane, esta¬
blishing manufactures of cotton and indigo, and erecting
various public works. The foundations of its prosperity
were thus laid, but half a century had nearly expired before
the French government fully appreciated the importance of
their colony. It was not until 1784 that measures were
adopted which raised the island from what it had hitherto
been, an agricultural colony, to a considerable commercial
332
MAURITIUS.
Mauritius. dep6t. Till the breaking forth of those great political com-
motions which originated in France and convulsed Europe,
the Mauritius had been despotically governed; but then
the colonists, in imitation of the revolutionists of the mo¬
ther country, declared for a national assembly. For seve¬
ral years the country remained in a very troubled state;
but in 1799 the government became more settled, and from
this period the colonists enjoyed tranquillity, and the cul¬
tivation of the island rapidly extended. From the Mauritius
the French were enabled greatly to annoy the trade of the
British in the East, and this led to the attack and conquest
of the island in 1810. At the peace of 1814 the acquisi¬
tion was ratified, and since that period Mauritius has re¬
mained attached to the British empire.
The aspect of this island is highly romantic and pic¬
turesque, from whatever point it is approached. It is
nearly surrounded by coral reefs, having shallow lagoons
between them and the shore, so that landing is difficult, if
not dangerous. From the coast the land rises to the middle
of the island, and chains of mountains intersect it in vari¬
ous directions from the centre to the shore. There are
three principal ranges, the height of which varies from
1800 to 2800 feet above the sea, and they are for the
most part covered with timber. The forms of many of
these mountains are singular and grotesque. The great
chain of the Police is so called from its resemblance to a
thumb on a human hand. On the same chain is a peak
called Pieterbooth, 2500 feet high, which is terminated by
an obelisk or spire of naked rock, on the top of which re¬
poses an immense globular mass of stone, larger than the
point of the pyramid on which it is balanced. These
mountains are composed of ironstone and a species of lava
of a gray colour, and both the appearance of the island and
the nature of its material unequivocally indicate a volcanic
origin. In the interior there are large forests and plains of
table-land, several leagues in circumference, and of differ¬
ent elevations. The principal rivers are named the Port
Louis, Latanier, Plaines Wilhems, Moka, Rampart, Great
and Little Black Rivers, with many other streams of lesser
note. There are likewise several lakes; the largest and
deepest is that called the Great Basin, situated on the most
elevated plain in the island. The caverns in Mauritius are
extremely curious, having the appearance of vast vaults ex¬
cavated by human hands.
The soil of this island is in many parts exceedingly rich ;
in some parts it is a black vegetable mould, in others a bed
of solid clay or quaking earth, but generally the earth is of
a reddish colour mixed with ferruginous matter, which often
appears on the surface in small orbicular masses. Con¬
siderable tracts of the interior are good and well cultivat¬
ed, but the finest and most productive soil lies nearest to
the coast. The climate is upon the whole very salubrious,
though, during certain seasons of the year, heavy winds
and rains prevail, and sometimes exceedingly violent com¬
motions of the atmosphere take place. The hurricane
months are January, February, and March; but these tem¬
pests are not of uniform occurrence. In the animal kingdom
there is nothing peculiar to Mauritius; and with regard to
the vegetable, it is sufficient to state, that, under the French
and English governments, the richest and rarest plants of
the East have been naturalized in the island, and thither
also most of the plants, trees, and vegetables of Europe
have been conveyed. Throughout the island there are
many extensive gardens furnished with everything which
can conduce to utility or ornament.
Mauritius is divided into nine quartiers or cantons, the
names of which are, Port Louis, Pamplemouses, Riviere
du Rempart, Flacq, Grand Port, Savanne, Riviere Noire,
Plaines Wilhems, and Moka. The two principal ports
are Port Louis and Grand Port, Port Louis, the capital of
the island and the seat of government, is situated at the
head of a fine harbour, between two points of level land, Man
each of which is commanded by a fort. It is a very neat^
town, well laid out, and, as stone buildings have now in a
great measure superseded the more primitive erections of
wood, it presents a handsome appearance. A spacious
quay, custom-house, theatre, public library, and a town re¬
sidence for the governor, are amongst the number of pub¬
lic buildings. Those erected by the French, particularly
the cathedral and theatre, are tasteful and spacious. The
main street, which runs nearly east and west, contains
many good buildings, well-furnished shops, and merchants’
warehouses. Here a great part of the public business is
transacted. East of the quay is a wooden roofed bazaar,
extending over a considerable open space, where all kinds
of wares are vended during the hours of daylight. There
is an old Roman Catholic church, with two low towers; it
is plain and unadorned, both externally and internally.
Also an English Protestant church, a low, clumsy struc¬
ture. The college is a massy wooden pile, three stories in
height. From the chief thoroughfare many other streets
diverge in a southern direction, some of great length, all
of ample width, and for the most part macadamized. Se¬
veral water-courses from the neighbouring mountains are
turned through the principal of these. On one side of the
town is the Malabar camp, inhabited by Hindus and other
oriental foreigners, the French and English in general oc¬
cupying the central streets. Here also are barracks for a
thousand infantry. A chartered bank was established in
1831, with a capital of 500,000 piastres. The population
of Port Louis amounts to 26,000. Grand Port, and the
other ports of the island, are not of such importance as to
require particular description.
The live stock of the island in 1832 consisted of 748
horses and mares, 2618 mules and asses, 21,309 bulls and
cows, 1938 goats and sheep, besides above 1000 pigs. The
state of culture wras in 1831 as follows, viz. 103,246 acres
of wood, 89,780 acres of savannah, 6191 acres of grain,
10,917 acres of manioc, 52,253 acres of sugar-cane, 519
acres of cloves, and 477 acres of coffee and other products.
The cultivation of cotton and indigo has now almost if not
entirely ceased. From the above statement it will be seen
that sugar is at present the article principally cultivated.
In 1824 the quantity exported was only 27,719,776 lbs.;
the duty was then reduced on its importation into Eng¬
land, since which period the quantity sent out of the island
has yearly augmented. The amount of exports of the island
for the year 1833 was, sugar, 74,243,045 lbs.; ebony,
160,912 lbs.; cotton, 1655 lbs.; cloves, 5855 lbs.; tortoise¬
shell, &c. 2905 lbs.; coffee, 900 lbs.; indigo, 444 lbs.
The principal imports consist of provisions, particularly
grain and flour. Earthenware, machinery, furniture, hard¬
ware, piece-goods, wine, &c. are also largely imported.
The total estimated valueofimports in 1831 was L.705,583;
the estimated value of the exports for the same year be¬
ing L.606,684.
Amount of Shipping in 1832.   
Places.
Great Britain 
British Colonies.
United States....
Foreign States...
Total
Inwards.
Ships. Tons. Men
47
90
2
142
281
15,070
25,087
414
20,509
61,080
5353
Outwards.
Ships. Tons. Men
84
68
T27
279
23,973
18,834
21,035
63,842
5266
The affairs of the island are managed by a governor, as
in the Cape of Good Hope, aided by a legislative counci -
In 1831 a Mauritius charter of justice was settled, w11
MAURITIUS.
liaur us.establishes a supreme court of civil and criminal justice,
presided over by three judges. There is also a petty court
for the adjudication of civil causes of small amount, and for
the trial of trivial offences. From this court there is no
appeal. With regard to religion, education, and the press,
they appear to be in a lower state than in any other of the
British colonies. At Port Louis there is a public school
or college, attended by 212 scholars, the annual expense
of which for salaries to professors, &c. is L.4556 ; of this,
L.1417is contributed by government, which likewise contri¬
butes L.400 for the support of free schools; but besides
these there are other schools supported solely by fees, at
which from 800 to 900 children are instructed in the ordi¬
nary branches of education. In a financial point of view,
theMauritius has not as yet proved a very valuable acquisi¬
tion. During the fifteen years ending with the year 1825,
the expenditure exceeded the revenue by no less than
L.1,026,208. It appears from the accounts published by
the board of trade, that the total revenue of the colony in
1831 amounted to L.232,438, and the expenditure to
L.249,824; in the latter, however, are included the pay of
troops, and other items not connected with civil charges.
A systematic economy is now in progress, and by a vigor¬
ous retrenchment the unfavourable balance will no doubt
be reduced, if not obliterated. The importance of Mauri¬
tius as a portion of the British empire is in a commercial
point of view considerable, it being favourably situated for
carrying on an extensive trade with Madagascar and East¬
ern Africa. This is at present prevented by the system of
laying heavy taxes on the produce imported from Asia,
with the view of encouraging the West Indies. From its
geographical position, it is essential to the prosperity of our
trade with the East, as was proved by the injuries which
our commerce sustained during the last war, whilst the
island remained in possession of the French.
The population of Mauritius and its dependencies, con¬
sisting of French, English, Portuguese, Dutch, Italians,
Danes, Norwegians, Hindus, Malays, Bengalese, Africans,
and hall castes ot all these in every conceivable form of ad¬
mixture, amounted in 1832 to 90,353, of whom 26,560
were whites or free blacks, and 63,793 slaves.
Births. Marriages. Deaths.
Free population  959 81 577
Slave population 1755 ... 2294
The island of Rodrigue, the Seychelles Islands, Diego
l)ei1' Garcia, and others, belong to Mauritius. Rodrigue is
situated about 300 miles to the eastward of Mauritius, in
19° 13'south latitude. It is about twenty-six miles in
length by twelve in breadth, and consists of a succession
of verdant hills. Although the valleys are almost full of
locks and stones, there still remains a considerable por-
tion ol fertile soil, which is cultivated by colonists from
Mauritius. The vegetation is luxuriant, the climate salu¬
brious, and the water clear. There is abundance of fish
around the island, but some of them are poisonous.
Ihe Seychelles, or Mahe Islands, are situated between
die parallels of four and five degrees south latitude. There
is nothing interesting regarding their history. When Mau¬
ritius capitulated to Britain, they were taken possession of
as a dependency of that colony, which keeps an agent here,
" io is assisted in his duty by some subordinates, and
twenty-five soldiers; and there is a petty civil and cri¬
minal court, held for trial of causes and offences. The
names of the principal islands, with the number of acres in
cacli, are as under :
Names. Acres. Names. Acres.
 30,000 St Anne 500
™ln 8,000 Cerf 400
buhouette 5,700 Frigate 300
!;a U,Sue 2,000 Mariane 250
uneuse 1,000 Conception 120
333
Names. Acres. Mausole-
Vache 200 um
Aride 150 II
Maximus.
Names. Acres
Felicity 800
North Island 500
Denis 200
Total acres, 50,120.
There are a number of others of smaller dimensions, all
resting on an extensive bank of sand and coral, which also
sun-ounds them to a great extent. Mahe, the principal
island and seat of government, is sixteen miles in length
and from three to five in breadth, with a very steep and
rugged granite mountain running through the centre. The
vegetation on this, as well as on many others of the group,
is extremely luxuriant, and amongst their productions are
various spices, such as the cinnamon plant, cloves, nut¬
meg, and pepper. The town of Mahe is situated on the
north side of the island, and, though irregularly built, con¬
tains some good houses; but the principal persons live in
the environs. It is of course more densely peopled than
the others, the inhabitants amounting to about 7000.
I here is, however, a small population scattered over many
of the others, and several which are uninhabited, pos¬
sess abundance of hogs and goats, as also papaws, cocoa
nuts, and other edible fruits. But the most remarkable
vegetable production is the coco de mer, so called be¬
cause the nuts were found on the shores of Malabar, and
on the coasts of the Maidive Islands, long before the place
of their growth was known, when, from their supposed me¬
dicinal qualities, each nut sold for L.300 or L.400. It
springs from a species of palm sixty or eighty feet high,
the growth of which is confined to two of the Seychelles.
A gale of wind is unknown in these tranquil seas, but the
ocean breezes are constant, thus tempering the rays of a
vertical sun. Diego Garcia is situated about four degrees
farther east, and is one of those numerous coral islands
with which these seas abound. It contains abundance of
turtle, and has a few residents from the Mauritius, (r. r. r.)
MAUSOLEUM, a magnificent tomb or sepulchral monu¬
ment. The word is derived from Mausolus king of Caria,
to whom Artemisia his widow erected a stately monument,
esteemed one of the wonders of the world, and called it
from his own name, Mausoleum.
MAWBALLYPORE, a small town of Hindustan, in the
province of Bahar, situated on the east side of the Soane river,
35 miles S. W. of Patna. Long. 84. 50. E. Lat. 25. 20. N.
MAWS, St. a small town of Cornwall, which was entit¬
led to send two members to parliament, but has been dis¬
franchised by the reform law. It is in the parish of St Just,
and the hundred of Powden, 269 miles from London. The
population of the whole parish was, in 1801,1416; in 1811,
1639; in 1821, 1648; and in 1831, 1556.
MAXIMUM, in Mathematics, denotes the greatest quan¬
tity attainable in any given case.
If a quantity conceived to be generated by motion increas¬
es or decreases till it arrives at a certain magnitude or po¬
sition, and then, on the contrary, grows greater or less, and
it be required to determine the said magnitude or position,
the question is called a problem de maximis et minimis.
MAXIMUS, a celebrated Cynic philosopher and magi¬
cian of Ephesus. He instructed the emperor Julian in
magic ; and, according to the opinion of some historians, it
was in the conversation and company of Maximus that the
apostacy of Julian originated. The emperor not only visit¬
ed the philosopher, but he even submitted his writings to
his inspection and censure. Maximus refused to live in the
court of Julian; and the emperor, not dissatisfied with the
refusal, appointed him pontifex maximus in the province of
Lydia, an office which he discharged with the greatest mo¬
deration and justice. When Julian went into the East, the
philosopher promised him success, and even said that his
conquests would be more numerous and extensive than those
of the son of Philip. He persuaded his imperial pupil, that.
334
MAX
MAY
Maximus according to the doctrine of metempsychosis, his body was
II animated by the soul which had once animated the hero
Mayahoon. w]lose greatness and victories he was about to eclipse. After
" “ v the death of Julian, Maximus was almost sacrificed to the
fury of the soldiers ; but the interposition of his friends saved
his life, and he retired to Constantinople. He was soon af¬
terwards accused of magical practices, before the emperor
Valens, and beheaded at Ephesus in the year 366 of our era.
He wrote some philosophical and rhetorical treatises, which
were dedicated to Julian, but are all lost.
Maximus of Tyre, a Platonic philosopher, who went to
Home in 146, and acquired such reputation there, that the
emperor Marcus Aurelius became his scholar, and gave him
frequent proofs of his esteem. This philosopher is believed
to have lived until the reign of the emperor Commodus.
There are still extant forty-one of his dissertations; a good
edition of which was printed by Daniel Heinsius in 1624,
in Greek and Latin, with notes.
MAY, the fifth month in the year, reckoning from Janu¬
ary ; and the third, supposing the year to begin with March,
as the Romans anciently did. It was called Maius by Ro¬
mulus, in respect to the senators and nobles of his city, who
were named majores; as the following month was called
Junius, in honour of the youth of Rome, (in honorum juni-
orum,) who served him in the war; though some are of
opinion that it was thus called from Maia, the mother of
Mercury, to whom they offered sacrifice on the first day of
the month ; and Papius derives it from Madius, eo quod tunc
terra madeat. In this month the sun enters Gemini, and
the plants of the earth in general begin to flower.
May, Isle of, a small island at the mouth of the Frith of
Forth, in Scotland, about a mile and a half in circumfer¬
ence, and seven miles from the coast of Fife, almost oppo¬
site to the rock called the Bass. It formerly belonged to
the priory of Pittenweem, and was dedicated to St. Adrian,
supposed to have been martyred in this place by the Danes ;
and hither, in ancient times, barren women used to come
and worship at his shrine, in hopes of being cured of their
sterility. It was here that the French squadron, having the
Chevalier de St. George on board, anchored in the year
1708, when the vigilance of Sir George Byng obliged him
to relinquish his design, and bear away for Dunkirk. The
shores all round the island abound with fish, and the cliffs
with water fowl.
May, Thomas, an eminent English poet and historian of
the sev enteenth century, was descended of an ancient but de¬
cayed family in Sussex, and received his education at Cam¬
bridge, whence he afterwards removed to London. Whilst he
resided at court, he wrote the five plays now extant under his
name. In 1622, he published a translation of Virgil’s Georgies,
with annotations; and in 1635 a poem on Edward III., and a
translation of Lucan’s Pharsalia, which he continued down
to the death of Julius Caesar, both in Latin and in English
verse. Upon the breaking out of the civil wars he adhered
to the parliament, and in 1647, published the History of
the Parliament of England, which began November the
third, 1640, with a short and accessory view of some prece¬
dent years. In 1649, he published in three parts, Histories
Parliamenti Anglia; Breviarium, which he afterwards trans¬
lated into English. He also wrote the history of Henry II. in
English verse. His death occurred in 1650. Having gone
to rest after a cheerful bottle as usual, he died in his sleep
before morning. Soon after the Restoration, his body, with
those of several others, was dug up, and buried in a pit in
St Margaret’s churchyard ; and his monument, which was
erected By the appointment of parliament, was taken down
and throw n aside.
MAYAHOON, a town of the Burman empire, situated
on the western bank of the Irraw addy river, and carrying on
a considerable traffic. The adjoining country produces great
quantities of rice which are stowed up in this place.
MAYENNE, a department of France, formed out of a Jla
part of the lower Mayenne, and a small portion of the an- |
cient duchy of Anjou. It extends in north latitude from %
47° 5P to 48° S37 and in west longitude from 0° 16' to loanR
15'. It contains 2161 square miles, or 518,363 hectares.^
It is divided into 3 arrondissements, 27 cantons, and 288 com¬
munes, and is peopled by 336,150 inhabitants. It is bound¬
ed on the north by the departments of the Orne and of the
channel; on the east by the Sarthe, on the south by the
Mayenne and Loire, and on the west by Ille-Villaire. The
surface is undulating, with no hills of great elevation. The
soil is only partially fertile. The principal river is the May¬
enne, which enters the department from that of the Orne,
and collects the waters of the Varenne, Colmont, Ernee,
Vicoin, and Jouanne, and ultimately falls into the Loire.
The agriculture is not well conducted ; in many parts the
soil is left in fallow for three or four years, and then sowed
with oats, followed by buck wheat, and then again left in
fallow". In one district named Campagne, all kinds of grain
succeeds; but generally pasturage of cows and sheep is
found a more beneficial application of the land than the use
of the plough. Fruit, especially apples, from which much
cedar is made, is an advantageous part of rural economy;
and abundance both of walnuts and filberts are collected,
and form a substitute for bread. The produce of bee’s wax
and of honey is very considerable. Some good white wine is
made in the parts of the department bordering on Mayenne
Loire. There are some iron mines at work, which yield
yearly about 4000 tons of iron, partly cast and partly ham¬
mered. Manufactories of linen and woollen goods exist, and
some of paper, leather, and hardware, but chiefly for the do¬
mestic consumption. The department furnishes three de¬
puties to the legislature. The capital is Laval.
Mayenne, an arrondissement of the department of that
name in France, extending over 869 square miles. It is
divided into 12 cantons, and 116 communes, and contains
160,500 inhabitants. The capital bears the same name as
the river on which it stands, and contains four churches, an
hospital, a castle on a rocky height, and 920 dwellings, with
9500 inhabitants, who are chiefly employed in making linen
and thin w oollen goods, and some few cottons. Latitude 48°
18'. Longitude 0° 42' west.
Mayenne and Loike, a department of France, form¬
ed out of the ancient province of Anjou. It extends in
north latitude from 47° 4', to 47° 43', and in west longitude
from 0° 2' to 1° 13'. It is bounded on the north by the
department of the Mayenne and the Sarthe, on the east by
the Indre-Loire, on the south by the Vienne, the two Sev¬
res and Vendee, and on the west by the Lower Loire.
It is 3063 square miles, or 718,807 hectares in extent. The
surface is a mixture of plains and hills, but the former pre¬
dominate. The most hilly parts are on both the banks of
the Loire, and in the southern parts on the frontiers of Vi¬
enne and the two Sevres. The river Loire is navigable
throughout the whole of the department, and receives the wa¬
ter of the numerous streams which during its course fall into
it. The soil is naturally fertile but not in all parts carefully
cultivated, and the practice of fallowing is generally pursued.
It does, however, produce more corn than the consumption
requires. It yields two good crops of hemp and flax, the
conversion of which into linen affords employment to a great
portion of the inhabitants. Fruit is generally grown, espe¬
cially apples, pears, nuts and plums. The vineyards are
extensive, and yield abundance of white wine, the select
part of which is sold to Nantes, but the greater part of it is
converted into brandy. In the neighbourhood of Samur
some silk is produced, but the quantity has diminished since
the revolution. There are some mines of iron and ofcoa,
but they are worked to a very limited extent, especially the
former. The forests are not extensive, and coal is valuab e
for fuel instead of wood. Besides the linen manufacture
MAYER.
«. , tliere are cotton and woollen goods made, and some glass,
jrj/.V hosiery and hats; and there are refiners of sugar and saltpetre,
and many distillers. The department is divided into 5 ar-
rondissements, 34 cantons, and 385 communes, and contains
401,240 inhabitants, who with the exception of a few scat¬
tered Calvinists, adhere to the Catholic church. The capi¬
tal is the city of Angers.
MAYER, Tobias, one of the greatest astronomers of the
eighteenth century, was born on the 17th of February 1723,
at Marbach in the country of Wirtemberg. His father, who
held the office of inspector of waters at Essling, was much
occupied with hydraulic architecture, and early inspired him
with a taste for the mathematical sciences and that of design.
The latter talent, which is sufficiently rare amongst astro¬
nomers, proved useful to him upon more than one occasion,
as may be seen by inspecting the volume containing his
posthumous works. After the death of his father, young
Mayer having no estate or fortune to depend upon, applied
himself to teach mathematics, which he had learned by him¬
self from the first books on the subject which fell into his
hands. At the age of twenty, he studied the principles ofartil¬
lery with a view to enter the service. In 1745 he published
his Treatise on Curves for the Construction of Geometrical
Problems, and in the same year his Mathematical Atlas,
where all the parts of the science are represented in sixty
plates. In 1746 he occupied himself with general geogra¬
phy ; and having formed a connection with the astronomers
Franz and Lowitz, he, like them, contributed to the estab¬
lishment of the Cosmographical Society of Nuremberg, and
inserted several interesting memoirs in the volume which
that society published in 1750, under the title oi Kosmo-
graphische Nachrichten und Samlungen. Amongst these
we would particularly notice his observations and calcula¬
tions of the libration of the moon, a translation of which has
been given by Lalande in the twentieth book of his Astro¬
nomic. The instruments which Mayer employed were very
indifferent; but he conducted his observations with so much
nicety and address, that he was enabled to determine, more
exactly than had ever been done before, the elements which
serve to indicate all the circumstances of that singular phe¬
nomenon, particularly the inclination of the lunar equator,
or the position of the axis round which is operated the ro¬
tation of the moon. His method for calculating these ele¬
ments had not all the geometrical rigour which he might
have given to it, without rendering it either longer or more
difficult; nevertheless, it had all the precision required.
But tliis memoir, now so curious, is distinguished by a still
more important novelty. It is the first wherein, for a pro¬
blem which appeared not to require nor even to admit of
more than three observations, there was imagined the me¬
thod of conditional equations, which, instead of three ob¬
servations strictly necessary, permits the employment of
thousands, and conducts at once to the most certain or the
most probable conclusions resulting from the totality of the
observations ; in fact, the errors which cannot be avoided,
yet follow no certain law, are found to act each time in a
different manner, and to correct themselves by mutual com¬
pensation. It is to this method that we are in a great meas¬
ure indebted for the precision of the most modern astrono-
niical tables ; although it did not for some time attract the
attention of astronomers, it is now generally employed ; and
it is thus that have been constructed from hundreds and even
thousands of observations, the tables adopted by Lalande in
the third edition of his Astronomic.
hi 1757, Mayer went to establish himself at Gottingen,
"here he married, and was appointed director of the obser¬
vatory, to which the king of England had presented a fine
niural quadrant of six feet radius. This observatory was
constructed on a tower forming part of the ancient enceinte
<4 the walls of Gottingen. During the war of the seven
'cars, the French troops had established, in the lower part
335
of the tower, their powder magazine, the service of which Mayer,
was performed w ith very little precaution. Every evening, '»•—v-—^
Mayer, with his lanthorn, crossed the lower story filled w ith
powder, to ascend to his observatory'. At the other extre¬
mity of the city the Saxons had also established the depot
of their ammunition in a similar tower. One day a terrible
explosion took place. It was the Saxon magazine, which,
having taken fire, blew up, and destroyed seventy persons.
But the astronomer of Gottingen, whose zeal for science
rendered him intrepid, like the geometer of Syracuse in the
midst of the horrors of war, remained unmoved by the shock,
and calmly continued his observations. Mayer made the
best use of the observatory for verifying the fundamental
points of astronomy ; namely, the refractions, the position of
the stars, particularly of those of the zodiac, with which the
planets were daily compared, and lastly, solar tables. His re¬
fractions differ but little from those of Bradley : his formula,
apparently rather awkward, is at bottom the same with that
of Bradley and Simpson, and only differs essentially in the
manner of applying the thermometrical correction. Elis
zodiacal catalogue consists of 998 stars, observed from four
or five to twenty-five or twenty-six times ; and these de¬
serve all confidence. Others of less importance have been
served only once or tw ice; and he himself states, that he
does not answer for their accuracy within ten seconds. In
the discourse which precedes his solar tables, he makes a de¬
claration w hich does honour to his integrity. “ In compos¬
ing them,” says he, “ I had under my eyes those which the
celebrated Lacaille had published in 1758, and of which he
had the goodness to send me a copy. I soon perceived that
it would be necessary to make very few changes, in order to
accommodate them to the observations which I have made
since the year 1756. I have therefore no intention of pub¬
lishing what may be called new tables, but only in following
the footsteps of this great astronomer, of making such
small corrections as my own observations seemed to re¬
quire.” These changes are of two kinds. In the arguments
of the inequalities, he had substituted the milesimal division
of the circle for the sexagesimal; and this was an improve¬
ment convenient for calculators. With regard to the ine¬
qualities themselves, he had calculated them according to
the theory. Lacaille had at first tried to deduce them from
his observations; but, perceiving that the numbers which
they gave differed very little from those which Clairaut had
derived from his theory, he adopted the numbers of that
illustrious geometer, who was also his friend. The differ¬
ence, indeed, is small for the moon and for Jupiter ; it is
more sensible for Venus ; and recent researches have prov¬
ed that the equation of Mayer is too limited. The other
change was much more considerable, and by no means for¬
tunate. Mayer had augmented by tw enty-seven seconds
the secular motion of the sun. But in 1792 and 1800, it
was found necessary to adopt, almost without modification,
the motion as found by Lacaille. With regard to the ine¬
quality peculiar to the sun, Lacaille had very well deter¬
mined it, such as it was, about 1755 ; and Mayer made no
change therein.
The tables of the moon, which Mayer published in the
acts of the academy of Gottingen, in 1755, w ere the first in
which the errors never exceeded tw o minutes, whereas in
the tables of Newton, Halley, and Cassini, they were from
eight to ten minutes. Nevertheless, he had been obliged
to construct his tables from about an hundred observations;
so rare were observations at that period, or so difficult wras
it to procure them. He had profited by the theory of Eu¬
ler, in which he made some fortunate changes ; and he had
sent these tables to London in 1755, in order to compete
for the prize proposed by the Board of Longitude. They
were there submitted to the judgment of Bradley, who at¬
tested that, in two hundred and thirty comparisons which
he had made between them and as many observations then
336
MAYER.
Mayer, inedited, he had never found an error which exceeded a
■“"■v—minute and a half; and he admitted that a part of this error
might be attributed to the observations with which they
were compared. He concluded that these tables deserved
the attention of the Board of Longitude; and he declared
that this error, already so small, might be further diminished,
inasmuch as, in eleven hundred observations newly calcu¬
lated, it was reduced to less than a minute. The author, on
his part, laboured incessantly to improve them, and at his
death, in 1762, left a new copy, which his widow transmit¬
ted to London, where the tables obtained a recompense of
£3000. The publication was confided to Maskelyne, and
the impression had made considerable progress when a some¬
what more complete copy was received, containing several
slight improvements. This new copy was preceded by a
memoir entitled Methodus Longitudinum Promota, in which
Mayer recommended the distances of the moon from the
sun or the stars, of which Lacaille and Maskelyne had al¬
ready pointed out the advantages, and also gave a descrip¬
tion of a new instrument for measuring those distances. To
make allowance for the flattening of the earth in the calcu¬
lations of the parallax, he had suppressed the corrections of
the geometers, which rendered the operation long and un¬
certain, and, by a very simple and ingenious consideration,
had reduced it to the same degree of simplicity as if the
earth, instead of a spheroid, had been a sphere; and this
method is now that generally adopted. Lastly, after an am¬
ple examination of the whole doctrine of Mayer, the Board
of Longitude decided that a sum of £2000 should be added
to that which the widow of the astronomer had already re¬
ceived. In the same memoir Mayer shewed how he had
constructed his tables, and also how they might be still fur¬
ther improved ; and it is thus that, under the direction of
Maskelyne, they were rendered more precise by Mason, who
availed himself of twelve hundred observations made by
Bradley. It is by the same means, with the help of the new
theoretical researches of Laplace, that these tables have
been successively improved by Bouvard, Burg, and Burck-
hardt. But whatever be the merit of the labours succes¬
sively undertaken, and of those which may be attempted of
new, it may always be said of the lunar tables what Mayer
himself said of his solar tables, and of those of Lacaille:
These are not precisely new tables, but the tables of Mayer,
in which have been made certain small corrections neces¬
sary to adjust them to the observations.
The name of Mayer, so celebrated on account of his as¬
tronomical observations, became more so for another reason,
thirty years after his death, and for an idea to which, in his
lifetime, but little attention was paid. Whilst labouring to
rectify the geography of Germany, he was unknown, having
nothing but his genius, with very little money to procure an
instrument with which he might measure the triangles which
are the necessary foundation of a good map. By the prin¬
ciple of the indefinite multiplication of angles, and with only
a board, a rule, a compass, and a line of chords, such as are
contained in an ordinary case of mathematical instruments,
he contrived to measure the angles with more precision than
he could have obtained by means of the graphometers then
in use. Of this invention he gave an account in the Me¬
moir es of Gottingen; but no one paid any attention thereto
except Montucla, who in his Recreations Matliematiques,
speaks of it as an idea simply ingenious, little foreseeing,
however, all that might be derived from it. In considering
only the idea itself, one would at first suppose that the errors
in the observations might always be destroyed. There is
something, however, to be deducted from this precision in
practice; but the invention is not on that account the less
remarkable and useful in all geodesical operations. Im¬
proved by Borda, it has been employed in the operations
from which were deduced the figure of the earth, the metre,
and the new system of French measures. Mayer had given
a primary application of his idea in the reflecting circle M
which he proposed for all the operations of nautical astro- O
nomy; and this first improvement was applauded, but as yet
no one dreamed of rendering it really useful. Borda, how¬
ever, perceived that the instrument might be rendered at
once more accurate and more convenient; he employed it
and his example taught mariners to appreciate its advanta¬
ges. By one of those changes which are found so easy
when they have been effected, Borda discovered that the
instrument might be applied to the most delicate operations
of astronomy; in measuring, by means of a circle with a
radius of a foot and a half, the height of a star, and that too
with more precision than could be obtained with a quadrant
of eight feet radius. The repeating circle was applied to all
the operations connected with the measurement of degrees
of the meridian. By means of this instrument the celestial
arc included between the parallels of Dunkirk and Barce¬
lona, or of Formentera, the most southern of the Balearic
Isles, was accurately measured, the new arc of the polar
circle determined, and every operation of the same kind in
Germany and Italy performed by the French engineers.
Such is a view of what was accomplished by Mayer from
the age of twenty-three to that of thirty-nine. A malady,
chiefly characterised by languor, gradually undermined his
strength, and consigned him to a premature grave. He
died on the 20th February 1762, leaving two daughters and
two sons, one of whom became a celebrated professor of
physic. An edition of his works had been promised, but of
these only one volume appeared in 1775, under the care of
Lichtenberg, his friend and associate. This volume con¬
tains, 1. A method for determining more exactly the varia¬
tions of the thermometer, with a formula for calculating the
mean degree of heat in every latitude, and the seasons of
the year in which occur the greatest heat and the greatest
cold. 2. A memoir on the observations which he made with
his mural arc of six feet, and the verifications to which he
subjected that instrument. 3. An easy method for calcu¬
lating eclipses of the sun, being at bottom the method of
Kepler, which Lacaille also reproduced in his Legons cP
Astronomic. 4. A memoir on the affinity of the colours, in
w hich he recognised only three primary colours, all the rest
being obtained by different combinations of these. 5. His
new catalogue of the stars, the work of two years, during
which he experienced several interruptions, especially when,
as already stated, his observatory was converted by the
French into a powder magazine. 6. A memoir, followed by
a catalogue of eighty stars, to which he assigned a peculiar
motion, independently of the general motion of precession.
The volume is terminated by a very beautiful map of the
moon, designed according to the orthographic projection,
from a lunar globe on which Mayer had painted the most
remarkable points of the moon, with a list of a hundred and
thirty-three spots, according to their longitudes and their
latitudes. The second volume, the speedy publication of
which was promised, has not yet appeared. The title of
Mayer in the university of Gottingen wras that of professor
of economy, which is no doubt an odd denomination for an
astronomer; but this is not the only instance in which
learned bodies have sought to attach to them great men, with¬
out troubling themselves as to the particular form or manner
in which this was effected. Mayer, however, did not give
prelections on a science which he had not studied. The
professor of economy gave lectures on mathematics, and on
civil and military architecture. His eloge, pronounced at
the academy byKaestner, (Gottingen, 1762, in 4to.), is fol¬
lowed by a list of his works, which we shall here subjoin.
1. Description of a new Globe of the Moon; 2. Terrestrial
Refractions; 3. Geographical Charts, including a Critical
Chart of Germany, and a Map of Switzerland; 4. Descrip¬
tion of a new Micrometer; 5. Observations on the Eclipse
ol the Sun in 1748 ; 6. Conjunctions of the Moon and the
\lK
MAY
Stars observed in 1747 and 1748; 7. Proofs that the Moon
has no atmosphere ; 8. Motion of the Earth explained by a
iyr ar" change in the direction of gravity; 9. Latitude of Nurem-
u ^ berg, and other Astronomical Observations; 10. Memoir
’ on the Parallax of the Moon and its distance from the Earth,
deduced from the length of a pendulum beating seconds ;
11. On the Transmutation of rectilineal figures into tri¬
angles ; 12. Invention of a Species of Painting of which the
products may be multiplied; 13. Inclinations and Declina¬
tions of the Magnetic Needle, deduced from theory; 14.
Inequalities of Jupiter. /A ^
MAYERNE, SirTheodore de, baron of Aulbone, was
thfe son of Louis de Mayerne, the celebrated author of the
General History of Spain, and of the Monarchie Aristo-
Dcmocratiqve, dedicated to the States-General. He was
born in 1573, and had for his god-father, Theodore Beza.
He studied physic at Montpellier, and was made physician
in ordinary to Henry IV. who promised to do great things
for him, provided he would change his religion. He de¬
clined the offei, and James I. of England having invited him
to that country, made him first physician to the household,
an office in which he served the royal family till the time of
his death in 1G55. His works were printed at London in
1700, and occupy a large folio, divided into two books ; the
first containing his (onsilnij hpistolcB, at Obscrvationes;
the second his I /uirniacopceiu vuviceque Medicwmentovwn
formula;.
MAYNOOTH, or Manooth, a post town in the county
of Kildare and province of Leinster in Ireland, about fifteen
miles W. by N. from Dublin.
Before the establishment of Maynooth College, the Ro¬
man Catholics of Ireland were under the necessity of send¬
ing the young men intended for the priesthood to be edu¬
cated at foreign universities. It was supposed that this might
have a tendency to attach the priests to the interests of the
foreign powers at whose expense they were educated ; and
to obviate such an inconvenient and unseemly state of things,
the royal college of St. Patrick for the education of persons
professing the Roman Catholic religion, was instituted by
act of Parliament in 1795.
This establishment is under the inspection of the chan¬
cellor and chief judges; and it consists of two departments, lay
and ecclesiastical, the latter supported by an annual public
grant of L.8928. The lay college depends upon voluntary
subscription, and was opened in 1802. The building, which
I* qoonS1Ve and convenient’ was erected at an expense of
L.32,000. The principal officers are the president, vice-
president, dean, bursar, sub-dean, eleven professors, three
ecturers, and a treasurer. The number of students amounts
to about 330. The town has also a charter school for fifty
girls. ] he population is 1364.
MAY N\\ ARING, Arthur, an eminent political writer
m the beginning of the eighteenth century. He resided for
several years at Oxford, and went to Cheshire, where he
lived for some time with his uncle Mr. Francis Cholmon-
e }, a very worthy gentleman, but extremely averse to the
government of William III. to which he refused to take the
nnl f’ iu Cle le Prosecuted with great vigour his studies in
Ilf? !, Urf 5 aild coming up to London, applied him¬
self to the study of the law. He had hitherto shewn great
m asserting anti-revolutionary principles, and written
trnd m*avour of James II.; but upon being in-
oduced to the Duke of Somerset and the Earls of Dorset
na iJurhngton, he began to entertain very different notions
a-v? HlS father left him an estate of nearly L.800
t'd t 1 Ut 80 encumbered, that the interest-money amount-
of tin? m°St fS much as the ^come. Upon the conclusion
with i?K|lU e le .M'fnt to l>aris> where he became acquainted
missim? tai? iAfter his return he was made one of the corn¬
ed himSf u T-e Clls1t,oms’ i.n which situation he distinguish-
vnr& yhls sk* ant^ industry. He was a member of
vu.l. XIV.
MAY' 337
tlie Kit-cat club, and from his pleasantry and wit was looked Mayo.
upon as one of its principal supporters. In the beginning -y 1
of Queen Anne’s reign, the lord treasurer Godolphin en¬
gaged Mr. Donne to quit the office of auditor of the im¬
prests, and made Maynwaring a present of a patent for that
office worth about L.2000 a-year, in time of business. He
had a considerable share in the Medley, and was author of
several other pieces. The Examiner, his antagonist in poli¬
tics, allowed that he wrote with tolerable spirit, and in a
masterly style. Sir Richard Steele dedicated to him the
first volume of the Tatler.
MAYO, a maritime county in the province of Connaught
in Ireland, is bounded on the north and west by the Atlan¬
tic Ocean, on the east by the counties of Sligo and Ros¬
common, and on the south by that of Galway. Its greatest
length from north to south is 60 miles, and its greatest
breadth, measured from Lough Gara to the western ex¬
tremity of the Mullet is nearly 75 ; comprehending a sur¬
face of 1,355,048 acres, of which 871,984 are capable of
cultivation, 425,124 are bog or irreclaimable mountain, and
57,940 are under water.
According to Ptolemy the earliest inhabitants of this re¬
gion were the Nagnatse. It was afterwards divided into dis¬
tricts distinguished by the names of the chieftains or prin¬
cipal settlers, of whom those of greatest note were M‘Wil-
liam Oughter, O’Maley, MUordan, G’Dondey,and 0’M‘Phil-
ben, to which were subsequently added the Nangles, the
Dillons, and others of British descent.
The whole of Connaught except Roscommon, was con¬
sidered as one county by the English, until the beginning
of the reign of Elizabeth, by whom it was made shire ground,
and this county then took its name from the monastery of
Mayo or Mageo in it. It is now divided into the nine ba¬
ronies of Burrishoole, Carra, Clanmorris, Costello, Erris,
Gallon, Kilmaine, Morrisk, and Tyrawley.
1 he appearance of the country varies very much. In the
eastern parts it contains extensive plains capable of culti¬
vation, and rising occasionally into hills of moderate height;
the western part is wholly mountainous, and covered in most
parts with bog, except in some places near the sea, where
the soil, unless when covered with drifted sand, is sufficient¬
ly fertile. In some parts of the flat country, near Lough
Mask, the ground appears like one plain of grey stone, which
on a closer examination, is found to consist of parallel layers
of rock, rising edgeways out of the ground, and having the
intervening furrows filled with a productive soil that throws
up an herbage peculiarly grateful to sheep. The principal
mountains are Muilrea in the south, 2733 feet high, being the
most elevated point in Connaught; and Croagh-patrick, on the
southern shore of Clew Bay, 2530 feet high. This moun¬
tain is amongst the most celebrated in Ireland, not only for
its height and the majestic outline it presents from the va¬
rious positions whence it can be contemplated, but from the
tradition that St. Patrick chose its summit as the place to
stand on, when he drove all the venomous reptiles of the
island into the sea. Nephin 2640 feet high to the west of
Lough Conn, is of a conical form with rugged and steep
sides, and is covered with Alpine plants to its summit. Ne-
phin-beg, in its vicinity, is but 1800 feet high. In the same
district is the mountain of Berreencurragh 2290 feet high ;
and more westward Maam-Thomoish and Croughletta, each
very lofty, though less elevated than the preceding. The
rivers which flow from these mountains are small, unless
when their body of waters is encreased by a violent fall of
rain. The principal are the Aull, which is navigable for
large boats for five miles from Lough Mask ; the Castlebar
river, in like manner, navigable for four miles from Lough
Lorn; the Owenmore that falls into Blacksod bay; the
Deel, the Robe, the Errive, and the Carnamart. The Moy,
which separates this county from Sligo, is navigable to Kil-
lalla for vessels of fifty tons. The Blackwater, which is the
2 u
338
MAYO.
Mayo, boundary on the south, is remarkable for having an under-
—' ground course of some miles near its embouchure into
Lough Corrib. Amongst the numerous lakes, Lough Mask
situated in the south, and separated from Lough Corrib by
a narrow isthmus, is the largest. It is ten miles long by
four broad, but its southern extremity is included in Gal¬
way county. Lough Carra to the north-east of Lough
Mask, is a very picturesque sheet of water, as is Lough
Raheens, called also Castlebar Lough from the town in its vi¬
cinity ; and Lough Lorn, still farther north, is a fine sheet of
water fifteen miles long, but of very inconsiderable breadth.
The minor lakes are numerous, and there are several tur-
loughs in which the water collects in winter but is carried
off by a natural drainage at the beginning of summer.
The western and northern coasts are indented with nu¬
merous bays and creeks. Killery bay that separates Mayo
from Galway is a great station for the herring fishery. Pro¬
ceeding northwards, the next inlet in order, and the most
worthy of note for extent and grandeur of scenery, is Clew
bay, protected at its entrance by Clare island, and having
in its interior the two harbours of Newport and Westport,
besides many creeks and roadsteads caused by the almost
innumerable islets with which its eastern coast is studded.
Blacksod bay and Rroadhaven form the peninsula of the
Mullet, and are prevented from blending their waters only
by the very narrow isthmus of Bellmullet. On the north¬
ern coast are Dunfinney and Killalla bays. The lesser in¬
dentations of the coast affording shelter for small Craft, and
therefore of much importance to the fisheries, are too nu¬
merous to admit of specific detail.
The principal island is that of Achill. It is the largest on
the Irish coast, containing 28,640 acres, and 3767 souls;
and is formed partly of lofty hills and partly of flat bogs.
The western side presents a rugged and precipitous line of
rock, to resist the violence of the Atlantic, interrupted only
by a few small coves scarcely capable of sheltering the small¬
est boats; the eastern coast affords shelter almost every where.
Clare island is of a triangular form, and has about 1400 in¬
habitants. Innisbofin, the most important island on the
coast as respects the fisheries, is about four miles from Con¬
nemara in Galway; it had a garrison in the time of the re¬
public. The finest cod-bank on the Irish coast lies near it.
Ennisturk lies midway between the two last named islands.
The want of a landing place renders it nearly useless, not¬
withstanding its advantageous position for fishing. It com¬
prehends' 3500 acres of poor soil and rock, and 456 inhabi¬
tants. The lesser islands are scarcely of sufficient conse¬
quence to deserve enumeration.
The returns of the population of the county, taken at
different periods, present the following results :—
Year. Authority. Population.
1760 De Burgo, 77,508
1792 Beaufort, 140,000
1812...Parliamentary return,...261,821
1821 The like, 293,111
1831 The like, 367,956
The latest of these returns gives an average of one inha¬
bitant to every 3^ acres of the whole county, and of one
inhabitant to every 2^ acres of its cultivated portion. As
far as may be conjectured from the relative numbers of
Protestant and Catholic children attending public schools
in 1824-26, the proportion between the sects is upwards of
seven to one in favour of the latter persuasion.
The returns of the numbers educated are as follow:—
Boys.
Girls.
Sex not
ascertained.
Total.
1821  6,150 3,185 —  9,335
1824-6... 10,827 5,172 694 16,993
Of the numbers in the latter return, 1900 were Protest¬
ants, and 14,184 Catholics; the religion of the remaining
609 not having been ascertained. The number of schools Mayo,
was 341. Thirty-six of these, containing 2872 pupils, were v'“\w •
supported by grants of public money ; ninety-one, contain¬
ing 5291 pupils, by voluntary contributions; and the remain¬
ing 214 schools, which afforded instruction to 8530 pupils,
were maintained by the fees of those instructed.
The county was represented in the Irish parliament by
four members, two for the county at large, and two for the
borough of Castlebar; but the two latter were struck off at the
Union, and no alteration having been since made under the
reform act, the number of representatives is now limited to
two. The state of the constituency, as affected by the
changes made in the qualifications for freeholders since 1829,
is shewn in the following table:—
L.50. L.20. L.10. 40s. Total.
1st Jan. 1829...503...242... 23,672...24,417 *
1st Jan. 1830...536...322...197... — ... 955
1st May, 1831...583...346...335... — ... 1264
The civil power for maintaining the peace of the county,
and enforcing the decisions of the judicial and magisterial
authorities, consists of nine chief and 173 petty constables,
and is maintained at an expense of £7707, or at the rate of
somewhat less than £40 per man. Under the new consta-
bulary act the county police is to consist of a sub-inspector,
nine chief constables, eighteen sub-constables, and 144 con¬
stables and sub-constables.
The number of resident landed proprietors are few in
comparison with the extent of the county. The condition
of the peasantry varies considerably, according to their situ¬
ation. On the sea-coast, where the occupation of fishing
can be combined with that of agriculture, the people are
tolerably comfortable. This is particularly the case in the
district around Killalla, Westflat, Newport, and other places
where an export trade is carried on. It is observed that
early and improvident marriages are by no means common
in those parts. Young men are anxious to be provided
with sufficient means before they venture upon the charge
of a family. Similar appearances of comfort and prudence
are observable in the inland eastern districts where agricul¬
ture is attended to. In the mountainous and boggy tracts
the state of the peasantry is very deplorable. The houses
are of the poorest description, and extremely confined in
dimensions. The children are seen about the doors of the
hovels in a state of nudity, and apparently regardless of the
changes of the weather. But in the agricultural districts
the case is different. In these the houses are of stone and
mortar, with a chimney, and separate apartments. The men
dress in home-made frieze, of a dark colour; and the women
mostly in cheap cottons. The fuel is universally turf; the
food potatoes, with milk occasionally, and, when near the
shore, fish. The Irish language is in general use. In the
inland and more retired parts the peasantry prefer collect¬
ing thfemselves in closely-built irregular villages to living in
detached cottages. The custom of holding large tracts of
land in joint-tenancy, which is the favourite tenure in the
pasturable regions, may be considered as the chief cause of
this practice. The inhabitants of each village form a commun¬
ity amongst themselves, little connected with those around,
and regulate their common concerns by a code of laws of
their ow n framing, from which appeals are at times made to
the landlord or his agent, or else, though less frequently, to
the magistrates at sessions, or to the superior courts.
The soil in the plain country is chiefly a gravelly loam,
on a limestone bottom. Even in the tracts where bog pre'
vails, ridges of limestone gravel, called eskers, of a mile and
more in length, several perches broad, and from forty to
fifty feet high, are to be met with. The rocky pastures
produce a nutritive herbage for sheep and young cattle,
and in places from which these are excluded, timber trees
throw up their shoots spontaneously. Wheat is grown m
MAYO.
Milo- large quantities in the southern and eastern baronies; oats,
barley, and flax in the hilly country. Where limestone
can be had it is the favourite manure, either alone or in a
compost with other substances. Where it cannot be pro¬
cured, recourse is had to burning. Shelly sea-sand, and
sea-weed thrown up by the high winds, are much used on
the coast. The implements of agriculture are still of a
clumsy and coarse make. The spade, here called a loy,
having a rest for the right foot only, is substituted for the
plough in the mountainous parts. In Erris a spade with a
blade forking out into two points, is used where the soil is
rocky. The fences are mostly dry-stone walls, formed by
collecting the loose stones from the surface, where they are
so abundant that the fences made of them present the ap¬
pearance of ramparts rather than enclosures against tres¬
passing. The cattle are mostly of the long-horned breed.
They are seldom congregated in large dairies, but most of
the small farmers have one or more cows. The sheep and
swine are chiefly of the common country breed. Tow ards
the close of the last century planting, both for ornament in
demesnes, and on a more extensive scale for profit, has been
much attended to. The base of Croagh-patrick is finely
fringed with wood, as is that of Nephin. The neighbour¬
hood of Westport is much improved by the extensive plan¬
tations of the proprietor of the soil. The baronies of Tyr-
awley, Burrishoole, Gallen, and Costello, are mostly desti¬
tute of timber.
The manufactures are almost wholly confined to articles
in demand for home consumption, such as linens, furs, flan¬
nels, woollen stockings, and straw hats. The chief marts
for the sale of the superabundant produce are Castlebar and
Westport. Besides these legal sources of profit from
manufactures illicit distillation is carried on to a great ex¬
tent, and is one of the chief causes of the large supplies of
grain in the markets of the interior. The exports are grain,
fish, and kelp; large quantities of the latter are manufac¬
tured on the shores. Fishing banks are numerous. The
principal one between Innisbofin and Achil affords an inex¬
haustible supply of white fish. Near Achil is a sand-bank
stocked with quantities of turbot and other flat fish which
are also taken in abundance off Killalla bay. Near Innis-
kea island is a great ling bank. The sun-fish or basking-
shark is taken from five to eight leagues from the coast.
The fishery commences in the last week in April. The fish
is taken with a harpoon of peculiar construction ; but as the
success of the season depends on the state of the weather,
which is very liable to sudden and violent squalls at that
season, and as the fish frequently escapes bearing away with
it the harpoon and tackle, the average profits, during a con¬
tinuance of seasons, seldom compensates the adventurer for
his outlay of capital and labour. The herring fishery also
occupies a number of hands. The whole fishing trade is
carried on in open boats, as this description of craft is less
expensive and better adapted for the costing trade in kelp
and turf in which it is employed during the intervals of the
fishing seasons. The deep sea fishing begins in May, that
of the herring in August. The winter fishing continues
from November to Christmas. Pollock, whiting, sand-eels,
and shell-fish are caught along the shores, and there are
salmon fisheries at Newport, Burrishoole, Killery, Belclare,
and Louisbumh.
1 ne remains of ancient buildings are numerous, and many
of them highly worthy of note. There are round or pillar
towers at Killalla, Turlogh, Meeleek, and Bal; but the first is
the loftiest and best preserved. The abbey of Mayo, w hich
gives name to the county, was once the site of a bishop’s
see. Moyne abbey, near Killalla, still exhibits some arches
of magnificent size and workmanship. The steeple rises not
less than an hundred feet from the top of the centre of the
church. The ruins of Rosserick abbey, in the same neigh-
bourhood, are amongst the finest specimens of monastic build¬
ing in these parts. The workmanship of an arch in the
centre of the church is peculiarly admirable. Although'
allyhaunis abbey is much dilapidated, the remains of its
rums shew it to have been, as it were, a minature resem¬
blance of that of Moyne. At Ballinrobe was the abbey De
Roba, of which no traces are now visible. Ballintobber
abbey, not far distant from it, was founded by Cathal
O‘Conor, king of Connaught. The abbey of Burrishoole
owes its origin to the Bourke family; its site is the place
for holding a patron in honour of St. Dominic. The w alls
of the church of Strade abbey on the Moy still exist; they
are singularly beautiful, and near the altar are several curious
sculptures. Cross, or Holycross monastery, was in the pen¬
insula of the Mullet. The abbey of Bophin was built in
the island of Innisbofin. Many relics of other monastic
buildings of inferior note are to be found in various parts.
The remains of ancient castles and places of strength are
also numerous. At Downpatrick, or Dunbriste, are the
ruins of a strong castle on a cliff three hundred feet high
projecting into the sea. A rock of equal elevation rises at
about the same distance from the shore, on which are also
the traces of castellated buildings. The correspondence of
the prominences and indentations of the rocks on each side
of the cleft that separates these structures prove that they
were once united. It is now a place of penance. Rock-
fleet castle, near Newport, is said to have been built by the
celebiated Grace O’Mal lay, to whom the erection of several
other fortresses along the coast are attributed. This singu¬
lar woman was so much attached to the sea, the scene of
most of her exploits, that when on shore, she is said to
have had her bark moored to her bedpost through a window
of the castle where she slept. Ballylahan castle was built
by one of the Jordan family, who built ten others of si¬
milar construction for his ten sons. Deel castle, near Bal-
lina, stands as yet five hundred feet, and inhabitable. In
Lough Conn are the ruins of a fort in which 0‘Conor, king
of Ireland, is said to have confined his son. The smaller
castles, vestiges of which are visible in many parts, are al¬
most invariably square buildings with a narrow entrance
and a few contracted windows, erected solely for security,
without any regard to architectural beauty.
T he towns in this extensive county are fewand small. The
population of Castlebar, in which the assizes are held alter¬
nately with Ballinrobe, and which is considered as the
county town, amounts only to 6,373 souls. Its situation is
central; and its general appearance indicates wealth and pros¬
perity. A green area studded with trees in the middle of
the town forms a mall or public promenade. The great
street is nearly a mile long ; and two bridges cross the river
which flows from Raheenlake. The ancient castle, whence
the town derives its name, and which has been converted
into a barrack, stands on an eminence. The court house is a
respectable structure; and the county jail is in this town.
In it is also a charter school built by the Earl of Lucan, the
proprietor of the place, whose castle, an antique^edifice of
commanding appearance, stands on a neighbouring hill in
the middle of a demesne sloping down to the river. The
other public buildings are a church, a Catholic chapel, a
meeting house, a barrack for cavalry, an infirmary, and a
linen hall, in which last named building a good trade is car¬
ried on. The market day is held on Saturday. This town was
the scene of abattle between the French under Humbert and
the king’s forces in 1798, after which the former kept pos¬
session of it from the 26th of August to the 4th of Septem¬
ber. Ballinrobe, the other assize town, contains only 2,575
inhabitants. It takes its name from the river Robe on
which it is built. Its only places of note are the castle,
formerly the residence of Lord Tyrawley, now a barrack, the
new barrack, the ruins of the abbey, and the school house.
The population of the other towns, whose numbers exceed
1,000 each, is as follow:
339
Mayo.
340
Mayo
II
Mazande-
M A Y
Ballina, 5510 Newport,.... 1235
Westport, 4440 Ballagliadereen, 1147
Crosmolina,....1481 Killalla, 1125
, Clare, 1476 Foxford, 1024
Mayo, one of the Cape de Verd Islands, situated in the
Atlantic Ocean, near 300 miles from Cape Verdin Africa, is
about 21 miles in circumference, Long. 23.8. W. Lat. 15.10.
N. The shore affords good anchorage in the sandy bays
between the promontories; it possesses but one spring which
rises near its centre, the water of which runs off in a small
stream through a valley confined by hills. The soil is in¬
debted to the nightly dew and the showers that fall in the
wet season for the only humidity which it receives, and is
consequently dry and barren. There are three small towns
in the island, the principal of which is called Pinosa. The
chief commodity for extent is salt, great quantities of which
are gathered from the bays and ponds during the dry sea¬
sons. On the west side of the Island is a large salt pond, two
miles long and half a mile in breadth. The surrounding sea
abounds in great varieties of fish ; the principal fruits are
figs, water melons, citrons, and oranges, and a kind of bean
which forms a large part of the ordinary diet of the natives.
The population is estimated at about 7000.
MAYOR, the chief magistrate of a city or town, chosen
annually from amongst the aldermen. The word anciently
written meyr, comes from the British miret, meaning custo-
dire, or from the old English maier, signifyingjoofesto^, and
not from the Latin major.
MAYORGA, a cluster of three or four small islands, the
largest about sixty miles in circuit, in the South Pacific
Ocean. They were discovered in 1780 by a Spanish fri¬
gate. Long. 179- 52. E. Lat. 18. 38. S.
MAZA, amongst the Athenians, was a sort of cake made
of flour boiled with water and oil, and set as the common
fare before those who were entertained at the public ex¬
pense in the common hall or Prytaneum.
MAZAGAN, a strong place of Africa in the kingdom
of Morocco, and on the frontiers of the province of Dugue-
la. It was fortified by the Portuguese, and besieged by
the king of Morocco with 200,000 men in 1562, but to no
purpose. It is situated near the sea. W. Ion. 8. 15. N. lat.
33.12.
MAZAGONG, a Portuguese village situated on the isl¬
and of Bombay. It has a good dock for small ships, and two
tolerably handsome Roman Catholic churches.
MAZAMET, a city of France in the department of the
Torn and arrondissement of the Castres. It is a hilly district
on the river Molle, and contains a Catholic and a reformed
church, 1050 houses, and 6150 inhabitants, who are exten¬
sive manufacturers of flannels, cassimeres, bags, serges,
and other woollen goods.
MAZANDERAN, a province of Persia, and part of the
ancient Hyrcania, separated from Irak by the lofty moun¬
tains of the Elburz. To the east it has Khorasan, w ith the
province of Astrabad, on the north the Caspian, and on the
west Ghilan. For the greater part of its length it is but a
strip of country contained between the mountains and the
southern shore of the Caspian sea. At Saree the distance
from the sea to the foot of the lower hills may be about
sixteen or seventeen miles ; to the west of the highest ridge
from sixty to seventy ; about Ralfroush it is still greater,
the direct distance between the sea and the lower hills being
about 30 miles ; whilst about thirty miles off, the whole range
of the Elburz rises in all its grandeur, like a magnificent
wall covered with snow. The whole of this extensive tract
is well cultivated, and presents a succession of large and
populous villages, embosomed in wood and surrounded with
cultivation. The country in general is mountainous, abound¬
ing in forests of oak, and full of swamps ; but the valleys
are fertile and produce the finest rice in vast quantities.
The marshy grounds are all that is adapted to the cultiva-
M A Z
tion of wheat; and even the small portion which the in- Mazarin
habitants are enabled to raise for their own consumption is
coarse and of a very inferior quality. Sugar and cotton are
also cultivated to a great extent; but the quantity of silk
produced is small compared with that which is produced in
Ghilan. The country is well watered by numerous smaller
streams, and by two larger ones which have their origin in
the Elburz mountains, and generally carry their waters to
the Caspian sea ; that which bears the name of Mazanderan
takes a south-west coui’se through the flat part of the province
and falls into the sea at Meshed Sir. The commerce of
the province is considerable; and cotton is manufactured
to a considerable amount. The villages are open and neat¬
ly built, and are in general beautifully situated, either on
verdant streams or in pleasant valleys, fertilized by streams
of delicious water. Mazanderan may be divided into two
distinct climates, the warm and the cold ; namely, the moun¬
tainous region, and the flat country along the shore of the
Caspian sea. Winter and spring are healthy seasons; but
during the summer and autumn exhalations arise from the
fens and marshes which overspread this part of Persia, and
render the air insalubrious. Agues and dropsies are the
prevalent disorders; and the natives have in general a sal¬
low and bloated appearance, indicating a bad state of health.
In October, November, and December, there are heavy
rains. Snow also falls, but never lies long upon the ground;
and in spring the river almost always overflows. The roads
are bad, being in general through swamps ; but the admir¬
able causeway of Mazanderan, which was constructed by
Sha Abbas, and which extends in length about 300 miles,
is now nearly in the same condition as when Hanway visit¬
ed the country, being perfect in many places, although it
has hardly ever been repaired; in some parts it is above
twenty yards wide, with ditches on each side ; and there
are many bridges upon it under which the w ater is convey¬
ed to the rice fields. The natives of this province are con¬
sidered as the most warlike of the Persians; and they
defended their retreats and castles in the mountains with
so much courage, as to secure their independence for a con¬
siderable period against all the powder of Tamerlane. Frazer
who visited Persia in 1821, was informed that there are no
wandering tribes in this province. Being flat, wooded, and
swampy, with no pasture lands, it would not suit their mode
of life ; and this is supposed to account for the unfrequency
of high-way robbery, which is here unknown.
MAZARIN, Julius, son of Pietro Mazarini, a noble Si¬
cilian, was born at Piscina in the Abbruzzi on the 14th of
July 1602. Having received the elementary part of his
education at Rome, he passed into Spain with the abbe, af¬
terwards cardinal, Jerome Colonna, at the age of seventeen,
and, during three years, he attended courses of law in the
universities of Alcala and Salamanca. But he soon aban¬
doned jurisprudence in order to embrace the military pro¬
fession, and in 1625 was sent, with the rank of captain, into
the Valteline, where the pontiff then had an army. From
this time he began to display his talents for diplomacy.
The generals of his Holiness, Conti and de Bagni, sent him
successively to the Duke de Feria, general of the Spaniards,
and to the Marquis de Coeuvres, afterwards Marshal d’Es-
trees, who commanded the French troops; and in both
missions he acquitted himself in such a manner as to merit
the commendations of these chiefs. He then returned to
Rome, where he resumed the study of jurisprudence, and
took his doctor’s degree. But the disputed succession to
the duchies of Mantua and Montferrat having kindled up
a new war, he quitted law for diplomacy, in which line na¬
ture had peculiarly qualified him to excel. The competitors
were the Duke de Nevers, whose cause was espoused by
the court of France, at which he resided, and the Duke de
Guastalia, wdio was supported by the emperor, the king'o.
Spain and the Duke of Savoy. The pope, desirous to pre-
M AZARIN.
laia
. vent a war, of which Italy was about to become the theatre,
y sent cardinal Sacchetti to Turin to act in favour of the
Duke de Nevers, and Mazarin accompanied him in this
mission. The talents of the latter were very soon appreciated
by the cardinal, who confided to him the care of the nego¬
tiation. The mediation of the pope was disregarded, the
war commenced, and Louis XIII., in person, forced the pass
of Susa, which constrained the Duke of Savoy to treat with
him and to separate himself from the Spaniards. Sacchetti
returned to Rome, leaving to Mazarin the title of internun¬
cio, with power to continue the negotiations, and to effect
a peace. Cardinal Barbarini, nephew of the pope, having
been sent by his uncle in quality of legate to Piedmont,
honoured Mazarin with the same confidence which had
been reposed in him by Sacchetti; and thus a young man,
less than thirty years of age, with a title of little or no im¬
portance, was seen interposing with different powers, and
treating with all, in order to effect a pacification. With this
view he made sevei'al journeys, one of which laid the founda¬
tion of his fortune. It was at Lyons in 1630 that he first saw
Louis XIII., and had a long conference with cardinal Riche¬
lieu. The cardinal conceived the highest opinion of him,
and feeling that France wanted an able and devoted man
in Italy, he succeeded in gaining the young diplomatist,
who from this time openly shewed himself favourable to the
interests of France. He returned to Italy without having
obtained any success in his mission, and the war continued ;
but the Duke of Savoy having died his son gave his entire
confidence to Mazarin, who immediately resumed the work
of peace with fresh ardour. The Spaniards w’ere besieging
Casal, and the French wished to relieve the place; but by
negociating with the chiefs of both armies he induced them
to consent to an armistice for six weeks. When this
truce had expired he demanded a prolongation, which the
French refused, and at the same time prepared to attack the
lines. Mazarin then proposed a treaty, in which they sti¬
pulated the hardest conditions. To engage them to relax
in their demands, he represented the formidable state of the
Spanish army, and the hazard of an attempt to force their
entrenchments ; but failing to persuade them, he passed
over to the Spaniards, reported to them the conditions re¬
quired by the French, and, still employing the same logic,
urged the superiority of the French, and their ardent desire
for the combat. This time he succeeded. The Spanish ge¬
neral assented to every thing. Mazarin immediately quit¬
ted the Spanish trenches, and riding at full gallop towards
the French, regardless of the balls which whistled around
him, waved his hat, exclaiming “ Peace, peace.” The sol¬
diers repulsed him, crying out “ No peace but he, never¬
theless, addressed himself to the marshal de Schomberg,
who accepted the treaty, and caused his troops to lay dow n
their arms. This peace was confirmed the following year
by the treaty of Cherasco, which was negociated by Maza-
nn. About the same time he secured to France the town
of Pignerol, having persuaded the Duke of Savoy that he
would be indemnified for the sacrifice, and deceived both
the Spaniards and imperialists who had only evacuated Cas¬
al and Mantua on condition that the French garrison should
quit Pignerol. Such conduct excited against him all the
hatred of the Spaniards ; but it earned for him the acknow-
cdgmerjts of Louis XIIL and of Richelieu. This minister
wrote to the pope, on the part of his master, to congratu-
ate his Holiness on the ability displayed by his negociator.
but in a court altogether ecclesiastical, the military habit
was no recommendation. In 1632, Mazarin quitted it, and
immediately received a benefice, with the office of referen¬
dary of the two signatures in the chancery. Richelieu gave
instructions to the French ambassador at Rome to obtain
:°r Mazarin an employment which should bring the latter
into contact with himself. In 1634 he was appointed vice-
egate of Avignon, and before he had quitted Rome to re-
341
pair to his post, his wishes were fulfilled by an order which Mazarin.
le received to proceed to the court of France in the capacity -v—^
of nuncio extraordinary. The object of this mission was to
intercede in favour of the Duke of Lorraine, who had been
deprived of his estates by Louis XIII.
Received with the greatest distinction by Richelieu, who
even wished to provide him with lodgings in his own palace,
Mazarin neglected no means of preserving the good graces
of the king and his minister ; and in this he was so success¬
ful that Louis XIII. promised to name him for the cardinal-
ate, if he was not anticipated therein by the pope. In 1635,
the Spaniards had carried off the elector of Treves, who
was under the protection of France. This was the pretext
for a war which lasted five and twenty years. Mazarin, as
minister of the court of Rome, wished to interpose in an
affair which regarded a prelate ; but the Spaniards remem¬
bered his conduct at Pignerol, and their intrigues with the
sovereign pontiff procured his recall to Avignon. They
even attempted to get his vice-legation revoked; but he
anticipated them, and fearing that he would not be left in
oblivion at Avignon, he demanded his recall, and in 1636 re¬
turned to Rome, where he openly supported the interests of
F rance. It was he whom Richelieu charged to demand a car¬
dinal’s hat for the famous Pere Joseph ; but the death of this
capuchin put an end to the negociation. Richelieu, who lost
a faithful friend and useful confidant, now resolved to re¬
place him by attaching to himself Mazarin, who had already
given him so many proofs of devotion; and he engaged
Louis XIII. to place on his head the cardinal’s hat which
had been given to Pere Joseph. This demand hurt Urban
VIII., w ho, though at first favourable to Mazarin, had since
allowed himself to be influenced against him by his numer¬
ous enemies. Rut Richelieu had himself made the demand,
and he knew not w hat it was to recede. Mazarin now attach¬
ed himself irrevocably to France. Being called by Richeli eu,
he quitted Italy in the beginning of 1639, and proceeded to
join the cardinal. The war, which for so many years de¬
solated Europe, had exhausted the different powers, and all
were now desirous of peace. The king of Denmark, Christian
IV., offered himself as mediator; and Hamburg was fixed
upon as the place for the assembling of their ambassadors.
Louis XIIL had cast his eyes upon Mazarin, whom he wish¬
ed to send to this congress; but the troubles which broke out
in Savoy led the king to think that he would be more use¬
ful in a country with which he was acquainted ; and, accord¬
ingly, in the beginning of 1640, he was sent thither with
the title of ambassador extraordinary. The successes of the
Count d’Harcourt in Piedmont enabled him, in December
1641, to conclude a treaty between the Duchess of Savoy
and her brothers-in-law, who, supported by Spain, had dis¬
puted with her the guardianship of her son. It was then
that Mazarin obtained the hat long since demanded for him ;
he was included in the nomination of the 16th December
1641, and on the 25th of February 1642 he received the cap
from the hands of Louis XIII. The intrigues which had
pursued Richelieu during his whole life assumed fresh force
towards its close ; but these did not prevent Mazarin from
remaining faithful towards his protector, to whom he ren¬
dered especial service, when the discovery of the conspiracy
of the fifth of March re-established his credit and authority.
This minister on his death-bed recommended him warmly
to the king ; and if Mazarin did not succeed him in his title
he was really first minister of Louis XIII., since he had the
direction of all affairs of state. Richelieu had governed by
terror; but Mazarin w as not of a character to employ similar
means, and preferred to make himself friends. It wTas at
his request that Marshal de Bassompierre, Marshal de Vitry,
and many other victims of the last minister were released from
the Bastille. He also recalled several exiled members of
parliament, and contributed to the reconciliation of the
Duke d’Orleans with the king.
M AZARIN.
342
Mazarin. On the 14th of May 1643 Louis XIIL, whose health had
^ for some time been declining, terminated his melancholy
existence. We cannot enter into any details of the events
that followed, and for an account of which we must refer
the reader to the memoirs and histories of the period. It
is sufficient to state that, during the minority of Louis XIV.
and the regency of Anne of Austria, the administration of
affairs was entirely in the hands of Mazarin. The com¬
mencement of his sway was attended with the happiest suc¬
cess ; and the advantages gained by the king’s armies se¬
cured to the cardinal the applause of the nation. But these
favourable dispositions were soon succeeded by the mur¬
murs, not loud but deep, of an oppressed people, and also
by a combination of the high nobility who were jealous of
his advancement and power. The civil wars of 1649, 1650,
1651, and 1652, followed; and as the dissatisfaction daily
became more general, it was at length insisted on that he
should be dismissed from the royal presence. Mazarin, who
knew when to yield as well as how to resist, demanded per¬
mission to retire, and immediately withdrew from the king¬
dom. But such was the singular fortune of the man, that
this event may be considered as one of the incidents which
mainly contributed to his greatness. Decree upon decree
was fulminated against him ; his fine library was sold ; and a
price was even put upon his head; yet, in spite of all the
rage of his enemies, he was enabled to return to court with
greater power than ever ; and so mutable is popular opinion
that many who had formerly been his bitterest enemies now
became his warmest friends. After this he was instrumen¬
tal in rendering the state some important services. He put
an end to the war between France and Spain, and, in order
to consolidate the peace he had re-established, negociated
a marriage between the king and the infanta, which was
celebrated at Sant-Jean-de-Luz on the 9th of June 1660.
But the cardinal’s glass was now nearly run. His continu¬
al application to business brought on a dangerous illness,
which terminated his existence at Vincennes on the 9th
of March 1661, in the fifty-ninth year of his age. Mazarin,
like most ministers, was but little regretted. A courtier
writing at the time, says, “ Le roi est, ou parait, le seul
touche de la mort du cardinal.” He had accumulated im¬
mense wealth by very doubtful or equivocal means. His
fortune is said to have amounted to near eight millions ster¬
ling, all acquired in a period of external war or of internal
commotion. On the approach of death he began to feel
some scruples of conscience on the subject, but observed
that he had nothing except what the bounty of the king had
conferred on him. His confessor, however, plainly told
him that he must distinguish between what he had actually
received from the king and what he had taken at his own
hand ; and that, in regard to the latter, restitution was in¬
dispensable to salvation. In this dilemma Colbert coun¬
selled him to give up all his property to the king, which he
did by an act dated a few days before his death ; but the
king, as had no doubt been foreseen, declined the proposed
donation, and the cardinal’s conscience was, we presume,
satisfied.
The only productions of Mazarin which have been pub¬
lished are his letters. Of these, thirty-six, written by him
whilst negotiating of the peace of the Pyrenees, made their
appearance in theyear 1690 ; and seventy-seven more on the
same subject were published in 1693. The whole were
collected and re-printed at Amsterdam, in two volumes,
under the title of A ccjocki t ions Secvetesdes Pyrenees. These
letters are not arranged in the order of their dates ; but this
error was corrected in a later edition, for which we are in¬
debted to the care of the Abbe Allainval, and the value of
which is still further enhanced from its being augmented
by fifty letters never before published. This work is en¬
titled, Lettres du Cardinal Mazarin, ou Von voit le Secret
de la Negociation de la Paix des Pyrenees, Paris, 1745,
in two vols. 12mo. All these letters have been found in Mazur!
an original collection which is preserved in the royal library
at Paris. Mazarin wrote a relation of the conferences for
the instruction of the king, and with the intention of accus¬
toming him to affairs, and there exist no better diplo¬
matic lessons ; for what passed in the conferences is there
unfolded with a clearness and precision which in some sort
place the reader en tiers with the two plenipotentiaries. In
1663, there was published at Cologne a Testament Poli¬
tique du Cardinal Mazarin; but this work, like so many
other romances of the same kind, is undeserving of atten¬
tion. Another political testament of Mazarin appeared
under the title of Breviarium Politicorum secundum Rubri-
cas Mazarinicas. It is a bitter satire on his government,
and represents him as recommending to Louis XIV. such
Machiavellian maxims as these : Simula, dissimula ; nulli
crede, omnia lauda, &c. “ Ce livre,” says a French writer,
“ est assez bon dans son espece diabolique.” Much more
besides has been written concerning Mazarin, and in regard to
his ministry, which embraces nearly twenty years of the history
of Franee. Count Galeazzo Gualdo Priorato is author of ahis-
toryof Cardinal Mazarin, translated into French, Paris, 1688,
in two vols. 12mo, but which is not always exact. Another
work of the same kind by one Aubery, author of a great num¬
ber of mediocre productions, professed to give an account of
Mazarin from his birth till his death ; it was originally
printed at Paris in 1688 and 1695, in two vols. 12mo. The
history of the ministry of Cardinal Mazarin from 1643 to
1652, by a clergyman, is an able work, but has more refer¬
ence to the history of France during the period in question,
than to that of Mazarin in particular. One of the best
apologies which has yet appeared for the conduct of this
minister is contained in the work of Jean de Silhou, coun¬
cillor of state, which was published in 1650, under the title
of Eclaircissements sur quelques difficultes touchant VAd¬
ministration du Cardinal Richelieu, and deserves to be
consulted by every student of French history. The Car¬
dinal was the object of innumerable satires directed against
him by the Fronde, particularly during the year 1669; but,
on the other hand, amongst his most servile flatterers we
find the great Corneille, who, in his Mort de Pompee, calls
him “ honnne au-dessus de 1’homme.”
The character of Mazarin has been compared, or rather
contrasted with that of llichelieu, and variously shaded ac¬
cording to the opinions and predilections of those by whom
it is delineated. “ Cardinal Mazarin,” says President He-
nault, “ was as gentle as Cardinal llichelieu was violent; one
of his greatest talents consisted in knowing men thoroughly.
The character of his policy was rather finesse and prudence
than force....This minister thought that force should never
be employed but in default of other means; and his mind
supplied the courage required by circumstances; bold at
Cassal, tranquil and active in his retreat at Cologne; enter¬
prising when it was necessary to cause the princes to be
arrested, but insensible to the pleasantries of the Fronde;
despising the bravadoes of the coadjutor, De Retz, and listen¬
ing to the murmurs of the people as one listens on the shore
to the noise of the waves of the sea. There was in Cardinal
Richelieu something greater, vaster, and less composed; in
Cardinal Mazarin, more address, more management, and
fewer extravagances. People hated the one and derided the
other; but both were masters of the state.” The parallel be¬
tween these tw o great men has been attempted by several
writers, and some have placed Mazarin above the minister
who had the merit of distinguishing him amongst the crowd.
That which Voltaire has traced in the seventh canto olhis
Henriade is more just, but incomplete. Gaillard gives the
preference to Mazarin. “ If we inquire,” says he, “of what
use they have been to the wrorld, we shall find that it is un¬
questionably better to have allayed disorders than to have
occasioned them; that it is better to have terminated a war
M A Z
tlaze i of thirty years, than to have maintained and kept it alive.
The peace of Westphalia and that of the Pyrenees are two
id epochs which place Mazarin above Richelieu and the great-
,’V'/I est ministers. These monuments of peace far outweigh the
honour of having invented means that were new, or reviv¬
ed means that were old, for disturbing Europe.” Bussy, in
his Memoires, has preserved a portrait of Mazarin : “ Never
man,” says he, “ had so fortunate a birth as his. He was
born a Roman gentleman; and he had studied in the univer¬
sity of Salamanca, where, having one day had his horoscope
cast, he had been assured that he would be pope. He had
the finest physiognomy in the world; the eyes and the
mouth beautiful, the forehead large, the nose well propor¬
tioned, and the visage open. He had much wit; no one
related a story or anecdote more agreeably. He was insinu¬
ating, and was sure to be loved by those whom he took the
trouble to please. He excelled in all games of skill and
address.” Insensible to the pamphlets which were daily
discharged against him, he usually observed when any one of
them was mentioned, Laissonsparler et faisons. Indiffer¬
ent about an opposition, which exhaled in satirical couplets,
“ Qvi!ils cantent, ces Frangais” said he, “pourvu qu’ils
payent” Of all the pieces directed against him, the only
one which appears to have given any annoyance was the
Mazarinade of Scarron, who in consequence lost his pension
of 1500 livres, which had been bestowed upon him by the mi¬
nister whom he sought to render ridiculous. But he did not
neglect men of letters, and charged Menage to furnish him
with a list of those who deserved rewards or encourage¬
ment. The arts were also the object of his protection ; and
it is well known that he introduced the opera into France.
As a statesman, he belonged almost entirely to the Italian
school, the maxims of which he had early imbibed ; he trust¬
ed chiefly to his knowledge of men, and the dexterous em¬
ployment of those arts by which that knowledge may be
made effectual; his policy was too subtle and refined to
impress a common observer with a just conception of its
real quality; and as to his ambition, it had nothing of that
high-reaching and aspiring character, which dignified even
the aberrations of Richelieu, and was too nearly allied to
avarice to command general respect. (a.)
MAZEIRA, a considerable island near the eastern coast
of Arabia, about sixty miles long and eight broad. The
passage between it and the mainland admits large vessels.
There is a village on the eastern shore, which is seldom
visited by Europeans. Long, of the north-east part 59. 40.
E. Lat. 20. 35. N.
MAZULAR, a small island on the west coast of Suma¬
tra, opposite to Tappanooly harbour, which is remarkable for
a perpendicular fall of water 300 or 400 feet in height.
MAZZARA, a parliamentary city in the island of Sicily,
in the kingdom of Naples, 60 miles from Palermo. It is
the capital of the province of that name, the seat of a bishop,
and stands on a fine plain upon the sea shore, but without
a harbour. It is all built with narrow streets, but contains
many churches and convents, and 1873 houses, with 8335
inhabitants, who cultivate much cotton wool. Latitude
37° 39' SG" ; longitude 12° 33' 59v east.
ME A CO, formerly the metropolis of the whole empire of
Japan, and still a great city of Nephon. Its situation is in
a spacious plain, hemmed in by high mountains, and almost
entirely consisting of fine gardens, interspersed with temples,
monasteries, mausoleums, and numerous rivulets. At the
time when it flourished in its greatest prosperity, it was
twenty miles in length, and nine in breadth. But a great
part of this space is now unoccupied, and converted into
gardens and cultivated fields. The streets are long and
narrow, and consist of poor and ill-constructed houses,
but a prodigious expense has been lavished on the temples,
which are extravagantly magnificent; and the imperial pa¬
lace forms a city by itself. Meaco is the seat of literature
M E A
and science as well as of religion. It is here that the impe¬
rial almanac is printed, as well as most of the books which
circulate through Japan. It is famed for the finer manu¬
factures, particularly for Japan work, painting, carving, &c.
The inhabitants are estimated at 477,000 by the last enu¬
meration, which is probably an exaggeration, exclusive of
the retainers of the court, namely, the monks and nuns, who
cannot be 52,000. It is still the spiritual capital of the em¬
pire, being the residence of the dairo or head of the church,
to whom the highest honours are paid. Long. 153.30. Lat.
35. 24. N.
MEAD, a liquor prepared with honey and water. One
of the best methods of preparing mead is as follows. Into
twelve gallons of water put the albumen of six eggs, mixing
these well together, and to the mixture adding twenty pounds
of honey. Let the liquor boil an hour; and when boiled,
add cinnamon, ginger, cloves, mace, and rosemary. As soon
as it is cold, put a spoonful of yest to it, and tun it up, keep¬
ing the vessel filled as it works; when it has done working,
stop it up close ; and, when fine, bottle it off for use. Mead
is a liquor of very ancient use in Britain.
Mead, Dr. Richard, a celebrated English physician,
was born at Stepney near London, where his father, the
Rev. Mr. Matthew Mead, had been one of the two ministers
of that parish ; but in 1662 he was ejected for non-confor-
mity, though he continued to preach at Stepney till his death.
As Mr. Mead had a handsome fortune, he bestowed a liberal
education upon thirteen children, of whom Richard was the
eleventh; and for that purpose kept a private tutor in his
house, who taught him the Latin tongue. At sixteen years
of age Richard was sent to Utrecht, where he studied three
years under the celebrated Graevius ; and then choosing the
profession of physic, he went to Leyden, where he attended
the lectures of Pitcairn, on the theory and practice of me¬
dicine, and Hermann’s botanical courses. Having also spent
three years in these studies, he went with his brother and
two other gentlemen to visit Italy, and at Padua took his
degree of doctor of philosophy and physic, in 1695. He
afterwards spent some time at Rome and Naples; and then
returning home, settled at Stepney, where he married, and
practised physic with a success which laid the foundation of
his future celebrity.
In 1703, Dr. Mead having communicated to the Royal
Society an analysis of Dr. Bonomo’s discoveries relating to
the cutaneous worms that generate the itch, which they
had inserted in the Philosophical Transactions; this, with
his account of poisons, procured him a place in the Royal
Society, of which Sir Isaac Newton was then president.
The same year he was elected physician of St. Thomas’s
Hospital, and was also employed by the surgeons to read ana¬
tomical lectures in their hall, which obliged him to remove
into the city. In 1707 his Paduan diploma for doctor of
physic was confirmed by the university of Oxford; and
being patronized by Dr. Radcliffe, on the death of that
famous physician he succeeded him in his house at Blooms¬
bury Square, and also in the greater part of his business. In
1727 he was made physician to George II., whom he had
served in that capacity whilst he was Prince of Wales ; and
he had afterwards the pleasure of seeing his two sons-in-
law, Dr. Nichols and Dr. Wilmot, his coadjutors in the same
eminent station.
Dr. Mead was not more admired for the qualities of the
head than he was loved for those of his heart. Though he
was himself a hearty Whig, yet, uninfluenced by party prin¬
ciples, he was a friend to all men of merit, by whatever
denomination they might happen to be distinguished. Thus
he was intimate with Garth, with Arbuthnot, and with
Freind ; and long kept up a constant correspondence with
Boerhaave, who had been his fellow student at Leyden. In
the meantime, intent as Dr. Mead was on the duties of his
profession, he had an activity of mind that extended itself
348
Mead.
344 M E A
Meadow to all kinds of literature, which he spared neither pains nor
II money to promote. He caused the beautiful and splendid
Mean, edition of Thuanus’s history to be published in 1713, in seven
v0]s> f()]|0 . an(j j^y interposition and assiduity Mr. Sut¬
ton’s invention of drawing foul air from ships and other close
places was carried into execution, and all the ships in his
Majesty’s navy provided with this useful machine. Nothing
pleased him more than to call hidden talents into light; to
give encouragement to the greatest projects, and to see
them executed under his own eye. During almost half a
century he was at the head of his business, which brought
him one year about seven thousand pounds, and for several
years between five and six thousand ; yet clergymen, and
in general all men of learning, were welcome to his advice.
His library consisted of 10,000 volumes, of which Latin,
Greek, and Oriental manuscripts formed no inconsiderable
part. He had a gallery for his pictures and antiquities,
which cost him large sums. His reputation, not only as a
physician, but as a scholar, was so universally established,
that he corresponded with all the principal literati in Eu¬
rope. Even the King of Naples sent to desire a complete
collection of his works; and in return made him a present
of the two first volumes of Signior Bajardi’s treatise, which
may be considered as an introduction to the collection of
the antiquities of Herculanum. At the same time that
prince invited Dr. Mead to visit his palace, that he might
have an opportunity of shewing him those valuable monu¬
ments of antiquity ; and nothing but his great age prevented
his undertaking a journey so suited to his taste. No fo¬
reigner of learning ever came to London without being in¬
troduced to Dr. Mead; and on these occasions his table was
always open, and the magnificence of princes was united
with the pleasures of philosophers. It was principally to
him that the several counties of England and our colonies
abroad applied for the choice of their physicians, and he was
likewise consulted by foreign physicians from Russia, Prus¬
sia, Denmark, and other countries. Besides the above works,
he wrote, 1. A Treatise on the Scurvy; 2. De variolis et
morbillis Dissertatio; 3. Medica Sacra, sive de Morbis in-
signioribus, qui in Bibliis memorantur Commentarius ; 4.
Monita et Praecepta Medica; 5. A Discourse concerning
Pestilential Contagion, and the methods to be used to pre¬
vent it. The works which he wrote and published in Latin
were translated into English, under his own inspection, by
Dr. Thomas Stack. This great physician, naturalist, and
antiquarian, died on the 16th of February 1754.
MEADOW, in its general signification, means pasture or
grass lands, annually mown for hay; but the term is more
particularly applied to lands which are so low as to be too
moist for cattle to graze upon them in winter without spoil¬
ing the sward. For the management and watering of mea¬
dows see Agriculture.
MEAHIMGE, a town of Hindostan, in the province of
Oude, surrounded by a double wall, which encloses several
large clumps of mango trees, and spots of cultivated ground.
It carries on a considerable trade in grain.
MEAL, the flour of grain. The colour and the weight
are the two things which denote the value of meal or flour;
the whiter and the heavier it is, other things being alike, the
better it will always be found. Pliny mentions these two cha¬
racters as the marks of good flour; and tells us, that Italy in
his time produced the finest in the world. This country,
indeed was, before his time, famous for flour; the Greeks
have celebrated it, and Sophocles in particular says, that no
flour is so white or so good as that of Italy. The corn of
this country has, however, lost much of its reputation since
that time.
MEAN, in general, denotes the middle between two ex¬
tremes. Thus we say the mean distance, mean proportion,
and the like.
Mean, Arithmetical, is half the sum of the two extremes,
M E A
as four is the arithmetical mean between two and six; for Mean
- 4- ^ _ .
2 ~ *
Mean, Geometrical, is the square root of the rectangle,
or product of the two extremes. Thus,
x/rx9=V9=3.
To find two mean proportionals between two extremes,
multiply each extreme by the square of the other, then ex¬
tract the cube root out of each product, and the two roots
will be the mean proportionals required.
Required two proportionals between 2 and 16,
2 x 2 X 16=64, and 3*/64=4. Again,
a/32x 162=3\/512=8. Therefore, 4 and 8 are the two
proportionals sought.
MEANGIS Isles, a cluster of small isles in the eastern
seas, situated about the 5 th degree of N. lat., and the 127th
of E. long. The inhabitants of one of the largest, Nannsa,
are chiefly employed in boat-building.
MEANMA, a town of Persia, in the province of Azarbi-
jan, on the route from Tabrez to Tehran. It is about five
or six miles from the foot of the mountain of Capitan Koh,
and is the capital of a powerful chief. It is supposed by
D’Anville to be the ancient Atropatene, sixty miles N.W.
of Sultania.
MEAN REE, a fishing town or village in the province of
Sinde, and district of Tatta, about four miles east from the
town of Tatta. It is situated on the Indus, which, opposite
to this place, is about a mile wide.
MEANT, a town of Hindostan, in the province of La¬
hore, 128 miles WNW. from the city of Lahore. Long.
72. 16. E. Lat. 32. 10. N.
MEARNSSHIRE, a county of Scotland. See Kincar¬
dineshire.
MEASURE, in a legal and commercial sense, denotes a
certain quantity or proportion of any thing bought, sold,
valued, or the like. See Weights and Measures.
Measure is also used to signify the cadence and time
observed in poetry, dancing, and music, in order to render
them regular and agreeable.
The dilferent measures or metres in poetry, are the differ¬
ent manners of ordering and combining the quantities, or
the long and short syllables. Thus, hexameter, pentame¬
ter, iambic, sapphic, and other verses, consist of different
measures.
In English verses, the measures are extremely various and
arbitrary, every poet being at liberty to introduce any new
form that he pleases. The most usual are the heroic, gene¬
rally consisting of five long and five short syllables; verses
of four feet; and verses of three feet and a caesura, or single
syllable.
The ancients, by variously combining and transposing
their quantities, made a vast variety of different measures.
Of words, or rather feet of two syllables, they formed a
spondee, consisting of tw o long syllables ; a pyrrhic, of two
short syllables ; a trochee, of a long and a short syllable;
and an iambic, of a short and a long syllable.
Of their feet of three syllables they formed a molossus,
consisting of three long syllables; a tribrachys, of three
short syllables; a dactyl, of one long and two short syllables;
and an anapaest, of two short and one long syllable. The
Greek poets contrived one hundred and twenty-four differ¬
ent combinations or measures^ under as many different names,
from feet of two syllables to those of six.
Measure of an angle, is an arch described from the
vertex in any place between its legs. Hence angles are
distinguished by the ratio of the arches, described from the
vertex between the legs to the peripheries. Angles, then,
are distinguished by those arches; and the arches are dis-
M E A
sure tinguished by their ratio to the periphery. Thus an angle
| is said to be as many degrees as there are in the said arch,
fith. Measure of a solid, is a cube, the side of which is an
, —^ inch, a foot, or a yard, or any other determinate length. In
geometry it is a cubic perch, divided into cubic feet, digits,
&c.
Measure of velocity, in Mechanics, is the space which is
passed over by a moving body in a given time. To measure a
velocity, therefore, the space must be divided into as many
equal parts as the time is conceived to be divided into; and
the quantity of space answering to such a part of time is the
measure of the velocity.
Measure, in Geometry, denotes any quantity assumed as
one, or unity, to which the ratio of the other homogeneous
or similar quantities is expressed, numerically or otherwise.
Measure, in Music, the interval or space of time which
the person who beats time takes between the rising and
falling of his hand or foot, in order to conduct the move¬
ment, sometimes quicker, and sometimes slower, according
to the kind of music, or the subject which is sung or played.
The measure is that which regulates the time we are to
dwell on each note.
The ordinary or common measure is one second, or the
sixtieth part of a minute, which is nearly the space between
the beats of the pulse or heart; the systole, or contraction
of the heart, answering to the elevation of the hand; and
its diastole, or dilatation, to the letting it fall. The mea¬
sure usually takes up the space which a pendulum of two
feet and a half long employs in making a swing or vibration.
The measure is regulated according to the different quality
or value of the notes in the piece, by which the time that
each note is to occupy is expressed. The semibreve, for
instance, holds one rise and one fall; and this is called the
measure or whole measure, sometimes the measure note or
time note; the minim, one rise, or one fall; and the crotchet,
half a rise, or half a fall, there being four crotchets in a full
measure.
Measure Binary, or Double, is that in which the rise
and fall of the hand are equal.
Measure Ternary, or Triple, is that in which the fall is
double of the rise ; or where two minims are played during
a fall, and but one in the rise. To this purpose, the num¬
ber 3 is placed at the beginning of the lines, when the mea¬
sure is intended to be triple ; and a C, when the measure is
to be common or double.
MEASURING, or Mensuration, is the using a certain
known measure, for determining thereby the precise extent,
quantity, or capacity of any thing.
Measuring, in general, includes the practical part of
geometry. From the various subjects on which it is em¬
ployed, it acquires various names, and constitutes various
arts. See Geometry, Levelling, Mensuration, Tri¬
gonometry.
MEAT. See Dietetics.
MEA 1H, a maritime county in the province of Leinster
m Ireland, is bounded, on the north, by the counties of
Uivan, Monaghan, and Louth ; on the east, by the Irish sea
and Dublin county; on the south, by the county of Kildare;
and on the west by that of Meath. Its superficial contents
amount to 567,127 acres, all of which are capable of culti¬
vation, except 5600 acres of barren land, which would not
repay the outlay^ expended on its improvement.
tt ui i t-ime °* Ptolemy ^ formed part of the territory of
fi16 t-w1’ whose settlement extended from the Boyne to
tile ,! According to the accounts of native writers,
e district known by the name of Meath was of much
greater extent than at present. It comprehended the mo-
nflA COU11^es °i Meath, Westmeath, Longford, with parts
... Kildare, and the King’s County, and constituted
ie ot the five subordinate kingdoms into which the island
dlvided. At the time of the landing of the English it
vol. xiv. & 6
MEA
345
ZZ ^ ProPeyty of the O’Melaghlin family, from whom it
I t v T lf ib>i ,HeTy \L’ who bestowed it on Hugh de
acy, to be holden by the service of fifty knights. This
nobleman subdivided it into twelve parts called baronies,
because the persons to whom he granted those parts were
roGn nf H creat^ Girons. In this state it continued till the
eign of Henry VIII., wiien it was divided by act of parlia¬
ment into the two counties of Meath and Westmeath. The
modern division of the county is into twelve baronies,’which
have been formed into two districts, for the purposes of its
civil jurisdiction. 1 he Boyne constitutes the line of de¬
marcation between these divisions. That of Kells, to the
north-west of the river, comprehends the baronies of Slane,
Morgalhon, Kells, Demifore, Lune, and Navan; that of
IJunshaughlm, to the south-wrest, contains those of Duleek,
bkreen, Ratoath, Dunboyne, Deece, and Moyfenrath. The
baronies of Deece, Duleek, Kells, Moyfenrath, Navan, and
blane, are each divided into half baronies, distinguished by
t e terms upper and lower, so that the county may be con¬
sidered as divided into eighteen great divisions, for the
purposes of its internal government. These baronial divi¬
sions are again subdivided into 137 parishes, and six portions
of parishes, the remaining parts of which extend into some
of the adjoining counties.
According to the ecclesiastical division of Ireland this
county constitutes the greater portion of the diocese of the
same name There were formerly many episcopal sees in
Meath, all of which, except Kells and Duleek, which, how¬
ever, subsequently shared the same fate as the others, were
consolidated previously to the year 1152, when Cardinal
1 apai o settled the diocesan divisions of Ireland, by autho¬
rity froin Pope Eugenius III. The seat of the see was then
fixed at Clonard. 1 he bishopric of Clonmacnois was united to
it by act of parliament in 1568. The bishop of Meath has no
cathedral church; his residence has for a long period been
at Aidbiaccan, which in the wars of 1641 was a castle of
considerable strength, but is now a modern mansion built
with much taste. The constitution of the diocese possesses
many singularities. There is neither dean nor chapter.
I he only dignitaries are the dean of Clonmacnois, and the
archdeacon of Meath. The want of a chapter is supplied
by a synod, of which every beneficed clergyman within the
diocese is a member. This synod has a common seal, which
is lodged in the hands of members annually selected for its
custody. The bishopric is divided into twelve rural dean¬
eries, and comprehends 224 parishes, of which, according
to the ecclesiastical computation, 147 are in the county of
Meath; fifty-nine in Westmeath; sixteen in the King’s
County; one in Cavan ; one in Longford; besides one part
of a parish in Kildare. I he bishop of Meath takes prece¬
dence of all the other bishops in Ireland, and is a member
of the Privy Council in right of his see.
From the level aspect of this county, it does not present
such a variety of picturesque views as many other districts ;
yet it is not without its characteristic beauties. The banks
of the Boyne, especially, present a succession of prospects
in which the undulating surface is richly ornamented with
the natural beauties of wood and water, studded by nume¬
rous buildings, both ancient and modern. Few of the ele¬
vations of the ground are of sufficient height to be termed
hills, and none deserve the title of mountain, except per¬
haps Scribogue and Lloyd in Kells barony; and even those,
where cultivated, are productive to their summits.
The river Boyne enters the county at its south-western
extremity, and intersects it diagonally in a north-eastern
direction, till it discharges itself into the sea below Drog¬
heda where it forms the boundary between the counties of
Meath and Louth. It receives the Blackwater at Navan.
The Moynalty or Borora is a branch of the Blackwater.
The Nannywater discharges itself into the Irish sea. The
Ryewater forms part of the boundary between Dublin and
2 x
Meath.
346
MEATH.
Meath.
Meath. The Boyne is navigable for barges as far as Navan,
whence a canal has been carried to Trim. The royal canal
touches the southern border of the county between Kilcock
and Cloncurry. A projected canal, to traverse the county
from south-east to north-west, has never been executed.
The sea-coast is confined to the short space between the
mouth of the Boyne and the stream of the Delvid, which is
part of the boundary of Dublin county. It presents a shelv¬
ing strand, without a port of any consequence. There is
no sheet of water meriting the name of lake, except that of
Lough Sheelin, which bounds the county on the north, and
the very inconsiderable Lough of Lakefield in Demifore.
The soil is extremely variable, being found of every qua¬
lity, from a deep rich loam to the lightest sandy texture ;
but that most generally to be met with is a strong deep
clay, resting on a substratum of limestone gravel. In some
parts, and even on the tops of the hills, as good earth has
been found at the depth of four feet as at the surface, so
that the land in those favoured spots can never be exhausted,
because when the farmer begins to find his fields unproduc¬
tive, he has only by ploughing somewhat deeper to turn up
a quantity of virgin earth, whose productive qualities had
hitherto lain dormant.
The county is wholly included within the great central
plain of floetz limestone, which crosses Ireland in a broad
band. The mineral productions are few, owing partly to the
character of the soil, and partly to that of the surface, which,
from its general flatness, prevents the interior from being
explored to any depth, without being impeded by subter¬
raneous water. A copper mine was for some time worked
in Skreen barony, but the latter of the causes now men¬
tioned put a stop to the operations. Limestone of large
scantling, and therefore well suited for building purposes,
and also susceptible of a high polish, is raised at Ardbrac-
can. The Episcopal palace is built of this stone. It is white
when fresh from the chisel, but assumes a greyish hue from
atmospherical exposure. Argillaceous clay, which has been
applied to the manufacture of coarse earthen-ware, is raised
in some places. In Slane barony coal-smut has been found
in abundance, at the edges of streams, where the soil has
been washed away by the action of the water ; but coal has
not yet been discovered. A chalybeate spring of some re¬
pute for the cure of diseases arising from debility, has been
discovered at Knock, in Morgallion barony.
The quantity of bog is very small; but in stating this fact,
it must be observed that there is a very extraordinary dif¬
ference in the statements of the two most accredited writers
regarding its extent. Thompson, in his County Survey,
published in 1802, under the auspices of the Dublin Society,
fixes the quantity of unreclaimed bog at 42,000 acres, where¬
as Griffith, in his return to parliament, on the valuation of
Ireland, in 1832, makes the whole of the barren mountain
land and bog together to amount only to 5600 acres.
The population of a district enjoying so many of the na¬
tural advantages suited to the maintenance of human exist¬
ence, is by no means so great as might have been anticipated
from this cause. The average of inhabitants, compared with
the superficial extent, is but as one to 3§, whilst in the ad¬
joining counties of Louth and Armagh it is as 1 to 1|-. The
increase of population appears in the following table, which
presents the results of investigations at different periods :—•
1760.. De Burgo,  81,516
1792 Beaufort, 112,400
1812 Par. return, 142,579
1821 The like, 159,183
1831 The like, 177,023
The result of a subsequent census in 1834, by the com¬
missioners of public instruction, cannot be stated here, be¬
cause it had been made up according to dioceses, instead of
counties.
Meath returned no fewer than fourteen representatives to Meat),
the Irish parliament; two for the county at large, and two
for each of the boroughs of Trim, Navan, Athboy, Duleek,
Kells, and Ratoath. This number was reduced to two at
the Union, all the representatives for boroughs having been
struck off. The same arrangement has been continued bv
the reform act.
The state of the county constituency, at three periods, viz.
1st, previously to the disqualification of the forty-shilling
freeholders; 2d, subsequently to their disqualification; and,
3d, under the reform act, is as follows :—
Year. L.50. L.20. L.10. 40s. Total.
1st Jan. 1829...809... 65 797...1671.
1st Jan. 1830...822... 77... 78  977.
1st May, 1831...784...160...302... 1246.
The constabulary is now placed, by the new act, under
one sub-inspector, eighteen chief constables, thirty-six head
constables, and 284 constables and sub-constables. The
number of men in this force, according to the returns made
previously to the new arrangement, were nine chief con¬
stables and 288 sub-constables, who were maintained at an
annual expense of £11,685, being at an average of £39
each man.
According to returns made to parliament, the state of edu¬
cation at the periods specified below was the following.
The returns made by the commissioners of public instruc¬
tion, in 1834, cannot be made available, for the reason stated
in the preceding paragraph relative to the population in ge¬
neral :—
Year. Boys. Girls. Totah
1821  5038 2591 —  7629.
1824-6 6460 3611 336 10,407.
Of the numbers specified in the latter of these returns,
1280 were Protestants of the Established Church, 8817 were
Roman Catholics, and five Dissenters; the religious persua¬
sion of the remaining 205 could not be ascertained. Of the
272 schools in which these children were instructed, thirty-
one, containing 1275 pupils, were supported by grants of
public money; thirty-eigkt, containing 1937 pupils, by the
voluntary contributions of societies or individuals; and the
remainder, amounting to 203 schools, affording education to
7195 children, were supported wholly by the fees of the
pupils. The diocesan school for the sees of Meath and Ar-
dagh was fixed by the commissioners of education to be kept at
Mullingar or Westmeath. That of Meath diocese had been
long kept in Trim. There are charter-schools at Trim and
Ardbraccan. A school was endowed at Navan by abequestof
Alderman Preston in 1686. A large free school, on the
Lancasterian system, has been established at Oldcasto, by
a bequest of Mr. Gibson of London.
The population is chiefly engaged in agriculture. The soil
being principally composed of a deep rich earth, the deep¬
est ploughing is considered as the best tillage ; and from the
great tendency to weeds, the farmer, who keeps his ground
in the most cleanly state, and at the same time most fri¬
able and pulverized, is considered as having it in the most
profitable condition. A complete summer’s fallow at stat¬
ed intervals is considered by the most judicious farmers as
absolutely necessary to keep the land thoroughly clean;
every other attempt to eradicate the weeds, by means of clover,
vetches, or any other umbraceous green crop having prov¬
ed ineffectual. Planting potatoes, even without manure, is
considered as a good method of fallowing where cleansing
is the only object. In the neighbourhood of villages it is a
common practice for farmers to throw open the field which
he intends to fallow to the cottagers, who furnish manure
and plant their potatoes on it. If the ground be in good
heart he charges them at the rate of somewhat more than his
MEATH.
jje h. own rent, which is termed “ paying the standing rentbut
if poor, he makes no charge. The most intelligent farmers
break up their fallows before Christmas as lightly as possi¬
ble ; yet, in order to reverse the surface at the close of the
spring work, it is cross-harrowed, the weeds are gathered and
burned, and if necessary, it is manured and gravelled. The
next ploughing, called the “ gorrowing,” is performed by
six horses or bullocks turning up the ground in high narrow
ridges across the former lines. In this state the land lies
during the remainder of the summer, and then receives a
ploughing called “ stretching,” which runs as the ridges of
sown corn are intended to lie. The grain is generally sown
broad-cast and harrowed in. With respect to the rotation
of crops, or system of croping, no restriction is imposed on
the tenant. Every one is permitted to raise that kind of
grain from which he expects to derive the greatest produce.
The crops usually cultivated, are wheat, oats, barley, bear,
rye, meslin, clover, flax, potatoes, cabbage, rape, turnips,
and peas. The red wheat is preferred by most as agreeing
best with the soil, and having a thinner rind, bearing the
change of season better, and being less apt to lodge than
the white. The latter is cultivated on the lighter and more
gravelly soils. It comes in earlier, but is more liable to in¬
jury from the weather or mildew. Oats are produced in
the greatest variety and of the finest samples; they are
sown in the proportion of three to one as compared with
other crops, and command a certain sale at the grain mar¬
kets. Barley is also in much repute. It is sown on the
richest land, and requires the nicest tillage ; but there is
always a brisk demand for it, and it is considered as one of
the most profitable crops. Bear is a good deal sown, par¬
ticularly after potatoes; it is also a profitable crop where
it succeeds, but it is uncertain. The straw makes excellent
fodder for young cattle. Rye, by itself or mixed with wheat,
when it is called meslin, is chiefly ground into whole meal
for domestic consumption. Flax is mostly sown in small
patches for the use of the farmer’s family, and seldom offer¬
ed in quantities for sale; it grows strong and luxuriant, so
as to be seldom fitted for the finer fabrics. When a field
is laid down for grass, those parts of it on which flax had
been grown produce the most luxuriant herbage, and shew
the earliest verdure in the following year ; if sheep, which
are of all animals the greatest epicures, be let in upon it,
they invariably settle on the part so laid down ; this ap¬
pearance of luxuriance and early verdure is visible for at
least two years. Rape is grown with the greatest success
on bog which has been reclaimed by burning. Red clover
is much used as a renovating crop ; white clover is seldom
sown except on land laid down for pasture.
The quantity of artificial grass sown is very small, as com¬
pared with the extensive tracts producing natural grasses;
the depth and richness of the soil throughout almost the
whole of the county, and its tendency to moisture without
being absolutely wet, making it throw up such a coat of
nourishing herbage, as is scarcely to be equalled in Ireland.
In other counties there are districts which far exceed the
richest lands here ; such are the Golden Yale in Tipper¬
ary, and the corcass lands in Limerick. But no other dis¬
trict can exhibit 560,000 acres situated together, of such ex¬
cellent quality, and so appropriate to every purpose of tillage
an pasture as Meath. It is, generally speaking, more
tnendly to the latter kind of agriculture, and consequently
was almost wholly applied to grazing, until the legislative
measures adopted by the Irish parliament for the encour¬
agement of tillage, induced many to break up the large
tracts which for ages had continued untouched by the plough¬
share. The superior excellence of the beef reared here
over that of any other district has made the county prover-
ial for its feeding. All the old pastures are composed of
grasses of the best kinds. Graziers seldom think of pro¬
curing any particular species, from an opinion that the land,
347
after three years, will revert to its natural herbage, even Meath,
though grasses of other kinds had been sown upon it when ''•“■v-""
laid down. Dry gravelling soils throw up a rich coat of
white clover, though no red has been sown; and grounds of
a clayey nature, when drained and manured with limestone
gra\ el, often exhibit a similar tendency. Natural meadows
are to be met everywhere; few farms, whatever be their
size, are without a sufficiency for the holder’s use. The
artificial grasses chiefly cultivated are clover and trefoil.
Much attention is paid by the graziers to the treatment of
their feeding stock. T. he first week in May the pastures
are generally opened for the summer stock, which are sel¬
dom reared here, the land being deemed too valuable to be
up to young cattle. Beasts of this description are
given
brought from Connaught or Munster. When they arrive
they are bled and turned into the pasture field where they
remain till completely fattened, each field being stocked at
once with its full complement. They are then sold partly
in the Dublin market for the consumption of the metropo¬
lis or for exportation to Liverpool, and partly to buyers
from the northern ports, chiefly for the supply of the colo¬
nies. The slaughtering season commences in September.
Some graziers put a few fat sheep to graze amongst the neat
cattle; but the practice is generally condemned, from an
opinion that it injures the “ proof” of the beasts, by which
is meant the quantity of inside fat, the butcher’s test of high
feeding, as the sheep feed on the sweetest grass ; of course
it ultimately hurts the grazier, as the north country butchers
avoid those whose beasts do not “ die well,” as they express
it, and are sure to give a preference to those who are known
to have good proof beasts. Bullocks are fed in great abun¬
dance. The sheep, like the black cattle, are seldom na¬
tives ; they are brought in at the October fair of Ballinas-
loe. Lands newly laid down are generally appropriated to
the rearing of lambs for the Dublin market. The marshes of
Rossmin and Emla, on the Moynalty river feed great num¬
bers of horses during summer. These marshes admit of
easy drainage, but the proprietors deem them more profit¬
able in their present state.
Almost every farmer, occupying from thirty to one hun¬
dred acres, keeps a few cows, the produce of which both in
milk and butter that remains after supplying his own fam¬
ily, is sent to market. There are also a number of dairy
farms in Dunboyne and Ratoath, in which the landlord sup¬
plies the land, houses and stock ; the tenant furnishes labour
and utensils, and pays for the mowing and hay making; the
cows, when they go backward in their milk, are charged by
the landlord at his own expense. The cream only is churn¬
ed; the skimmed milk being mixed with butter milk is sold
to the Dublin chandlers who retail it to the poor. The
dairy cows are invariably housed from the first week in
December till May ; during which time they are sent out to
graze in the day time and fed at night upon hay. Cheese
is very seldom made and only for domestic use.
The quantity of natural wood throughout the county is
but small, but the plantations in demesnes, and about gen¬
tlemen’s seats, are numerous and thriving. The trees most
usually met with are ash, elm, sycamore, lime, and larch.
Scotch and spruce fir are less common. Gross oak is very
scarce, the principal growth of it being at Loughcrew, in
Demifore. There are many osieries, of from two to ten acres
each, the produce of which is sold to the basket-makers of
Dublin.
The manufactures are chiefly confined to the making of
sacking from tow, of coarse linens in the neighbourhood of
Drogheda, where the cotton manufacture is also carried on
to some extent, and of linens of a texture somewhat finer
in the western baronies. Some coarse frieze is also manu¬
factured for home consumption. There are paper manu¬
factories, distilleries, and breweries, of considerable mag¬
nitude. Tanyards are to be met with in several places.
348 M E A
Meath. The chief outlet for the produce of the county is Drogheda.
There are good markets for grain and provisions at Trim
and Navan, and extensive flour-mills on the Boyne and
Blackwater. But on the whole Meath cannot be consider¬
ed to be a manufacturing county.
There are several mansions in this county of great size
and splendour, surrounded by highly improved demesnes,
and numerous seats of resident gentlemen. The farm houses
are generally of very inferior construction, formed ot the
earth or clay taken off the surface of the spot on which the
house is to be built; hence the floor is commonly several
inches below the level of the soil, and consequently damp and
unwholesome. The habitations ot the labourers and cotters
are of a description still worse, being built ot mud, and with
sunken floors, insomuch that it is found necessary to form
a hole in the floor as a receptacle for the water that comes
in at the door, or oozes through the foundation. This de¬
scription, however, is not universally applicable. 1 he own¬
ers of some estates have provided comfortable residences
for their labourers, to be held by them on moderate terms.
The furniture, food, and clothing, is of a character similar
to that of their habitations. In many parts the lower class¬
es suffer extremely from the want of fuel; bog-land being
extremely scarce, and the expense of carriage precluding
the purchase of coal, which must be drawn from Dublin or
Drogheda. When coal can be had upon moderate terms,
another objection vto its use is the want of grates, as it will
not burn on the hearth like turf; although this difficulty has
been overcome in some places by the ingenious contrivance
of placing tw o bricks edgeways and parallel to each other,
at about eight or ten inches asunder, by which means a cur¬
rent of air is produced sufficient to support combustion.
Though the English language is universally spoken, the
peasantry still prefer the use of Irish in their communica¬
tions with each other. Books of devotion in the latter lan¬
guage, but printed in the Roman character, are much used.
It is a proverbial expression here, as also in some other parts
of Ireland, “ If you have to plead for your life, plead in
Irish.” A fund exists here derived from bequests of Dr.
Sterne, bishop of Clogher, and Dr. Chetwood, the income
of which is applied to apprentice the children of protestant
parents to masters and mistresses of the same persuasion.
Another bequest of a gentleman of the name of Charleton,
disposes of the interest of L.900, in marriage portions of six
guineas to labourers’ sons under thirty who marry labour¬
ers’ daughters under forty, provided they have resided a
year previous to marriage in the same parish, and have had
the consent of the parents on both sides. Two-thirds of
this singular bequest is appropriated to Meath, and the re¬
mainder to Longford.
Amongst the most ancient remains of antiquity may be
mentioned the round or pillar towers at Kells and Donogh-
more. The former is ninety-nine feet high, and has four small
apertures near the top facing the four cardinal points of the
compass. The latter is remarkable for having a representation
of the Saviour on the cross, carved on the key-stone over the
entrance. At Kells and St. Kiarans’are two fine stone cross¬
es. At New Grange, near Slane, is another relique equal¬
ly extraordinary, consisting of an artificial cavern Or under¬
ground gallery in form of a cross seventy-one feet in its
greatest length, twenty feet between the extremities of the
arms of the cross, and eleven feet in its greatest height. It
is surrounded by a tumulus or hillock raised by art, which
is surrounded by a circle of huge unhewn stones set up¬
right. It is supposed to have been either a place of Dru-
idical worship or a burying-place; and twro skeletons uncover¬
ed with earth were found in it, when first opened. The
Hill of Tarah is also worthy of note, as being the place
where the kings of Ireland were crowned, and where the
states of the island held their triennial assemblies, called the
Fez of Tarah. The traces of some of the positions sup-
M E C
posed to have been connected with this ancient custom, are Meath
said by some antiquaries to be still discoverable on it. Near II
it is a large rath. Other raths are to be seen at Lismullen Mechani.
Odder, and Ringlestoun. Columbkill’s house, a stone-roof- cal'
ed crypt or cell at St. Kiarans, is said to be the most an- '"“W
cient building of that material in Ireland.
The ruins of monastic buildings scattered throughout the
country are too numerous to admit even of recapitulation.
Trim had seven monastic institutions ; Kells, Killeen, Du-
lek, and Skryne, three each. Several of these buildings
have been converted into parish churches.
The ruins of'ancient castles are not less numerous. Some
of them have been altered into modern residences. Of these
Slane castle is amongst the finest, both for architectural struc¬
ture and grandeur of situation on a richly wooded elevation
overhanging the Boyne. It w as the favourite residence of
King George IV. during his visit to Ireland in 1821. Kil¬
leen castle, in addition to its claims on the score of antiquity,
has been rendered splendidly memorable by its present pro¬
prietor, the Earl of Fingal, a Roman Catholic nobleman,
who, during the disastrous period of the rebellion of 1798,
threw it open as an asylum for the well-affected of every
description. The clergymen, both Protestant and Catho¬
lic, performed divine service there, each to their respective
congregations, under the same roof, as long as the danger
existed.
Trim, the county town, situated on the Boyne, presents
an appearance very unsuitable to the metropolis of a coun¬
ty so wealthy and populous. But though now a place of very
inferior note, it was once amongst the principal of the Anglo-
Irish towns. In the wrar of 1641, it was besieged by Crom¬
well. The ruins of its monastic establishments have been
already noticed. Its present public buildings are, the Pro¬
testant church, two Roman Catholic chapels, the court house,
the market house, the county jail, the charter school, and
the barracks. A Corinthian pillar was erected here in 1817,
in honour of the Duke of Wellington, who was born at Dan-
gar castle in this county. The population of Trim in 1831,
amounted only to 3282 souls. The following are the names
and number of inhabitants of the other towns in this county,
the population of which exceeds one thousand souls, viz
Navan,4416; Kells,4326; Athboy, 1959; Oldcastle, 1531;
Duleek, 1217.
MEAUX, an ancient town of France, in the department
of the Seine and Marne, with a bishop’s see, seated in a
place abounding in corn and cattle, on the river Marne,
which divides it into two parts; and its trade consists in
corn, wool, and cheese. It sustained a siege of three months
against the English in 1421. Long.2.58.E. Lat.48.58.N.
MECCA. See Mekka.
MECHANICAL, an epithet applied to whatever relates
to mechanics.
Mechanical, in mathematics, denotes a construction ol
some problem, by the assistance of instruments, as the du¬
plication of the cube and quadrature of the circle, in con¬
tradistinction to that which is done in an accurate and geo¬
metrical manner.
Mechanical Curve, is a curve, according to Descartes,
which cannot be defined by any algebraical equation, and
thus is contradistinguished from algebraic or geometrical
curves. Leibnitz and others call these mechanical curves
transcendental, and dissent from Descartes, in excluding
them from geometry.
Mechanical Solution of a problem is either when the
thing is done by repeated trials, or when lines used in the
solution are not truly geometrical, or of organical construc¬
tion.
Mechanical Powers, are certain simple machines, which
are used for raising greater weights, or overcoming greater
resistances than could be effected by the natural strength
without them. See Mechanics.
I
¥
*a
*!
f
lit
fe
h
Hi¬
ll
349
HisDiy. Mechanics, from w/tivn, a machine, is the science
 which inquires into the laws of the equilibrium and mo-
Defi tion. t;on 0f solid bodies ; into the forces by which bodies,
whether animate or inanimate, may be made to act upon
one another; and into the means by which these may be
increased so as to overcome such as are more powerful.
The term mechanics was originally applied to the doctrine
of equilibrium. It has by some late writers been extend¬
ed to the motion and equilibrium of all bodies, whether
solid, fluid, or aeriform; and has been employed to com¬
prehend the sciences of hydrodynamics and pneumatics.
MECHANICS.
HISTORY.
’rogijS As the science of mechanics is intimately connected
fP’jjcal with the arts of life, and particularly with those which ex-
"rTn theist even in the rudest aSes of’ society, the construction of
“j". machines must have arrived at considerable perfection be¬
fore the theory of equilibrium, or the simplest properties
of the mechanical powers, had engaged the attention of
philosophers. We accordingly find that the lever, the
pulley, the crane, the capstan, and other simple machines,
were employed by the ancient architects in elevating the
materials of their buildings, long before the dawn of me¬
chanical science ; and the military engines of the Greeks
and Romans, such as the catapultae and balistas, exhibit an
extensive acquaintance with the construction of compound
machinery. In the splendid remains of Egyptian archi¬
tecture, which in every age have excited the admiration
of the world, we perceive the most surprising marks of
mechanical genius. The elevation of immense masses of
stone to the tops of these stupendous fabrics, must have
required an accumulation of mechanical power which is
not in the possession of modern architects,
ristn ■ The earliest traces of any thing like the theory of me-
^ chanics are to be found in the writings of Aristotle. In
ndedo sorne ^’s works ( Questiones Mechanical) we discover a
e thiiry erroneous and obscure opinions respecting the doc-
meoi'i. trine of motion, and the nature of equilibrium ; and in his
mi. 28th mechanical question he has given some vague obser-
c’ • ^ vations on the force of impulse, tending to point out the
difference between that species of force and pressure. He
maintained that there cannot be two circular motions op¬
posite to one another ; that heavy bodies descended to the
centre of the universe, and that the velocities of their de¬
scent were proportional to their weights. In answering the
question, Why “small powers move great weights by means
of the lever, when they have, besides, the weight of the
lever itself to move ? ’ Aristotle states, that the power
moves the weight more easily in proportion as it is more
distant from the fulcrum ; and the reason which he assigns
for this is, “ that the end farthest from the centre de¬
scribes a greater circle, so that the power which moves the
weight will, by the same force, be transferred through a
arger space. In discussing the same question, he re¬
marks, that the shorter arm of the lever is moved more
against nature than the other; a distinction which shows
t ie inaccurate notions which he entertained on the sub¬
ject.
dhe views of Aristotle, however, were so confused and
erroneous, that the honour of laying the foundation of
theoretical mechanics is exclusively due to the celebrated History.
Archimedes, who, in addition to his inventions in geome- ^ ■ v
try, discovered the general principles of hydrostatics. In He disco-
his two books entitled Isoporrica, or De Equiponderanti- vers
bus, he has demonstrated that when a balance with une- P™Pert3r
qual arms is in equilibrio, by means of two weights in its lever6
opposite scales, these weights must be reciprocally pro- e'er’
portional to the arms of the balance. From this general
principle all the other properties of the lever, and of ma¬
chines referrible to the lever, might have been deduced as
corollaries ; but Archimedes did not pursue the discovery
through all its consequences. In demonstrating the lead¬
ing property of the lever, he lays it down as an axiom,
that if the two arms of the balance are equal, the two weights
must also be equal when an equilibrium takes place;1 and then
shows, that if one of the arms be increased, and the equili¬
brium still continue, the weight appended to that arm must
be proportionally diminished. This important discovery con¬
ducted the Syracusan philosopher to another equally use¬
ful in mechanics. Reflecting on the construction of his
balance, which moved upon a fulcrum, he perceived that
the two weights exerted the same pressure on the fulcrum
as if they had both rested upon it. He then considered
the sum of these two weights as combined with a third,
and the sum of these three as combined with a fourth ; and
he thus saw, that in every such combination the fulcrum
must support their united weight; and therefore that there
is in every combination of bodies, and in every single bodyanj the
which may be conceived as made up of a number of lesser centre of
bodies, a centre of pressure or gravity. This discovery gravity.
Archimedes applied to particular cases, and pointed out
the method of finding the centre of gravity of plane sur¬
faces, whether bounded by a parallelogram, a triangle, a
trapezium, or a parabola. It appears also from Plutarch
and other ancient authors, that a great number of ma¬
chines which have not reached our times were invented by
this philosopher. The military engines which he employ¬
ed in the siege of Syracuse, against those of the Roman
engineer Appius, are said to have displayed the greatest
mechanical genius, and to have retarded the capture of his
native city.
In his mathematical collections Pappus has publish-pappUS>
ed a theory of the inclined plane, the pulley, the wheel
and axle, the screw, and the wedge; but, for reasons
which we do not know, these theories have been ascrib¬
ed to Archimedes. In his theory of the inclined plane,
Pappus thus announces the question: “ Given a weight,
and the power which will move it along a horizontal plane,
to find the power which will move it along a given inclin¬
ed plane.” In the erroneous solution which he gives of
this question, he supposes the weight to be formed into a
sphere, and placed on the inclined plane; and he regards
the weight of this sphere as supported by a lever, the ful¬
crum being the point of contact of the sphere with the
plane, and the power being applied at the extremity of the
horizontal radius. “ No reasonable ground,” says Mr
Whewell, “ is or can be assigned for identifying the ef¬
fects of such a lever with those of the inclined plane, for
which it is thus substituted.”2
Among the various inventions which we have received invention
from antiquity, that of water-mills is entitled to the high- of water-
est place, whether we consider the ingenuity which they mills and
wind-milk.
1 Professor Vince has deduced this postulate from self-evident axioms. See Phil. Trans. 1794.
Hie First Principles of Mechanics, with Historical and Practical Illustrations. Cambridge, 1832.
350
MECHANICS.
History.
Cardan ;
born 1501,
died 1575.
Guido
TJbaldi,
1577-
Benedetti,
1585.
Stevinus
discovers
the paral¬
lelogram
of forces.
Died in
1035.
display, or the useful purposes to which they are subser¬
vient. In the infancy of the Roman republic, the corn
was ground by hand-mills, molce Versailles, consisting of
two millstones, one of which was moveable and the other
at rest; and at one period these mills were driven by
bondsmen. Shafts were subsequently added ; and when
cattle were yoked to them, they were called molce frumen-
tarice. The upper millstone was made to revolve either
by the hand applied directly to a winch, or by means of a
rope winding round a capstan. The precise time when
the impulse or the weight of water was substituted in the
place of animal labour is not exactly known. From an
epigram in the Anthologia Grceca, and from Vitruvius’s
description of them, it is evident that water-mills were in¬
vented previously to the reign of Augustus. The invention
of wind-mills is of a later date. According to some authors,
they were first used in France in the sixth century; while
others maintain that they were brought to Europe in the
time of the crusades, and that they had long been employed
in the East, where the scarcity of water precluded the ap-<
plication of that agent to machinery. In the twelfth cen¬
tury they had come into use both in France and in Eng¬
land.
The problem of the inclined plane assumed a more dis¬
tinct shape in the hands of Cardan,1 though he was un¬
successful in his solution of it. By considering that the
force necessary for supporting a weight upon an inclined
plane was nothing when the plane was horizontal, or its
inclination nothing, and that a force equal to the whole
weight of the body was necessary to support it when the
plane was vertical, or its inclination 90°, he concluded that
the force increased uniformly from nothing to the weight
of the body, and was therefore proportional to the angle of
the plane’s inclination.
The Marquis Guido Ubaldi, the pupil of Commandine,
and descended of the illustrious house of Del Monte, de¬
voted much of his time to mechanical statics. His princi¬
pal works are, Mechanicarum Libri sex, Pisa, 1577 ; In
Archimedem de Equiponderantibus Paraphrasis; and a
treatise on the Screw (Z)e Cochlea), published after his
death by his son in 1616, in which he gives a full ac¬
count of Archimedes’s forces.
Several mechanical topics were discussed about this
time by T. B. Benedetti, in a work entitled Diversarum
Specula,tionum Math, et Phys. Liber, which were publish¬
ed at Turin in 1585. He demonstrates that the forces in
the bent lever are as the perpendiculars drawn from the
fulcrum to the lines of direction in which they act; and
he ascribes the centrifugal force of moving bodies to
their tendency to move in straight lines. Benedetti was
among the small number of philosophers who supported
the Copernican system.
Simon Stevinus of Bruges, a Dutch mathematician, con¬
tributed greatly to the progress of mechanical science.
He discovered the parallelogram of forces, and has de¬
monstrated, in his work on statics, published in 1586,
that if a body is urged by two forces in the direction of
the sides of a parallelogram, and proportional to these
sides, the combined action of these two forces is equi¬
valent to a third force acting in the direction of the
diagonal of the parallelogram, and having its intensity
proportional to that diagonal. This important discovery,
which has been of such service in the different depart¬
ments of physics, should have conferred upon its author a
greater degree of celebrity than he has actually enjoyed.
His name has scarcely been enrolled in the temple of
fame ; but justice may yet be done to the memory of such
an ingenious man. He had likewise the merit of illus¬
trating other parts of statics; and he appears to have been Histo
the first who, without the aid of the properties of the ]e-vwv!^,
ver, discovered the law of equilibrium in bodies placed on
an inclined plane, namely, that a body resting upon such a
plane will be in equilibrio, when the power acting parallel
to the plane is to the weight as the height of the plane is
to its length. Mr Drinkwater, in his excellent life of Ga¬
lileo, has stated that this problem had received an earlier
solution from Jordanus in the thirteenth century, and that
the solution was published by Tartalea in 1565. Mr
Whewell, however, is of opinion “ that this (Jordanus’s)
solution, even if it be interpreted so as to be right in the
result, was mixed up with many of the usual Aristotelian
errors on such subjects, and was not connected, so far as
we know, with any consistent and tenable train of mecha¬
nical reasoning. We may still, it would seem, consider
Stevin to be the father of modern statics.”2 His works
were reprinted in the Dutch language in 1605. They were
translated into Latin in 1608, and into French in 1634;
and in these editions of his works, his Statics were en¬
larged by an appendix, in which he treats of the rope ma¬
chine, and on pulleys acting obliquely.
The doctrine of the centre of gravity, which had been Lucas
applied by Archimedes only to plane surfaces, was now Valerias
extended to solid bodies by Lucas Valerius, professor ofwr’tes™
mathematics at Rome. In his work entitled De Centre,centre
Gravitatis Solidorum, published at Bologna in 1661, hej^1^
has discussed this subject with such ability, as to receive iggi,
from Galileo the honourable appellation of the Novus nos-
trce cetatis Archimedes, the Archimedes of the present age.
In the hands of Galileo the science of mechanics as-Discove-
sumed a new form. In 1572 he wrote a small treatise onriesofGa.
statics, which he reduced to this principle, that it requires*1*60’')()ni
an equal power to raise two different bodies to altitudes in *564'(*‘Cl*
1642.
the inverse ratio of their weights, or that the same power
is'requisite to raise 10 pounds to the height of 100 feet,
and 20 pounds to the height of 50 feet. This fertile
principle was not pursued by Galileo to its different con¬
sequences. It was left to Descartes to apply it to the de¬
termination of the equilibrium of machines, which he did
in his explanation of machines and engines, without ac¬
knowledging his obligations to the Tuscan philosopher.
In addition to this new principle, Galileo enriched me¬
chanics with his theory of local motion. This great dis¬
covery has immortalized its author ; and whether we con¬
sider its intrinsic value, or the change which it produced
on the physical sciences, we are led to regard it as nearly
of equal importance with the theory of universal gravita¬
tion, to which it paved the way. The first hints of this
new theory were given in his Systema Cosmicum, dialogusHisiy'-
ii. The subject was afterwards fully discussed in ano-temO
ther, entitled Discursus et Demonstrationes Mathematics38
circa duas novas Scientias pertinentes ad Mechanicam etlX‘
Motum Localem, and published in 1638. This work is di¬
vided into four dialogues ; the first of which treats of the
resistance of solid bodies before they are broken ; the se¬
cond points out the cause of the cohesion of solids; in
the third he discusses his theory of local motions, com¬
prehending those which are equable, and those which are
uniformly accelerated ; in the fourth he treats of violent
motion, or the motion of projectiles; and in an appendix
to the work, he demonstrates several propositions relative
to the centre of gravity of solid bodies. In the first of
these dialogues he has founded his reasoning on principles
which are far from being correct; but he has been more
successful in the other three. In the third dialogue,
which contains his celebrated theory, he discusses the
doctrine of equable motions in six theorems, containing
1 De Ponderibut et Menmrit.
2 The First Principles of Mechanics, p. 43.
MECHANICS.
Hii ry. the different relations between the velocity of the moving
———''body, the space which it describes, and the time employed
in its description. In the second part of the dialogue,
which treats of accelerated motion, he considers all bodies
as heavy, and composed of a number of parts which are
also heavy. Hence he concludes, that the total weight of
the body is proportional to the number of the material par¬
ticles of which it is composed, and then reasons in the fol¬
lowing manner: As the weight of a body is a power al¬
ways the same in quantity, and as it constantly acts with¬
out interruption, the body must be continually receiving
from it equal impulses in equal and successive instants of
time. When the body is prevented from falling, by being
placed on a table, its weight is incessantly impelling it
downwards; but these impulses are as incessantly destroyed
by the resistance of the table, which prevents it from yield¬
ing to them. But when the body falls freely, the impulses
which it perpetually receives are perpetually accumulat¬
ing, and remain in the body unchanged in every respect
excepting the diminution which they experience from the
resistance of the air. It therefore follows, that a body fall¬
ing freely is uniformly accelerated, or receives equal in¬
crements of velocity in equal times. Having established
this preliminary proposition, he then demonstrates, that
the time in which any space is described by a motion uni¬
formly accelerated from rest, is equal to the time in which
the same space would be described by an uniform equable
motion with half the final velocity of the accelerated mo¬
tion; and that in every motion uniformly accelerated from
rest, the spaces described are in the duplicate ratio of the
times of description. After having proved these theorems,
he applies the doctrine with great success to the ascent
and descent of bodies moving on inclined planes,
abouiof The theory of Galileo was embraced by his pupil Tor-
orricrji;ricelli, who illustrated and extended it in his excellent
m i _8, work entitled De motu gravium naturaliler accelerato, pub-
e 1 • lished in 1644. In his treatise De motu projectorum, pub¬
lished in the Florentine edition of his works in 1664, he
has added several new and important propositions to those
which were given by his master on the motion of projec¬
tiles ; and he appears to have been the first who establish¬
ed the principle applicable to all statical problems, “ that if
two weights are so connected together, that when placed
in any position, their common centre of gravity neither as¬
cends nor descends, they are in equilibrium in all these
positions.”
iventin ^ was about this time that steam began to be employ-
the ed as the first mover of machinery. This great disco-
.:am.!. very has been ascribed by the English to the Marquis of
e- VVorcester, and to Papin by the French. About thirty-
our years before the date of the marquis’s invention, and
about sixty-one years before the construction of Papin’s
digester, steam was employed as the impelling power of a
stamping engine by one Brancas an Italian, who published
an account of his invention in 1629; but in this case it
acted merely by its impulse, and could not even have sug¬
gested the idea of its acting by its expansive force. The
advantages of steam as an impelling power being thus
nown, the ingenious Captain Savary invented an engine
'v uch raised water by the expansion and condensation of
steam. Several engines of this construction were actu-
a y elected in England and France, but they were inca¬
pable of raising water from depths which exceeded thirty-
ve eet. I he steam-engine received great improvements
rom our countrymen Newcomen, Beighton, and Blackey ;
ut it was brought to its present state of perfection by
r att of Birmingham, one of the most accomplished en¬
gineers of his age. Hitherto it had been employed merely
as a ydiaulic machine for draining mines or x'aising wa-
’ ak m consecluence of Mr Watt’s improvements it has
*one been used as the impelling power of almost every
351
species of machinery. It is a curious circumstance, that History,
the steam-engine was not only invented, but has received''"—'v'—-'
all its improvements, in our own country.
The success of Galileo in investigating the doctrine ofDiscove-
rectilineal motion, induced the illustrious Huygens to turnries °f
his attention to curvilineal motion. In his celebrated work Hu>rgens ?
De Horologio Oscillatorio, published in 1673, he has^T1 162!i-
shown that the velocity of a heavy body descending alongdled 169^'
any curve, is the same at every instant in the direction of
the tangent, as it would have been if it had fallen through
a height equal to the corresponding vertical absciss; and
from the application of this principle to the reversed cy¬
cloid with its axis vertical, he discovered the isochronism of
the cycloid, or that a heavy body, from whatever part of
the cycloid it begins to fall, always arrives at the lower
point of the curve in the same space of time. By these
discussions, Huygens was gradually led to his beautiful
theory of central forces in the circle. This theory may be
applied to the motion of a body in any curve, by consider¬
ing all curves as composed of an infinite number of small
arcs of circles of different radii, which Huygens had al¬
ready done in his theory of evolutes. The theorems of
Huygens concerning the centrifugal force and circular mo¬
tions were published without demonstrations. They were
first demonstrated by Dr Keill, at the end of his Introduc-a,d. 1700.
tion to Natural Philosophy. The demonstrations of Huy¬
gens, however, which were more prolix than those of the
English philosopher, were afterwards given in his posthu¬
mous works.
About this time the true laws of collision or percussion The law of
were separately discovered by Wallis, Huygens, and Sir collision
Christopher Wren, in 1661, without having the least com-discovei?d
munication with each other. They were transmitted to ^ a^d8’
the Royal Society of London in 1788, and appeared in the anffTTren
forty-third and forty-sixth numbers of their Transactions. A. d.
The solution of Wallis was first sent, that of Wren next,
and that of Huygens last of all, in consequence of his living
at a greater distance. The rules given by Wallis and
Wren are published in No. 43, p. 864 and 867, and those of
Huygens in No. 46, p. 927. The foundation of all their
solutions is, that in the mutual collision of bodies, the ab¬
solute quantity of motion of the centre of gravity is the
same after impact as before it, and that when the bodies are
elastic, the relative velocity is the same after as before the
shock. We are indebted likewise to Sir Christopher Wrenyyren .
for an ingenious method of demonstrating the laws of im-born 1632,
pulsion by experiment. He suspended the impinging bo- died 1723.
dies by threads of equal length, so that they might touch
each other when at rest. When the two bodies were se¬
parated from one another, and then allowed to approach by
their own gravity, they impinged against each other when
they arrived at the positions which they had when at rest,
and their velocities were proportional to the chords of the
arches through which they had fallen. Their velocities
after impact were also measured by the chords of the arches
through which the stroke had forced them to ascend, and
the results of the experiments coincided exactly with the
deductions of theory. The laws of percussion were after¬
wards more fully investigated by Huygens in his posthu¬
mous work De Motu Corporum ex Percussione, and by
Wallis in his Mechanica, published in 1670.
The attention of philosophers was at this time directed Mechani-
to the two mechanical problems proposed by Mersennus in cal pro-
1635. The first of these problems was to determine the Hems pro¬
centre of oscillation in a compound pendulum ; and the se- P°sed by
cond, to find the centre of percussion of a single body, or anUgrSeiJ"
system of bodies turning round a fixed axis. The centre 1635 “'
of oscillation is that point in a compound pendulum, or a
system of bodies moving round a centre, in which, if a
small body were placed and made to move round the same
centre, it w7ould perform its oscillations in the same time
352
MECHANICS.
History, as the system of bodies. The centre of percussion, which
^ is situated in the same point of the system as the centre of
oscillation, is that point of a body revolving or vibrating
about an axis, which being struck by an immoveable ob¬
stacle, the whole of the motion of the body is destroyed.
Huygens These two problems were at first discussed by Descartes
solves the an(] Roberval, but the methods which they employed were
problem ofpar from being correct. The first solution of the problem
of oscilla- on t^ie centre °f oscillation was given by Huygens. He
tion. assumed as a principle, that if several weights attached to
a pendulum descended by the force of gravity, and if at
any instant the bodies were detached from one another,
and each ascended with the velocity it had acquired by its
fall, they would rise to such a height that the centre of
gravity of the system in that state would descend to the
same height as that from which the centre of gravity of
the pendulum had descended. The solution founded on
this principle, which was not derived from the fundamen¬
tal laws of mechanics, did not at first meet with the appro¬
bation of philosophers ; but it was afterwards demonstrat¬
ed in the clearest manner, and now forms the principle of
Bernoulli the conservation of active forces. The problem of the
solves the centre of percussion was not attended with such difficulties,
the^centre ^evera^ incomplete solutions of it were given by different
of percus- geometers 5 but it was at last resolved in an accurate and
sion. general manner by James Bernoulli by the principle of the
lever.
Works of In 1666, a treatise, De Vi Percussionis, was published
Borelli; by J. Alphonso Borelli, and in 1686 another work, De
died ICJo’ Motionibus Naturalibus a Gravitate Pendentibus ; but he
i ' added nothing to the science of mechanics. His inge¬
nious work, De Motu Animalium, however, published in
1681 and 1682, in two parts, is entitled to great praise,
for the beautiful application which it contains of the laws
of statics to explain the various motions of living agents.
Labours of The application of statics to the equilibrium of ma-
V arignon ; cbines was first made by Varignon in his Project of anew
died 1722^? Mechanics, published in 1687. The subject
was afterwards completely discussed in his Nouvelle Me-
canique, a posthumous work published in 1725. In this
work are given the first notions of the celebrated princi¬
ple of virtual velocities, from a letter of John Bernoulli’s
to Varignon in 1717. The virtual velocity of a body is
the infinitely small space through which the body excited
to move has a tendency to describe in one instant of time.
This principle has been successfully applied by Varignon
to the equilibrium of all the simple machines. The re¬
sistance of solids, which was first treated by Galileo, was
discussed more correctly by Leibnitz in the Acta Erudi-
toram for 1687. In the Memoirs of the Academy for
1702, Varignon has taken up the subject, and rendered
the theory much more universal.
An important step in the construction of machinery
was about this time made by Parent. He remarked in
general, that if the parts of a machine are so arranged
that the velocity of the impelling power becomes greater
or less according as the weight put in motion becomes
greater or less, there is a certain proportion between the
velocity of the impelling power, and that of the weight to
be moved, which renders the effect of the machine a
maximum or a minimum} He then applies this principle
to undershot wheels, and shows that a maximum effect
will be produced when the velocity of the stream is equal
to thrice the velocity of the wheel. In obtaining this
conclusion, Parent supposed that the force of the current
upon the wheel is in the duplicate ratio of the relative ve¬
locity, which is true only when a single floatboard is im¬
pelled by the water. But when more floatboards than
Parent on
the maxi¬
mum ef¬
fect of ma¬
chines.
one are acted upon at the same time, it is obvious that History
the momentum of the water is directly as the relative ve-'s—
locity; and by making this substitution in Parent’s de¬
monstration, it will be found that a maximum effect is
produced when the velocity of the current is double that
of the wheel. This result was first obtained by the Cheva¬
lier Borda, and has been amply confirmed by the experi¬
ments of Smeaton. (See Hydrodynamics.) The prin¬
ciple of Parent was also applied by him to the construc¬
tion of wind-mills. It had been generally supposed that
the most efficacious angle of weather was 45° ; but it was
demonstrated by the French philosopher that a maximum
effect is produced when the sails are inclined 54§ degrees
to the axis of rotation, or when the angle of weather is 35^
degrees. This conclusion, however, is subject to modi¬
fications, which will be pointed out in a subsequent part
of this article.
The Trade de Mecanique of De la Hire, published se- pe ia pir
parately in 1695, and in the 9th volume of the Memoirs writes on
of the French Academy from 1666 to 1699, contains the ^ teeth
general properties of the mechanical powers, and the de-ofwlleels
scription of several ingenious and useful machines. But
it is chiefly remarkable for the Trade des Epicycloid^ 1
which is added to the edition published in the Memoirs of
the academy. In his interesting treatise, De la Hire
considers the genesis and properties of exterior and inte¬
rior epicycloids, and demonstrates, that when one wheel
is employed to drive another, the one will move some¬
times with greater a"nd sometimes with less force, and the
other will move sometimes with greater and sometimes
with less velocity, unless the teeth of one or both of the
wheels be parts of a curve generated like an epicycloid.
The same truth is applicable to the formation of the teeth
of rackwork, the arms of levers, the wipers of stampers,
and the lifting cogs of forge-hammers ; and as the epicy-
cloidal teeth, when properly formed, roll one upon another
without much friction, the motion of the machine will be
uniform and pleasant, its communicating parts will be
prevented from wearing, and there will be no unnecessary
waste of the impelling power. Although De la Hire wasThedisco
the first who published this important discovery, yet theve70^,
honour of it is certainly due to Olaus Roemer, the cele-^j^-'
brated Danish astronomer, who discovered the successive^ma(je
propagation of light. It is expressly stated by Leibnitz,2^noanei
in his letters to John Bernoulli, that Roemer communi¬
cated to him the discovery twenty years before the publi¬
cation of De la Hire’s work; but still we have no ground
for believing that De la Hire was guilty of plagiarism.
Roemer’s researches were not published; and from the
complete discussion which the subject has received from
the French philosopher, it is not unlikely that he had the
merit of being the second inventor. Even Camus,3 who
about forty years afterwards gave a complete and accurate
theory of the teeth of wheels, was unacquainted with the
pretensions of Roemer, and ascribes the discovery to De
la Hire.
The publication of Newton’s Principia contributed piscove-
greatly to the progress of mechanics. His discoveriesneso
concerning the curvilineal motions of bodies, combined ^ ^
with the theory of universal gravitation, enabled pfifi080'^ 1/21
pliers to apply the science of mechanics to the phenomena
of the heavens, to ascertain the law of the force by which
the planets are held in their orbits, and to compute the
various irregularities in the solar system which arise from
the mutual action of the bodies which compose it. Ihe
Mecanique Celeste of La Place will be a standing monu¬
ment of the extension which mechanics has received from
the theory of gravity. The important mechanical pnnci-
1 Mem. dt I'Acad. 170-1.
1 Miscellan. Bcrolinens. 1710, p. 315.
3 Court de Mathanatiquc, liv. x. et. xi.
* ns
!
MECHANICS.
tfist y. pie of the conservation of the motion of the centre of gra-
vity is also due to Newton. He has demonstrated in his
Principia, that the condition of the centre of gravity of se¬
veral bodies, whether in a state of rest or motion, is not
affected by the reciprocal action of these bodies, whatever
it may be, so that the centre of gravity of the bodies which
act upon one another, either by the intervention of levers,
or by the laws of attraction, will either remain at rest, or
move uniformly in a right line.
•incij? We have already seen that the principle of the conser-
the n-vation of active forces was discovered by Huygens when
rrati he solved the problem of the centre of oscilfation. The
acti:.gt principle alluded to consists in this, that in all the ac-
ic<m <1 tions of bodies upon each other, whether that action
Hu! consists in the percussion of elastic bodies, or is commu¬
nicated from one body to another by threads or inflexible
rods, the sums of the masses multiplied by the squares of
the absolute velocities remain always the same. This im¬
portant law is easily deducible from two simpler laws ad¬
mitted in mechanics : 1. That in the collision of elastic
bodies, their respective velocities remain the same after
impact as they were before it; and, 2. that the quantity
of action, or the product of the masses of the impinging
bodies, multiplied by the velocity of their centre of gra¬
vity, is the same after as before impact. The principle
of the conservation of active forces was regarded by its
inventor only as a simple mechanical theorem. John
■ndeiil Bernoulli, however, considered it as a general law of na-
larahyture, and applied it to the solution of several problems
which could not be resolved by direct* methods ; but his
' son Daniel deduced from it the laws of the motion of
fluids from vessels, a subject which had been formerly
treated in a very vague manner. He afterwards rendered
the principle more general,1 and showed how it could be
applied to the motion of bodies influenced by their mutual
attractions, or solicited towards fixed centres by forces
proportional to any function of the distance,
niel After the parallelogram of forces had been introduced
into statics by Stevinus, it was generally admitted upon
lose the ®ame demonstration which was given for the compo-
ts ( sl,lon motion. The first complete demonstration was
nstn: published by Daniel Bernoulli in the Commentaries of
par: 1 etersburg for 1726, independent of the consideration of
grai (compound motion. This demonstration, which was both
011 long and abstruse, was greatly simplified by D’Alembert
in the Memoirs ot the Academy for 1769. Fonseneix and
Hiccati have given a very ingenious one in the Memoirs
of the Academy of Turin for 1761. This w'as also im¬
proved by D’Alembert, who gave another in the same
Memoirs, and a third in his Traite de Dynamique, pub¬
lished in 1743. Dr Robison* has combined the demon¬
strations of Bernoulli and D’Alembert with one by Frisi,
and produced one that is more expeditious and simple.
Ta Place has likewise given a demonstration of the pa-
puto ra e^°Srani °1 forces in his Mecanique Celeste.
Jt tl A1™111 the. beginning of the eighteenth century, the
i( sure-cc e, te(i dispute about the measure of active forces
353
isure i   
1**fy was keenly agitated among philosophers. The first spark
ot this war, which for forty years England maintain¬
ed single-handed against all the genius of the Conti-
ic«c 7aS excitetI by Leibnitz. In the Leipsic Acts for
bb, he asserted that Descartes was mistaken in mak-
ing t ie force ot bodies proportional to their simple veloci-
ty, and maintained that it followed the ratio of the square
or the velocity. He showed that a body with a velocity
or two feet acquires the power of raising itself to a height
our tunes as great as that to which a body could rise with History,
a velocity of only one foot; and hence he concludes thatv
the force of that body is as the square of its velocity. The
Abbe de Cotilon, a zealous Cartesian, allowed the premises
of Leibnitz, but denied his conclusion. The body, said
he, which moves with a velocity of two feet, will certain¬
ly rise to quadruple the height of another body that has
only the velocity of one foot; but it will take twice the time
to rise to that height, and a quadruple effect, in a double
time, is not a quadruple force, but only a double one. The
theory of Leibnitz was supported by John Bernoulli, Her¬
mann, Gravesande, Muschenbroeck, Poleni, Wolff,and Bul-
fmger; and the opinion of Descartes by Maclaurin, Stirling,
Clarke, Desaguliers, and other English philosophers. The
question was at last involved in metaphysical reasoning;
and if the dispute did terminate in favour of either party,
the English philosophers were certainly victorious.3 It ap¬
pears, in the clearest manner, that the force of a moving
body, indicated by the space which it describes, is as the
simple velocity, if we consider the space as described in
a determinate time; but it is as the square of the veloci¬
ty if we do not consider the time in which the space is
described. The question, therefore, which is chiefly one
of words, comes to be this: In estimating the forces of
bodies in motion, ought we to take time into considera¬
tion ? If, with the followers of Leibnitz, we reject this
element, then we may maintain that the force of a child
is equal to that of a man carrying a load, because the
child is also capable of carrying the same load, though in
small parts and in a greater length of time.
In 1743, D’Alembert published his Traite de Z)y«a-D’Alem-
mique, founded upon a new principle in mechanics. This bert’sprin-
principle, which M. Fontaine seems to have recognised cilffe °f
so early as 1739, was first employed by James Bernoulli ^namics*
in his solution of the problem of the centre of oscillation ’
but D’Alembert bad the honour of generalizing it, and C
giving it all that simplicity and fertility of which it was
susceptible. He showed, that in whatever manner the
bodies of one system act upon one another, their motions
may always be decomposed into two others at every in¬
stant, those of the one being destroyed the instant follow¬
ing, and those of the other retained, and that the motions
retained are necessarily known from the conditions of
equilibrium between those v/hich are destroyed. This
principle is evidently a consequence of the law's of motion
and equilibrium, and has the advantage of reducing all the
problems of dynamics to pure geometry and the princi¬
ples of statics. By means of it D’Alembert has resolved
a number of beautiful problems which had escaped the
notice of his predecessors, and particularly that of the
precession of the equinoxes, which had occupied the at¬
tention of Newton. In his Traite de Dynamique, D’Alem¬
bert has likewise reduced the whole of mechanics to three
principles, the force of inertia, compound motion, and
equilibrium ; and has illustrated his views on this subject
by that profound and luminous reasoning which charac¬
terizes all his writings.
Another general principle in dynamics was about this Discovery
time discovered separately by Euler, Daniel Bernoulli,of tbe con-
and the Chevalier D’Arcy, and received the name of ^es|rXation
conservation of the momentum of rotatory motion. Accord- men turn °"'
ing to the first two philosophers, the principle may be of rotatory
thus defined: In the motion of several bodies round a motion,
fixed centre, the sum of the products of the mass of each
body multiplied by the velocity of its motion round the
centre, and by its distance from the centre, is always in-
1 M',m. de VAcad. Berlin, ] 748.
3 r\. . — Dynamics, vol. viii. p. 358.
trino 1 c ™ mtrV™:U1 Smeaton5 and more recently Dr Wollaston ami Mr Ewart of Manchester, have adonted the Leibnitzian doc-
oee ihil. Irans. 177G, p. 450 ; Ibid. 1806; and Manchester Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 105.
VOL. XIV.
2 Y
1
354
History.
1746.
MECHANICS.
The prin¬
ciple of
least ac¬
tion pro¬
posed by
Mauper-
tuis.
Euler and
Lagrange
generalize
the princi¬
ples of
Mauper-
tuis.
dependent of the mutual action which the bodies may
exert upon each other, and always preserves itself the
same, provided the bodies are not influenced by any ex¬
ternal cause. This principle was given by Daniel Ber¬
noulli in the Memoirs of the Academy of Berlin for 1746 ;
and in the same year by Euler in the first volume of his
works. They were both led to the discovery whilst inves¬
tigating the motion of several bodies in a tube of a given
form, and which can only turn round a fixed point. The
principle discovered by the Chevalier D’Arcy was given
in a memoir dated 1746, and published in the Memoirs of
the Academy for 1747. He showed that the sum of the
products of the mass of each body by the area which its
radius vector describes round a fixed point, is always pro¬
portional to the times. The identity of this principle,
which is a generalization of Newton’s theorem about the
areas described by the planetary bodies, with that of Euler
and Bernoulli, will be easily perceived, if we consider that
the element of the circular arc, divided by the element of
the time, expresses the velocity of circulation, and that
the element of the circular arc, multiplied by the distance
from the centre, gives the element of the area described
round that centre ; so that the principle of Euler is only
a differential expression of the principle of D’Arcy, which
he afterwards expressed in this form, that the sum of the
products of the masses of each body by their velocities,
and by the perpendiculars drawn from the centre to their
lines of direction, is a constant quantity.
The principle of least action, which was first proposed
by Maupertuis in 1744, consists in this, that when several
bodies, acting upon one another, experience any change
in their motion, this change is always such that the quan¬
tity of action (or the product of the mass by the space and
the velocity) employed by nature to produce it, is the least
possible. From this principle Maupertuis deduced the
laws of the reflection and refraction of light, and those of
the collision of bodies.1 * He afterwards extended its ap¬
plication to the laws of motion, and made the principle so
general as to comprehend the laws of equilibrium, the
uniform motion of the centre of gravity in the percussion
of bodies, and the conservation of active forces. This
celebrated principle was attacked by Koenig, professor of
mathematics at the Hague, in the Leipsic Acts for 1751,
who not only attempted to show its falsity, but asserted
that Leibnitz had first described it in 1707 in a letter to
Hermann. The paper of Koenig gave rise to a long and
violent dispute about the accuracy of the principle, and
the authenticity of the letter of Leibnitz. The Academy
of Berlin interfered in behalf of their president; and Vol¬
taire, under the influence of personal feelings against Mau¬
pertuis, who had introduced the Abbe Raynal into the
academy against the wishes of the poet, took the part of
Koenig, and assailed his opponent with the warmest in¬
vective. Maupertuis, however, kept his ground, and Vol¬
taire was under the necessity of quitting Berlin in 1752.
In his Traite des Isoperimetries, printed at Lausanne in
1744, Euler extended the principle of least action, and
showed, “ that in the trajectories described by means of
central forces, the integral of the velocity, multiplied by
the element of the curve, is either^, maximum or a mini¬
mum.” This remarkable property, which Euler recognised
only in the case of insulated bodies, was generalized by
Lagrange into this new principle, “ that the sum of the
products of the masses by the integrals of the velocities,
multiplied by the elements of the spaces described, is al¬
ways a maximum or a minimum.” In the memoirs of
Turin, Lagrange has employed this principle to resolve Histor
several difficult problems in dynamics ; and he has shown,
that when it is combined with the conservation of active
forces, and developed according to the rules of his method
of variations, it furnishes directly all the equations neces¬
sary for the solution of each problem, and gives rise to a
simple and general method of treating the various prob¬
lems concerning the motion of bodies.
An important discovery in rotatory motion was at thisLabours
time made by Professor Segner of Gottingen. In a paper of Segnei
entitled Specimen Theories Turhinum, published at Halle ^65.
in 1755, he demonstrated, that if a body of any form or
magnitude, after it has received rotatory motions in all
directions, be left entirely to itself, it will always have
three principal axes of rotation ; or, in other words, all the
rotatory motions with which it is affected may be reduced
to three, which are performed round three axes, perpendi¬
cular to each, passing through the centre of gravity of the
revolving body, and preserving the same position in abso¬
lute space, while the centre of gravity is either stationary
or moving uniformly in a straight line.
The force of torsion began at this time to be investi-Coulomb
gated by Coulomb, who published two ingenious papers on'niiuires
the subject, in the Memoirs of the French Academy. Hehasj.ntot'le
successfully employed this principle in several physical re-
searches, but particularly in determining the laws of electric Boni 173
and magnetic action, and in finding the laws of the resist-died 180(
ance of fluids when the motions are extremely slow.3 Itwas
by means of an elegant experiment on the principle of tor¬
sion that Mr Cavendish determined the mutual attraction
of two masses of lead, and thence deduced the mean den¬
sity of the earth. We are also indebted to Coulomb for
a complete set of experiments on the nature and effects of
friction. By employing large bodies and ponderous weights, Abo intc
and conducting his experiments on a large scale, he has^!e^e
corrected errors which necessarily arose from the limited 1
experiments of preceding w'riters ; he has brought to light
many new and interesting facts, and confirmed others
which had hitherto been partially established. The most
curious result of these experiments is the effect of time
in increasing the friction between two surfaces. In some
cases the friction reaches its maximum after the rubbing
surfaces have remained in contact for one minute ; and in
other cases five or six days were necessary before this
effect was produced. The increase of friction, which is
generated by prolonging the time of contact, is so great,
that a body weighing 1650 pounds was moved with a force
of 64 pounds when first laid upon the corresponding sur¬
face. After remaining in contact for the space of three
seconds, 100 pounds were necessary to put it in motion;
and when the time was prolonged to six days, it could
scarcely be moved with a power of 622 pounds.4
Before wre conclude this brief sketch of the history ofBabbage
mechanics, we must give our readers some account ot the™™.1^
calculating machine of Mr Babbage, one of the most re-
markable inventions of the present age. The earliest cal¬
culating machine was invented by the celebrated Pascal,
with the view of facilitating certain calculations which his
father’s official duties required him to make.5 A series ol
wheels and cylindrical barrels containing the ten digits
were employed, but several of the operations were per¬
formed by hand, so that the mechanism gave no security
against error, while it furnished its results with only a
little more celerity than that with which an expert calcu¬
lator could have supplied them. Poleni, Moreland, Gril-
let, Delepresse, and Boittissendeau, made similar but un-
1 Mem. de VAcad. Paris, 1744; and Mem. de VAcad. Berlin, 1746. 2 Mdcanique Analytique, p. 18D, 1768.
3 Mcmoires de I'lnstitut Nat. tom. iii. p. 246. See our articles Electricity, Hydrodynamics, and Magnetism, where the re¬
searches of Coulomb are fully detailed.
4 Mcmoires Preterites, tom. ix. 5 Pascal’s Works, tom. iv. p. 7, Paris, 1819.
mechanics.
Histy. successful attempts to calculate by machinery. At a
]ater period Leibnitz constructed a very complicated and
expensive machine, which he declined to describe, satis¬
fying himself with giving an account of its mode of ope¬
ration, and of its results.1
The purpose of all these machines, even if they had an¬
swered the purposes for which they were invented, was
to perform particular mathematical operations ; but Mr
Babbage had a much higher object in view. He conceived
the idea of calculating numerical tables of every kind by
machinery, of tabulating the results, and of printing them
without the possibility of an error during the press-work.
In order to effect these objects, it became requisite to dis¬
cover some common principle in numerical tables as the
basis of the calculating machinery ; and among the proper¬
ties of numerical functions suited to this purpose, Mr Bab¬
bage selected the method of differences. The principle of
this method he embodied in wheel-work by a system of
mechanical contrivance in itself perfect; but, from the
high importance of the objects to be attained, he has
added to the machinery a supplementary and independent
mechanism, by which all small errors and inequalities aris¬
ing from any cause whatever shall be expunged.
When the calculations are made free from all error, they
are submitted to the printing part of the machinery, by
which they are multiplied, w'ithout the possibility of an
error in any individual copy.
The powers of this extraordinary machinery have great¬
ly exceeded the expectations of its inventor, and their
extent seems to be incapable of appreciation. The part
of it which has been put up has already tabulated equa¬
tions so far beyond the grasp of mathematicians, that no
remote term of the table can be predicated, nor any func¬
tion discovered, by which its general law can be ex¬
pressed.
The calculating part of the machinery occupies a space
about ten feet broad, ten feet high, and five feet deep. It
consists of seven steel axes erected over one another, each
of them carrying eighteen wheels five inches in diameter,
having on them barrels one and a half inch in height, and
inscribed with the ten digits. The machine calculates to
eighteen decimal places, true to the last figure; but, by
subsidiary contrivances, it will be possible to calculate even
to thirty decimal places. The working drawings which
have been necessary in the production of this machine are
not only elaborate and complicated, but are so numerous
that they cover upwards of a thousand superficial feet.
For the purpose of completing the calculating machine,
government has already advanced L. 15,000 ; but not a far¬
thing has been received by Mr Babbage for his own labour.
We regret to add, that so great a national undertaking is
at a stand ; but this regret is diminished by the fact, that
Mr Babbage has contrived a machine, much more simple
in its construction, and more extensive in its application,
and which may be regarded as entirely superseding his first
invention. It wall therefore be a matter of deep considera¬
tion whether Mr Babbage should complete his first ma¬
chine in conformity with his arrangement with govern¬
ment, or throw it entirely aside as comparatively imperfect,
and devote his whole time, with the aid of government,
to the completion of his new invention.
‘diai In the construction of the calculating machinery, Mr Bab-
nota bage early felt the embarrassment arising from the impos¬
sibility of remembering all the various movements and
functions of the different parts of the machinery; and he was
therefore led to contrive a system of mechanical notation,
capable of being applied to all kinds of machinery. This
355
invention consists of two parts. In the first, a system of History,
signs marks the origin and nature of every motion in the v——^
machine, and also the nature of the mechanical connection
between the part moving and the part moved. In the se¬
cond part, a complete period of the machinery is divided
into any number of portions of time, so as to exhibit to the
eye in a table what every part of the machine is about at
each instant of the period. In this way the mind is disen¬
cumbered as it wrere of the mechanism, and occupies itself
only with the symbols of its parts. Since Mr Babbage first
published an account of his “ Method of expressing by
Signs the Action of Machinery,”2 he has greatly extended
and improved it, and introduced an additional section for
representing the process of circulation in machines through
which liquids or gases are moved ; and it has been applied
by a foreigner to express the structure, the operation,
and the circulation of the vital system of animals.
One of the most important treatises on the science ofWorks on
motion is the Mechanics of the celebrated Euler, published “echanics.
in 1736. It contains the whole theory of rectilineal and
curvilineal motion in an insulated body, affected by any
accelerating forces, either in vacuo or in a resisting medi¬
um. He uniformly uses the analytical method, and has
employed the principle of the vis inertia, and that of com¬
pound motion, for putting his problems into equations. By Euler’s
the vis inertia, motion is at every moment of time rectili- Mechanics,
neal and uniform ; and by the principle of compound mo-f.01?.!.7®7,
tion, a body, exposed to the action of any number of forces,died 1'83‘
tending to alter the quantity and the direction of its mo¬
tion, will move in such a direction as to reach the very
point at which it would have arrived had it obeyed succes¬
sively each of the forces wThich act upon it. In the Meca- Lagrange’s
nique Analytique of Lagrange, published in 1788, all the Mecanique
mechanical problems are reduced to general formuke, which, 4'iaJyUllue-
being developed, furnish us with the equations that are ne- diedVsn ’
cessary for the solution of each problem ; and the different
principles which have been discovered for facilitating the
solutions of mechanical questions are brought under one
point of view, and their connection and dependence clearly
pointed out. The Architecture Hydraulique, bv M. Prony, Prony’s
published in 1790, and the Mecanique Phdosophique of the Architec-
same author, published in 1799, contain all the late im- h!re' f1^
provements in mechanics, and a complete view both of the and
theory and application of that science. The first of thesecanique'
works is intended chiefly for the use of the engineer, though Phihso-
an extensive acquaintance with the higher geometry is ne-pbique.
cessary for perusing it with advantage. His Mecanique
Philosophique is a profound work, in which, without the
aid of a single diagram, he gives all the formulae, and the
various theorems and problems which belong to the sciences
of mechanics and hydrodynamics. Every alternate page
contains a methodical table of the results obtained in the
preceding page, the description of the symbols, and the
theorems, problems, and formulae which may have been ob¬
tained. I he Trade de Mecanique Elementaire, by M. Fran- Franceur.
ceur, published in 1802, in one volume octavo, is an excel¬
lent abridgment of the works of Prony, and is intended as
an introduction to the Mecanique Philosophique of that au¬
thor, to the Mecanique Analytique of Lagrange, and to the
Mecanique Celeste of Laplace. None of these works have
been translated into English ; but their place is to a cer¬
tain extent supplied by a Treatise on Mechanics, Theoreti¬
cal, Practical, and Descriptive, by Olinthus Gregory, A.M.
published in 1806, containing a complete view of the latest
improvements, both in the theory and practice of me¬
chanics.
1 Berlin Miscellany, tom. i. p. 317.
2 See Phil. Trans. 1826, part iii. p. 250.
356 MECHANICS.
On the The principal works on mechanics of a more modern Paris, 1818; Whewell’s Elementary Treatise on Mechayiics, Onth
Lever, date are, Wood’s Mechanics, Camb. 1803 ; MM. Lanz et Camb. 1828; Whewell’s First Principles of Mechanics, with Lever
'   ' Bettancourt, Essai sur la Composition des Machines, Paris, historical and practical Illustrations, Cambridge, 1832 ; Dr^v>.
1808; Poisson’s Trade de Mecanique, 2 vols. 8vo, Paris, Lardner and Captain Kater’s Treatise on Mechanics, Lon-
1811 ; Bridge’s Treatise on Mechanics, London, 1814; Ha- don, 1833; Moseley’s Treatise on Mechanics applied to the
chette’s Trade Elementaire des Machines, Paris, 1819 ; Arts, London, 1834.
Borgnes, Trade complete de Mecanique appliquee aux Arts,
PART I.—THEORY OF MECHANICS.
Objects of The theory of mechanics properly comprehends, 1. dy-
theoretical namics; 2. the motion of projectiles ; 3. the theory of
mechanics, simple machines, or the mechanical powers; 4. the theory
of compound machines, and their maximum effects ; 5. the
doctrine of the centre of gravity; 6. the doctrine of the
centre of oscillation, gyration, &c.; 7. the collision of bo¬
dies ; 8. the theory of rotation ; 9. the theory of torsion;
10. the strength of materials; and, 11. the equilibrium of
arches and domes. The subjects of Dynamics, Projec¬
tiles, Rotation, and Strength of Materials having
been already ably treated by Dr Robison, under their re¬
spective heads, we shall now direct the attention of the
reader to the other branches of theoretical mechanics.
CHAP. I ON ELEMENTARY MACHINES, OR THE MECHANI¬
CAL POWERS.
Division of The elementary machines have been generally reckoned
machines six in number, 1. the lever; 2. the wheel and axle, or axis
into ele- in peritrochio ; 3. the pulley ; 4. the inclined plane ; 5. the
mentary wedge ; and, 6. the screw ; to which some writers on me¬
ant! com- ciianics have added the balance, and others the rope-ma-
p0Un ’ chine. It is evident, however, that all these machines may
be reduced to three, the lever, the inclined plane, and the
funicular or rope-machine. The pulley, and the wheel and
axle, are obvjously composed of an assemblage of levers ;
the balance is a lever with equal arms; the wedge is com¬
posed of two inclined planes, with their bases in contact;
and the screw is either a wedge or an inclined plane, wrap¬
ped round a cylinder. Under the head of elementary ma¬
chines, therefore, we cannot, in strict propriety, include
any of the mechanical powers, excepting the lever, the in¬
clined plane, and the rope-machine.
DEFINITIONS.
Defini- Def. 1. When two forces act against each other by the
lions. intervention of a machine, the one force is called power,
Power and and the other the weight. The weight is the resistance to
weight. be overcome, or the effect to be produced. The power
is the force, whether animate or inanimate, which is em¬
ployed to overcome that resistance, or to produce the re¬
quired effect.
Equilibri- Def. 2. The power and weight are said to balance each
um. other, or to be in equilibrio, when the effort of the one to
produce motion in one direction is equal to the effort of
the other to produce motion in the opposite direction; or
when the weight opposes that degree of resistance which
is precisely required to destroy the action of the power.
Sect. I—On the Lever.
Levers Definitions.—1. A lever is an inflexible bar or rod,
divided in- either straight or curved, moving freely round an immove-
to three able point, called its f ulcrum, or centre of motion. 2. The
parts of a lever which lie between the fulcrum and the
points where the power and iveight are applied, are called
its arms.
Levers have been generally divided into three kinds. In
levers of thefirst kind, the fulcrum is situated between the
power and the weight, as in balances, steelyards, scissors,
pincers, a poker, a crow-bar, &c. Levers of the second kind
have the weight between the power and the fulcrum, as in
cutting-knives fastened at the point of the blade, nut¬
crackers, a door, and a ship’s rudder, and in the oars of a
boat where the water is regarded as the fulcrum. In le¬
vers of the third kind, the power is between the weight
and the fulcrum, as in tongs, shears for sheep, the treddle
of a turning lathe, &c. In using such levers, rapidity and
dispatch are of greater consequence than great power.
The limbs of animals are generally considered as levers of
the third kind ; for the muscles, by the contraction of
which the power or moving force is generated, are fixed
much nearer to the joints or centres of motion than the
centre of gravity of the wreight to be raised. On this sub¬
ject see Paley’s Natural Theology (chap. vii. and viii.); Bo-
relli de Motu Animalium ; and Bell’s Animal Mechanics, in
Library of Useful Knowledge.
AXIOMS.
Axiom. 1. Equal weights acting at the extremities of equal hiicm
arms of a straight lever, and having the lines o f the direction
in which they act at equal angles to these arms, will exert
the same effort to turn the lever round its fulcrum. This
axiom has been generally restricted to the particular case
when the weights act perpendicularly to the arms of the
lever; but no reason can be assigned for such a limitation.
The truth in the axiom is as self-evident when the angles
formed by the arms of the lever and the direction of the
forces are 80° as when they are 90°, for in each case the
two weights exert their influence upon the lever in pre¬
cisely the same circumstances.
Axiom 2. If two equal iveights are placed at the extremi¬
ties of a lever supported by two fulcra ; and if these fulcra
are at equal distances from the weights, or the extremities of
the lever ; the pressure upon the f ulcra will be equal to the
sum of the weights, and the pressure upon each f ulcrum will
be equal to one of the weights. The lever being supposed
devoid of weight, it is obvious, that as each fulcrum is si¬
milarly situated with respect to both the weights, the pres¬
sure upon each must be equal; and as the fulcra support
both the equal weights, the pressure upon each must be
equal to one of the weights.
Proposition I.
If two weights or forces acting at equal angles upon a
straight lever, devoid of weight, are in equilibrio, they
are reciprocally proportional to their distances from the
fulcrum.
Case 1. Where the weights act on contrary sides of the
fulcrum.
Let AB be a lever devoid of weight, and let it be sup¬
ported upon the two fulcra,F, situated in such a manner
that Af=z fF z= FB. Then, if two equal weights C, D
one pound each are suspended at the extremities A, B, so
as to act in the direction AC, BD, making the angles CAB,
DBA equal, these weights will be in equilibrio; for since
MECHANICS.
Fig. 1.
TV
th A/=FB(Axioml), the effort
^ve of the weight D to turn the
lever round the fulcrum F,
will be equal to the effort of
the weight C to turn it round
the fulcrum f Now (Axiom
2) the pressure upon the ful¬
crum fis equal to one pound,
therefore if that fulcrum be
removed, and a weight E of
one pound be made to act
upward at the point F, the
weights C and D will continue in equilibrio. Then it is
obvious, that since FB —F/J the weight E of one pound act¬
ing upwards at the point f, so that the angle D/F—DBA,
will have the same effect as an equal weight acting down¬
wards at B. By removing the weight E, therefore, and
suspending its equal C at the extremity B, the equilibrium
will still be preserved. But the weights D, C, suspended
at B, are equal to two pounds, and the weight C is only one
pound ; and as FA is double of FB, it follows that a weight
of two pounds, placed at the end of one arm of a lever, will
be in equilibrio with a weight of one pound placed at twice
the distance of the former from the fulcrum. But 2:1 =
2FB or AF : FB, that is, when the distances are as 2 to 1,
an equilibrium takes place if the weights are reciprocally
proportional to these distances.
Case 2. When weights act on the same side of the ful¬
crum.
Let AB be a lever in equilibrio upon the fulcrum F,
and let FA be equal to FB, consequently (Case 1) we
must have C=D=1 pound.
Now, as the fulcrum F sup¬
ports a weight equal to
C + D=2 pounds, the equi¬
librium will continue if a
weight E of two pounds is
made to act upwards at the
point F; for in this case it
supplies the place of the ful-
357
Fig. 2.
crum. It is obvious also that a fulcrum placed at A or B
will supply the place of the weights at these parts without
affecting the equilibrium. Let, therefore, the weight D be
removed, and let the extremity B rest upon a fulcrum;
then, since the lever is in equilibrio, we have a weight
L = C + D = 2 pounds acting at F, and balancing a
weight C of one pound acting at A. But 2: 1 = AB : FB,
consequently, when there is an equilibrium between two
weights C, D acting at the distances 2 and 1 from the ful¬
crum, and on the same side of the fulcrum, the weights are
reciprocally proportional to these distances.
Again, let AB be the same lever, supported by the ful-
cra_./> F, and let Af = FB and fF — 2FB. Then if two
weights C, D of one
:>ound each be suspend- Fig. 3.
-d at the extremities
B, they will be in
-quilibrioas before. But
unce the fulcrum y“sup¬
ports a pressure of one
Pound (Axiom 2), the
equilibrium w ill still con-
>nue when that fulcrum
s removed and a weight
>1 one pound made to
lct ln a contrary direction/P at the point f, so that the
‘r f/F may be equal to DBA. Now (Axiom 1), a
ycight E of one pound acting upwards at/will be in equi-
niio with a weight E' of one pound acting downw ards at
. 5 being equal to Ff', and therefore, by removing E
lom “le P°bpt/ and substituting E at the point/', an equi-
TV
librium will still obtain. But since F/=2FB, a weight of On the
one pound suspended from / will have the same influence Lever,
in turning the lever round F as a weight of two pounds'"—
suspended at B (Case 2). Let us remove, therefore, the
weight E' from/, and substitute a weight G = 2E' so as
to act at B. Then, since the equilibrium is not destroy¬
ed, we have a weight C of one pound acting at the dis¬
tance FA, and the weights 0 + 0 = 3 pounds acting at
the distance FB. But FA = 3FB and D + G = 3C,
consequently C : D + G = FB : FA ; that is, when the
distances from the fulcrum are as 3 to 1, and when an
equilibrium exists, the weights are reciprocally proportional
to these distances.
By making F'A, in fig. 2, equal to 2FB, it maybe shown,
as in Case 2, that the weights are reciprocally proportional
to their distances from the fulcrum, when they act on
the same side of the fulcrum, and when the distances are
as 3 to 1.
In the same way the demonstration may be extended
to any commensurable proportion of the arms, by making
EA to F B in that proportion, and keeping/A always equal
to FB. Hence we may conclude in general, that when
two weights acting at equal angles upon a straight lever
devoid of weight are in equilibrio, they are reciprocally
proportional to their distances from the centre of motion.
Q. E. D.
Cor. 1. If two weights acting at equal angles upon the Corollaries,
arms of a straight lever devoid of weight are reciprocally
proportional to their distances from the fulcrum, they will
be in equilibrio.
For if an equilibrium does not take place, the propor¬
tion of the weights must be altered to procure an equili¬
brium, and then, contrary to the proposition, the weights
would balance each other when they were not reciprocally
proportional to their distances from the fulcrum.
Cor. 2. If a weight W be
supported by a horizontal Fig. 4.
lever resting on the fulcra
A, B, the pressure upon A
is to the pressure upon B in
the inverse ratio of their dis¬
tances from the point where
the weight is suspended, that
is, as BF to FA.
For if we suppose B to be
the fulcrum, and if, removing
the fulcrum A, we support the extremity A of the lever
by a weight E equivalent to the weight sustained by the
fulcrum A, and acting upwards over the pulley P, then
the weight E or that sustained by A : W=BF : BA (Prop.
I.); and if we conceive A to be the fulcrum, and support
the extremity B by a weight F equal to that which was
supported by the fulcrum B, we shall have the weight F
or the weight sustained by B : W = AF : AB. Hence, ex
aqua, the weight sustained by A is to the weight sustained
by B as BF is to F'A.
1B
Cor. 3. We may now call
the two weights P and W
the power and the weight,
as in fig. 5; and since P : W
= F'B : FA, we have P X FA
= W X FT3, when an equili¬
brium takes place;
consequently P = ^ x 1 B
Fig. 5.
FA
FA =
W =
P X FA
FB
W X FB
FB -
P X FA
w •
Cor. 4. We have already seen (Axiom 2), that when the
358
MECHANICS.
On the
Lever.
power and the weight are on contrary sides of the ful¬
crum, the pressure upon the fulcrum is equal to P + W,
or the sum of the weights ; but it is obvious that when they
act on the same side of the fulcrum, the pressure which it
supports will be P—W, or the difference of their weights.
Cor. 5. If a weight P be shifted along the arm of a
lever AD, the weight W, which it is capable of balancing
at A, will be proportional to FA.
When the weights are in equilibrio (Cor. 3) W: P
=FA : FB, or, by alternation, W : FArrP : FB; and if w
be another value of W, and fa another value of FA, we
shall also have w. Y■= fa: FB, ox w:fa — P: FB ; conse¬
quently (Euclid, book v. prop. xi. and xvi.) W~: w— FA :fa,
that is, W varies as FA.
Cor, 6. It is obvious that
the truths in the preceding
proposition and corollaries
also hold when the lever
has the form represented in
fig. 6, only the straight lines
AF, FB are in that case the
length of the arm.
Cor. 7. Since by the last corollary FA : zz W : w,
Descrip.
tion of the it follows, that in the steelyard, which is merely a lever with
steelyard. a long an(] gbort arm,
having a weight move-
able upon the long
one, the distances at
which the constant
weight must be hung
are as the weights sus-
Fig. 7.
yards, it might be advisable to make the unequal arms ba- Ontl
lance each other by placing a weight M at the extremity feve
of the lighter arm, in which case the scale will begin atv'“V
F. In the Danish and Swedish steelyard the body to beDanisl1
weighed and'the constant weight are fixed at the extre- ^
pended from the shorter arm. The steelyard is represent¬
ed in fig. 7, where AB is the lever, with unequal arms AF,
FB, and F the centre of motion. The body W, whose
weight is to be found, is suspended at the extremity A of
the lever, and the constant weight P is moved along the
divided arm FB till an equilibrium takes place. As soon
as this happens, the number placed at the point of suspen¬
sion D indicates the weight of the body. If the lever is
devoid of weight, it is obvious that the scale FB will be a
scale of equal parts of which FA is the unit, and that the
weight of the body W w ill be always equal to the constant
weight P multiplied by the number of divisions between
P and F. Thus, if the equilibrium takes place when P is
pulled out to the 12th division, we shall have Wzr 12 P;
and if P zz 1 pound, W zz 12 pounds. But when the gra¬
vity of the lever is considered, which must be done in the
real steelyard, its arms are generally of unequal weight,
and therefore the divisions of the scale must be ascertained
by experiment. In order to do this, remove the weight
P, and find the point C, at which a weight P' equal to P
being suspended, will keep the unequal arms in equilibrio ;
C will then be the point at which the equal divisions must
commence. For when W and P are placed upon the steel¬
yard and are in equilibrio, W balances P along with a
weight which, placed at D, wmuld support P placed at C :
Therefore W X BF = P X DF + P X CF ; but P X DF
+ P X CF =z P X DC, consequently W X BF zz P X DC,
and W : DCzzP: BF. By taking different values of the
variable quantities W and DC, as w and dc, we shall have
w\dc — Y : BF, consequently (Euclid, book v. prop. xi.
and xvi.) : w — DC : dc, that is, the weight of W va¬
ries as DC, and therefore the divisions must commence at
C. If the arm BF had been heavier than FA, which, how¬
ever, can scarcely happen in practice, the point C would
have been on the other side of F. In constructing steel-
mities of the steelyard, but the point of suspension or cen*yard
tre of motion F moves along the lever till the equilibrium
takes place. The point F then indicates the weight of the
body required. There are some steelyards in which the
constant weight is fixed to the shorter arm, while the
body to be weighed moves upon the longer arm. The
method of dividing this and the preceding steelyard may
be seen in De la Hire’s Trade de Mecanique, prop. 35, 3(j
37, 38.1
Prop. II.
To find the condition of equilibrium on a straight lever
when its gravity is taken into the account.
Let us suppose the lever to be of uniform thickness and
density, as AB, fig. 7,
and let it be suspended 1 8-
by the points c, d to
another lever ab, con-  l!
sidered as without weight, viB^aEjliSSiiiiSiSi5iiliB
so that ac — cf -=zfd — db. Then if / be the centre
of motion or point of suspension, the cylinder AB will
be in equilibrio; for the weight AB may be regarded as
composed of a number of pairs of equal weights, equally
distant from the centre of motion. For the same reason,
if we conceive the cylinder to be cut through at F, the
equilibrium will continue, c, d being now the points at
which the weights AF, FB act, their distances ef, df
from the centre of motion being equal. Consequently, the
arms AF, FB have the same energy in turning the lever
round f as if weights equal to AF, FB were suspended at
the distance of their middle points c, d from the fulcrum.
Let P, therefore, in fig. 5, be the power, W the weight,
m the weight of the arm AF, and n the weight of FB.
Then, when there is an equilibrium, we shall have (Prop. I.
Cor. 3) P X AF + m X |-AF zz W X FB + rc X iFB;
and since the weight m acting at half the distance AFJs
the same as half the weight m acting at the whole dis¬
tance AF, we may substitute X AF instead of m
X |AF, and the equation becomes P + X AF
zz W + X B’B. Hence,
p_W + ^ X FB T
AF
Wzz
P + Arc X AF
FB
[,n X 2FB
in
AF
2P
P + ±n X 2AF
FB
— 2W
AF
W + Arc X FB
P + A?rc
FB =z
P + Arca X AF
W + Am
Cor. If the arms of the lever are not of uniform density
and thickness, instead of the distance of their middle points,
we must take the distance of their centre of gravity from
the fulcrum.
1 See the article Balance (vol. iv. p. 306, and Plate CV. fig. 6) for a description and drawing of the Danish and Swedish steel¬
yard. For an account of the universal steelyard invented by Mr C. Paul of Geneva, see Lardner’s Mechanics, p. 296, or the Phi¬
losophical Magazine, vol. Hi.
Prop. III.
# i the
0' ever
V’ If two forces acting in any direction, and in the same plane,
upon a lever of any form, are in equilibrio, they will be
reciprocally proportional to the perpendiculars let fall
from the fulcrum upon the directions in which they act.
Let AFB be a lever of any form, F its fulcrum, A, B the
points to which the forces,
MECHANICS.
FA X sin. FAm
rad.
359
and since magnitudes have the same Lever?
;
or the power Pand weight Fig. 9.
W, are applied, and AE,
BK the directions in which
these forces act. Make
AE to BK as P is to W,
and they will therefore re¬
present the forces applied
at A and B. Draw AC
perpendicular to Ah' and o
EC parallel to it, and com¬
plete the parallelogram
ADEC. In the same way
form the parallelogram
BGKH. Produce EA and
KB towards m and n if
necessary, and let fall
Fw, Fn perpendicular to
AE, BK produced. Then
P shall be to W as Fn is
to Fm. By the resolution
offerees (Dynamics, sec.
46), the force AE is equi¬
valent to forces represent¬
ed by AD and AC, and
acting in these directions.
But as AD acts in the di¬
rection of the arm AF, it
can have no influence in
turning the lever round F,
and therefore AC repre¬
sents the portion of the force AD which contributes to
produce an angular motion round F. In the same way it
may be shown that BG is the part of the force BK which
tends to move the lever round F. Now, suppose AF pro¬
duced to B, FB being made equal to FB and B'G' rr BG.
ihen, by Prop. I. AC : B'G'= FB' : FA; but, by Axiom
1, the effort of BG to turn the lever round F is equal to
the effort of the equal force B'G' to turn the lever round
F; therefore AC : BG = FB : FA, and AC X FA = BG
X FB. Now the triangles ACE, AFm are similar, be¬
cause the angles at C and M are both right, and on ac-
ount of the parallels FA, EC, mAF — AEC ; therefore
AC : AE = Fm : FA, and AC X FA = AE X Fm. For
he same reason, in the similar triangles BGK, BFw we
•ave BG : BK = Fn : FB, and BK X F« — BG X FB.
Bence AE X Fm = BK X Fn, and AE : BK or P : W
= Fw: Fm. Q. E. D.
Cor. 1. The forcesP and W(fig.9andl0)are reciprocally
proportional to the sines of the angles which their directions
jnake with the arms of the lever; for Fm is evidently the
me of the angle FAm, and Fra the sine of the angle FBra,
A, FB being made the radii. Therefore P : W = sin.
: sin. FAm, or P : W —
1
1
sin. FAm’ sin. FBra
Since
A : F/ra _ rad.: sin. F'Am, we have F/ra ^ S’n’
rad.
111 since FB : Fra — rad. : sin. FBra, we have Fm
_.FB x sin. FBra
■; but in the case of an equilibrium
rad.
1: W = F»: Fm, consequently P : W = FB X sin-^
rad.
ratio as their equimultiples have, P : W=EBXsin EBra
: FA X sin. FAm.
Cor. 2. The energies of the forces P, W to turn the le¬
ver round the fulcrum F is the same, at whatever point in
the directions raiE, raK they are applied; for the perpendi¬
culars to which these energies are proportional remain the
same.. Fhe truth of this corollary has been assumed as
an axiom by some writers on mechanics, who have very
readily deduced from it the preceding proposition. But it
is very obvious, that the truth assumed as self-evident is
nearly equivalent to the truth which it is employed to
prove. Those who have adopted this mode of demonstra¬
tion illustrate their axiom by the case of a solid body that
is either pushed in one direction with a straight rod, or
drawn by a cord; in both of which cases it is manifest that
the effect of the force employed is the same, at whatever
part of the rod or string it is applied. But these cases are
completely different from that of a body moving round a
fixed centre.
Cor. 3. If AE and BK, fig. 10, the directions in which
the forces P, W are exerted, be produced till they meet at
L; and if from the fulcrum E the line FS be drawn pa¬
rallel to the direction AL of one force till it meets BE,
the direction of the other; then LS, SF will represent the
two forces. For as the sides of any triangle are as the
sines of the opposite angles LS : SF — sin. LFS : sin.
FLS ; but on account of the parallels FS, AL the angle
LFS = FLA, and FL being radius, Fm is the sine of FLA
or LFS, and Fra the sine of FLS; therefore, by substitution,
LS : SF — Fm : Fra, that is, as the force W : P.
Cor. 4. If several forces act upon a lever, and keep it in
equilibrio, the sum of the products of the forces and the
perpendiculars from the fulcrum to the direction of the dif¬
ferent forces on one side is equal to the sum of the products
on the other. For since the energy of each force to turn
the lever is equal to the product of the force and the per¬
pendicular from the fulcrum on the line of its direction;
and since, in the case of an equilibrium, the energy of all
the forces on one side of the fulcrum must be equal to the
energy of all the forces on the other side ; the products pro¬
portional to their energies must also be equal.
Cor. 5. If two forces act in a parallel direction upon an
angular lever whose fulcrum is its angular point, these forces
will be in equilibrio when a line drawn from the fulcrum
upon the line which joins the two points where the forces
are applied, and parallel to the direction of the forces, cuts
it in such a manner that the two parts are reciprocally pro¬
portional to the forces applied.
Let AFB be the angular lever, whose fulcrum is F, and
let the forces P, W be applied
at A and B in the parallel di¬
rections Pm, Wra ; then if the
line FT), parallel to Pm or Wra,
cut AB in such a manner that
DB : DA — P : W, the forces
will be in equilibrio. Draw
Fm perpendicular to P?ra,
and produce it to ra; then,
since Am, B?^ are parallel, ram
will also be perpendicular to
Bra, and, by Prop. III. Fra : Fm = P : W. Now, if through
F there be drawn m'ra' parallel to AB, the triangles Fmm',
Frara' will be similar, and we shall have Fra : F?ra = Fra'
: Fm'; but, on account of the parallels AB, m'ra'; Fra': F/ra'
— DB : DA, therefore DB ; DA rr P : W.
Cor. 6. Let CD be a body moveable round its centre of
gravity F, and let two forces P, Wact upon it at the points
A,Bin the plane AFB, in the directions AP,BW; then,since
360
MECHANICS.
On the
Lever.
this body may be regarded as a
lever whose fulcrum is F, the
' forces will be in equilibrio when
P : W Fra: F/ra the perpendi¬
culars on the directions in which
the forces act.
Cor. 7. If AB be an inflexible
rod moveable round F as a ful¬
crum, and acted upon by two
forces P, W in the directions
Am, An, these forces will be in
equilibrio when they are to one
another as the perpendiculars
Fra, F?ra. For, by Cor. 2, the
forces may be considered as ap¬
plied at m and ra, and razFra may
be regarded as the lever; but,
by Prop. III. P : W = Fra : Fm ;
F/ra, Fra being perpendiculars
upon Am, An.
Cor. 8. Let DE be a heavy wheel, and FG an obstacle
over which it is to be mov¬
ed by a force P, acting in Fig. 14.
the direction AH. Join
AF, and draw Fm, Fra per¬
pendicular to CA and AH.
The weight of the wheel
is evidently the weight to
be raised, and may be re¬
presented by W acting at
the point A in the vertical
direction AC. We may
now consider AF as a lever
whose fulcrum is F, and, by
Cor. 7, there will be an equilibrium when P : W = Fra : Fm.
Since Fm represents the mechanical energy of the power P
to turn the wheel round F, it is obvious that when FG is
equal to the radius of the wheel, the weight P, however
great, has no power to move it over the obstacle; for when
FG = AC, Fm = 0, and Frai X P = 0.
Cor. 9. If a man be placed in a pair of scales hung at the
extremities of a le¬
ver, and is in equili- Fig. 15.
brio with a weight
in the opposite scale,
then if he presses
against any point in
the level’, except that
point from which the
scale is suspended,
Cor, 10. If a weight W be supported by an inclined
lever resting on the fulcra
A, B, the pressure upon A
is to that upon B inverse¬
ly as Af is to fb, the sec¬
tions of a horizontal line ;
by the vertical direction of A
the weight W.
Remove the fulcrum A,
and support the extremity
A by a weight P, equal to the pressure upon A; then B
being the centre of motion, and mn being drawn through
F perpendicular to the direction of the forces Am, E/J and
consequently parallel to Ab, we have (Prop. III.) P; W
= Fra : Fm —fb\ fA; that is, the pressure upon A is to
the pressure upon B inversely as Af is to fb.
Scholium.
Various attempts have been made by different writers on
mechanics to give a complete and satisfactory demonstra¬
tion of the fundamental property of the lever. The first
of these attempts was made by Archimedes, who assumes
as an axiom, that if two equal bodies be placed upon a le¬
ver, they will have the same influence in giving it a rota¬
tory motion as if they were both placed in the middle part
between them. This truth, however, is far from being
self-evident, and on this account Mr Vince1 has completed
the demonstration by making this axiom a preliminary pro¬
position. The demonstration of Galileo2 is both simple and
elegant, and does not seem to have attracted much notice,
though in principle it is exactly the same as that of Archi¬
medes completed by Mr Vince. Galileo suspends a solid
cylinder or prism from a lever by several threads. When
the lever is hung by its centre, the whole is in equilibrio.
He then supposes the cylinder to be cut into two unequal
parts, which from their mode of suspension still retain
their position, and then imagines each part of the cylinder
to be suspended by its centre from the lever. Here then
we have two unequal weights hanging at unequal distances
from the centre of suspension, and it follows from the con¬
struction that these weights are in the reciprocal ratio of
their distances from that centre. Mr Vince, on the other
hand, employs a cylinder balanced on a fulcrum.
He supposes this cylinder divided into unequal parts,
and thus concludes, from his preliminary proposition, that
these unequal parts have the same effect in turning the le¬
ver as if the weight of these parts was placed in their cen¬
tres, which is done by Galileo by suspending them from
their centres. From this the fundamental property of the
lever is easily deduced. The next demonstration was given
by Huygens, who assumes as an axiom, that if any weight
the equilibrium will ■ ■ . - f
be destroyed. Let CB be the lever in equilibrio, F its placed upon a lever is removed to a greater distance from
the fulcrum, its effort to turn the lever will be increased.
This axiom he might have demonstrated thus, and his
demonstration would have been completely satisfactory,
though it applies only to cases where the arms of the lever
are commensurable. Let AB, fig. 1, be a lever with equal
fulcrum, and let the scales be suspended from A and B, AP
being the scale in which the man is placed. Then, if he
presses with his hand or with a rod against D, a point
nearer the centre than A, the scale will take the position
AP', and the same effect will be produced as if ADP were    7 0 ^ a FR-
a solid mass acting upon the lever in the direction of gra- weights C, D, supported on the fulcra/, F so that A/— ’
vity. Consequently, if P'p be drawn perpendicular from then, as was shown in Prop. I. the W'eights will be in equi i
the point F to FC, Fp will be the lever with wdiich the brio, and each fulcrum will support a weight equal to tor U
man in the scale tends to turn the lever round the fulcrum; By removing the fulcrum f, the weight C must descen ,
and as Fp is greater than FA, the man will preponderate, as the equilibrium is destroyed by a weight equal to
In the same way it may be shown, that if the man in the acting at /; therefore the weight C, at the distance AL
scale AP presses upwards against a point C, more remote has a greater effect in turning the lever than an ecp
from the fulcrum than A, he will diminish his relative weight D placed at a less distance FB. In Sir Laa^
weight, and the scale W will preponderate ; for in this case Newton’s demonstration, it is supposed that if a give^
the scale assumes the position AP", and Fp' becomes the weight act in any direction, and if several radu be draw
lever by which it acts. from the fulcrum to the line of direction, the effort of t
Phil. Trans. 1/94, p. 33.
Discursus et Demonstrationcs Mathemat. dial, if P1
MECHANICS.
weight to turn the lever will be the same, to whatever of these
radii it is applied. It appears, however, from Prop. III. Cor.
' 2, that this principle is far from being self-evident, and there¬
fore the demonstration which is founded upon it cannot be
admitted as satisfactory. The demonstration given by Mac-
laurin1 is simple and convincing, and has been highly ap¬
proved of by Dr T. Young, and other writers on mechanics,
though it extends only to any commensurable proportion
of the arms. He supposes the
lever AB with equal arms to 1''
be in equilibrio upon the ful¬
crum F, by means of the equal
forces P, W, in which case the o
fulcrum F will evidently be^t
pressed down with a weight
equal to 2P = P + W. He
then substitutes, instead of the
weight P, a fixed obstacle O, which will not destroy the
equilibrium, and considers the fulcrum as still loaded unth
a weight equal to P -}-W. The pressure on F being there¬
fore equal to 2P or P -f W, a weight E equal to 2P, and
acting upwards, is substituted in the room of that pressure,
so that the equilibrium will still continue. Here then we
have a lever AB of the second kind, influenced by two for¬
ces E and W acting at different distances from the fulcrum
A; and since E 2P — 2W, and BB = 2AF, we have E
: W= AB : AF, which expresses the fundamental property
of the lever. Without objecting to the circumstance that
this demonstration applies only to the lever of the second
kind, we may be allowed to observe, that it involves an
axiom which cannot be called self-evident. It is certainly
manifest that when P and W are in equilibrio, the pressure
upon the fulcrum is = 2P = P -f W ; but it by no means
follows that this pressure remains the same when the fixed
obstacle 0 is substituted in the room of P. On the con-
trary, the axiom assumed is a result of the proposition
which it is employed to prove, or rather it is the proposi¬
tion itself. For if, when the extremity A bears against
the obstacle O, the pressure upon F is equal to 2W, the
force W obviously produces a pressure = 2W at half the
distance AB, which is the property to be demonstrated,
ihe demonstrations given by Mr Landen and Dr Hamil¬
ton, the former in his Memoirs, and the latter in his Essays,2
though in a great measure satisfactory, are long and tedi¬
ous. In the demonstration of Dr Hamilton, he employs
the following proposition : That when a body is at rest,
and acted upon by three forces, they will be to one another
as the three sides of a triangle parallel to the direction in
which the forces act. When the three forces act on one
point of a body, the proposition is true; but it is not appli¬
cable to the case of a lever where the forces are applied to
t iree different points, and at all events the demonstration
,oes not hold when any two of the forces act in parallel
directions. The demonstration which we have given in
rop. I. is new, and different from any that have been no-
iced. Ihe truths on which it is founded are perfectly
axiomatic ; and the only objection to which it seems liable
iS> t at the demonstration extends only to a commensurate
v bb
  •
4> ft
nr
Let M be the force which is exerted by the first lever
AB upon the second ah, and N the force which is exerted
by the second lever ah upon the third af3, then, by Prop. I.
P : M = BF : AF,
M : N — bf : af
N : W = : cap.
Consequently, by composition,
P : W = BF x X /3p : AF x «/ X
Prop. V.
To explain the new property of the lever discovered by
M. iEpinus, and extended by Van Swinden.
Let AFB be any lever whose fulcrum is F, and to whose
extremities A, B are ap¬
plied the forces P, W in
the directions AY, BV.
Join AB, and produce it
on both sides towards E
and I. Produce also the
lines YA, YB till they
meet in H, and from H,
through the fulcrum F,
draw HF£ dividing AB
Fig. 19.
into two parts Af, Bf. Let UT be a line given in posi¬
tion, and let a, /3 represent the angles which the direction
of the forces YA, VB make with that line. Let YA and
YB likewise represent the intensity of the forces P, W,
and let YA be resolved into AE and YE; and the force
VB into BI and YI. Then the lever cannot be in equili¬
brium till,
L EA x fA + IB x^B is a maximum.
H. Or, putting p for the angles formed by the lines AB,
UT, which the lever, when in equilibrio, makes with the line
UM given in position, there cannot be an equilibrium till
( fan. p X P X A/ x cos. a) + (tan. p X W x B/ x cos. /3) = (W x B/ X sin. £) — P X Af x sin. a.
• ind, putting a, h for the arms AF, BF, and m, n for the angles EAB, EBA, there cannot be an equilibrium unless
Tan. p — W . h (sin. (3 X cos, n — sin. n x cos. /3) — P . a (sin. a X cos. m — sin. m X cos. a)
P . a (cos. a x cos. m + sin. a X sin. m) + W . 6 (cos. /3 X cos. n + sin. /3 X sin. w)‘
the demonstrations of these different cases are far from
icing elementary, wre shall only refer the reader to the me¬
moir upon this subject given by iEpinus in the Nov. Com-
'nent. Petropol. tom. viii. p. 271.
Scholium.
This property of the lever was only considered by Hipi-
nus in the case of a rectilineal lever with equal arms ; but
was extended by J. H. Van Swinden. When the lever is
vol. xiv.
Account of Newton’s Discoveries.
2 See also Phil. Trans, vol. xciii. p. 113.
361
propoition of the arms of the lever. An analytical demon¬
stration of tlie fundamental property of the lever was given
by Fonceneix, which was afterwards improved bv D’Alem¬
bert in the Mem. de VAcad. 1769, p. 283. Y
Prop. IV.
If several levers AB, ah, a/3, whose fulcra are F, f p, are
so combined as to act perpendicularly upon each other, or
at equal angles ; and if the directions in which the power
and weight are applied be also perpendicular to the arms,
or at the same angles with them as those at which the le¬
vers act upon each other, there will be an- equilibrium
when P : W — BF X bf X ftp : AF x «/ X
Fig. 18.
On the
Level-.
2 z
362
MECHANICS.
On the rectilineal and with equal arms, we have AF = FB r= Af
Inclined _ ant[ aiso m — n z= 0 ; so that, if the last formula is
Rhine. suited to these conditions, we shall have the formula of
dSpinus.
Prop. VI.
If a power and weight acting upon the arms of any lever
be in equilibrio, and if the whole be put in motion, the
velocity of the power is to the velocity of the weight as
the weight is to the power.
Let AFB be any lever whose fulcrum is F, and let the
power P and weight W be applied to its extremities A, B,
so as to be in equilibrio. Draw Fm, Fn perpendicular to
AD, BE the direction of the forces P, W. Then suppose
an uniform angular motion to be given to the lever, so as
to make it describe the small angle AFA'; the position of
the lever will now be A;FB', pq™ 20.
and the directions of the
forces P, W will be A'D',
B'E, parallel to AD, BE re¬
spectively, since the angle
AEF is exceedingly small.
Join AA', BB', and from A'
and B' draw A'x, F>'z per¬
pendicular to AD and BE.
Now it is obvious, that
though the point A has
moved through the space A A' in the same time that the
point B has described the space BB', yet Ax is the space
described by A in the direction AD, and B;z the space de¬
scribed by B in the direction BE. For if we suppose a
plane passing through A at right angles to AD, and another
through P parallel to the former plane, it is manifest that
Ax measures the approach of the point A to the plane pass¬
ing through P; and for the same reason Bz measures the
approach of the point B to a plane passing through W at
right angles to WB. Therefore Ax, Bz represent the
spaces uniformly and simultaneously described by the points
A, B, and may therefore be taken to denote the velocities
of these points ; consequently the velocity of A : the velo¬
city of B — Ax : Bz. Now, in the triangles Ax A', FmA,
the exterior angle a;AF = AmF + mFA (Euclid, book i.
prop. 32), and A'AF r= AmF, because AFA'is so exceed¬
ingly small that A'A is sensibly perpendicular to AF ; con¬
sequently xAA' zz AFm ; and as the angles at a; and m are
right, the triangles Aa;A' A?ftF are similar.
Therefore Ax : AA' rr Fm : F A, and in the similar tri¬
angles AFA', BFB', AA': BB' zr FA : FB, and in the si¬
milar triangles BB'z, BFn, BB': Bz rr FB : Fw, therefore,
by composition, we have Ax : Bz — Fm : Fm But, by Pro¬
position II. P : W =z F»: Fm, consequently Ax : Bz =r W
: P ; that is, the velocity of the powTer is to the velocity of
the weight as the weight is to the power. Q,. E. D.
Cor. Since Ax : Bz =: W : P, we have Ax X P rz Bz
X W; that is, the momenta of the power and weight are
equal.
Sect. II.— On the Inclined Plane.
On the
inclined
plane.
Fie. 21.
Definition. An inclined plane is a plane surface AB,
supported at any angle ABC formed with the horizontal
plane BC. The inclination of
the jdane is the angle which
one line in the plane AB forms
wuth another in the horizontal
plane BC, both these lines be¬
ing at right angles to the com¬
mon intersection of the two
planes. The line B A is called
the length of the plane, AC its height, and BC the length of n
its base.
In order to understand how the inclined plane acts as bane
a mechanical power, let us suppose it necessary to elevate ^"V'
the weight D from C to A. If this weight is lifted by the
arms of a man to the point A, he must support the whole
of the load ; but when it is rolled up the inclined plane, a
considerable part of its weight is supported upon the plane,
and therefore a much smaller force is capable of raising it
to A.
Prop. I.
When any weight W is kept in equilibrio upon an inclin¬
ed plane by a power P, the power is to the weight as the
sine of the plane’s inclination is to the sine of the angle
which the direction of the power makes with a line at
right angles to the plane.
Let MN be the inclined plane, NO a horizontal line, and
MNO the inclination of the plane, and let the weight W
be sustained upon MN by means of the power P acting
in the direction AE. From
Fig. 22.
the point A, the centre of
gravity of the weight, draw
AB perpendicular to the
horizontal plane NO, and
AF perpendicular to MN ;
produce EA till it meets
the plane in C, and from
the point F where the body
touches the plane draw
Fm at right angles to AC,
and Fn at right angles to AB.
Then, since the whole
body may be considered as collected in the centre of gra¬
vity A, AB will be the direction in which it tends to fall,
or the direction of the weight, and EA is the direction of
the power ; but AF is a lever whose fulcrum is F, and since
it is acted upon by two forces which are in equilibrio, we
shall have (Prop. III. Cor. 8) P : W = F» : Fm, that is, as
the perpendiculars drawn from the fulcrum to the direction
in which the forces act. Now FA being radius, Fm is the
sine of the angle FAB, and Fm is the sine of the angle
FAC ; but FAB is equal to MNO the angle of the plane’s
inclination, on account of the right angles at F and B and
the vertical angles at D ; and FAC is the angle which the
direction of the power makes with a line perpendicular
to the plane ; therefore P : W as the sine of the plane’s
inclination is to the sine of the angle formed by the
direction of the power with a line at right angles to the
plane.
Cor. 1. When the power acts parallel to the plane in
the direction AE', P is to W as EA to Fn, that is, as ra¬
dius is to the sine of the plane’s inclination, or, on account
of the similar triangles FAw, MNO, as the length ol the
plane is to its height. In this case the power acts to the
greatest advantage.
Cor. 2. When the power acts in a vertical line As, Fw
becomes equal to or coincides with Fn, and we have P:
W=F»: F?z, that is, the power in this case sustains the
whole weight.
Cor. 3. When the power acts parallel to the base of
the plane in the direct! on Ae, P : W — Fn :Ff z=. Fm : A«-
Cor. 4. When the power acts in the direction AFd,
perpendicular to the plane, it has no power to resist the
gravity of the weight; for the perpendicular from the ful¬
crum F, to which its energy is proportional, vanishes.
Cor. 5. Since the body W acts upon the plane in a di¬
rection AF perpendicular to the plane’s surface (for its
force downwards may be resolved into two, one paralle
to the plane, and the other perpendicular to it), and since
the re-action of the plane must also be perpendicular to its
inti, surface, that is, in the direction FA, then, when the di-
iclin rection of the power is Ae parallel to the horizon, the power,
’Ian: t]ie weight, and the pressure upon the plane, will be re-
’‘v~Vspectivel)' as the height, the base, and the length of the
plane. The weight W is acted upon by three forces ; by
its own gravity in the direction An, by the re-action of the
plane in the direction AF, and by the power of P in the
direction AF. Therefore, since these forces are in equi-
librio, and since A/ is parallel to nF, and F/to An, the
three sides AF, Af, Ff, will represent the three forces.
But the triangle Ah/is similar to AnF, that is, to MNO,
for it was already shown that the angle wAF is equal to
MNO; therefore, since in the triangle AF/i AF repre¬
sents the pressure on the plane, Af the weight of the
body, and hjthe energy of the power, these magnitudes
will also be represented in the similar triangle MNO by
the sides MN, MO, NO.
Cor. 6. If a power P and
weight W are in equilibrio
upon two inclined planes AB,
AC; P: W = AB : AC. Lety>
be the power, which, acting
on the weight W in a direc¬
tion parallel to the plane,
would keep it in equilibrio,
then we have p\W z=z AD : &
AC; but since the string is equally stretched at every
point, the same power p will also sustain the power P, con¬
sequently P:/> = AB:AD, and by composition P:W
= AB: AC.
MECHANICS,
>63
Prop. III.
FiV 23.
If a body is raised with an uniform motion along an in¬
clined plane, the velocity of the power is to the velo-
city of the weight as the weight is to the power.
Let the weight W be
drawn uniformly up the in¬
clined plane AB, from B
to D, by a power whose
direction is parallel to DH.
Upon DB describe the cir¬
cle BFEDN, cutting BC
in E, and having produced
HD to F, join FP, FB,
FE, and draw DC perpen¬
dicular to BD. Now the
angles BFD, BED are
right; and therefore,thougl:
Fig. 25.
Prop. II.
If a spherical body is supported upon two inclined planes,
the pressures upon these planes will be inversely as the
sines of their inclination, while the absolute weight of
the body is represented by the sine of the angle formed
by the two planes.
Let AC, BC be the two
inclined planes, and F the
spherical body which they
support. The whole of its
matter being supposed to be
collected in its centre of era-
nty p, its tendency down¬
wards will be in the vertical
ine 10. The re-action of the
Fig. 24.
the power moves through a space equal to BD, yet its
velocity in the direction DH is measured by the space
hD uniformly described ; and for the same reason, though
the weight \V describes the space BD, yet its velocity in
the direction in which it acts, that is, in a vertical direc¬
tion, is evidently measured by the space DE uniformly
described. Then, because the angle DBE is equal to
DtE, and DBE — L)CH, and hDE — DHC, the triangles
DEF, DHC are similar, and DF: DE = DH : HC. But
DH : HC = sin. DCH : sin. IIDC, that is (Prop. I. p. 362),
DF: DE, or the velocity of the power to the velocity of
the weight, as W: P. Q. E. D.
Scholium.
>lanes upon F is evidently in the direction MF, NF per¬
pendicular to the surface of these planes, and therefore
'e may consider the body Fas influenced by three forces
icting in the directions FC, FM, FN; but these forces
ire represented by the sides of the triangle ABC perpen-
bcular to their directions, consequently the absolute
veight of the body F, the pressure upon the plane AC,
tnd the pressure upon the plane BC, are respectively as
V“’ Ac> at'd BC, that is, as the sines of the angles ACD,
1C, BAG; for in every triangle the sides are as the
mes ol the opposite angles, or, to express it in symbols,
,V being the absolute weight of the body, w the pressure
n AC, and w' the pressure on BC,
W : tv: w* — AB : AC : BC, or
W :w:w’= sin. ACB: sin. ABC : sin. BAC.
hit, on aceoun1 of the parallels AB, DF, the angle ABC
7 5 an^ BAC — ACD, therefore the pressures upon
I P anes are inversely as the sines of their inclination,
,le ansolute weight of the body being represented by
hne'116 °f the angle forraeii the surfaces of Bre two
foil. 1. Since the two sides of a triangle are greater
'an tie third, the sum of the relative weights supported
The inclined plane, when combined with other machi¬
nery, is often of great use in the elevation of weights. It
has been the opinion of some writers, that the huge mass¬
es of stone which are found at great altitudes in the splen¬
did remains of Egyptian architecture, were raised upon
inclined planes of earth, with the aid of other mechanical
powers. This supposition, however, is not probable, as
the immense blocks of granite which compose the pyra¬
mids oF Egypt could not possibly have been raised into
their present situation by any combination of the mecha¬
nical powers with which we are acquainted. The inclin¬
ed plane has been very advantageously employed in the
Duke of Bridgewater’s canal. After this canal has ex¬
tended forty miles on the same level, it is joined to a sub¬
terraneous navigation about twelve miles long, by means
of an inclined plane, and this subterraneous portion is
again connected by an inclined plane with another sub¬
terraneous portion about 106 feet above it. This inclined
plane is a stratum of stone which slopes one foot in four,
and is about 453 feet long. The boats are conveyed from
one portion of the canal to another by means of a windlass,
so that a loaded boat descending along the plane turns
the axis of the windlass, and raises an empty boat. A pair
of stairs, and all roads and railways that are not horizon¬
tal, may be regarded as inclined planes; and hence it is
a matter of great importance, in carrying a road to the top
Plane.
by the two planes is greater than the absolute weight of On the
the body. Inclined
Cor. 2. If the inclination of each plane is 60°, then
ACB must also be 60°, and the triangle ABC equilateral,
consequently the pressure upon each plane is equal to the
absolute weight of the body.
Cor. 3. When the inclination of each plane increases,
the pressure which each sustains is also increased ; and
when their inclination diminishes till it almost vanishes,
the pressure upon each plane is one half of the absolute
weight of the body F.
364
MECHANICS.
On the of a hill, to choose such a line that the declivity may be
Rope the least possible. The additional length which, in order
Machine. to effect this purpose, must sometimes be given to the
] jne 0f road, is a trifling inconvenience, when compared
with the advantages of a gentle declivity. In ascending
steep hills, the horses have the sagacity to judge of the
inclination of the plane, and facilitate the ascent by wind¬
ing from one side of the road to another.
Sect. III.— On the Rope Machine.
Rope ma¬
chine.
Definition. When a body suspended by two or more
ropes is sustained by powers which act by the assistance
of these ropes, this assemblage of ropes is called a funi¬
cular or rope machine.
Prop. I.
If a weight is in equilibrium with two powers acting on a
rope machine, these powers are inversely as the sines
of the angles which the ropes form with the direction
of the weight.
Fig. 26.
Let the weight W be sus¬
pended from the point B,
where the ropes AB, BC are
joined, and let the powers Y,p
acting at the other extremi¬
ties of the ropes which pass
over the pulleys A, C, keep
this weight in equilibrio, we|i|j
shall have P :p = sin. CBD :
sin. ABD. Produce WB to
F, and let BD represent the
force exerted by W ; then, by
drawing DE parallel to AB,
the sides of the triangle BDE will represent the three
forces by which the point B is solicited ; for AB, CD are
the directions of the forces P and/>. We have therefore
V -.p — DE : BE ; but DE : BE rr sin. DBE : sin. BDE ;
and, on account of the parallels DE, AB, the angle BDE
— ABD, consequently V :p ■=. sin. DBE : sin. ABD.
Cor. 1. When the line joining the pulleys is horizontal,
as AC, then P : /> — FC : FA; for FC and FA are evident¬
ly the sines of the angles DBE, BDE.
Cor. 2. Any of the powers is to the weight as the sine
of the angle which the other makes with the direction of
the weight is to the sine of the angles which the powers
make with one another. For since DB represents the
weight and BE the power P, we have BE : BD = sin.
BDE : sin. BED ; but, on account of the parallels DE, AB,
the angle DEB — ABC, the angle made by the direction
of the powers, consequently BE : BD, that is, : W ;=
sin. ABF: sin. ABC. In the same way it may be shown
that P : W — sin. CBF : sin. ABC. Hence we have
P + /> : W rr sin. CBF + sin. ABF : sin. ABC; that is,
the sum of the powers is to the weight as the sum of the
sines of the angles which the powers make with the direc¬
tion of the weight is to the sine of the angle which the
powers make with one another.
Cor. 3, The two powers P, p are also directly propor¬
tional to the cosecants of the angles formed by the direc¬
tion of the powers with the direction of the weight. For
since P : /> r= sin. DBE : sin. BDE, and, by the principles
of trigonometry, sin. DBE : sin. DBE rr cosec. BDE : co¬
sec. DBE, we have ¥ : p — cosec. ABF : cosec. CBF. It
is also obvious that P :/> as the secants of the angles
which these powers form with the horizon, since the an¬
gles which they make with the horizon are the comple¬
ments of the angles which they form with the direction of
the weight, and the cosecant of any angle is just the secant
of its complement, therefore ¥ : p =. sec. BAF : sec. BCF.
CHAP. II. ON COMPOUND MACHINES.
Oh the
' heel an
Definition. Compound machines are those which are Axle.
composed of two or more simple machines, either of the
same or of different kinds. The number of compound ma- CoraPoun
chines is unlimited, but those which properly belong to
this chapter are, 1. the wheel and axle; 2. the pulley;
3. the wedge ; 4. the screw; and 5. the balance.
Sect. I.— On the Wheel and Axle.
The wheel and axle, or the axis in peritrochio, is repre-ipleeia!.
sented in fig. 27, and consists of a wheel axle.
AB and cylinder EF, having the same ^ ‘
axis, and moving upon pivots E, F, pla¬
ced at the extremity of the cylinder.
The power P is most commonly applied
to the circumference of the wheel, and
acts in the direction of the tangent,
while the weight W is elevated by a rope
which coils round the cylinder EF in a
plane perpendicular to its axis. In this
machine a winch or handle at E is some¬
times substituted instead of the wheel,
and sometimes the power is applied to the levers S, S fix¬
ed in the periphery of the wheel; but in all these forms
the principle of the machine remains unaltered. That the
wheel and axle is an assemblage of levers will be obvious,
by considering that the very same effect would be produ¬
ced if a number of levers were to radiate from the centre
of the wheel, and if a rope carrying the power P were to
pass over their extremities, and extricate itself from the de¬
scending levers when they come into a horizontal position.
Axiom. The effect of the power to turn the cylinder
round its axis is the same at whatever point in the axle it
is fixed.
Prop. I.
Fig. 28.
In the wheel and axle the power and weight will be in
equilibrium when they are to one another reciprocally
as the radii of the circles to which they are applied, or
when the power is to the weight as the radius of the
axle is to the radius of the wheel.
Let AD be a section of the wheel, and BE a section of
the axle or cylinder, and let the
power P and weight W act in
the directions AP, WP, tangents
to the circumferences of the axle
and wheel in the points A, B, by
means of ropes winding round
these circumferences. As the
effect is the same according to the
axiom, let the power and weight
act in the same plane as they ap¬
pear to do in the figure, then it is
obvious that the effort of the power
P and weight W will be the same
as if they w'ere suspended at the
points A, B; consequently the ma¬
chine may be regarded as a lever AFB, wdiose centre of mo¬
tion is F. But since the directions of the power and weight
make equal angles with the arms of the lever, we have
(Prop. I. p. 356) P: W = FB: FA, that is, the power is to the
weight as the radius of the axle is to the radius of the wheel.
Cor. 1. If the power and weight act obliquely to the Jf"
arms of the lever in the directions Ap, ¥ic, draw Iw
F« perpendicular to Ap and ¥w, and, as in the case or
the lever (Prop. III.), there wdll be an equilibrium when
P : W — Yn : Ym. Hence the tangential direction isffe
X. • TT X /C • X //I* XXt.XJ’otJ lilt- L'XCll ^
most advantageous one in which the power can be applied)
leel
isle
mechanics.
t! for FA is always greater than Fm, and the least advanta-
’ dgeous direction in which the weight can be applied, for it
then opposes the greatest resistance to the power.
Cor. 2. If the plane of the wheel is inclined to the
axle at any angle x, there will be an equilibrium when
P : W semidiameter of the axle : sin. x.
Cor. 3. When the thickness of the rope is of a sensi¬
ble magnitude, there will be an equilibrium when the power
is to the weight as the sum of the radius of the axle and
half the thickness of its rope is to the sum of the radius
of the wheel and half the thickness of its rope ; that is, if
T be the thickness of the rope of the wheel, and t the
thickness of the rope of the axle, there will be an equili¬
brium when P : W = FB + \t: FA + ^ T.
Cor. 4. If a number of wheels and axles are so com¬
bined that the periphery of the first axle may act on the
periphery of the second wheel, either by means of a string
or by teeth fixed in the peripheries of each, and the peri¬
phery of the second axle on the periphery of the third
wheel, there will be an equilibrium when the power is to
the weight as the product of the radii of all the axles is to
the product of the radii of all the wheels. This corollary
may be demonstrated by the same reasoning which is used
in p. 360, for the combination of levers.
Cor. 5. In a combination of wheels, where the motion
is communicated by means of teeth, the axle is called the
'pinion. Since the teeth therefore must be nearly of the
same size, both in the wheel and pinion, the number of
teeth in each will be as their circumferences, or as their
radii; and consequently, in the combination mentioned in
the preceding corollary, the power will be to the weight,
in the case of an equilibrium, as the product of the num¬
ber of teeth in all the pinions is to the product of the num¬
ber of teeth in all the wheels.
Prop. II.
In the wheel and axle the velocity of the weight is to the
velocity of the power as the power is to the weight.
If the power is made to rise through a space equal to
the circumference of the wheel, the weight will evidently
describe a space equal to the circumference of the axle.
Hence, calling V the velocity of the power, v that of the
weight, C the circumference of the wheel, and c that of
the axle, we have V : r = C : e. But, by the proposition,
P: W = c : C, therefore P : W = v: V.
Scholium.
The construction of the main -spring box of the fusee
'of a watch, round which the chain is coiled, is a beautiful
illustration of the principle of the wheel and axle. The
spring-box may be considered as the wheel, and the fusee
the axle or pinion to which the chain communicates the
motion of the box. The power resides in the spring wound
lound an axis in the centre of the box, and the weight is
applied to the lower circumference of the fusee. As the
imce of the spring is greatest when it is newly wound up,
and gradually decreases as it unwinds itself, it is necessary
that the fusee should have different radii, so that the chain
may act upon the narrowest part of the fusee when its
orce is greatest, and upon the widest part of the fusee
" lei? fhfce is least; for the equable motion of the watch
requires that the inequality in the action of the spring
should be counteracted so as to produce an uniform effect,
in order to accomplish this, the general outline of the sur-
aceof the fusee must be an Apollonian hyperbola, in which
ie oidmates are inversely as their respective abscissae,
oi urt ler information on this subject, see Ilecherches des
MaUiematiqms, par M. Parent (tom. ii. p. 678) ; Traite
utiorlogene, par M. Berthoud (tom. i. chap. 26); and
raite de Mtcanique, par M. de la Hire (prop. 72.)
365
Sect. II—On the Pulley.
On the
Definition. The pulley is a machine composed of a'-—-y——
wheel with a groove in its circumference, and a rope which On the
passes round this groove. The wheel moves on an axis Pulley-
whose extremities are supported on a kind of frame called
the hloch, to which is generally suspended the weight to
be raised. A system of pulleys is called a muj/le, which
is either fixed or moveable, according as the block which
contains the pulleys is fixed or moveable.
Prop. I.
In a single pulley, or system of pulleys, where the differ¬
ent portions of the rope are parallel to each other, and
where one extremity of it is fixed, there is an equili¬
brium when the power is to the weight as unity is to the
number of the portions of the rope which support the
weight.
Case 1. In the single fixed pulley AA let the power
P and weight W be equal, and act against
each other by means of the rope PA AW pass¬
ing over the pulley AA; then it is obvious,
that whatever force is exerted by P in the
direction PA, the same force must be ex¬
erted in the opposite direction WA, conse¬
quently these equal and opposite forces must
be in equilibrio; and as the weight is support¬
ed only by one rope, the proposition is de¬
monstrated, for P : W = 1: 1.
Case 2. In the single moveable pulley
(fig. 30), where the rope, fastened at H, goes
beneath the moveable pulley D and over the
fixed pulley C, the weight to be raised is sus¬
pended from the centre of the pulley D by the block p,
and the power is applied at P in the direction PE. Now
it is evident that the portions Cp, HD of the rope sus¬
tain the weight W, and as they are equally stretched in
Fig. 29.
every point, each must sustain one half of W; but (Case
1) in the single pulley C the rope CEP sustains a weight
equal to what the rope Cp sustains; that is, it sustains
one half of W. Consequently P £ W, or W" = 2 P,
when there is an equilibrium ; and since the weight is
supported by two strings, we have P : W = 1 : 2.
Case 3. When the same rope passes round a num¬
ber of pulleys, the ropes which support the weight W
are evidently equally stretched in every part, and there¬
fore each of them sustains the same weight. Conse-
366
MECHANICS.
On the
Pulley.
White’s
pulley.
quently, if there be ten ropes supporting the weight, each
sustains y\yth part of the weight, and therefore P —
W, or W — 10 P, which gives us P : W = 1:10. The
pulley in fig. 32 is the patent pulley invented by Mr
White, in which the lateral friction and shaking motion is
considerably removed. This ingenious pulley has great
theoretical advantages ; but it has been found difficult to
give the grooves the exact proportions, which depend on
the thickness of the rope. If this is not effected, the rope
becomes unequally stretched; some parts being in a state
of great tension, and others comparatively slack. The
rope is also subject to be discharged from the grooves.
Prop. II.
In a system of n moveable pulleys suspended by sepa¬
rate and parallel ropes, there is an
equilibrium when P : W — 1 : 2" ; that
is, if there are 4 pulleys « = 4, and
P : W — 1 : 2 x 2 x 2 X 2, or P :
W = 1: 1G.
This system is represented in fig. 34,-
where the rope which carries the power
P passes over the fixed pulley M, and be¬
neath the moveable pulley A, to the
hook E, where it is fixed. Another rope
fixed to a hook below A, passes over B,
and is fixed at F, and so on with the
rest. Then, by Case 2, Prop. I.
P: the weight at A = 1:2
The weight at A: the weight atB =r 1 : 2
The weight at B: the weight at C = 1:2
The weight at C : the weight at D or W
= 1:2; and therefore, by composition,
P: W = 1 : 2 x 2 x 2 x 2, or P : W
= 1 : 16. Q. E. D.
Prop. III.
In a system of pulleys, one of which is fixed and the rest
moveable, whose number is n, suspended by separate and
parallel ropes, whose extremities are fixed to the weight
W, there is an equilibrium when P : W : 1 : 2n — 1.
Fi<j. 35.
In this system of pulleys, the rope which sustains
power P passes over the pulley C, and is
fixed to the weight at D. Another rope
attached to the pulley C passes over the
pulley B and is fixed to the weight at E,
and a third rope fastened to B passes
over A and is fixed at F. Then it is ma¬
nifest that the rope CD sustains a weight
equal to P ; and since the pulley C is
pulled downward with a weight equal to
2P, the rope BC must support a weight
equal to 2P, and the rope B the same
weight; consequently the rope AB sus-
stains 4P. The whole weight therefore
is P + 2P + 4P, and hence P: W = P •
P + 2P + 4P, or P : W = 1 : J +
2 + 4, &c. to n terms, so that P : W =
1:2”—1.
the
Prop. IV.
In the system of pulleys represented in fig. 36, and called
a Spanish barton, in which two pulleys are supported by
one rope, there is an equilibrium when P: \V = 1 :4.
In this combination of pulleys, the rope AB which sup¬
ports the power P passes over the moveable pulley A, and
beneath C towards H, where it is fixed. Another rope,
attached to the pulley A, passes over the fixed pulley B,
and is fastened at E to the pulley C, which supports the
weight W. Then, since the rope AP supports 1 pound, the
rope AC also supports 1 pound, and there¬
fore the pulley A, or the rope BA, is pulled Fig. 36.
down with a force of 2 pounds. But the
rope BDE is equally stretched with BA,
consequently the pulley C, to which DE
is attached, is pulled upwards with a force
of 2 pounds. Now the rope AC support¬
ing 1 pound, the rope GH must likewise
support 1 pound, consequently, since DE
sustains 2 pounds, AC 1 pound, and HG
1 pound, they will together sustain W = 4
pounds, and therefore P : W = 1 : 4.
On i
Pul):
Prop. V.
In the system of pulleys represented in fig.
37, also called a Spanish barton, where
two pulleys are supported by one rope,
there is an equilibrium when P : W =
1 : 5.
In this system the rope PB passes over B
round C, and is fixed at E. Another rope at¬
tached to B passes round AF, and is fixed at Fig. 37.
I to the pulley CD, which carries the weight
W. Now the rope BP being stretched with a
force of 1 pound, the ropes BGC, CDE, are
also stretched with a force of 1 pound each,
and the pulley CD is pulled upwards with a
force of 2 pounds. But since the three ropes
BP, ED, and GC, are each stretched with a
force of 1 pound, the pulley Band the rope BA,
upon which they all act in one direction, must
be pulled down with a force of 3 pounds.
Now the rope FI is equally stretched with
BA, consequently it will draw the pulley CD
upwards with a force of 3 pounds ; and since
it is drawn upwards by the ropes CG, DF,
with a force of 2 pounds, the whole force
will sustain W = 5 pounds ; but this force of vq
5 pounds is, by the hypothesis, in equilibrio
with P or 1 pound, consequently P: W = 1:5.
Prop. VI.
When the ropes are not parallel, and when two powers
are in equilibrio with a
Fig. 38.
weight by means of a pul¬
ley, and have their di-
I'ections at equal angles
to the direction of the
weight, each of these
powers is to the weight
as the radius of the pul-1
ley is to the chord of that
portion of the pulley’s cir¬
cumference with which
the rope is in contact.
Letthe weight W suspend¬
ed from C be sustained in
equilibrio by two powers P, p, which act by a rope PCFEy
passing over the pulley CHEF, and touching the arch
CFE of its circumference. Then, since the angles PWD,
jhWD are equal, and the powers P,in equilibrio, Pmust
be equal to p ; and making WA = WB, and drawing Al
parallel to PW, and BI parallel to p\N ; WB, BI, WI will
respectively represent the forces P, />, W, or P : ^ —
WB : BI : WI. Now the triangles WBI, CDE having
their respective sides at right angles to each other, are
similar; consequently WB : BI: WI = CD: DE: EC, that
lo,
tf
MECHANICS.
igtl is, P : jo : W — CD : DE : EC; but CD, DE are equal to
olle. radius, and EC is obviously the chord of the arch CEE;
therefore P : W or jo : W as radius is to the chord of the
arch with which the rope is in contact.
Cor. 1. Any of the powers is also to the weight as ra¬
dius is to twice the cosine of the angle which either rope
makes with the direction of the weight. For since CG is
the cosine of DCG, and since CE is double of CG, CE is
equal to 2 cosine DCG = 2 cos. PWD; but P : W = CD :
CE, hence we have, by substituting the preceding value of
CE, P : W = CD or radius : 2 cos. PWD.
Scholium.
By means of this proposition and corollary, the propor¬
tion between the powers and the weight in the various sys¬
tems of pulleys represented in fig. 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34,
35, 36, and 37, when the ropes are not parallel, may be
easily found.
Prop. VII.
In a system of moveable pulleys, where each has a se¬
parate rope, and where the ropes are not parallel, there
is an equilibrium when the power is to the weight as
radius is to the cosines of half the angles made by the
rope of each pulley, multiplied into that power of 2
whose exponent is the number of pulleys.
Let the power P sustain the weight W by means of the
pulleys A, B, C; let P, p, <x
be the different powers which
support the pulleys A, B, C,
and let MAP,-NBA, RGB be>
the angles formed by the
ropes. Then, by the last pro¬
position,
Y'.p — rad. : 2 cos. MAP,
p:t: — rad. : 2 cos. NBA,
it: W=rad.: 2 cos. RGB,
consequently P: W = rad.: 2
■os. MAP X 2 cos. NBA
X 2 cos. RGB ; or, which
is the same thing, P : W =
ad.: 2 X 2 X 2 X cos. MAP x cos. NBA X cos. RGB.
Prop. VIII.
n a single pulley, or in a combination of pulleys, the velo¬
city of the power is to the velocity of the weight as the
weight is to the power.
Case. 1. In the single fixed pulley (fig. 29), it is ob-
ious, that if the weight W is raised uniformly one inch,
ie power D will also describe one inch, consequently ve-
acity of P: velocity of W = W : P.
Case 2. In the single moveable pulley (fig. 30), when
ie, we'S‘lt W is raised one inch, the ropes become one
• / .S101^cr’ and since the rope has always the same
e!s 'C power must describe two inches, therefore ve¬
rity P; velocity W = W : P.
Case 3. In the combination of pulleys (figs. 31, 32, and
2 wllen the 'veight rises one inch, each of the four strings
, an ,nch shorter, so that Pmust describe four inches,
i u d length of the rope is invariable ; consequently velo-
'ty p : velocity W =r W : P.
Case 4. In the system exhibited in fig. 34, it is evi-
)f ; i'at "i 1011 ^le we'ght VY rises one inch, the rope
,l eifihenc,d tvvr° inches> the rope CB four inches,
nw 1 eight inches, and the rope AFP, to which the
nvor 2 nSUSpe^ed’ sixteen inches; so that since the
icity W JTp7 18 aS 16 t0 we have velocity P: ve-
ase 5. In the combination of pulleys represented in
fig. 35, whea the weight W rises one inch, all the three
roP®s CD, BE, AF are each shortened one inch. But
,U, s1hortens one inchj CP becomes one inch longer;
whde BE shortens one inch, BC becomes one inch longer,
and Cl two inches longer (Prop. I. Cor. 1); and while AF
shortens one inch, AB becomes one inch longer, BC twm
inches longer, and CP four inches longer; therefore CP is
lengthened altogether seven inches, and as the power of
the pulley is as 7 to 1, we have, as before, velocity P - ve¬
locity W=W:P. *
Case 6. In the system of pulleys called the Spanish bar¬
ton (fig. 36), when the weight W rises one inch, the three
ropes AC, DE, HG are each shortened one inch. By the
shortening of FIG, CA one inch each, the rope AP is
lengthened two inches; and by the shortening of DE one
inch, BA is lengthened one inch, and AP two inches; con¬
sequently, since AP is lengthened in all four inches, and
since the power of the pulleys is four, we have velocity
P : velocity W = W : P.
Case 7. In the other Spanish barton, in fig. 37, when
the weight is elevated one inch, the three ropes DE, IF,
CG are each one inch shorter. While ED and CG shorten
one inch each, BP is lengthened two inches, and while IF
becomes one inch shorter, AB becomes one inch Icncrer ;
but when AB is lengthened one inch, BP becomes "one
inch longer, and ED, CG one inch shorter each; and by
this shortening of ED, CG, the rope B is lengthened two
inches; therefore, since the rope BP is lengthened alto-
gethei five inches, and since the pulleys have a power of
five, we have, as formerly, velocity P : velocity W~ W : P.
Sect. Ill—On the Wedge.
361
On the
Wedge.
. Definition. A wedge is a machine composed of two 0n
inclined planes with their bases in contact; or, more pro-See?
perly, it is a triangular prism, generated by the motion of
a triangle, parallel to itself, along a straight line passing
through the vertex of one of its angles. The wedge is called
isosceles, rectangular, or scalene, according as the triangle
ABC (fig. 40) by which the wedge is generated, is an isos¬
celes, a rectangular, or a scalene triangle. The part AB
18 !lead or ha?k of'tIle wedge, DC its altitude,
and AC, EC its faces. The wedge is generally employed
for cleaving wood or for quarrying stones; but all cuttino-
instruments, such as knives, swords, chisels, teeth, nail",
pins, needles, awls, &c. properly belong to this mechani¬
cal power, whether they act in a direction at right angles
or oblique to the cutting surface.
ihe wedge is frequently employed in machinery where
a great force is to be exerted through a short space. Fall¬
ing edifices have been thrown back into their perpendicu¬
lar position by means of wedges ; ships are raised in docks
by driving wedges beneath their keels ; and in America
houses are raised by them, and a new story built below.
In the Dutch wind-mills described in a future part of
this article, and used for manufacturing oil of colza, the
seeds from which the oil is expressed are placed in ba^s
of hair lying between two flat pieces of hard wood. Be¬
tween each tv\ o of these pieces of wood a wedge is in¬
serted, and a stamper, lifted by each revolution of the
windshaft, strikes a blow on its head, which compresses
the planes, and consequently the bags, to such a degree,
that the seeds are squeezed into a mass almost as solid as
wood.
A beautiful application of the wedge was made by Mr
Li unel in his earliest attempts to cut veneers. He cut
the wood by the application of pressure to the back of
the wedge, and the thin veneer coiled itself up like a
scioil of papei. Ihe valuable wood was thus cut without
ciiiy loss. As the strata of the wood, however, were
slightly separated by the force which compelled it to roll
368
MECHANICS.
On the itself up, the London cabinet-makers would not purchase
Wedge, it. This apparent defect was, however, a real advantage,
^for the glue insinuated itself into the fissures, and united
the veneer so firmly to its bed that they were insepar¬
able. We have seen, in Mr Brunei’s house at Battersea
Bridge, beautiful furniture made of such veneers. It was
necessary, however, to yield to the prejudices of others,
and Mr Brunei abandoned his method of cutting veneers
by the wedge, and resorted to the system of circular
saws, which he brought to the highest degree of perfec¬
tion.
In all wedges which cut by pressure, the cutting edge
may be much sharper than when they are urged by im¬
pulse. Tools for cutting wood should have an angle of
about 30°, for iron from 50° to 60°, and for brass from
80° to 90°.
Prop. I.
If each of the faces of an isosceles wedge, which are
perfectly smooth, meet with an equal resistance from
forces acting at equal angles of inclination to their
faces, and if a power act perpendicularly upon the back,
these forces will be in equilibrio when the power upon
the back is to the sum of the resistances upon the sides,
as the sine of half the angle of the wedge, multiplied
by the sine of the angle at which the resisting forces
act upon its faces, is to the square of radius.
Let ABC be the wedge, AC, BC its acting faces, and
MD, ND the directions in which the
resisting forces act upon these faces, Fig. 40.
forming with them the equal angles A
DMA, DNB. Draw CD, DF, DE at
right angles to three sides of the wedge,
and join F, E meeting CD in G. On
account of the equal triangles CAD,
CDB (Euclid, book i. prop. 26), AD
=DB ; and in the equal triangles ADM,
BDN, MD = ND. In the same way DF
= DE and AF = BE, therefore CF
— CE. But in the triangles CFG,
CEG there are two sides FC, CG equal to EC, CG, and
the angle FCG = ECG, consequently FG = GE, and
FGC, ADC are both right angles, therefore FE is parallel
to AB. Now the force MD is resolvable into DF, FM, of
which FM has no effect upon the wedge. But, as the ef¬
fective force FD is not in direct opposition to the perpen¬
dicular force exerted on the back of the wedge, we may
resolve it into the two forces FG, GD, of which GD acts
in direct opposition to the power, wdnle FG acts in a di¬
rection parallel to the back of the wedge. In the same
way it may be shown that EG, GD are the only effective
forces which result from the force ND. But the forces
FG, EG being equal and opposite, destroy each other;
consequently 2GD is the force which opposes that which
is exerted upon the back of the wedge, and the wedge will
be kept at rest if the force upon the back is equal to 2GD,
that is, when the force upon the back is to the sum of the
resistances upon the faces as 2GD is to MD + ND, or as
2GD : 2DM, or as GD is to DM. Now
DG:DF — sin. DFG : radius, or as (Euclid, vi. 8) sin.
DCF : radius, and
DF : MD = sin. DMF : radius ; therefore, by compo¬
sition,
DG : MD = sin. DCF X sin. DMF : rad. X rad. or rad.j2.
But DG : MD as the force upon the back is to the sum
of the resistances, therefore the force upon the back is to
the sum of the resistances as sin. DCF X sin. DMF is to
the square of the radius.
Corolla. Cor. 1. If the direction of the resisting forces is per-
nes’ pendicular to the faces of the wedge, DMF becomes a
right angle, and therefore its sine is equal to radius. Con-
sequently we have, in this case, the force upon the back in
to the sum of the resistances, as sin. DCF X rad. is to's-v
radius)*, that is, as sin. DCF is to radius, or as AD half
the back of the wedge is to AC the length of the wedge.
Cor. 2. In the particular case in the proposition it
is obvious that the forces MF, NE are not opposed"by
any other forces, and therefore the force upon the back
will not sustain the resisting forces ; but in the case in Cor,
2 the forces MF, NE vanish, and therefore the other forces
will sustain each other.
Cor. 3. If the resisting forces act in a direction per¬
pendicular to AB, the angle DMF becomes equal to ACD
and therefore the force upon the back is to the sum of the
resistances as sin. ACD|2 is to radius)2, that is, as the
square of AD, half the back of the wedge, is to the square
of AC, the length of the wedge.
Cor. 4. When the direction of the resistances is pa¬
rallel to the back of the wedge, the angle of inclination
DMC becomes the complement of the semi-angle of the
wedge, and therefore the force upon the back is to the sum
of the resistances as the sin. ACD X cos. ACD is to the
square of the radius, that is, as DA X DC is to AC-.
But in the similar triangles DAF, DAC, we haveDF:
DA = DC : AC, and DF X AC = DA X DC, con¬
sequently the force upon the back of the wedge is to the
sum of the resistances as DF X AC is to AC2, that is, as
DF : AC.
i
Prop. II.
If, on account of the friction of the wedge, or any other
cause, the resistances are wholly effective, that is, if
the resisting surfaces adhere to the places to which
they are applied without sliding, there will be an equi¬
librium, when the force upon the back is to the sum of
the resistances, as the sine of the acute angle which the
direction of the resisting forces makes with the back of
the wedge is to radius.
Join MN, fig. 40, which will cut DC perpendicularly at
the point H. Then, since the forces MD, ND are resolv¬
able intoMH, HD and into NH, HD, and since MH,HN
destroy each other, the force upon the back is sustained
by 2HD. Consequently, the force upon the back is to the
sum of the resistances as 2HD is to 2MD, or as HD is to
MD. But the angle ADM, which the direction of the
forces makes with the back of the wedge, is equal toDMN,
and HD is the sine of that angle, MD being radius; there¬
fore the force upon the back is to the sum of the resist¬
ances as sin. ADM : radius. Q,. E. D.
Cor. Since the angle AMD - MDC + MCD, theC<>rolla
angle MDC is the difference between MCD the semi¬
angle of the wedge, and AMD the angle which the direc¬
tion of the resisting forces makes with the face of the
wedge, and since HD is the cosine of that angle, MD be¬
ing radius, we have the force upon the back to the sumot
the resistances, as the cosine of the difference between the
semi-angle of the wedge and the angle which the direction
of the resisting forces makes with the face of the wedge,
is to radius.
Prop. III.
When there is an equilibrium between three forces act¬
ing perpendicularly upon the sides of a wedge of any ^
form, the forces are to one another as the sides of the
wedge. 1
This is obvious from Dynamics, sect. 50, et seq. from
which it follows, that when three forces are in equilibiio,
they are proportional to the sides of a triangle, which are
respectively perpendicular to their directions.
i th<
:rew ^hen the power acting upon the back of a wedge is in
equilibrio with the resistances opposed to it, the velo¬
city of the power is to the velocity of the resistance as
the resistance is to the power.
Produce DM to K (fig. 40), and draw CK perpendicular
to DK. Then, by Prop. I., the power is to the resistance
as MD : DH. Let the wedge be moved uniformly from
D to C, and DK is the space uniformly described by the
resisting force in the direction in which it acts; therefore,
the velocity of the power is to the velocity of the resist¬
ance as DC : DK; that is, on account of the equiangular
triangles DHM, DKC, as MD : DH; that is, as the re¬
sistance is to the power.
MECHANICS.
Prop. IV.
Sect. IV.— On the Screw.
the Definition. A screw is a cylinder with an inclin¬
ed plane wrapped round it, in such a manner, that the
surface of the plane is oblique to the axis of the cylinder,
and forms the same angle with it in every part of the cy¬
lindrical surface. When the inclined plane winds round
the exterior surface of a solid cylinder, it is called a male
screw; but when it is fixed on the interior circumference
of a cylindrical tube, it is called a female screw. In the
female screw, the spiral grooves formed by the inclined
plane on the surface of the cylindrical tube must be equal
in breadth to the inclined plane in the male screw, in order
that the one may move freely in the other. By attending
to the mode in which the spiral threads are formed by the
circumvolution of the inclined plane, it will appear, that if
one complete revolution of the inclined plane is developed,
its altitude will be to its base as the distance between the
threads is to the circumference of
the screw. Thus, let abc (fig. 41) Fig. 41.
be the inclined plane, whose base
is ac and altitude 6c, and let it be
wrapped round the cylinder MN „
'fig* 42), of such a size that the points a, c may
coincide. The surface ab of the plane (fig. 41) Fig. 42.
vill evidently form the spiral thread adeb (fig.
12), and ob, the distance between the threads,
vill be equal to be (fig. 41), the altitude of the
ilane, and the circumference of the screw MN
vill be equal to ac, the base of the plane. If any
)ody, therefore, is made to rise along the plane
ideb in fig. 42, or along the spiral thread of the
crew, by a force acting in a direction parallel
o adeb, there will be the same proportion be-
ween the power and the resistance as if the
ended the plane abc (fig. 41).
A male screw with triangular threads is re¬
resented in fig. 43, and its corresponding fe"
lale screw in fig. 44. A
iale screw with quad-
angular threads is ex¬
isted in fig. 45, and the
Jmale screw in which it
wks in fig. 46. The
iction is considerably
!ss in quadrangular than
1 triangular threads,
lough, when the screw
made of wood, the
iangular threads
'ould be preferred.
• hen the screws
o metallic and
rge, the threads
lould be quadran-
Jlar; but the tri-
vol. xiv.
angular form is preferable in small screws. When the
screw is employed in practice, the power is always applied
to the extremity of a screw-driver or lever placed tempo¬
rarily or fixed permanently in its head. This is shown in
fig. 47, where AB is the lever acting upon the screw BC,
which works in a female screw in the block F, and exerts
its force in bending the spring CD.
Prop. I.
If the screw is employed to overcome any resistance, there
will be an equilibrium when the power is to the resistance
as the distance between two adjacent threads is to the
circumference described by the power.
Let FAK be a section of the screw represented in fig.
45, perpendicular to its axis; CD a portion of the inclined
plane which forms the spi-
369
Fig. 48.
ral thread, and P the power,
which, when applied at C in
the plane ACF, will be in
equilibrium with a weight
upon the inclined plane CD.
Then, in the inclined plane,
when the direction of the
power is parallel to the base,
we have (Prop. I. Cor. 1,
Sect. II.) P : W, as the alti¬
tude of the plane is to the
base, or (Sect. IV. Def.) as the distance between two
threads is to the whole circumference FKCF. If we sup¬
pose another power P' to act at the end of the lever AB,
and describe the arch HBG, and that this powrer produces
the same effect at B as the power P did at C, then (Sect. I.
Prop. I.) we have P: P= CA : BA, that is, as FKCF is to
the whole circumference of the circle HBG; but it was
shown before, that P : W as the distance between two
contiguous threads is to hKCF ; therefore, by composition,
P : W as the distance between two threads is to HBG, or
the circumference of a circle whose radius is AB. Q. E. D.
Cor. 1. It is evident from the proposition, that the
power does not in the least depend upon the size of the
cylinder FCK, but that it increases with the distance oi
that point from the centre A, to which the power is ap¬
plied, and also with the shortness of the distance between
the threads. Therefore, if P, p be the powers applied to
two different screws, D, d the distances of these powers
from the axis, and T, t the distances between the threads;
their energy in overcoming a given resistance will be di¬
rectly as their distances from the axis, and inversely as the
1-v ^
distances of their threads, that is, P : ^ p or P va_
D
ries as rp*
Prop. II.
In the endless screw there will be an equilibrium wEen
the power is to the weight as the distance of the threads
multiplied by the radius of the axle is to the distance
of the power from the axis
of the screw' multiplied by
the radius of the wheel.
The endless screw, which is
represented in fig. 49, consists
of a screw EF, so combined
with the wheel and axle ABC,
that the threads of the screw
may work in teeth fixed in the
periphery of the wheel, and thus
communicate the power exert¬
ed at the handle or winch P.
On the
Screw.
370
M E C II A N I C S.
On the
Screw.
Hunter’s
doubie
screw.
Let W' represent the power produced by the screw a1 the
circumference of the wheel; then, by the last proposition,
P : W' as the distance between the threads is to the dis¬
tance of P from the axis of the screw; but, in the wheel
and axle, W' : W as the radius of the axle is to the radius
of the wheel; therefore, by composition, P: W as the dis¬
tances of the threads multiplied by the radius of the axle
C is to the distance of the power P from the axis multiplied
by the radius of the wheel AB.
Prop. III.
When there is an equilibrium in the screw, the velocity
of the weight is to the velocity of the power as the
power is to the weight.
It is obvious from fig. 48, that while the power describes
the circumference of the circle HBG uniformly, the weight
uniformly rises through a space equal to the distance be¬
tween two adjacent threads; therefore the velocity of the
power is to the velocity of the weight as the distance be¬
tween the threads is to the arch described by the power,
that is (by Prop. I.), as the weight is to the power.
Prop. IV.
To explain the construction and advantages of Mr Hun¬
ter’s double screw.1
Let the screw CD work in the top AB of the frame ABCD,
and have/* threads in an inch: the
cylinder CD, of which this screw
is formed, is a hollow tube, which
is also formed into a screw hav¬
ing /* + 1 threads in an inch,
and into this female screw is in¬
troduced a male screw DE, hav¬
ing, of course, n l threads in
an inch. The screw DE is pre¬
vented from moving round with
CD by the frame ABCD and
the cross bar a b, but is permit¬
ted to ascend and descend with-
outa motion of rotation. Then, by
a revolution of the screw CD, the
other screw DE will rise through
a space equal to  , and if the circumference
described by the lever CK be zn inches, we shall have
P : W = 1 : zz*; or P : W = 1 : zz* z* X /* + 1.
z* + 1 X z*
This reasoning will be more perspicuous by suppos¬
ing zz, or the number of threads in CD, to be 12, and
n -f-1, or the number of threads in DE, will consequently
be 13. Let us suppose that the handle CK is turned round
12 times; the screw CD will evidently ascend through the
space of an inch; and if the screw DE is permitted to
have a motion of rotation along with CD, it will also ad¬
vance an inch. Let the screw DE be now moved back¬
wards by 12 revolutions, it will evidentl}7 describe a space
of yfths of an inch, and the consequence of both these mo¬
tions will be that the point E is advanced yyth ot an inch.
But since DE is prevented from moving round with CD,
the same effect will be produced as if it had moved 12
times round with CD, and had been turned 12 times
backwards; that is, it will in both cases have advanced
yCth of an inch. Since, therefore, it has advanced /yth
of an inch in 12 turns, it will describe only rl2-th of y^th,
or yl-g-th of an inch, uniformly at one turn; but if the length o
of the lever CK is eight inches, its extremity K will de.
scribe, in the same time, a space equal to 16 X 3,1416V*--V!
— 50"2656 inches, the circumference of the circle described
by K ; therefore the velocity of the weight is to the velo¬
city of the power as yy-gth of an inch is to 50-2656 inches
or as 1 is to 7841-4336, that is (Prop. III.), P : W = 1 •
7841-4336. Hence the force of this double screw is much
greater than that of the common screw, for a common one
with a lever 8 inches long must have 156 threads in an
inch to give the same power, w-hich would render it too
weak to overcome any considerable resistance.
Mr Hunter proposes2 to connect with his double screws
a wheel and a lantern, which are put in motion by a
winch or handle. The power of this compound machine
is so great, that a man, by exerting a force of 32 pounds
at the winch, will produce an effect of 172100 pounds; and
if we suppose fds of this effect to be destroyed by friction,
there will remain an effect of 57600 pounds. In some
screws it would be advantageous, instead of perforating
the male screw CD, to have two cylindrical screws of dif¬
ferent kinds at different parts of the same axis. Mr Hun¬
ter also proposes to apply this form of the screw for pro¬
ducing the adjustments in single and double microscopes,
and also for moving the wires or divided lenses of micro¬
meters.
Scholium.
In employing the screw for producing mechanical ef-%lia
fects, it is most useful when a great pressure is to be
erted within a short space. Hence it is used in all presses
where liquids or juices are expressed from solid bodies.
It is peculiarly useful in coining and in printing, where the
pressure of the die upon the metal, or of the types upon
the paper, is required only through a very short space.
The screw is also employed in compressing cotton into
hard dense masses, to reduce it into the smallest bulk for
land or sea carriage. The screw is likewise used for raising
water, in which form it is called the screw of Archimedes
(see Hydrodynamics) ; and it has been lately employed
in the flour-mills in America for pushing the flour which
comes from the mill-stones to the end of a long trough,
from which it is conveyed to other parts of the machinery,
in order to undergo the remaining processes. In this case,
the spiral threads are very large in proportion to the cylin¬
der on which they are fixed.
As the lever attached to the extremity of the screwMicra
moves through a very great space when compared with ter sen
the velocity of its other extremity, or of any body which
it puts in motion, the screw is of immense use in sub¬
dividing any space into a great number of minute parts.
Hence it is employed in the engines for dividing mathe¬
matical instruments, and in those which have been recent¬
ly used in the art of engraving. It is likewise of great use
in the common wire micrometer, and in the divided ob¬
ject-glass micrometer, instruments to which the science of
astronomy has been under great obligations. j
Sect. V.— On the Balance.
Definition. The balance, in a mathematical sense, On rtf
is a lever of equal arms, for determining the weights ot311
bodies. The physical balance is represented in fig. 51,
where FA, FB are the equal arms of the balance, F ks
centre of motion situated a little above the centre of gra¬
vity of the arms, FD the handle, which always retains a
vertical position, P, W the scales suspended from the
points A, B, and CF the tongue or index of the balance,
1 See Phil. Trans, vol. Ixxi. p. 58.
2 Ibid. p. G5.
MECHANICS.
371
,th< which is exactly per-
ianci pendicular to the beam
" AB, and is continued
below the centre of mo¬
tion, so that the momen¬
tum of the part below
Fis equal and opposite
to the momentum of
that part which is above
it. Since the handle
FD, suspended by the
hook H, must hang in a
vertical line, the tongue
CF will also be vertical
when its position coincides with that of FD, and conse¬
quently the beam AB, which is perpendicular to CF, must
be horizontal. When this happens, the weights in the
scale are evidently equal.
Prop. I.
To determine the conditions of equilibrium in a physical
balance.
Let AOB, fig. 52, be the beam, whose weight is S, and
let P, Q be equal weights expressed by the letter p, and
placed in the scales, whose weights are L and l. Let
0 be the centre of motion, and g the centre of gravity
Fig. 52.
of the whole beam, when
unloaded; we shall have in
the case of an equilibrium,
I. p + L X AC = fi+l
X BC + S X Cc,* for since
S is the weight of the beam,
and g its centre of gravity,
its mechanical energy in act¬
ing against the weights p
+ L is—5 X Cc, the distance
of its centre of gravity from
the vertical line passing
through the centre of mo¬
tion O.
II. But since AC=BC; joX AC—p X BC =0. Then,
aftei transposition, take this from the equation in No. I.
and we shall have,
III. Z X BC — L X AC + SXCc; or L—Cc,
, AC
Let us now suppose that a small weight w is placed in
the scale L, the line AB which joins the points of suspen¬
sion will be no longer horizontal, but will assume an in¬
clined position. Let BAX — p be the angle which the
beam makes with the direction of gravity. Then, by re¬
solving the weight of the beam which acts in the direction
UZ, the parts „ and ' ■ will be in equilibrio, and we
shall have,
On the
Balance.
IV. p + L X AO X sin. XAO + S X OG X sin. + BO X sin. ABO + S X Cc X cos. p.
But since the sines and cosines of any angles are the same as the sines and cosines of their supplement, we have,
V. + L X AC X coTp-OcXsin. p + S X OG X sin. + w X AC X cds. p + OC X sin7ip + S X Cc X cos. ©.
Hence, by No. III. we have,
VI. Tan. —
w X AC
2j» + L + / + tt>XOC-FSX OG
But the force v with which the balance attempts to re-
over its horizontal situation, is the excess of momenta
nth which one arm is moved, above the momenta with
diich the other arm is moved; therefore
r = 2jo-f L + / X OC X sin. p + S X OG X sin. p.
A more extended illustration of these conditions of
quilibrium will be found in an excellent paper by Eu-
2r, published in the Comm,ent. Petropol. tom. x. p. 1, and
i another memoir upon the same subject by Kuhne in the
rcrsnche der naturforchende gesellchhaft \n Dantzig, tom. i.
• 1. See also Hennert’s Cursus Matheseos applicata:, tom.
§ 123. From the preceding formulae, the following prac-
cal corollaries may be deduced.
Cor. 1. The arms of the balance must be exactly equal
i length, which is known by changing the weights in the
:ales; for if the equilibrium continues, the arms must be
jual.
Cor. 2. The sensibility of the balance increases with
'e length of the arms.
Cor. 3. If the centre of motion coincides with the point
and the centre of gravity, the balance will be in equi-
Jrio in any position, and the smallest weight added to
ie of the scales will bring the beam into a horizontal
>sition. The centre of motion, therefore, should not
"ncide with the centre of gravity.
Cor. 4. If the centre of motion is in the line which
ins the points of suspension, the accuracy of the ba-
nce will be increased. The excess of the weights may
1 easily determined by the inclination of the beam,
, anted out by the tongue or index upon a circular arch
;ed to the handle, or more accurately by means of two
vu!e.“ arches fixed, near the points of suspension, on a
ind independent of the balance. When the value of one
of these divisions is determined experimentally, the rest
are easily found, being proportional to the tangents of the
inclination of the beam.
Cor. 5. The sensibility of the balance will increase,
the nearer that the centre of gravity approaches to the cen¬
tre of motion.
Cor. 6. If the centre of gravity is above the centre of
motion, the balance is useless.
Scholium.
A balance with all the properties mentioned in the pre- Kuhne’s
ceding corollaries, has been invented by M. Kuhne, and de- balance,
scribed in the work already quoted in the Proposition. It
is so contrived that the points of suspension may be placed
either above the centre of motion or below it, or in the
line of its axis; the beam is furnished with an index,
which points out the proportion of the weights upon a di¬
vided scale, and the friction of the axis is diminished by
the application of friction wheels.
In order to get rid of the difficulties which attend the Magellan’s
construction of the tongue, the handle, and the arms of balance,
the balance, M. Magellan invented a very accurate and
moveable one, in Which there is no handle, and where one
of the arms acts as a tongue. The body to be weighed
and the counterpoise are placed in the same scale, so "that
it is of little consequence whether the arms of the balance
are equal or not. In this balance the centre of motion
can be moved to the smallest distance from the centre of
gravity. See Journal de Physique, Jan. 1781, tom. xvii.
p. 43.
The balance invented by Ludlam, and described in theLudlam’s
Philosophical Transactions for 1765, No. 55, depends balance,
upon TEpinus’s property of the lever, which we have ex¬
plained in Prop. V. Sect. I. The angular lever AFB, in
which AF = FB, is moveable round f, which is equi¬
distant from A and B. The weight P is suspended by
a thread from A; and the body W, which is to be weigh-
MECHANICS.
372
On the ed, is suspended by" a thread Fig. 53.
Centre of from g. Hence it is obvious,
'^enu\ that with different bodies the
lever AFB will have different
degrees of inclination, and the
index or tongue LF£ which is
perpendicular to AB, will form
different angles ZFL, bFf with
the line of direction ZFZ>. Now,
by Cor. 5, Prop. III. Sect. I.,
and by substituting for 6B, bA
the sines of the angles F5B,
F5A, to which they are propor¬
tional, and also by taking, in¬
stead of FZ>B, the difference of the angles/FB, fFb, and in¬
stead of AF&, the sum of these angles, we shall have
P — W AFB
tan./F5 = p + ^ X tan. ;
whence, by transposition, and by Geometry,
__________ . A T7TJ
P + w : P — W r= tan. —: tan./F6.
Hence, when the angle formed by the arms of the ba¬
lance, and the angle of aberration fFb or ZFL, are
known, the weights may be found, and vice versa.
See the article Balance, vol. iv. page 303, for more
detailed information on this subject, and for a description
of various balances.
CHAP. IV. ON THE CENTRE OF INERTIA OR GRAVITY.
FC, and find the point / so
that A + B:C = C/:/F ;
the bodies A, B, C, will conse¬
quently be in equilibrio upon
the point^ which will sus¬
tain a pressure equal to A +
B + C. Join Dyj and take
the point p, so that A + B
+ C : D = <pF) : <pf; the
bodies A, B, C, D will there¬
fore be in equilibrio about the
point (p, which will be their
common centre of inertia, and which supports a weight
equal to A + B + C + D. In the same manner we mav
find the centre of inertia of any system of bodies, by
merely connecting the last fulcrum with the next body
by an inflexible right line, and finding a new fulcrum from
the magnitude of the opposite weights which it is to sus¬
tain.
Cor. 1. If the weights of the bodies A, B, Cv D
be increased or diminished in a given ratio, the centre
of inertia of the system will not be changed, for the po¬
sitions of the points F, ftp are determined by the rela¬
tive and not by the absolute weights of the bodies.
Cor. 2. A motion of rotation cannot be communicated
to a body by means of a force acting upon its centre
of inertia; for the resistances which the inertia of each
particle opposes to the communication of motion act in
parallel directions, and as they are proportional to the
weights of the particles, they will be in equilibrio about
the centre of gravity.
Definition. The centre of inertia, or the centre of
gravity, of any body or system of bodies, is that point upon
which the body or system of bodies, when influenced
only by the force of gravity, will be in equilibrio in every
position. The centre of inertia of plain surfaces bounded
by right lines, and also of some solids, may be easily de¬
termined by common geometry. The application of the
method of fluxions, however, to this branch of mecha¬
nics is so simple and beautiful, that we shall also avail
ourselves of its assistance. The centre of gravity has been
called by some writers the centre of position, and by
others the centre of mean distances.
Prop. I.
To find the centre of inertia of any number of bodies,
whatever be their position.
Let A, B, C, D be any number of bodies influenced by
the force of gravity. Suppose the bodies A, B connected
by the inflexible line AB considered as devoid of weight,
then find a point F, so that the weight of A : the weight of
B = BF : FA, The bodies A, B will therefore be in equili¬
brio about the point F in every position (Prop. I. Sect. I.),
and the pressure upon F will be equal to A + B. Join
Prop. II.
To find the centre of inertia of any number of bodies pla¬
ced in a straight line.
Let A, B, C, D, E be any number of bodies whose com¬
mon centre of gravity is p. In the straight line AE take
Fig. 55.
A B C B A
^ 0 0—r .Q'AJ
any point X. Then, since all the bodies are in equilibrio
about their common centre of gravity <p, we have by the pro-
perty of the lever (Prop. I. Sect. I.), AXAp + BXBp =
C X C 9 + D -f D p + E X E p; but since Xp-
XA = A p, and X p — X B = B <p, and so on with the
rest, we have by substitution A X X p — XA + B X
Xp — XB - C X Xp — XC + DxXp-XD + E
X X p — XE. Hence, by multiplying and transpos-
ing, we obtain A XXp+BXXp + C X X p "t"
D X X p + E X Xp= A X XA + 1TAXB +
CfxXC + D X XD + E X XE, then dividing by A +
B + C + D + E, we have
Xp -
A X XA + B X XB + C X XC + D X XD + E X XE
A+B+C+D+E
Now, A X XA, B X XB, &c. are evidently the momenta or system of bodies
of the bodies A, B, &c. and the divisor A + B + C +
D + E is the sum of the weights of all the bodies ; there¬
fore the distance of the point X from the centre of gravity
p is equal to the sum of the momenta of all the weights
divided by the sum of the weights.
Cor. 1. If the point X had been taken between A and
E, then the quantity A X XA would have been reckoned
negative, as lying on a different side of the point X.
Cor. 2. From this proposition we may deduce a ge¬
neral rule for finding the centre of gravity in any body
Let any point be assumed at the ex¬
tremity of the system, then the product ol the momenta
of all the bodies (or the product arising from the con i
nual multiplication of each body by its distance f e
point), divided by the sum of the weights of all the bo ies^
will be a quotient which expresses the distance o
centre of gravity from the point assumed.
Prop. III.
If, in a system of bodies, a perpendicular be let faB fr0®
each upon a given plane, the sum of the produc s
# n
n tlr
tre f
lerti
MECHANICS.
each body multiplied by its perpendicular distance from
the plane, is equal to the sum of all the bodies multiplied
by the perpendicular distance of their common centre
of inertia from the given plane.
Let A, B, C be the bodies which compose the system,
and MN the given plane ; by Prop. I. Sect. V. find F the
373
sity, each being equal in weight to the particles in the On the
me b ; theretore, by Prop. IV., its centre of inertia will Centre of
be in <p, its middle point. Inertia.
Fig. 56.
Fig. 58.
centre of inertia of A and B, and G the centre of gravity
of the three bodies ; and from A, F, B, G, C draw Aa, Yf,
B5, Gy, Cc perpendicular to the plane MN. Through F
drawxFy, meeting Aa produced in x, and BZ> in ij, then in
the similar triangles AxY, ByF, we have Ax: By = AF :
BF, that is (Prop. I. Sect. V.), as B : A, hence A X A x
= B X By, that is, A X xa. — Aa B X B6 — yZ», or,
on account of the equality of the lines xa, Yf B5, A X
F/1—Aa BX B5 — therefore, by multiplying and
transposing, we have A + B X¥f= A X Aa + B X BA
In the very same way, by drawing wGz parallel to the plane,
it may be shown that A + B +~C X Gy = A X Aa + B
X B6 + C X Cc. Q. E. D.
Corollary. By dividing by A + B + C we have
a _ A x Aa + B X B6 + C X Cc
A + B + C
Prop. IV.
fo find the centre of inertia of a straight line composed
of material particles.
If we consider the straight line as composed of a num¬
ber of material particles of the same size and density, it is
evident that its centre of inertia will be a point in the line
equidistant from its extremities. For if we regard the
line as a lever supported upon its middle point as a ful-
cium, it will evidently be in equilibrio in every position,
as the number of particles or weights on each side of the
fulcrum are equal.
Prop. V.
lo find the centre of inertia of a parallelogram.
be a parallelogram of uniform density, bi¬
sect AB in F, and having drawn F/1 parallel to AC or BD,
msect it in p; the point <p will be the
centre of inertia of the parallelogram.
Lie parallelogram may be regarded
as composed of lines AB, ab parallel
to one another, and consisting of ma¬
terial particles of the same size and
density. Now, by Prop. I. Sect. V., the
centre of inertia of AB is F, and the
centre of inertia of ab is c and in
ie same way it may be shown that
comrr,e of every line of which the surface is
comf f !.es 1111 le '’ne F/ But I^may be considered as
1 osed of a number of material particles of uniform den-
Prop. VI.
To find the centre of inertia of a triangle.
Let ABC be a triangle of uniform density, and let AB,
BC be bisected in the points
E, D. Join CE, AD, and
the point of intersection F
shall be the centre of inertia
of the triangle ABC. The
triangle may be considered
as composed of a number of
parallel lines of material par¬
ticles BC, be, [3%; but in the
similar triangles ADC, Aec,
AD : DC = Ae : ec ; and in
the triangles ADC, ADB,
Aeb, BD : DA = be : eA; B 5 C
hence, by composition, BD : DC = be : ec; but BD and
DC are equal, therefore be — ec; and the line be, supposed
to consist of material particles, will be in equilibrio about e.
In the same way it may be shown that every other line j3x
will be in equilibrio about a point situated in the line AD,
consequently the centre of gravity is in that line. For the
same reason it follows, that the centre of gravity is in the
line CE, that is, it will be in F, the point of intersection
of these two lines. In order to determine the relation be¬
tween FA and FD, join ED; then, since BE = EA, and
BD — DC, BE : EA rr BD : DC, and consequently ED
is parallel to AC, and the triangles BED, BAG similar.
We have, therefore, CA : CB = DE : DB, and by alterna¬
tion CA : DE = CB : DB, that is, CA : DE = 2 : 1. In
the similar triangles CFA, DFE, AF : AC = DF : DE,
and by alternation AF: DF = AC : DE, that is, AF : DF
= 2 : 1, or AF = | AD.
1. Since
AB2 + AC2 = 2BD2 + 2AB2 = £ BC2 + | AF2,
AB2 + BC2 = 2CC2 + 2BG2 = i AC2 + | CF2,
AC2 + BC2 = 2AE + 2EC2 = i AB2 + flF2
we have, by adding these three equations, and removing
the fractions, AB2 -f BC2 + AC2 = 3AF‘2 -f 3CP +
3BF2, or in any plane triangle, the sum of the squares of
the three sides is equal to thrice the sum of the squares
of the distances of the centre of gravity from each of the
angular points.
Corollary 2. By resolving the three quadratic equa-
tions in the preceding corollary, we obtain AF = J
a/2 AB2 + 2 AC2— BCC CF - ^ V2 BA2 + 2 BC2— Ac4
and BF = ^ V2 BC2 + 2 AC2 —AB2, formulae which ex¬
press the distances of the centre of gravity from each of
the angular points.
Prop. VIE
To find the centre of in¬
ertia of a trapezium or
any rectilineal figure.
Let ABCDE be the tra¬
pezium, and let it be divid¬
ed into the triangles ABC,
ACE, ECD by the lines
AC, EC. By the last pro-E
position find m, n, o, the
centres of gravity of the
triangles, and take the point
F in the line mn, so that
Yn : Ym = triangle ABC :
Fig. 59.
374
MECHANICS.
On the triangle ACE, then F will be the centre of gravity of these
Centre of triangles. Join Fo, and find a point f, so thatyb : Ff =
Inertia, triangle ABC + triangle ACE : triangle CED, then all the
triangles will be in equilibrio about/; that is,/is the centre
of gravity of the rectilineal figure ABCD-E. The same
method may be employed in finding the centre of gravity
of a trapezium, whatever be the number of its sides.
Prop. VIII.
To find the centre of inertia of a pyramid with a polygo¬
nal base.
Let the pyramid be triangular, as ABCD, fig. 60. Bi¬
sect BD in F, and join
CF and FA. Make F/ Fig. 60.
= ^ of FC, and F <p = ±
of FA, and draw/p. It is
evident, from Prop. II. of
this chapter, that/ is the
centre of gravity of the
triangular base BCD, and
that the line Af, which
joins the vertex and the
point f, will pass through the centre of gravity of all the
triangular laminae or sections of the pyramid parallel to its
base BCD; for, by taking any section bed, and joining cm,
it may be easily shown that bm — md, and mn — ^ me, so
that n is the centre of gravity of the section bed. It follows,
therefore, that A/will pass through the centre of gravity of
the pyramid. In the same way it may be shown, by consi¬
dering ABD as the base, and C the vertex, and making
F<p = ^ FA, that the centre of gravity lies in the line pC.
But as the lines Af, <pC lie in the plane of the triangle
AFC, they must intersect each other ; and therefore the
point of intersection H will be the centre of inertia of the
triangular pyramid. Now, since Ff= } FC, and Fp = £FA,
we have Fp : FA=I/: FC, therefore/& is parallel to AC.
The triangle <pfH will consequently be similar to AHC,
and Hip : HC Hf: HA =fp : AC —1:3; therefore
Hp = | HC = £ pC, and/H = | AH — 1 Af.
When the pyramid has a polygonal base, it may be
conceived to be formed of a number of triangular pyra¬
mids, wrhose centres of inertia will be in one plane pa¬
rallel to the base. Their common centre of gravity will
therefore be in the same plane, and in the line drawn from
the vertex to the centre of gravity of all the triangles
which compose the base; the distance of the centre of
gravity, therefore, from the vertex, will be equal to three
fourths of the altitude of the pyramid.
Cor. 1. Hence it is obvious that the centre of gravi¬
ty of a right cone is a point in its axis whose distance
from the vertex is equal to three fourths of the length of
the axis; for as this may be demonstrated of a pyramid
whose base is a polygon with an infinite number of sides,
it must hold also of a right cone, which may be considered
as a pyramid of this description.
Cor. 2. By proceeding as in Prop. II. Cor. 1, of this chap¬
ter, it will be found, that in a triangular pyramid, the dis¬
tance of any of the vertices from its centre of inertia is equal
to one fourth of the square root of the difference of thrice
the sum of the squares of the three edges which meet at
that vertex, and the sum of the squares of the other three
edges; and likewise, that the sum of the squares of the
distances of the centre of inertia from the vertices of any
triangular pyramid, is equal to one fourth of the sum of the
squaies of the six edges of the pyramids. A demonstration
of these theorems may be seen in Gregory’s Mechanics,
vol. i. p. 59, 60. & ^ >
In order to show the application of the doctrine of
calculus l
the deter,
minator (
the centn
ofinertii
fluxions to the determination of the centre of inertia of
curve lines, areas, solids, and the surfaces of solids, let "
ABC be any curve line whose
axis is BR. Then, since the
axis bisects all the ordinates
DG, AC, each of the ordinates,
considered as composed of ma¬
terial particles, will be in equi¬
librio about their points of bi¬
section E, R ; and therefore the
centre of inertia of the body will
lie in the axis. But if we consider the body as composed of
a number of small weights D<^G, we shall find its centre of
inertia by multiplying each weight by its distance from anv
line mn parallel to the ordinates, and dividing the sum of all
these products by the sum of all the particles (Prop. II. 0f
this chapter). Thus, let x denote the distance EB, then
its fluxion x will be the breadth of the element or small
weight HdgG, and x x DG will represent the weight, and
the fluent of this quantity will be the sum of all the weights.
Again, if we multiply the weight x X DGby# = EB, its
distance from the point B, we shall have the momentum of
that weight — x y. x x DG, and the fluent of this quan¬
tity will express the sum of the momenta of all the weights
into which the body is divided. But, by Prop. II. the dis¬
tance of the centre of gravity from a given point B is equal
to the sum of all the momenta divided by the sum of all
the weights or bodies, that is, if F be the centre of gra¬
vity of the body ABC, we have FB
fluent of x x a;DG
; )
fluent of a; x DG
calling y the ordinate DE, we have DG = 2y, and
FB
fluent of x 2
yx
or FB —
fluent of xyx.
inthecase
fluent of 2 yx fluent yx
of areas.
In the case of solids generated by rotation, the element
or small weight x x DG will be a circular section, whose
diameter is 2DE — 2y, and since the area of a circle is
equal to its circumference multiplied by its diameter, we
have (making tt — 3T416) 2 vifx — the circular section
whose diameter is DG ; and since x y 2 m/x, or 2 tx/x,
will represent the momentum of the weight, we shall have
fluent of 2 rxxy^x ,  
I’D =— r, and dividing by 2 ?ry, we have
fluent of 2 vy^x
_ fluent of yxx
fluent of yx
In finding the centre of inertia of the surfaces of so¬
lids, the elements or small weights are the circumferences
of circles, whose radii are the ordinates of the curve by
whose revolution the solid is generated. Now, the sur¬
face of the solid may be conceived to be generated by the
circumference of a circle increasing gradually from B to¬
wards A and C ; making z therefore equal to BD, its flux¬
ion z multiplied into the periphery of the circle whose dia¬
meter is DG, that is, 2 ntyz, will express the elementary
surface or small weight whose diameter is DG. Then,
since x y 2 nyz, or 2 xxyz, will be the momentum of the
elementary weight, we shall have FB = .fllie.n—
fluent of 2*yz
and dividing by 2 w, we obtain FB = fluent of^f.
fluent of xyz
If the body whose centre of inertia is to be found be
a curve line, as GBD (fig. 61), then it is manifest that
the small weights will be expressed by the fluxion of
GBD, that is, by 2 z, since GBD = 2 BD — 2 x; con-
tr
th. sequently their momenta will be 2 xz, and we shall have
fluent 2 xz fluent xz fluent xz
eftii PR = r
'T'- fluent 2 z
MECHANICS.
375
fluent z
Prop. IX.
To find the centre of inertia of
a circular segment.
Let AE = x, EC rr y, and
AD the radius of the circle
= R, consequently OE — 2
]|—EA. Then, since by the
property of the circle OE X EA
rr BE2, we have, by substitution,
BE2 = 2R X EA — EA X EA,
or if — 2R* — x0~ ; hence y —
V2Rx — sc2- Now, by p. 374,
col. 2, we have the distance of the centre of gravity from A,
. fluent xyx . .
that is, AO — — ; but the fluent of yx or the sum
fluent yx
of all the weights, is equal to the area of half the segment
fluent xyx
I. Cor. 1, of this chapter, find m the centre of inertia of the On the
triangle BCD, and by the last proposition find G the centre Centre of
of inertia of the segment; then take a point n so situated ^ner^a*
between G and m, that ABEC : BCB — mn : Gn, then the
point n will be the centre of gravity of the sector. By pro¬
ceeding in this way, it will be found that Bn, or the distance
of the centre of gravity of the sector from the centre of the
circle, is a fourth proportional to the semiarc, to the semi¬
chord, and to two thirds of the radius.
Prop. XL
\
To find the centre of inertia of a plane surface bound¬
ed by a parabola whose equation is y rz axn.
Since y = axn, multiply both terms by xx, and x sepa¬
rately, and wehave yxx—crxMx, smAyx~axnx. But, by p.
374, col. 2, we have FB——°f ^; therefore, by substi-
fluent yx
tuting the preceding values of xyx and yx in the formula,
ABEC; therefore AG =
Then, by substitut-
we obtain FB
it becomes
JABEC’
ing instead of y, in this equation, the value of it de¬
duced from the property of the circle, we have AG
fluent of a:a?v'2Rjr — of
= ABEC ’ 0r’m °™er t0 "11C* dis¬
tance of the centre of gravity from the centre, we must
substitute instead of x (without the vinculum) its value
R - *, and we have GD = fluent (R ~ — <).
72 ABEC
Now, in order to find the fluxion of the numerator of
the preceding fraction, assume z — 2R* — x2, and z
= V,2R*—x2, and by taking the fluxion, we have z — 2Rx
— 2*x = 2R — 2# X x ; but this quantity is double of the
irst term of the numerator, therefore ^ — R—x X x. By
substituting these values in the fractional formula, we ob-
fluent of axn+lx
—   r , and by taking the fluents
fluent of axnx
axn+2
FB -
n -{- 2 w + I
axn+L w + 2
X x.
sainGDzzfluent-^ X £z
& w
z^r */2Rx —
"3 ~ 3
but since
/ = 2Rx — xx\l, we have, by raising both sides to the third
wwer, if — 211a; — xxfy \ therefore GD — -—
__ 5r% X 8?/ J_(2?/)3
~ MBEC ^ ABEC’ ^iat ^s’ t^e distance of the centre
>1 gravity of a circular segment from the centre of the
ucle, is equal to the twelfth part of the cube of twice the
irdinate (or the chord of the segment) divided by the area
"i the segment.
Cor. When the segment becomes a semicircle we
lave 2y ~ 2r ; and therefore = GD—T'g (2r^ —
ABEC ~ 12 ABEC
. 8 X r3 r3
~ 12 ABEC ^ I i ABEC’ tIiat is> tlie distance of the
entre of gravity of a semicircle from the centre of the
enncircle is equal to the cube of the radius divided by
"e and a half times the area of the segment.
Prop. X.
1 o find the centre of inertia of the sector of a circle.
Let ABDC, fig. 62, be the Sector of the circle. By Prop.
n -f- 1
n, therefore,^ be equal to then y — <xx\\ and, squar¬
ing both sides, if — a-z, which is the equation of the com¬
mon or Apollonian parabola. Hence FB = ^x, that is, the
distance of the centre of gravity from the vertex is f ths of
the axis.
When n is equal to 1, then y — ax, and the parabola de¬
generates into a triangle, in which case FB = §#, as in
Prop. VI. of this chapter.
Prop. XII.
To find the centre of inertia of a solid, generated by the
revolution of the preceding curve round its axis.
Since y — axn, square both sides, and we have y1 — d?x2n ;
then multiply both sides .by and x separately, we obtain
if xx — d2xln+lx, and ifx — a?x?nx. But, by p. 374, col. 2,
wehave FB =^uento^/^; therefore, by substituting the
fluent of yx °
preceding values of ifxx and ifx in that formula, we ob-
. fluent of a2x?'n3-Ax . , . . . _
tain r B — j-, and by taking the fluents we
shall have j
fluent of a~x2nx
FB = 2” + 2 _ 2,i+-I x i.
alx2n+l 2/i + 2
2n T* 1
Wlien n = the solid becomes a common paraboloid,
and we obtain FB — §x.
When n= 1, the solid becomes a cone, and FB = %x, as
in Prop. VIII. Cor. 1, of this chapter.
Prop. XIII.
To find the centre of inertia of a spherical surface or
zone, comprehended between two parallel planes, or of
the spherical surface of any spherical segment.
Let BMNC, fig. 62, be a section of the spherical surface
comprehended between the planes BC, MN, and let EP
376
MECHANICS.
On the = x, EC = y, DC = R, and z — the arc CN. Suppose
Centre of the abscissa EP to increase by the small quantity Eo, draw
Inertia. or para]]ei to EC, Cs parallel to Eo, and Cr perpendicular
^ v to DC; then it is evident, that in the similar triangles CDE,
Csr, EC : DC = Cs : Cr, that is, ?/: R zz Cs : Cr; but Cr
is the fluxion of the arc NC, and Cs the fluxion of the ab¬
scissa PE; therefore y : R = a? : z, and zy — Ra:, and z
- —. Now,by p. 374, col. 2, FB_fluent therefore,
V ' fluent of xyz
by substituting the preceding value of z in this formula, we
obtain FB =
fluent of Ra;a?
^S.xxz
fluent of Rx
t , for _JL
Jixz
?^and(divid-
llyxz
tance of the centre of inertia of a circular arc from the Onti,
centre of the circle is a fourth proportional to the arc, the Centre''
chord of the arc, and radius.' Inertia,
When the arc BAG becomes a semicircle, PC or aris^^
equal to DG or radius, so that we have 2 z : 2 R = R ;
or 4 Z : 4 R = R : t/; but 4 z is equal to the whole circutn-
ference of the circle, and 4 R is equal to twice the diame¬
ter ; therefore, 3-141593 :2 = R:d; henced = -JliL.
3-141593
- -63662 R.
When y is equal to 2R, or when the arc ABC be¬
comes equal to the whole circumference of the circle,
• R zp
x vanishes, and is = 0, and therefore = 0, which
z
shows that the centre of inertia coincides with the centre
of the circle.
. Rrra;
mg by yz) = ;
Ra?
By taking the fluents we obtain FB
± x, a fluent which requires no correction, as
the other quantities vanish at the same time with x.
When DP is equal to DC, the solid becomes a sphe¬
rical segment, and EA becomes the altitude of the seg¬
ment, so that universally the centre of gravity of the
spherical surface of a spherical segment is in the middle
of the line which is the altitude of the segment, or in the
middle of the line which joins the centres of the two
circles that bound the spherical segment.
When the spherical segment is a hemispheroid, the
centre of gravity of its hemispherical surface is obviously
at the distance of one half the radius from its centre.
Prop. XIV.
To find the centre of inertia of a circular arc.
Let ACB be the circular arc,
it is required to find its centre Fig. 63.
of inertia, or the distance of the
centre of inertia of the half arc
AC from the diameter HG ; for
it is evident that the line which
joins the centres of gravity of
each of the semiarcs AB, AC
must be parallel to HG, and therefore the distance of their
common centre of gravity, which must be in that line, from
the line HG, will be equal to the distance of the centre of
gravity of the semiarc from the same line. Make PC
— DE =: ay EC — y, DC zz DA = R, and AC = z, then
it may be shown, as in the last proposition, that y: R zz x
: z ; hence'z y zz R#. But, by p. 374, col. 2, we have FB
fluent’of yz , . . , . . . , r
zz  —, y being m this case equal to x in the for¬
mula referred to, and, substituting the preceding value of yz,
• , ™ fluent of Ra? , .. , _
it becomes rB zz > and, taking the fluent, we
have FB zz
R x
z
which requires no correction, as the fluent
of yz vanishes at the same time with x. Calling d, there¬
fore, the distance of the centre of inertia of the arc BAG
R 3C
from the centre D, we have d zz  , and dz zz Ra-;
z
hence z:azzR:d, or2Z:2azzR:e?, that is, the dis-
Scholium I.
From the specimens which the preceding propositions
contain of the application of the formulae in page 374, col.
2, the reader will find no difficulty in determining the
centre of inertia of other surfaces and solids, when he is
acquainted with the equation of the curves by which the
surfaces are bounded, and by whose revolution the solids
are generated.
A knowledge of the nature of these curves, however, is
not absolutely necessary for the determination of the
centres of inertia of surfaces and solids. A method of
finding the centre of gravity, without employing the equa¬
tion of the bounding curves, was discovered by our coun¬
tryman Mr Thomas Simson.1 It was afterwards more
fully illustrated by Mr Chapman, in his work On the Con¬
struction of Ships; by M. Leveque, in his translation of
Don George Juan’s Treatise on the Construction and Ma¬
nagement of Vessels ; and by M. Prony, in his Architecture
Hydraulique, tom. i. p. 93; to which we must refer such
readers as wish to prosecute the subject.
Scholium II.
As it is frequently of great use to know the position Positionc
of the centre of inertia in bodies of all forms, we shall the centre
collect all the leading results which might have been ob-^y^
tained by the method given in the preceding proposition. varjous
1. The centre of inertia of a straight line is in its middlefoim
point.
2. The centre of inertia of a parallelogram is in the in¬
tersection of its diagonals.
3. The centre of inertia of a triangle is distant from its
vertex two thirds of a line drawn from the vertex to the
middle of the opposite side.
4. The centre of inertia of a circle and of a regular
polygon coincides with the centres of these figures.
5. The centre of inertia of a parallelepiped is in the
intersection of the diagonals joining its opposite angles.
6. The centre of inertia of a pyramid is distant from its
vertex three fourths of the axis.
7. The centre of inertia of a right cone is in a point in
its axis whose distance from the vertex is three fourths ot
the axis. . .
8. In the segment of a circle, the centre of inertia is
distant from the centre of the circle a twelfth part of the
cube of the chord of the segment divided by the area of
T C3 . .
the segment, or r/ zz ■ -, where d zz the distance of tne
A
centre of inertia from the centre of the circle, C = ^’e
chord of the segment, and A its axis.
Mathematical Dissertations, p. 109.
the
|« (
r(Sa.
MECHANICS.
.377
9. In the sector of a circle, the centre of inertia is dis¬
tant from the centre of the circle by a quantity which is
a fourth proportional to the semiarc, the semichord, and
"two thirds of the radius.
10. In a spherical surface or zone, comprehended be¬
tween two planes, the centre of inertia is in the middle of
the line which joins the centres of the two circular planes
by which it is bounded. When one of the circular planes
vanishes, the spherical zone becomes the spherical surface
of a spherical segment; therefore,
11. In a spherical surface of a spherical segment, the
centre of inertia is in the middle of its altitude or versed
sine; consequently,
12. The centre of inertia of the surface of a complete
sphere coincides with the centre of the sphere.
13. In a spherical segment, the centre of inertia is dis-
~ 3$?
;ant from the vertex by a quantity equal to -—- - X x,
OCJ/ ' TTci?
rthere a is the diameter of the sphere, and x the altitude
jr versed sine of the segment; hence,
14. The centre of inertia of a hemisphere is distant from
ts vertex by a quantity equal to five eighths of the radius,
)r it is three eighths of the radius distant from the hemi-
sphere; and,
15. The centre of inertia of a complete sphere coincides
vith the centre of the sphere.
16. In a circular arc, the centre of inertia is distant from
Rci?
ts centre by a quantity equal to , where R is the ra-
z
lius, x the semichord, and 2 the semiarc ; hence,
17. In a semicircular arc, the centre of inertia is distant
rom its centre '63662 R ; and,
18. The centre of inertia of the circumference of a circle
coincides with the centre of the circle.
19. In a circular sector, the centre of inertia is distant
2cR
rom the centre of the circle - - > where R is the radius,
i the arc, and c its chord.
20. In a spherical sector, composed of a cone and sphe-
ical segment, the centre of inertia is distant from the ver-
<2
ex of the segment by a quantity equal to ——■ *
8 ’
vhere R is radius, and x the altitude or versed sine of the
egment.
21. In an ellipsis, the centre of inertia coincides with
he centre of the figure.
22. The centre of inertia of an oblate and prolate sphe-
oid, solids generated by the revolution of an ellipse round
"s lesser and its greater axes respectively, coincides with
he centres of the figures.
23. In the segment of an oblate spheroid, the centre
t inertia is distant from its vertex by a quantity equal to
lm—3x
* x> where m is the lesser axis, or axis of ro-
Jtion, and x the altitude of the segment; hence,
24. In a hemispheroid, the centre of inertia is distant
om its vertex five eighths of the radius.
25. The centre of inertia of the segment of a prolate
pheroid is distant from its vertex by a quantity equal to
— 3x
x where n is the greater axis, or axis of ro-
Uion.
26. In the common or Apollonian parabola, the dis-
ince of the centre of inertia from its vertex is three fifths
' the axis.
-7. In the cubical parabola, the distance of the centre of
ieitia from its vertex is four sevenths of the axis, in the
VOL. XIV.
biquadratic parabola five ninths of the axis, and in the sur-
solid parabola six elevenths of the axis.
28. In the common semiparabola, the distance of its cen¬
tre of gravity from the centre of gravity of the whole para¬
bola, in the direction of the ordinate passing through that
centre, is three eighths of the greatest ordinate.
29. In the common paraboloid, the distance of the cen¬
tre of inertia from its axis is equal to two thirds of the axis.
30. In the common hyperboloid, the distance of the centre
of inertia from the vertex is equal to —r—— Xa\ where
6a + 4a;
a is the transverse axis of the generating hyperbola, and x
the altitude of the solid.
31. In the frustum of a paraboloid, the distance of the
centre of inertia from the centre of the smallest circular
end is
2R2 + r2 h
X -r, where h is the distance between the
‘h
f the centre of gravity of the whole system, as determined
by Prop. I. Chap. IV. Then, if the body A receive such a
momentum as to make it move to a in a second, join Fa, and
take a point <p so that ¥<p : <pa -=z Yf: fa ; (p will now be the
centre of gravit}^ of the system, f<p the path of that cen¬
tre will be parallel to Aa, and f<p will be to Aa as B is
to A + B + C. Let the same quantity of motion be now
communicated to B, so as to make it describe the space
B5 in a second; and having drawn ©G parallel to B5, take
a point G, so that <pG : BZ» — B : A + 13 + C, and G will
be the centre of gravity of the bodies after B has moved
to b. In the same manner it may be found that H will be
the common centre of gravity of the bodies after the same
quantity of motion has been communicated to C in the di¬
rection Cc. Now if the quantity of motion which was com¬
municated to A, B, C separately had been communicated
to them at the same instant, they would have been found
at the end of a second in the points a, b, c, and their cen¬
tre of gravity would have been the point H. Let us now
suppose the three bodies collected in their common centre
3 B
On the
Centre of
Inertia.
R2 _j_ y.2
centres of the circles which contain the paraboloidal frus¬
tum, R the radius of the greater circle, and r the radius of
the lesser circle.
32. In a conic frustum or truncated cone, the distance
of the centre of inertia from the centre of the smallest cir-
3R2 + 2Rr + r2 A
cular end is • ^ -j- " x 4’ which represents the
distance between the centres of the circles which contain
the frustum, and R, r the radii of the circles.
33. The same formula is applicable to any regular pyra¬
mid, R and r representing the sides of the two polygons
by which it is contained.
Prop. XV.
If a quantity of motion be communicated to a system of
bodies, the centre of inertia of the system will move in
the same direction, and with the same velocity, as if all
the bodies were collected in that centre, and received
the same quantity of motion in the same direction.
Let A, B, C be the bodies which compose the system,
and let F be the centre of gravity of the bodies B, C, and
Fig. 64.
MECHANICS,
378
On the of gravity f; the body at F will be equal to A + B + C,
brmrn of ^ if the' same quantity of motion which made A move
Movinrr a m ^ second be communicated to the body at f and in
Bodies. same direction, it will be found somewhere in the line
f<p at the end of a second. But as the quantity of motion
is equal to the product of the velocity of the body multi¬
plied by its quantity of matter, the velocities are inverse¬
ly as the quantities of matter, and consequently the velo¬
city of the body at f is to A’s velocity as A is to A + B + C,
that is, as ff is to Aa; therefore Aa and ftp are de¬
scribed by A and by the body at fin equal times, and the
body at f will be found at p at the end of a second. In
the same way it may be shown that the body at f will be
found at G if it receives the same momentum that was
given to B, and in the same direction, and that it will be
found at H after it has received the momentum that was
communicated to C ; consequently, if it received all these
momenta at the same instant, it would have described fH
in a second. Q. E. D.
Cor. I. If the bodies of a system move uniformly in
right lines, their common centre of gravity will either be
at rest, or move uniformly in a right line. For if the mo¬
menta communicated to the bodies A, B, C were commu¬
nicated to a body at/= A + B + C, it will either remain
at rest or move uniformly in a straight line. (See Newton’s
Principia, i. sect. iii. cor. 1.)
Cor. 2. The centre of gravity of any system is not af¬
fected by the mutual action of the bodies which compose
it. For let B and C (fig. 64<) be two bodies whose com¬
mon centre of gravity is F, and let the points /3, %, be taken,
so that B/3 : Cx— C : B; the spaces B/3, Cjc will repre¬
sent the mutual action of the bodies B, C, that is, B/3 will
represent the action of C upon B, or the motion which is
the result of that action, and Cx the action of B upon C, or
the motion which results from it. Then, since F is the
common centre of gravity of B and C, we have (Prop. I.
Chap. IV.) B : C = FC : FB; but B : C = Cx: B/3, there¬
fore FC : FB — Cx: B/3. But Cx is a magnitude taken from
FC, and B/3 is a magnitude taken from FB, consequently
(Playfair’s Euclid, book v. prop. 19) the remainder xF
: /3F — FC : FB, that is, xF : /3F—B : C, that is, the point
F continues to be the centre of gravity notwithstanding
the action of the bodies B, C. If the system is composed
of several bodies, the same thing may be proved of every
two of the bodies, and consequently of the whole system.
(See D’Alembert’s Dynamique, art. 76; and Newton’s
Principia, i. sect. iii. cor. 4.)
Prop. XVI.
If a body is placed upon a horizontal plane, or suspended
by two threads, it cannot be in equilibrio unless a per¬
pendicular drawn from the centre of inertia to the ho¬
rizontal plane, or a horizontal line passing through the
two threads, Tall within the base of the body, or upon
that part of the horizontal line which lies between the
threads.
Fig. 65.
1. Let ABCD be a body placed in the horizontal plane o
CD, G its centre of gravity, and GE a perpendicular
drawn to the horizontal line DE. Then the whole mat- brium
ter of the body ABCD may be conceived as united in its Jlovii
centre of gravity G ; and as its tendency downwards is in Eoiiie
the vertical line GE, it can descend only by turning round'*’^"
the point C as a centre. Here then we have a body G
placed at the end of a lever GC, whose fulcrum is C, and
its power to turn round C is represented by the quantity
of matter in G multiplied by the perpendicular CE, let fall
from the fulcrum upon its line of direction ; and as there
is no force to counterbalance this, the body G, and conse¬
quently the body ABCD, will fall by turning round C.
When the vertical line GE coincides with GC, EC vanishes
and the weight of the body concentrated at G has no
power to turn the lever round C, but is supported upon
the fulcrum C. When the vertical line GE (by some wri¬
ters called the line of direction) falls within the base CD
it is obvious that the weight at G has no influence in pro¬
ducing a motion round C or D, but is employed in press¬
ing the body upon the horizontal plane ED.
2. Let the body ACBD be sus¬
pended at the points f p by the
threads hf h'p, and let G be the cen¬
tre of gravity of the body. Join
Gp, Gf, draw/’p parallel to the ho¬
rizon, and through G draw no paral¬
lel to fp. Continue hf, h'p to o and
n, and draw Gi perpendicular tofp-,
the body AB cannot be in equilibrio
unless the point i falls upon the ho¬
rizontal line fp which passes through
the threads. It is obvious that
the centre of gravity can never
change its distance from the fixed
points of suspension fp-, if there¬
fore the body is not in equilibrio, its centre of gravity
must descend either towards m or n ; let it descend to¬
wards m till it rests at the point y, then yf=fG; but
yp is greater than G^ (Euclid, book i. prop. 7), which is
absurd'; therefore the point G cannot descend, that is, the
body is in equilibrio. It may be shown in the same way,
that it will be in equilibrio when G is anywhere between
n and o, that is, when the perpendicular let fall from G
cuts the horizontal line fp that lies between the threads.
If the body be suspended by the two threads FIF, hf, so
that the perpendicular G?i falls without the line/F, the
body is not in equilibrio, for the centre of gravity G act¬
ing at the end of the lever GF, tends to turn round F with
a power equal to G X Gm ; it will therefore descend, and
as its distance from f cannot change, the point f will rise,
and the threadfh will be relaxed. When G arrives at m,
the perpendicular Grn vanishes, and G has no power to
turn round F. The body AB, therefore, cannot be in
equilibrio till the perpendicular Ga'falls within/F, which
it does as soon as it arrives at m.
Cor. 1. If a body is placed upon an inclined plane,
supposed without friction, it will slide down the plane
when the line of direction falls within its base, and will
roll down when this line falls without the base. This is
the reason why a sphere or cylinder rolls dowrn an inclined
plane ; for as they touch the plane only in one point or line,
the point of direction must always fall without the base.
Cor. 2. The higher
the centre of gravity of a
body is, the more easily
will it be overturned. For
if ABCD be the body
whose centre of gravity is
F, and if any force be em¬
ployed to move it round
Fig. 66.
Fig. 67.
c
u
tk C as a fulcrum, the power with which it will resist this
luili. force is inversely as FC ; then, if the centre of gravity is
1 raised to /,/C will be greater than FC, and the power with
Ifk which it resists, being overturned, is diminished; that is,
the body is the more easily overturned the higher that its
” centre of gravity is placed.
Cor. 3. If a body be suspended by one thread, it will
not be at rest unless its centre of gravity is in the direc¬
tion of the thread produced; for when the two threads //',
h'<p (fig. 66), approach so near each other as to coincide
with the single thread HE, the point i must in the case of
an equilibrium fall upon F, and the lines G«, GF must co¬
incide with m¥ ; but HF and mF are both perpendicular to
the horizontal line f<p ; therefore the centre of gravity G is
in the direction of the thread HF.
Cor. 4. If the bodies A,
B, C (fig. 68), be suspended by
any point F from the hook H,
they will not be in equilibrio
unless their common centre of
gravity G is in the vertical
line FG passing through the
point of suspension; and, in
fig. 69, the bodies A, B con¬
nected by the bent rod AFB,
will not be in equili-
MECHANICS.
379
Fig. 68.
brio unless their com¬
mon centre of gra¬
vity G is in a vertical
line passing through
F, the point in which
the system rests upon
the plane CD.
Fig. 69.
■rent
s of
li-
m.
F'ig. 70.
Fig. 71.
t,?ttcrinft' The equi- \
ibrium of a circle nr sphere V/
always neutral; for when y J
it is disturbed, the body has neither a tendency to fall nor On the
to resume its former situation. A flat body A, supported Centro-
Baryc Me¬
thod.
by a sphere B (fig. 72), will have
its equilibrium stable when its cen¬
tre of gravity is nearer the point of
contact than the centre of the
sphere is, and the equilibrium of C
will be tottering when its centre of
gravity is farther distant from the
surface of the sphere D than the cen¬
tre of the sphere is.
Scholium.
We have seen in the preceding proposition and corolla¬
ries, the position which must be given to the centre of
gravity in order to procure an equilibrium. It is evident,
however, that though the bodies are necessarily at rest,
yet they have different degrees of stability, depending on
the position of the centre of gravity with regard to the
centre of motion. Hence bodies are said to have a stable
equilibrium when their centre of gravity cannot move
without ascending, or when the path described by their
centre of gravity has its concavity upwards,—a tottering
equilibrium when the centre of gravity cannot move with¬
out descending, or when the path which it describes has
its concavity downwards,—and a neutral equilibrium when
the body will rest in any position. Thus, in fig. 70, if the
vessels A, B have their handles so pla¬
ced that in the one the handle A is fix¬
ed above the centre of gravity g, and
in the other the handle B is fixed below
the centre of gravity g, then the equili¬
brium of A will be stable, and that ofB
tottering; for if A is held by the han-   
He, it will require a considerable force to make its centre
/gravity describe the path mn, whereas the smallest force
IV1 destroy the equilibrium of B. The vessel A, too, has
i constant tendency to recover its equilibrium, and always
recovers it as soon as the disturbing force is removed ; but
ie vessel B has no tendency to do this even when its equi-
mrmm is affected in the smallest degree. For the same
reason, the elliptical body A (fig. 71), when resting on the
extremity of its conjugate
lx*s, has a stable equilibrium,
Jut when resting on its trans-
‘erse axis, as at B, its equili-1\
Prop. XVII.
1. To find the centre of inertia mechanically.
If the body whose centre of inertia is to be found can Mechani-
be suspended by a thread, then, when the body is in equi-cal method
librio, the centre of gravity will be somewhere in the line, of finding
prolonged if necessary, that is, formed by the thread upon11'4: centre
the surface of the body. Let a body be again suspended0 iner^ia’
fiom another part of its surface, so that the direction of
the thread may be nearly at right angles to its former di¬
rection ; then, as the centre of gravity must also be in the
new direction of the thread prolonged, it will be in the
point where these two lines intersect each other.
2. If the body is of such a kind that it cannot be con¬
veniently suspended, balance it upon two sharp points, and
its centre of motion will be somewhere in the line which
joins these points. Balance it a second time upon the
sharp points, so that the line which joins the points maybe
nearly at right angles to the former line. The intersection
of these two lines will be the centre of inertia of the body.
3. If the body is so flexible that it can neither be sus¬
pended by a thread nor balanced upon points, then let a thin
board be balanced upon the points as before, and let the
body be so placed upon this board when balanced, that the
equilibrium may still continue ; then, having found the
centre of gravity of the board when loaded with the body,
the centre of gravity of the body will be a point on its sur¬
face exactly opposite to that centre.
Ihe preceding method, however, only gives us the cen¬
tre of gravity when the body has no sensible thickness; for
when it is of three dimensions, the centre of gravity must
be somewhere between the two opposite surfaces.
Definition. The centro-baryc method is the method
of determining the areas of surfaces, and the contents of
solids, by considering them as generated by motion, and
by employing the laws of the centre of inertia.
Prop. XVIII.
If any straight or curve line, or any plane surface bound- Centro-
ed by straight or curve lines, revolve round an axis situ-baryc me-
ated in the same plane with the lines or surfaces, thethodof
surface or solid thus generated will be respectively equal Guldinus.
to a surface or solid whose base is equal to the given line
or surface, and whose height is equal to the arc described
by the centre of inertia of the generating line or surface.
Fig. 73.
MECHANICS.
380
On the Let ABCD be the plane surface by whose revolution
Centro- round the axis MPN is generated the solid «D, contained
^hod C ky ^ie Parallelograms ABCD, abed, and by the areas aACc,
^ ^BDc/, and aAB6, cCDc?; let G be the centre of gravity
of ABCD, then the solid od) shall be equal to a solid whose
base is ABCD, and whose altitude is a line equal to Qg, the
space described by its centre of gravity G. It is evident from
Prop. III. Chap. IV. that the sum of the products of all the
particles of the surface ABCD, multiplied by their respec¬
tive distances from any given point P, is equal to the sum of
all the particles multiplied by the distance of their common
centre of gravity G from the same point P. Now every par¬
ticle of the surface ABCD, during its revolution round the
point P, will obviously describe the arch of a circle pro¬
portional to the distance of that particle from the point
P, which is the centre of all the arches ; therefore the sum
of the products of all the particles multiplied by the arch
described by each of them, will be equal to the sum of the
particles multiplied by the arch which their common cen¬
tre of gravity describes ; that is, the solid aD will be equal
to the area of the surface multiplied by the path of its cen¬
tre of gravity. In order to have a clearer illustration of
this reasoning, let P, p, <r, &c. be the particles of the sur¬
face ABCD ; D, c?, S their distance from the centre of ro¬
tation P, and A, a, a the arches which they describe,
while GP is the distance of the centre of gravity of the
surface ABCD from the centre P, and Gg the arch
described by it. Then, by Pi'op. III. P X D + jo X
+ ‘zr+(i:=P-l-/>-l-‘TX GP ; but D : c?: 5: GP = A : a:
a : G/7, therefore P X A+/? X os + tX a = P-f-p + cr
X Gg. But P + A+ y>Xa + ‘rXa, &c. make up
the whole solid aD, and P + + w, &c. make up the
whole surface ABCD ; therefore the solid aD is equal to
the generating surface ABCD multiplied by the path of
its centre of gravity. Q. E. D.
Cor. 1. Let us suppose the circle BACO (see fig. 62)
to be generated by the revolution of the line DA round
the point D ; then, since the centre of gravity of the line
DA is in its middle point G, the path of this centre will
be a circumference whose radius is DG, or a line equal to
half the circumference BONAB, therefore, by the theo¬
rem, the area of the circle BONB will be equal to the
radius DA multiplied by the semicircumference, which
coincides with the result obtained from the principles of
geometry. (See Playfair’s Geometry, supp. book i. prop.
5.) In the same way, by means of the preceding theo¬
rem, we may readily determine the area of any surface,
or the content of any solid that is generated by motion.
Scholium.
The centro-baryc method, which is one of the finest in¬
ventions of geometry, was first noticed by Pappus in the
preface to the seventh book of his mathematical collec¬
tions; but it is to Father Guldinus that we are indebted
tor a more complete discussion of the subject. He pub¬
lished an account of his discovery partly in 1635 and partly
in 1640, in his work entitled De Centro Gravitatis, lib. ii.
cap. 8, prop. 3, and gave an indirect demonstration of the
theorem, by showing the conformity of its results with
those which were obtained by other means. Leibnitz de¬
monstrated the theorem in the case of superficies generat¬
ed by the revolution of curves, but concealed his demon¬
stration (Act. Leips. ] 695, p. 493). The theorem of Leib¬
nitz, however, as well as that of Guldinus, was demon¬
strated by Varignon in the Memoirs of the Academy for
1714, p. 78. Leibnitz observes that the method will still
hold, even if the centre round which the revolution is per¬
formed be continually changed during the generating mo¬
tion. For further information on this subject, the reader
is referred to Dr Wallis’s work De Calculo Centri Gram-
tatis ; Hutton’s Mensuration; Prony’s Architecture Hydrau- Ontj
lique, vol. i. p. 88; and Gregory’s Mechanics, vol. i. p. 64. Cemt
Inert'
Prop. XIX. wy
To show the use of the doctrine of the centre of inertia in
the explanation of some mechanical phenomena.
In the equilibrium and motion of animals, we perceive On the
many phenomena deducible from the properties of the motion
centre of gravity. When we endeavour to rise from aaninial!
chair, we naturally draw our feet inwards, and rest upon
their extremities, in order to bring the centre of gravity
directly below our feet, and we put the body into that po¬
sition in which its equilibrium is tottering, a position which
renders the smallest force capable of producing motion, or
of overturning the body. In this situation, in order to pre¬
vent ourselves from falling backwards, we thrust forward
the upper part of the body for the purpose of throwing
the centre of gravity beyond our feet; and when the equi¬
librium is thus destroyed, we throw out one of our feet,
and gradually raise the centre of gravity till the position
of the body is erect. When we walk, the body is thrown
into the position of tottering equilibrium by resting it on
one foot; this equilibrium is destroyed by pushing forward
the centre of gravity, and the body again assumes the po¬
sition of tottering equilibrium by resting it on the other
foot. During this alternate process of creating and de¬
stroying a tottering equilibrium, the one foot is placed
upon the ground, and the other is raised from it; but in
running, which is performed in exactly the same way, both
the feet are never on the ground at the same time. At
every step there is a short interval during which the
runner does not touch the ground at all.
When we ascend an inclined plane the body is thrown
farther forward than when we walk on a horizontal one, in
order that the line of direction may fall without our feet;
and in descending an inclined plane, the body is thrown
backward, in order to prevent the line of direction from
falling too suddenly without the base. In carrying a bur¬
den, the centre of gravity is brought nearer to the burden,
so that the line of direction would fall without our feet if
we did not naturally lean towards the side opposite to the
burden, in order to keep the line of direction within our
feet. When the burden is therefore carried on the back,
we lean forward ; when it is carried in the right arm, we
lean towards the left; when it is carried in the left arm,
we lean towards the right; and when it is carried before
the body, we throw the head backwards.
When a horse walks, he first sets out one of his fore
feet and one of his hind feet, suppose the right foot; then
at the same instant he throws out his left fore foot and his
left hind foot, so as to be supported only by the two right
feet. His two right feet are then brought up at the same
instant, and he is supported only by his two left feet.
When a horse pulls at a load which he can scarcely over¬
come, he raises both his fore feet, his hind feet become the
fulcrum of a lever, and the weight of the horse collected
in his centre of gravity acts as a weight upon this lever,
and enables him to surmount the obstacle. (See Appen¬
dix to Ferguson’s Lectures, vol. ii.) ^
When a rope-dancer balances himself upon the fore part 3^
of one foot, he preserves his equilibrium in two ways,eIt .rr0pe.dar
by throwing one of his arms or his elevated foot, or ms r^
balancing pole, to the side opposite to that towards which^
he is beginning to fall, or by shifting the point of his footbrium.
on which he rests, to the same side towards which he is
apt to fall ; for it amounts to the same thing whether he
brings the centre of gravity directly above the point o
support, or brings the point of support directly below i
centre of gravity. For this purpose the convex form o
the foot is of great use ; for if it had been perfectly flab1 ie
n th:
ntre i
ierti-;
e cor
ictio
nail-
ches
eous.
MECHANICS.
381
oadei
indei
r be
le td1
nd ;j
inedl
ne b
own
Kht.
out I
raa
nade
seen
nclii i
e b \i
wn
bt.
point of support could not have admitted of small varia¬
tions in its position.1
We have already seen (Prop. XVI. Cor. 2) that any body
is more easily overturned in proportion to the height of its
centre of gravity. Hence it is a matter of great importance
that the centre of gravity of all carriages should be placed
as low as possible. This may often be effected by a judici¬
ous disposition of the load, of which the heaviest materials
should always have the lowest place. The present con¬
struction of our mail and post coaches is therefore adverse
to every principle of science, and the cause of many of
those accidents in which the lives of individuals have been
lost. The elevated position of the guard, the driver, and
the outside passengers, and the two boots which contain
the baggage, raises the centre of gravity of the loaded ve¬
hicle to a very great height, and renders it much more
easily overturned than it would otherwise have been.
When any accident of this kind is likely to happen, the
passengers should bend as low as possible, and endeavour
to throw themselves to the elevated side of the carriage.
In two-wheeled carriages, where the horse bears part of
the load upon its back, the elevation of the centre of gra¬
vity renders the draught more difficult, by throwing a
greater proportion of the load upon the horse’s back when
he is going down hill, and when he has the least occasion
for it; and taking the load from the back of the horse
when he is going up hill, and requires to be pressed to the
ground.
A knowledge of the laws of the centre of gravity en¬
ables us to explain the
experiment represented Fig. 74.
in fig. 74, where the vessel
of water CG is suspend-^
ed on a rod AB, passing
below its handle, and
resting on the end E of
the beam DE. The ex¬
tremity B of the rod AB
is supported by another
rod BF, which bears
against the bottom of the
vessel; so that the vessel
and the two rods become,
as it were, one body, which, by Prop. XVI. Cor. 4, will be
in equilibrio when their common centre of gravity C is in
the same vertical line with the point of support E.
I he cylinder G may be made to ascend the inclined
plane ABC by putting a piece
of lead or any heavy substance
on one side of its axis, so that
the centre of gravity is not at
G, but at ff. Hence it is obvious
that the centre of gravity g will
descend, and by its descent the
body will rise towards A. The
inclination of the plane, however, must be such, that be¬
fore the motion commences, the angles formed by a ver¬
tical line drawn from g with a line drawn from G perpen-
dicularly to AB, must be less than the angle of inclination
ABC, or, which is the same thing, when the vertical line
drawn from g does not cut the line which lies between
the point of contact and the centre of the cylinder. When
the vertical line, let fall from g, meets the perpendicular
line drawn from G to the plane in the point of contact, the
cylinder will be in equilibrio on the inclined plane.
Upon the same principle, a double scalene cone may be
roade to ascend an inclined plane without being loaded
with a weight
Bodies on
Inclined
Planes.
double inclined plane, AB, BC being sections of its sur- On the
faces perpendicular to the line in which the double scalene Motion of
cone ADEFC moves. Then, since the
centre of gravity of a cone is in the line
joining the vertex and the centre of its ^
base, and since the axis of a scalene cone
is not perpendicular to its base, the line
which joins the centres of both the cones, a
when in the position represented in the figure, will be
above the line which joins the centres of their bases. If
the circle, therefore, in fig. 77, represents
the base of one of the cones, and C its
centre, the line which joins the centres
of gravity of the two cones will termi¬
nate in some point G at a distance from
the centre, and therefore the double cone a-
will ascend the plane upon the same principles, and under
the same conditions, as the loaded cylinder mentioned in
the last paragraph.
CHAP. V. ON THE MOTION OF BODIES ALONG INCLINED
PLANES AND CURVES, ON THE CURVE OF SWIFTEST DE¬
SCENT, AND ON THE OSCILLATIONS OF PENDULUMS.
Prop. I.
When a body moves along an inclined plane, the force Motion of
which accelerates or retards its motion is to the whole bodies on
force of gravity as the height of the plane is to its length, inclined
or as the sine of its inclination is to radius. P anes'
Let ABC be the inclined plane, A the place of the body,
and let AB represent
the whole force of gra¬
vity. The force AB is
equivalent to the two
forces AD, DB, or AE,
AD, of which AD is
the force that accele¬
rates the motion of the
body down the plane,
while AE is destroyed
by the resistance or re¬
action of the plane. The part of the force of gravity,
therefore, which makes the body arrive at C, is represented
by AD, while the whole force of gravity is represented by
AB ; but the triangle ABD is equiangular to ABC, and
AD : AB AB : AC, that is, the accelerating force which
makes the body descend the inclined plane, is to the whole
force of gravity as the height of the plane is to its length,
or as the sine of the plane’s inclination is to radius; for
when AC is radius, AB becomes the sine of the angle
ACB.
Cor. 1. Since the force of gravity, which is uniform, has
a given ratio to the accelerating force, the accelerating
force is also uniform; consequently the laws of accelerated
and retarded motions, as exhibited in the article Dynamics,
are also true when the bodies move along inclined planes.
If H, therefore, represent the height AB of the plane, L
its length AC, g the force of gravity, and A the accelerat¬
ing force, we shall have, by the proposition, L : H = ^ : A,
hence A = g X y- ; or, since g : A = radius : sin. ACB,
A = g X sin. ACB. Now, from the principles of Dy-
  v /~2s
namics, s — jr g t2, v — gl — V'2gs, and t = -— - >
9
In fig. 76, let ABC be the section of a where s is the space described, g the force of gravity, or
1 See Dr T. Young’s Natural Philosophy, vol. i. p. 04.
Prop. II.
382
MECHANICS.
On the 32^- feet, v the velocity, and t the time. Making p, there-
EodiesVii ^ore’ eclua^ to ACB, and substituting the value of A in-
inclined stead of <7 in the preceding equation, we shall have ^ = sin.
Planes.   v<
<p x \V2\vf ~ g sin. cpt = V2gs! sin. p, and t — ^ --
/' 2s!
“ v g sin. p '
Cor. 2. If one body begins to descend through the ver¬
tical AB at the same time that another body descends along
the plane AC, when the one is at any point m, the position
of the other will be n, which is determined by drawing rn n
perpendicular to AC. The forces by which the two bodies
are actuated are as AB to AD, that is, as Am to A.n;
but forces are measured by the spaces described in the
same time ; therefore the spaces described in the same
time are as Am, An, that is, as the length of the plane is
to its height; for Am : An — AC : AB ; consequently,
when the body that descends along the vertical line AB
is at m, the other body will be at n. Through the three
points A, m, n describe a semicircle ; then, since Knm
is a right angle, the centre of the semicircle will be in the
line Am (Playfair’s Euclid, book iv.prop. 5); consequently,*/’
two bodies descend from the point A at the sametime., the one
through the diameter of a circle Am, a7id the other through
any chord An, they will arrive at the points m, n, the extre¬
mities of the diameter and of the chord, at the same instant.
It also follows from this corollary, that if from the point A
there be drawn any number of lines making different angles
with the diameter Am, and if bodies be let fall from A, so
as to move along these lines, they will, at the end of any
given time, be found in the circumferences of circles which
touch one another in the point A. If the lines are not in
the same plane, the bodies will be in the circumferences of
spheres which touch each other in the point A.
Cor. 3. If any number of bodies descend from the same
point A along any number of inclined planes AC, AF,
their velocities at the points C, F will be equal. By Cor.
1, the velocity of a body descending the plane AC, is
fV2.gs sin. p, and the velocity of a body falling in the ver-
tical line AB, is v’ — V2gs'. But, since v — v\ we have
V2gs sin. p — V2gs' or 2gs, sin. p == 2gs', and dividing by
2g, s sin. p — 0, consequently s : s' — sin. p : 1, or AB :
AC — sin. DAB : radius. Therefore, when v — v', that is,
when the velocities of the two bodies are equal, the spaces
described are as sin. DAB : radius, which can only happen
when BC is perpendicular to AB. In the same way it may
be shown that the velocity at F is equafto the velocity at C,
therefore the velocity at C is equal to the velocity at F.
Cor. 4. The time of descending along AC is to the time
of descending along AB, as AC is to AB. From the va¬
lues of s, s' in Cor. 1, we obtain fi :tP = S : s' z=. ■
sin. p sin. p
AB AC2
: AB. But -r-p; = sin. p, therefore £2 : — —rp : AB,
AU Ab
On the
If a body descend from any point along a number of in- j °]'0110
dined planes to a horizontal line, its velocity, when it Inciined'i
reaches the horizontal line, will be equal to that which it Planer'
would have acquired by falling in a vertical direction
from the given point to the horizontal line.
Let AB, BC, CD, be a number of planes differently in-
dined to a horizontal line DF, and let the body be let fall
from the point A, so as to move
along these planes, without los¬
ing any of its velocity at the an¬
gular points ; it will have the same
velocity when it reaches the hori¬
zontal plane at D, which it would
have acquired by falling freely
from A to F. It is manifest
from Prop. I. Cor. 3, that the ve¬
locity of the body w hen at B will
be the same as that of another
body which had fallen freely from
A to c in a vertical line. The
two bodies set out from B and c
with the same velocity, and will therefore continue to have
the same velocity when they reach the points C, G, because
cG = Be?. The two bodies again set off from the points
C, G with the same celerity, and since GF = Ce, their re¬
spective velocities will be equal when they arrive at the
points D, F in the horizontal plane. The velocity, there¬
fore, acquired by the falling body along the planes AB,
BC, CD is equal to that which is acquired by the same
body falling through the vertical line AF.
Cor. 1. As the preceding proposition holds true, what¬
ever be the number of inclined planes which lie between
the point A and the horizontal line, it will hold true also of
any curve line which may be considered as made up of an
infinite number of straight lines. And since the small
planes are diminished without limit, the radius is diminished
without limit, and therefore the versed sine, or the velocity
lost in passing from one plane to another, is diminished
without limit j1 consequently, abstracting from friction, a
body will ascend or descend a curve surface without losing
any of its velocity from the curvature of the surface.
Cor. 2. If a body be made to ascend a curve surface, or
a system of inclined planes, the vertical height to which it
will rise is equal to that through which it must fall in order
to acquire the velocity with which it ascended, abstracting
from the effects of friction, and the velocity which is lost
in passing from one plane to another. This is obvious
from Dynamics ; for the body experiences the same de¬
crements of velocity in its ascent, as it received increments
in its descent.
Cor. 3. The same thing will hold if the body is kept in
the curve by a string perpendicular to the curve; for the
string sustains that part of the weight which was sustain¬
ed by the curve, since the re-action of the curve surface is
in a line perpendicular to the curve.
Fig. 79.
A
and taking equal multiples of these two last terms, that is,
multiplying them by AB, we have t2 : t2 = AC2 : AB2, or
t \ V — AC : AB. Hence the times of descending along
AF and AC are as AF and AC.
Cor. 5. The velocities acquired by descending any planes
AC, AF are as the square roots of their altitudes AB. The
velocity acquired by falling through AB is, by the princi¬
ples of Dynamics, as the square root of AB; and as the ve¬
locities at F, C are equal to that at B, they will also be as
the square root of AB.
Scholium.
It is obvious that the body which moves along the sys¬
tem of inclined planes must lose a part of its velocity in
passing from one plane to another. By the resolution of
motion it will be found that the velocity acquired by fad¬
ing through any of the planes, is to the velocity lost in
passing to the succeeding one, as radius is to the versed
sine of the angle formed by the two planes. Or the velo¬
city with which the body enters upon one plane, is as the
cosine of the angle made by the contiguous planes, divided
1 See Wood’s Principles of Mechanics, p. 58, note; and also Gregory’s Mechanics, vol. i. p. 112 ; where this corollary is demon¬
strated by the method of fluxions.
th( by the velocity which the body had when it left the pre
rve < ceding plane,
ickesj
■«r. Prop. III.
MECHANICS.
383
similar and similarly situated, are in the subduplicate On the
ratio of their lengths. Curve of
Quickest
Let AB, BC, CD, and ab, be, erf (fig. 79), be the similar t Descent-
j. e • t j i systems of inclined planes, and let T be the time of de- ^
The times of descending two systems of inclined planes scending ABCD, and t the time of descending abed.
By Cor. 4, Prop. I., we have
Time along AB : Time along Ac = AB : Ac,
Time along ab : Time along aft = ab: a8.
But, on account of the similar triangles ABc, abj3, we have,
AB : Ac z= ab : a/3.
Hence (Euclid, book v. prop. II, 16),
Time along AB : Time alone ab z= Time along Ac: Time along a/3.
In the same way it may be shown that
Time along BC : Time along be = Time along cG : Time along (Sx,
Time along CD : Time along erf = Time along GF: Time along xf.
Then,
Time along AB + BC + CD : Time along crf> + be + cd = Time along Ac + cG + GF: Time along ^3 + (3x +~x/r;
that is,
Time along AB + BC +CD: Time along + be + cd = Time along AF : Time along af.
But, by Dynamics,
Time along AF: Time along af= VAF : V~q£~
Therefore, Euclid, bookv. prop. 11,
Time along AB + BC + CD : Time along ab + be cd = VAF : Vaf. Q. E. D.
But, by similar triangles, &c.
Therefore,
VAF : Vaf— VAB + BC + CD : Vab + be + cd.
Time along AB + BC + CD : Time along ab -{• be cd = VAB + BC + CD : Vab +bc + cd. Q. E. D.
Cor. 1. This proposition holds true of curves, for the locities; but the times are directly as the square root of
easons mentioned in Prop. 2, Cor. 1. the spaces, and inversely as the velocities; therefore the
Lor. Z. The .times, of descent along similar arcs of a . 2
iicle are as their radii; for, by the preceding corollary, the time of describing F'E' is - m _ ° and the time of de-
imes are as the arcs and the arcs are as the radii, there- Va
are the times are as the radii. _|_ ci
scribing E'D' is   -, consequently the time of de-
Prop. IV. Vb
of in inverted semicycloid is the curve of quickest descent, scribing F'D' must be
^ + c2|l
n* + c'||
. Butthepro-
S or the curve along which a body must descend in order
to move between two points not in a vertical line in the position requires that this time should be the least possible,
least time possible. or a minimum, therefore, taking its fluxion and making it
Let §FZ be a semicycloid, and A'D', C'F' two parallel e<lua^ to we have
id vertical ordinates at an infinitely small distance. Draw
ie ordinate B'E' an
Fig. 80.
B H
2mm
i
D(
ithmetical mean be-
^een the ordinates
and C'F', and
om F', E' draw F'r,
u perpendicular to
T, C'E'. Make C'F
; a, B'E'= b, E'v=c,
’B' = m, IVA' = n.
hen, since F'E' may
i considered as a
'Mightline, and since
C rr F'n, we have
Euclid, book i. prop.
) F'E ~ Vm2 + c2,
'd since/F'w = E'«,
D'=Vn2+c2. Now
2*/ a
2kJ a ^ mm + c2 2*
But since CAis invariable, m+n is invariable, and there¬
fore its fluxion m + n = 0, or m = — n, and n — rii;
therefore, by transposing the second member of the pre¬
ceding equation, and substituting these values of m and n,
m n
2 nn
J
b X nn X. c~
0.
it becomes
Let us now
Va X ml + e2 Vb X ril -f- cl
call the variable absciss qC=x, the ordinate C'F'rr?/, and
the arc qF'zzz, then m and n are fluxions of x, and F'E' is
the increment of 9F or z when y is equal a, and E'D' the
increment of <?F or 2 when y is equal to b, therefore, by
substituting these values in the preceding equation, we
e velocities at F' and E' vary as Va and Vb, and F'E',
are the elementary spaces described with these ve-
obtain=-^p, which shows that this quantity is
constant, and gives us the following analogy, z’: xt :
*/y. Now in the cycloid */y is always the chord of the
384
MECHANICS.
Properties Definition. If a circle NOP be so placed as to be in
of the cy- contact with the line AD, and be made to roll along that
eloid.
Fig. 82.
line from D towards A, till the same point D of the circle
touches the other extremity A, the point D will describe
a curve DBA, called a cycloid.
The line AD is called the base of the cycloid; the line
CB, which bisects AD at right angles, and meets the curve
in B, is called the axis, and B the vertex.
The circle NOP is called the generating circle.
1. The base AD is equal to the circumference of the
generating circle, and AC is equal to half that circumfe¬
rence.
2. The axis CB is equal to the diameter of the generat¬
ing circle.
3. If from any point G of the cycloid, there be drawn
a straight line GM parallel to AD, and meeting the circle
BLC in L, the circular arc BL is equal to the line GL.
4. If the points L, B be joined, and a tangent drawn to
the cycloid at the point G, the tangent will be parallel to
the chord LB ; and the tangent is found by joining G, E,
for GE is parallel to LB.
5. The arc BG of the cycloid is double of the chord
BL, and the arc BA or BD is equal to twice the axis BC.
6. If the two portions AB, DB of the cycloid in fig. 82
be placed in the inverted position AB, DB (fig. 80), and
if a string BP, equal in length to BA, be made to coincide
with BA, and then be evolved from it, its extremity P
will describe a semicycloid AF, similar and equal to BA.
In the same way the semicycloid DF (fig. 80), produced
by the evolution of the string BP from the semicycloid
BD, is equal and similar to BD and to AF. Therefore, if
BP be a pendulum or weight attached to the extremity of
a flexible line BP, which vibrates between the cycloidal
cheeks BA, BD, its extremity D will describe a cycloid
AFD, equal to that which is composed of the two halves
BA, BD.
7. The chord CN is parallel to MP, and MP is perpen¬
dicular to the cycloid AFD, at the point P.
8. If Vp be an infinitely small arc, the perpendicular to
The velocity of a cycloidal pendulum BP (see fig. 80) atOscilla.
the point F, varies as the arch which it describes. tionsof
The velocity of the pendulum at F is that which itf™1'
would have acquired by tailing through EF (Prop. 2, and
Cor 3, Prop. 2), and the velocity of a falling body is as the
square root of the space which it describes (Dynamics);
therefore the velocity of the pendulum P, when it reaches
  . FN2
F, varies as -y/EF. But (Geometry) FE varies as
and since FC is a constant quantity, FE will vary as FN2
varies ; or, to adopt the notation used in the article Dyna¬
mics, FE = FN2, or VFE == FN; but_the velocity ac¬
quired by falling through EF varies as VFE, therefore the
velocity of the pendulum at F varies as FN, that is, as
FP, for (§ 5, p. 384), FN is equal to half FP. Q,. E. D.
Prop. VI.
If the pendulum begins its oscillations from the point P, the
velocity of the pendulum at any point B varies as the
sine of a circular arc whose radius is FP, and whose
versed sine is PR.
Through F, fig. 80, draw jaFfy parallel to AD, and with
a radius equal to the cycloidal arc FP, describe the semh
circle joog. Make jor equal to the arc PR of the cycloid,
and through r draw rm perpendicular to pY. Through the
points P, R draw PE, RT parallel to AD, and cutting the
generating circle CNF in the points N, S. By Prop. IV. the
velocity at R varies as VEF, that is, as VEF— IF", or, since
CF is constant, as VCF X EF— CF X TF, that is, as
VFN2 — FS2. For (Playfair’s Euclid, book i. prop. Yl,
book ii. prop. 7, and book iii. prop. 35) FN2 — CF X EF,
and FS = CF X TF, that is, as ViFN2^— 4FS2, that is
(§ 5, p. 384), as VFP2 — FR2. But Yp or Fm was made
equal to FP, and pr being made equal to PR> the re¬
mainder Fr must be equal to FR; therefore the velocity
at R varies as ^Fm2 — Fr2; but (Euclid, 47, 1) ^
— Fr2, and rm is by construction equal to the
sine of a circular arc whose radius is FP, and versed sine
PR; consequently, the velocity at R varies as the sine o
that arc. Q. E. D. .
Corollary. The velocity of the pendulum at r is
the velocity of the pendulum at R, as Ym: rm; 'or.
versed sine is in this case equal to radius, and there
the corresponding arc must be a quadrant whose sine is a
equal to radius or Ym.
In th
scill:
(IDS
enili
ums-
-v-'
MECHANICS.
Prop. VII.
The time in which the pendulum performs one complete
oscillation from P to O, is equal to the time in which
a body would describe the semicircle pog, uniformly
' with the velocity which the pendulum acquires at the
point F.
Take any infinitely small arc RV, fig. 80, and making
rv equal to it, draw vo parallel to rm, and mn to rv. Now,
by the last proposition, and by Dynamics, the velocity
with which RV is described is to the velocity with which
whole length. If T, t, therefore, be the times of oscilla¬
tions of two pendulums, and L, l their respective lengths,
we have, by this corollary, T: * = VhWl, and T X
_ t X y/L T X -v//
T X
L >
from which we
mo is described as rm is to ¥m, that is, as ,
rm Ym
or as
rv — RV. But in the similar trian-
mn mo n
— : — , for mn
mi r m
gles Fmr, mno, Vm : rm = mo : mn, consequently —'
rm
= therefore the velocity with which RV is described
is equal to the velocity with which mo is described, and the
i times in which these equal spaces are described must like¬
wise be equal. The same thing may be demonstrated of
all the other corresponding arcs of the cycloid and circle,
and therefore it follows that the time in which the pendu¬
lum performs one complete oscillation is equal to the time
in which the semicircle poq is uniformly described with
the velocity acquired at F.
Prop. VIII.
■ he time in which a cycloidal pendulum performs a com¬
plete oscillation is to the time in which a body would
fall freely through the axis of the cycloid, as the circum¬
ference of a circle is to its diameter.
Since b P = 2FN (see fig. 80), and since the velocity
acquired by falling down NF is equal to the velocity ac¬
quired by falling down PF, the body, if it continued to
move uniformly with this velocity, wnuld describe a space
equal to 2PF in the same time that it would descend NF
or CF (Chap. V. Prop. I. Cor. 2). Calling T, therefore,
the time of an oscillation, and t the time of descent along the
axis, we have, by the preceding proposition,
1 = time along poq, with the velocity at F,
and by the preceding paragraph,
<= time along Fp, with the same velocity; therefore T
: t = time alongwith velocity at V: time along Fp with
the same velocity ; that is, T : < — poq : Fp — '’Zpoq : 2Fjt?
= the circumference of a circle : its diameter.
Cor. 1. I he oscillations in a cycloid are isochronous,
that is, they are performed in equal times, whatever be the
(size of the arc which the pendulum describes. For the
time of an oscillation has a constant ratio to the time
'f descent along the axis, and is therefore an invariable
quantity.
Cor. 2. The oscillations in a small circular arc w^hose
ladius is BF, and in an equal arc of the cycloid, being
isochronous (§ 8, p. 384), the time of an oscillation in a
small circular arc will also be to the time of descent along
the axis, as the circumference of a circle is to its diameter.
Cor. 3. Since the length BF of the pendulum is dou-
ole of the axis CF, the time of an oscillation in a cycloid
c'rcu^ar arc varies as the time of descending along
Cr, half the length of the pendulum, the force of gravity
being constant. But the time of descent along CF varies
as \/CF, therefore the time of an oscillation in a small
circular or cycloidal arc varies as the square root of half
t ie length of the pendulum, or as the square root of its
—- £ X -v/L ; hence T
may find the time in which a pendulum of any length will
vibrate ; a pendulum of 39-2 inches vibrating in one se¬
cond.
Cor. 4. When the force of gravity varies, which it
does in going from the poles to the equator, the time of
an oscillation is directly as the square root of the length
of the pendulum, and inversely as the square root of the
force ot gravity. The time of an oscillation varies as the
time of descent along half the length of the pendulum, and
the time of descent through any space varies as where
• u
s is the space described, and q the force of gravity; but
in the present case s = ; therefore, by substitution, the
time of descent along half the length of the pendulum, or
the time of an oscillation, varies as oras^-^. Hence
385
On the
Oscilla¬
tions of
Pendu¬
lums.
Vd ' Vg ^r0m ^ easT deduce equa¬
tions similar to those given in the preceding corollary.
Cor. 5. Since T
*/L
Vd X T = y'L; and if the
time of oscillation is 1 second, we have /^/g == y^L, or
g that is, the force of gravity in different latitudes
varies as the length of a pendulum that vibrates seconds.
Cor. 6. I he number of oscillations which a pendulum
makes in a given time, and in a given latitude, are in the
inverse subduplicate ratio of its length. The number of
oscillations n made in a given time are evidently in the
inverse ratio of t, the time of each oscillation, that is,
= * and
?* = ; but, by corollary 3, £ == y'/, therefore n
fr°m which it is easY to find the length of a pen¬
dulum which will vibrate any number of times in a given
time, or the number of vibrations which a pendulum of a
given length will perform in a given time.
Prop. IX.
To find the space through which a heavy body will fall in
one second by the force of gravity.
Since, by Proposition VIII., the time of an oscillation is
to the time along half the length of the pendulum as 3-14159
is to 1, and since the spaces are as the squares of the
times, the spaces described by a heavy body in the time of
an oscillation will be to half the length of the pendulum as
3-14159 is to 1. Now it appears from the experiments
of Mr Whitehurst, that the length of a pendulum which
vibrates seconds at 113 feet above the level of the sea, in
a temperature of 60° of Fahrenheit, and when the baro¬
meter is 30 inches, is 39-1196 inches;1 hence l2: (3-14159)2
39-1196
= —2— : 19-5598 x (3*14159)2=: 16-087 feet, the space
required.
The methods of determining the centre of oscillation,
gyration, and percussion, properly belong to this chapter,
The length in vacuo at the level of the sea at London, in latitude 51° 31' 8",40, according to Captain Kater, is 39-13929.
VOL. XIV. 3 c
386
MECHANICS.
On the
Collision of
Bodies.
but they have already been given in the article Rota¬
tion, to which we must refer the reader who wishes to
prosecute the subject.
CHAP. VI. ON THE COLLISION OR IMPACT OF BODIES.
Def. 1. When a body moving with a certain velocity
strikes another body, either at rest or in motion, the one is
said to impinge against, or to impel, the other. This effect
has been distinguished by the names collision or impulse,
percussion, and impact.
Def. 2. The collision or impact of two bodies is said
to be direct when the bodies move in the same straight line,
or when the point in which they strike each other is in the
straight line which joins their centres of gravity. When
this is not the case, the impulse is said to be oblique.
Def. 3. A hard body is one which is not susceptible of
compression by any finite force. An elastic body is one
susceptible of compression, which recovers its figure witli
a force equal to that which compresses it. A soft body is
one which does not recover its form after compression.
There does not exist in nature any body which is either
perfectly hard, perfectly elastic, or perfectly soft. Every
body with which we are acquainted possesses elasticity in
some degree or other. Diamond, crystal, agate, &c. though
among the hardest bodies, are highly elastic ; and even clay
itself will in some degree recover its figure after compres¬
sion. It is necessary, however, to consider bodies as hard,
soft, or elastic, in order to obtain the limits between which
the required results must be contained.
Def. 4. The mass of'a body is the sum of the material
particles of which it is composed ; and the momentum, or
moving force, or quantity of motion, of any body, is the pro¬
duct arising from multiplying its mass by its velocity.
Prop. I.
Two hard bodies B, B' with velocities V, V' striking each
other perpendicularly, will be at rest after impact, if their
velocities are inversely as their masses.
1. When the two bodies are equal, their velocities must
be equal in the case of an equilibrium after impulse, and
therefore B : B'—V': V, or BVzzB'V'; for if they are not
at rest after impact, the one must carry the other along
with it. But as their masses and velocities are equal, there
can be no reason why the one should carry the other along
with it.
2. If the one body is double of the other, or Bzz2B',
we should have Now, instead of B we may sub¬
stitute two bodies equal to B', and instead of V' we may
substitute two velocities equal to V, with which the bodies
B' may be conceived to move ; consequently we have 2B'
X V=B' X 2V, or B' : 2B;zz V : 2V ; but 2V is the veloci¬
ty of B', and V is the velocity of 2B', therefore, when one
body is double of the other, they will remain at rest when
the masses of the bodies are inversely as their velocities.
In the same way the proposition may be demonstrated
when the bodies are to one another in any commensurable
proportion.
Prop. II.
To find the common velocity v of two hard bodies B, B'
whose velocities are V, V', after striking each other per¬
pendicularly.
If the bodies have not equal quantities of motion they
cannot be in equilibrio after impulse. The one will carry
the other along with it, and, in consequence of their hard¬
ness, they will remain in contact, and move with a com¬
mon velocity v.
1. In order to find this, let us first suppose B' to be at On
rest and to be struck by B in motion. The quantity ofColli^
motion which exists in B before impulse is BY, and as
this is divided between the two bodies after impulse, it Wv
must be equal to the quantity of motion after impulse. But
X B + B' is the quantity of motion after impulse, there¬
fore v X B -p B'— BY, and v —
2. Let us now suppose that both the bodies are in mo¬
tion in the same direction that B follows B'. In order that
B may impel B', we must have V greater than V'. Now,
we may conceive both the bodies placed upon a plane
moving with the velocity V'. The body If, therefore,
whose velocity is V' equal to that of the plane, will be at
rest upon the plane, while the velocity of B with regard to
B' or the plane, will be V — V'; consequently, the bodies
are in the same circumstances as if B' were at rest, and B
moving with the velocity V—V'. Therefore, by the last
case, we have the common velocity of the bodies in the
BY—BY'
moveable plane ; and by adding to this V', the
velocity of the plane, we shall have v, or the absolute ve-
BV + B'V'
locity of the bodies after impulse, v — —^ . Hence
the quantity of motion after impact is equal to the sum of
the quantities of motion before impact.
3. If the impinging bodies mutually approach each other,
we may conceive, as before, that the body B' is at rest
upon a plane which moves with a velocity V' in an oppo¬
site direction to V, and that B moves on this plane with
BV + BV'
the velocity Y +V'. Then, by Case 1, will be
the common velocity upon the plane after impulse; and
adding to this V', or the velocity of the plane, we shall have
v, or the absolute velocity of the bodies after impact,
BY—B'V'
v= ■■ —• Hence the quantity of motion after im¬
pact is equal to the difference of the quantities of motion
before impact. It is obvious that v is positive or negative,
according as BY is greater or less than B'V', so that when
BY is greater than B'V', the bodies will move in the di¬
rection of B’s motion ; and when BY is less than B'V', the
bodies will move in the direction of A’s motion.
All the three formulae which we have given maybe com-
BVdrB'V'i
prehended in the following general formula,
for when B' is at rest, V' — 0, and the formula assumes
the form which it has in Case 1.
Cor. 1. If B = B', and the bodies mutually approach
V-V
each other, the equation in Case 3 becomes v = —^ —;
or the bodies will move in the direction of the quickest
body, with a velocity equal to one half of the difference of
their velocities.
Cor. 2. If V = V', and the bodies move in the same di-
B + B'
rection, the last formula will become v = Y X
B + B'’
or v = V ; for in this case there can be no impact, the one
body merely following the other in contact with it. When
the bodies mutually approach each other, and when V = V',
we have v rr V X r-—.
B + B'
Cor. 3. When the bodies move in the same direction,
•^ow the velocity gained
L) nr 13'
BV-BV'.
we have, by Case 2, v:
by B' is evidently v — V' or
B V + B'V'
B + B' "
-V=
T+B'
. til
isioi f
idii
mechanics.
BY
BY'
g jy - ; but this last
hence B + B': B — \r — V':
'm/term is the velocity gained by B, and V — V' is the rela¬
tive velocity of the two bodies. Therefore, in the impact
of two hard bodies moving in the same direction, B B': B
as the relative velocity of the two bodies is to the velocity gain¬
ed by B'. It is obvious also that the velocity lost by B is
V — v — V
BY + B'Y' B'V — B'V'
or ———:———; hence B + B'
: B'- V —V':
B + B'
B'V — B'V'
B + B'
but this last term is the ve-
B + B'
locity lost by B, and V — V' is the relative velocity of the
bodies, therefore, in the impact of two hard bodies, B + B'
: B' as their relative velocity is to the velocity lost by B. The
same thing may be shown when the bodies move in opposite
directions, in which case their relative velocity is V V'.
Prop. III.
To determine the velocities of two elastic bodies after im¬
pact.
If an elastic body strikes a hard and immoveable plane,
it will, at the instant of collision, be compressed at the
place of contact. But as the elastic body instantaneously
endeavours to recover its figure, and as this force of resti¬
tution is equal and opposite to the force of compression,
t will move backwards from the plane in the same direc-
aon in which it advanced. If two elastic bodies, with
;qual momenta, impinge against each other, the effect of
heir mutual compression is to destroy their relative velo-
:ity, and make them move with a common velocity, as in
he case of hard bodies. But by the force of restitution,
iqual to that of compression, the bodies begin to recover
heir figure, the parts in contact serve mutually as points
f support, and the bodies recede from each other. Now,
ci'ore the force of restitution began to exert itself, the
odies had a tendency to move in one direction with a
ommon momentum; therefore the body, whose effort to
ccover its figure was in the same direction with that of
)e common momentum, will move on in that direction,
ith a momentum or moving force equal to the sum of the
)i'ce of restitution and the common momentum ; while
ie other body, whose effort to recover from compression
in a direction opposite to that of the common momen-
ini, will move with a momentum equal to the difference
Rween its force of restitution and the common momen-
im, and in the direction of the greatest of these momenta,
ter impact, therefore, it either moves in the direction
iposite to that of the common momentum, or its motion
tie same direction as that of the common momentum
diminished, or it is stopped altogether, according as the
ice of restitution is greater, less, or equal to the com-
on momentum.
In order to apply these preliminary observations, let us
opt the notation in the two preceding propositions, and
- « be the common velocity which the bodies would have
ceiyed after impact if they had been hard, and v', «"the
iocities which the elastic bodies B, B' receive after im-
}' If B (ollows B', then V is greater than V', and when
I ias reached B', they are both compressed at the point
II impact. Hence, since v is the common velocity with
, they would advance if the force of restitution were
Jetted, we have V —y = the velocity lost by B, and
im ~ the velocity gained by B', in consequence of
pression. But when the bodies strive to recover their
I !£ %th.e force of restitution, the body B will move
(„ wards in consequence of this force, while B'will move
'am m its former direction with an accelerated velocity.
Hence, from the force of restitution, B will again lose the
velocity Y — v, and B' will, a second time, gain the velo-
ST ls7 V con1seduenBy whole velocity lost by
9^V at ^ aiKu the •Wh°le veIocity gained by B' is 2v
. V* Now, subtracting this loss from the original ve¬
locity of B, we have V — 2V — 2v for the velocity of B
after impact, and adding the velocity gained by B to its
original velocity, we have V' + 2v — 2Y> for the velocity
ot Jj after impact; hence we have
v’ =Y — 2 V — 2v z=z2v~ V,
v1' = V' + 2v — 2V' =2v— V.
Now, substituting in these equations the value of v as
found in Case 2, Prop. II., we obtain
_ BY — B'Y 4. 2B'V'
387
On the
Collision of
Bodies.
v —
B + B'
BY'—B'V' + 2BV
B + B'
2. When the bodies move in opposite directions, or mu¬
tually approach each other, the body B is in precisely the
same circumstances as in the preceding case; but the
body B' loses a part of its velocity equal to 2v + 2V' V'.
Hence we have, by the same reasoning that was employ¬
ed in the preceding case,
Y — 2v — V',
v" =2v + V';
and by substituting instead of v its value, as determined in
Case 3, I fop. II., or by merely changing the sign of V'in
the two last equations in the preceding corollary, we ob¬
tain the two following equations, which will answer for
both cases, by using the upper sign when the bodies move
in the same direction, and the under sign when they move
in opposite directions :
v, _ BY — B'Y =±= 2B'V'
v" ~
BY'
B + B'
=±= B'V' + 2BV
B + B'
From the preceding equation the following corollaries
may be deduced.
Cor. 1. I he velocity gained by the body that is struck,
and the velocity lost by the impinging body, are twice as
gieat in elastic as they are in hard bodies ; for in hard
bodies the velocities gained and lost were v—V', and
V — v; whereas in elastic bodies the velocities gained
and^ lost were 2v — 2V', and 2V — 2v.
Cor. 2. Jf one of the bodies, suppose B', is at rest, its ve¬
locity V' — 0, and the preceding equation becomes
VB —VB' „ 2VB
v — —, ' . .. v" —
B + B' ’ " ~ F+~B'-
Cor, 3. If one of the bodies B' is at rest, and their
masses equal, we have B — B' and V' = 0, by substituting
which in the preceding formulae, we obtain v’ — 0, and
v" = y > ^at is, the impinging body B remains at rest
after impact, and the body B' that is struck when at rest
moves on with the velocity of the body B that struck it,
so that there is a complete transfer of B’s velocity to B'.
Cor. 4. If B' is at rest and B greater than B', both the
bodies will move forward in the direction of B’s motion ;
for it is obvious from the equations in Cor. 2, that when B
is greater than B, v' and v" are both positive.
Cor. 5. If \V is at rest, and B less than B', the imping¬
ing body B will return backwards, and the body B', which
is struck, will move forward in the direction in which B
moved before the stroke. For it is evident that when B
is less than B, v' is negative and v'' positive.
Cor. 6. If both the bodies move in the same direction, the
body b', that is struck, will after impact move with greater
388
MECHANICS.
On the velocity than it had before it. This is obvious from the
Collision of formula in Case 1 of this proposition.
Bodies. Cor. 7. If the bodies move in the same direction, and
if g _ B', there will at the moment of impact be a mutual
transfer of velocities, that is, B will move on with B'’s ve¬
locity, and B' will move on with B’s velocity. For in the
formulae in Case 1, when B = B, we have V V' and v"
- V.
Cor. 8. When the bodies move in opposite directions, or
mutually approach each other, and when B = B'and V = V',
both the bodies will recoil or move backwards after impact
with the same velocities which they had before impact.
For in the formulae in Case 2, with the inferior signs, when
B rr B' and V — V', we have V — — V and v" — V'.
Cor. 9. If the bodies move in opposite directions, and V
— V', we have v'=V X an^ v' X
Flence it is obvious, that if B = 3B', or if one of the im¬
pinging bodies is thrice as great as the other, the greatest
will be stopped, and the smallest will recoil with a velocity
double of that which it had before impact. For since B
3B', by substituting this value of B in the preceding
equations, we obtain v' — 0, and v" — 2V.
Cor. 10. If the impinging bodies move in opposite di¬
rections, and if BzrB', they will both recoil after a mutual
exchange of velocities. For when B = B', we have v’=
—V', and v,f— V.
Cor. 11. When the bodies move in opposite directions,
the body which is struck, and the body which strikes it,
will stop, continue their motion, or return backwards, ac¬
cording as BV — B'V is equal to or greater or less than
2B'V'.
Cor. 12. The relative velocity of the bodies after im¬
pact is equal to their relative velocity before impact, or,
which is the same thing, at equal instants before and after
impact, the distance of the bodies from each other is the
same. For in the different cases we have v'=2v — V;
vf'z=2v=+zV. But the relative velocity before impact is
in different cases Yz+=:V', and the relative velocity after
impact is v'—V=+=V'.
Cor. 13. By reasoning similar to that which was em¬
ployed in Prop. 2, Cor. 3, it may be shown that B + B': 2B
as their relative velocity before impact is to the velocity
gained by B' in the direction of B’s motion ; and B + B':
2B' as their relative velocity before impact is to the velo¬
city lost by B in the direction of A’s motion.
Cor. 14. The vis viva, or the sum of the products of
each body multiplied by the square of its velocity, is the
same before and after impact, that is, Bs/2 + Bv"2—BV2
+ B'V'2. From the formulae at the end of Case 2, we
obtain
so on with the rest; but when the last body B"" is set in On the
motion, there is no other body to which its velocity can bec°Uision0
transferred, and therefore it will move on with the veloci-
ty which it received from B'", that is, with the velocitv
of/3. . 3
Cor. 15. If the bodies decrease in size from B to B""
they will all move in the direction of the impinging body
(3, and the velocity communicated to each body will be
greater than that which is communicated to the preced¬
ing body.
Cor. 16. If the bodies increase in magnitude, they will
all recoil, or move in a direction opposite to that of /§, ex¬
cepting the last, and the velocity communicated to each
body will be less than that which is communicated to the
preceding body.
Prop. IV.
To determine the velocities of two imperfectly elastic bo¬
dies after impact, the force of compression being in a
given ratio to the force of restitution or elasticity.
Let B, B' be the two bodies, V, V' their velocities be¬
fore impact, vr, v" their velocities after impact, and 1 : n
as the force of compression is to that of restitution. It is
evident from Case 1,1 Prop. VIII. that in consequence of
the force of compression alone we have
V—v — velocity lost by B 1 r
v—V' = velocity gained by B' /from
But the velocity which B loses and B' gains by the force
of compression will be to the velocity which B loses and
B' gains by the force of restitution or elasticity as 1 \n;
hence
1 : « = V — v: nV — nv, the velocity lost by B1 from elas-
1: n =v-V': nv—nV', thevelocitygained by BJ ticity;
therefore, by adding together the two portions of velocity
lost by B, and also those gained by B', we obtain
1 + nV — 1 + nv, the whole velocity lost by B,
1 + nv — 1 + nV', the whole velocity gained by B.
Hence, by subtracting the velocity lost by B in conse¬
quence of collision from its velocity before impact, we shall
have v' or the velocity of B after impact; and by adding the
velocity gained by B' after collision to its velocity before
impact, we shall find v" or the velocity of B' after impact;
thus
v' —V — 1 -p n\ — 1 + nv, thevelocity of B after impact,
v" — V' + 1 + nv —1— »V', the velocity of B after impact.
Now, by substituting in the place of v its value as deter¬
mined in Case 2, Prop. II. we obtain
B—Bf X BV2 + B'V'2 ,
Yjv2— 1— j and
B + B'l2
B + B'r
BV2 + B'V'2 XB —B'2 + 4BB'
=r B V2 + B'V'2.
= V —
1 + rc X B'V —B'V'
B + B'
v» = V' -f
1 + nX BV—BV'
BV2—XhV2+ B V'2, hence their sum BP2 X BV'2
B + B'l2
B—B'|2 x BV2 + B'V72 + 4BB' X BV2 + BV'2
B + B'2
Cor. 14. If several equal elastic bodies B, B", B'", B"",
&c. are in contact, and placed in the same straight line,
and if another elastic body (3 of the same magnitude im¬
pinges against B, they will remain at rest, except the last
body B"", wdfich will move on with the velocity of (3. By
Cor. 3, Prop. III., B will transfer to B" all its velocity, and
therefore B will be at rest; in the same way B" will trans¬
fer to B'" all its velocity, and B" will remain at rest; and
B + B'
Cor. 1. Hence, by converting the preceding equation
into analogies, B + B:1 + »X Bas the relative velo¬
city of the bodies before impact is to the velocity gained
by B' in the direction of B’s motion ; and B + B': 1 P w
X B' as the relative velocity of the bodies before impact
is to the velocity lost by B.
Cor 2. The relative velocity before impact is to the re¬
lative velocity after impact as the force of compression is
to the force of restitution, or as 1 : /*.
The relative velocity after impact is ©" — v', or, taking
the preceding values of these quantities, v" — P = v
+
I + re X BV — BV'|
B + B'
1 + re X B'V—BjV'.-V'--
B + B'
V +
1 + re X B + B' X V —V
B + B'
dividing by B + B', we
U have v" —V — V/ —V + V —V' -f- rc x V—V' = n xV—V'
llisir of _ t},e relative velocity after impact. But the relative
velocity before impact is V—V', and V—V':n x V—V'
— \:n. Q- E. D. The quantity V'has evidently the nega¬
tive sign when the bodies move in opposite directions.
Cor. 3. Hence, from the velocities before and after im¬
pact, we may determine the force of restitution or elasti¬
city.
To find the velocity of a body, and the direction in which
it moves after impinging upon a hard and immoveable
plane.
ent Case 1. When the impinging body is perfectly hard. Let
yis AB be the hard and im-
fectf moveable plane, and let
the impinging body move
towards AB in the di¬
rection CD, and with a
velocity represented by
CD. Then the velocity
CD may be resolved into
the two velocities CM,
MECHANICS.
389
Prop. V.
Fig. 83.
MD, or MD, FD; CM, DF being a parallelogram. But
the part of the velocity FD, which carries the body in a
line perpendicular to the plane, is completely destroyed
by impact, while the other part of the velocity MD, which
carries the body in a line parallel to the plane, will not be
affected by the collision, therefore the body will, after
impact, move along the plane with the velocity MD. Now,
CD: MD — radius : cos.^ CDM; therefore, since MD
— CF, the sine of the angle of incidence CDF, the velo¬
city before impact is to the velocity after impact, as radius is to
the sine of the angle of incidence ; and since AM = CD
— MD, the velocity before impact is to the velocity lost by im¬
pact, as radius is to the versed sine of the complement of the
angle of incidence.
V1 Case 2. When the impinging body is perfectly elastic. Let
■ctly the mov^ in the direction CD with a velocity re-
presented by CD, which, as formerly, may be resolved to
MD, FD. I he part of the velocity MD remains after
impact, and tends to carry the body parallel to the plane,
fbe other part of the velocity FD is destroyed by com¬
pression ; but the force of restitution or elasticity will ge¬
nerate a velocity equal to FD, but in the opposite direc-
tion DF. Consequently the impinging body after impact
is solicited by two velocities, one of which would carry it
uniformly from D to F in the same time that the other
would carry it uniformly from M to D, or from D to N;
tbe body will, therefore, move along DE, the diagonal of
t ie parallelogram DFEN, which is equal to the parallelo¬
gram DFCM. Hence the angle CDF is equal to the
e CDF, therefore, when an elastic body impinges
y iquely against an immoveable plane, it will be reflected
com t ie plane, so that the angle of reflection is equal to the
0finc*dence‘ Since CD, DE are equal spaces de¬
scribed in equal times, the velocity of the body after im-
i th W1 ec^ua^ vel°city before impact,
is in r 3s When the impinging body is imperfectly elastic.
.tly in take a point m, so that DF is to Dm as the force
) ^omPyession is to the force of restitution or elasticity,
ina having drawn me parallel to DB, and meeting NE in
!, join De; then, if the impinging body approach the
direction CD, with a velocity represented by
-u, De will be the direction in which it will move after
mpact. Immediately after compression, the velocity DF
* aestroyed as in the last case, while the velocity MD
■ can7 t116 body parallel to the plane. But, by the
o restitution, the body would be carried uniformly
along Dm, perpendicular to the plane, while, by the ve- On the
ocity ML) — DIN — me, it would be carried in the same Collision of
time along me; consequently, by means of these two ve- Bodies-
locities, the body will describe De, the diagonal of the pa- ' ^ '
rallelogram DmeN. The velocity, therefore, before im¬
pact is to the velocity after impact as DC : De, or as DE
: De, or as sin. DeE, sin. DEe, or as sin. Dem : sin. DEe,
or as sin. FDeisin. FDE. Now, by producing De so as
to meet the line CE produced in G, we have, on account
of the parallels FE, me, Dm : DF z= me : FG; but FD
being radius, FE is the tangent of FDE, or FDG the
angle of incidence, and FDG is the tangent of the angle
of reflection FDG ; therefore Dm : DF = tan. CDF'
: taw. FDG. Consequently, when an imperfectly elastic
body impinges against a plane, it will be reflected in such
a mannei that the tangent of the angle of reflection is to the
tangent of the angle of incidence, as the force of compression
is to the force of restitution or elasticity ; and the velocity
bejore incidence will be to the velocity after reflection, as the
sine of the angle of reflection is to the sine of the angle of
incidence.
Scholium.
When the surface against which the body impinges is
curved, we must conceive a plane touching the surface at
the place of incidence, and then apply the rules in the pre¬
ceding proposition. The doctrine of the oblique collision
of bodies is of great use both in acoustics and optics,
where the material particles which suffer reflection are
regarded as perfectly elastic bodies.
Prop. VI.
Fig. 84.
To find the point of an immoveable plane which an elastic
body moving from a given place must strike, in order
that it may, after reflection, either from one or two
planes, impinge against another body whose position is
given.
Case 1. When there is only one reflection. Let C be
the place from which the im¬
pinging body is to move, and let
E be the body which is to be
struck after reflection from the
plane AB. From C let fall CH
perpendicular to AB ; continue it
towards C till HG CH, and join
G,E by the line GDE ; the point
D where this line cuts the plane
is the place against which the body
at C must impinge, in order that,
after reflection, it may strike the body at E. The tri¬
angles CDH, HDG are equiangular, because two sides
and one angle of each are respectively equal, therefore the
angles DCH, DGH are equal. But on account of the pa¬
rallels FD, CG, the angle EDF = DGC = DCH, and
DCH = FDC, therefore the angle of incidence FDC
= FDE the angle of reflection ; consequently, by Prop. IV.
a body moving from C and impinging on the plane at D
will, after reflection, move in the line DE, and strike the
body at E.
Case 2. When there are two reflections. Let AB, BL,
be the two immoveable planes, C the place from which the
impinging body is to move, and F the body which it is
to strike after reflection from the two planes: it is re¬
quired to find the point of impact D. Draw CHG per¬
pendicular to AB, so that HG = CH. Through G draw
GMN parallel to AB, cutting LB produced in M, and
make GM ~ MN. Join N, F, and from the point E,
where NF cuts the plane BL, draw EG, joining the points
EG : the point will be the point of the plane against which
the body at C must impinge, in order to strike the body
390
MECHANICS.
Fig. 85.
Bodies.
On the at F. By reasoning
Ctdlision ofas jn preceding
case, it may be shown
that the angle CD A
— EDB, therefore DE
will be the path of the
body after the first
reflection. Now, the
triangles GEM, EMN
are equiangular, be¬
cause GM — MN,and
the angles at M right,
therefore DEB — FEE, that is, the body after reflection
at E will strike the body placed at F.
Prop. VII.
To determine the motions of two spherical bodies which
impinge obliquely upon each other, when their motion,
quantities of matter, and radii, are given.
Let A, B be the two bodies, and let CA, DB be the di¬
rections in which they
move before impact, and Fig. 86.
let these lines repre- c
sent their respective
velocities. Join A, B
the centres of the bo- E
dies, and produce it L
both ways to K and I.
Draw LM perpendicu¬
lar to IK, and it will
touch the bodies at the ^
point of impact. Now, the velocity CA may be resolved
into the two velocities Cl, IA, and the velocity DB into
the velocities DK, KB ; but CA and DB are given, and
also the angles CAI, DBK, consequently Cl and IA, and
DK and KB, may be found. The velocities Cl, DK, which
are parallel to the plane, will not be altered by collision,
therefore IA, KB are the velocities with which the bodies
directly impinge upon each other, consequently their ef¬
fects, or the velocities after impact, may be found from
Prop. III. Let these velocities be represented by AN, BP.
fake AF — Cl and BH — DK, and having completed the
parallelograms AFON, BPQH, draw the'diagonals AO,
BQ. Then, since the body A is carried parallel to the line
LM with a velocity Cl — AF, and from the line LM, by
the velocity AN, it will describe AO, the diagonal of the
parallelogram NF; and for the same reason the body B will
describe the diagonal BQ of the parallelogram PH.
Corollary. If A B, and if the body which is struck
moves in a given direction and
with a given velocity after Fig. 87.
impact, the’direction of the im¬
pinging body, and the velocity
of its motion, may be easily
found. Let the body D im¬
pinge against the equal body
C, and let CB be the direction
in which C moves after impact;
it is required to find the direc¬
tion in which D will move. Draw Dc, touching the ball C Onth
at c, the place where the ball D impinges; produce BC tcColli8ionetf:
E, and through c draw AcF perpendicular to EB, and Bodies,
complete the rectangle FE. The force Dc may be re-V'"‘V’w
solved into the forces Ec, cF, of which Ec is employed to
move the ball C in the direction CB and with the velocity
Ec ; but the force cF has no share in the impulse, and is
wholly employed in making the body D move in the direc¬
tion CA, and with the velocity CF.
Scholium.
In the preceding proposition, we have endeavoured to The nh
give a short and perspicuous view of the common theoryofnomemjf
impulsion. The limits of this article will not permit us toimpdsion
enter upon those interesting speculations to which this sub-owin8t()
ject has given rise. It may be proper however to remark,i'epuls'Te
that all the phenomena of impulse, as well as pressure, areXch
owing to the existence of forces which prevent the parti-vent biT
cles of matter from coming into mathematical con tact, dies from
The body which is struck, in the case of collision, is putcomillpi»-
in motion by the mutual repulsion of the material particlestomatlle"
at the point of impact, while the velocity of the impinging”^
body is diminished by the same cause. Hence we see the
absurdity of referring all motion to impulse, or of attempt¬
ing to account for the phenomena of gravitation, electrici¬
ty, and magnetism, by the intervention of any invisible
fluid. Even if the supposition that such a medium exists
were not gratuitous, it would be impossible to show that
its particles, by means of which the impulse is conveyed,
are in contact with the particles of the body to which that
impulse is communicated.
A physico-mathematical theory of percussion, in which Don Geor.
the impinging bodies are considered as imperfectly elastic,S^J11311'5
has been lately given by Don Georges Juan, in his EVa-Pj'-'j1™'
men Maritime), a Spanish work which has been translated ^
with additions by M. 1’Eveque, under the title of Examenrj
maritime, theorique et pratique, ou Traite de Mecanique, ap-mm.
plique d la construction et d la manoeuvre des vaisseaux, et
autres bdtimens. This theory has been embraced by many
eminent French philosophers, and may be seen in Prony’s
Architecture Hydraulique, vol. i. p. 208 ; and in Gregory’s
Mechanics, vol. i. p. 291.
In some cases of collision the results of experiments are
rather at variance with those of theory, in consequence of
the communication of motion not being exactly instantane¬
ous. “ If an ivory ball (says Mr Leslie) strikes against
another of equal weight, there should, according to the
common theory, be an exact transfer of motion. But if
the velocity of the impinging ball be very considerable, so
far from stopping suddenly', it will recoil back again with
the same force, while the ball which is struck will remain
at rest; the reason is, that the shock is so momentary as
not to permit the communication of impulse to the whole
mass of the second ball; a small spot only is affected, and
the consequence is therefore the same as if the ball had
impinged against an immoveable wall. On a perfect ac¬
quaintance with such facts depends, in a great measure,
the skill of the billiard player. It is on a similar princi¬
ple that a bullet fired against a door which hangS freely
on its hinges will perforate without agitating it in the least.
AY hen a bullet is fired through a sheet of paper hung loosely, the paper scarcely receives a perceptible motion from the momen¬
tum of the bullet. Professor Whewell has given the following excellent illustration of this experiment: “ The reason,” says Pro¬
fessor Whewell, “ is, that the bullet acts upon the paper only during the very short time which it employs in passing through it.
If the bullet have a velocity of 1000 feet a second, and the paper be one thousandth of an inch in thickness, the time of the action is
only toss °f is °* to'oo of a second, or t^ottoo'o oi’a second. If we suppose that the bullet shot into a solid mass of paper would
have lost all its velocity by penetrating one foot, this penetration would have occupied the of a second; and hence, in the
TSos^sso a second, it would, in the same substance, lose only the stsos °f hs momentum, or the momentum corresponding to a
velocity of half an inch a second ; and the paper would gain the amount of momentum which the bullet thus loses. If the paper be
one twenty-fourth of the weight of the bullet, the paper will acquire a velocity of a foot a second ; and therefore in of a second,
which is a portion of time quite perceptible, it would only move through one inch. And as the resistance of the air upon a sheet oi
paper is very considerable, the whole velocity would be destroyed almost before the motion could be observed.”
xim :
Feet
tl Nay, a pellet of clay, a bit of tallow, or even a small ba^-
m;n 0f water, discharged from a pistol, will produce the same
effect. In all these instances the impression of the
stroke is confined to a single spot, and no sufficient time
nr^ is allowed for diffusing its action over the extent of the
door. If a large stone be thrown with equal momentum,
and consequently with smaller velocity, the effect will
be totally reversed, the door will turn on its hinges, and
yet scarcely a dent will be made on its surface. Hence like¬
wise the theory of most of the tools, and their mode of ap¬
plication in the mechanical arts : the chisel, the saw, the
file, the scythe, the hedge-bill, &c. In the process of cut¬
ting, the object is to concentrate the force in a very narrow
space, and this is effected by giving the instrument a rapid
motion. Hence, too, the reason why only a small hammer
is used in riveting, and why a mallet is preferred for driv¬
ing wedges.” {Inquiry into the Nature of Heat, p. 127-8.)
tessi The successive propagation of motion may be illustrated
mm by a very simple experiment. Take two balls A, B, of
“ " which B is very large when compared with
^ U" A, and connect them by a string S passing
over the pulley P. If the ball B is lifted up
towards S and allowed to fall by its own
weight, instead of bringing the little ball A
along with it, as might have been expected,
the string will break at P. Here it is evi¬
dent that the motion is not propagated in¬
stantaneously, for the string is broken before
the motion is communicated to the portion
of the string between P and A.
ratuj An apparatus for making experiments on
eper the collision of bodies is represented in fig.
' 89. The impinging bodies are suspended
■ by threads like pendulums, and as the velo¬
cities acquired by descending through the —
arches of circles are in the ratio of their chords, the ve-
mechanics.
391
Fig. 88.
P
.^F'iirrfv
Fig. 89.
jcities of the impinging bodies may be easily ascertained,
he apparatus is therefore furnished with a graduated arch
iiN, which is gradually divided into equal parts, though it
ouid be more convenient to place the divisions at the ex-
emities of arcs whose chords are expressed by the corre-
)onc ing numbers. 1 he balls that are not used may be
aced behind the arc, as at m and n ; and in order to give
hie y to t le experiments, the balls may be of different
zes. bometimes a dish like G is attached to the extre¬
mes of the strings, for the purpose of holding argillace-
js balls, and balls of wax softened with a quantity of oil
jua o one ourth part of their weight. (See Smeaton’s
jpenments on the Collision of Bodies.)
CHAP. VII ON THE MAXIMUM EFFECT OF MACHINES.
e hav e ah eady seen in some of the preceding chapters,
when two bodies act upon each other by the interven¬
tion either of a simple or compound machine, there is an On the
eqmhbnum when the velocity of the power is to the velo-Maximum
city of the weight as the weight is to the power. In this £ffect °f
position of equilibrium, therefore, the velocity of the weight Alachines.
is nothing, and the power has no effect in raising the
weight,—-or, in other words, the machine performs no work.
\Vhen the weight to be raised is infinitely small, the veloci¬
ty is the greatest possible; but in this case likewise the ma¬
chine performs no work. In every other case, however be¬
tween these two extremes, some work will be performed
In order to illustrate this more clearly, let us suppose a
man employed m raising a weight by means of a lever with
equal arms; and that he exerts a force upon the extremity
of the lever equivalent to 50 pounds. If the weight to be
raised is also 50 pounds, there will be an equilibrium be¬
tween the force of the man and the weight to be raised, the
machine will remain at rest, and no work will be perform-
ed. If the man exert an additional force of one pound, or
if his whole force is 51 pounds, the equilibrium will be de¬
stroyed, tbe weight will rise with a very slow motion, and
the machine will therefore perform some work. When the
motion of the machine therefore is = 0, the work nerform-
ed is also nothing; and when the machine is in such a
state that the power preponderates, the work performed
increases. Let us now suppose that the weight suspended
from the lever is infinitely small, the motion of the machine
will then be the greatest possible ; but no work will be per¬
formed. If the weight, however, is increased, the motion
of the machine will be diminished, and work will be per¬
formed. Here then it is evident that the wmrk performed
increases from nothing when the velocity is a maximum,
and decreases to nothing when the velocity is a minimum,
lliere must therefore be a particular velocity when the
work performed is a maximum, and this particular velocity
it is our present object to determine. Sometimes, indeed,
the velocities of the machine are determined by its struc¬
ture, and therefore it is out of the power of the mechanic
to obtain a maximum effect by properly proportioning
them. I he same object, however, may be obtained by
making the work to be performed, or the resistance to be
overcome, in a certain proportion to the power which is em¬
ployed to perform the work or overcome the resistance.
Def. 1. In a machine performing work, the powers
employed to begin and continue the motion of the ma-
chine are called Xhejirst movers, or the moving powers,
and those powers which oppose the production and conti¬
nuance of motion are called resistances. The friction of
the machine, the inertia of its parts, and the w'ork to be
performed, all oppose the production and continuance of
motion, and are therefore the resistances to be overcome.
When various powers act at the same time, and in different
directions, the equivalent force which results from their
combined action is called the moving force, and the force
resulting from all the resisting forces, the resistance. If
Fig. 90,
@
53\ Jr {SO
(z>
MECHANICS.
392
On the the machine, for example, is a lever AB moving round the
Maximum centre F, by means of which, two men raise water out of
Effect of tw0 pUmp barrels by the chains Am, Cw attached to the
Machines. pis^ong5 an(j passing over the arched heads or circular sec-
tors M, N, for the purpose of giving the pistons and chains
a vertical motion. Let the force of the man at B, six feet
from F, be equal to 50 pounds, or -r, his mechanical ener¬
gy to|turn the lever is 6 X 50 = 300. Let the force of
the other man applied at E, four feet from F, be also
equal to 50 pounds, or p. His mechanical energy will be
4 X 50 =r 200, so that the whole moving power is equal to
300 + 200 — 500. But if the two forces of 50 pounds, in¬
stead of being applied at two different distances from F,
had been applied at the same point G, five feet from F, their
energy to turn the lever would have been the same; for
5 X 50 + 50 = 500. In the present case, therefore, the
moving force is equivalent to P X GF, or a force of 100
pounds acting at a distance of five feet from the centre of
motion. Now let us suppose that each piston Am, Civ
raises 60 pounds of water, equivalent to the weights m, w,
and that CFz= 2 feet, and AF = 3 feet, then the mechani¬
cal energy of these weights will be respectively 2 X 60
— 120, and 3 X 60 zr 180, and the sum of their energies
= 300. But two forces of 60 pounds each, acting at the
distances two feet and three feet from F, are equivalent to
their sum = 120 pounds acting at a distance of two feet
and a half from F, for 2£ X 120 = 300; therefore the re¬
sistance arising from the work to be performed, or from
the water raised in the pump barrels, is equal to a weight
P of 120 pounds acting at the distance DF=2l feet. But
in addition to the resistance arising from the work to be
performed, the two men have to overcome the resistance
arising from the friction of the piston in the barrels, which
we may suppose equivalent to^ <p, each equal to 10 pounds,
acting at the points A, C ; but these forces are equivalent
to 20 pounds, or/+p acting at D, therefore the resistance
arising from the work and from friction is equal to 140
pounds acting at the distance DF = 2 feet and a half.
While the two men are employed in overcoming these re¬
sistances, they have also to contend against the inertia of
the beam AF, and that of the chains and pistons, which we
may suppose equal to 20 pounds when collected in their
centre of gravity g, whose distance from F is 2*2 feet;
but a weight of 20 pounds acting at the distance of 2*2
is equivalent to a weight of 19^ pounds acting at the dis¬
tance of 2-5 feet, or DF, consequently the sum of all the
resistances, when reduced to the same point D of the le¬
ver, is equal to 159^ pounds acting at the distance of 2-5
feet from F. The mechanical energy, therefore, of the
sum of all the resistances will be =2'5 X 1591 =:398,75,
while the energy of the moving force, or the sum of all
the moving powers, is equal to 500.
Def. 2. The impelled point of a machine is that
point to which the moving power is applied if there is
only one power, or that point to which all the moving
powers are reduced, or at which the moving force is sup¬
posed to act. The working point of a machine is that
point at which the resistance acts if it is single, or that
point to which all the resistances are reduced, and at
which they are supposed to act when combined. Thus,
in fig. 90, G is the impelled point of the machine, and D
the working point. Had a single force been applied at
the point B to raise a single weight m, acting at the point
A, then B would have been the impelled point and A the
working point of the machine. In the wheel and axle, the
point of the wheel at which the rope touches its circum¬
ference is the impelled point, while the working point is
that point in the circumference of the axle where the rope
which carries the weight is in contact with it.
Def. 3. The velocity of the moving power, and the ve¬
locity of the resistance, are respectively the same as the
velocity of the impelled point and the velocity of the work- on {\
ing point. MaW
Def. 4. The effect of a machine, or the work perform- Meet
ed, is equal to the resistance multiplied by the velocityJlacllille
of the working point; for when any machine raises amass
of matter to a given height in a certain time, the ef¬
fect produced is measured by the product of the mass and
the height through which it rises, that is, by the product
of the mass by the velocity with which it moves.
Def. 5. The momentum of impulse is equal to the
moving force multiplied by the velocity of the impelled
point.
In any machine that has a motion of rotation, let a; be Explain,
the velocity of the impelled point, and y the velocity of don of
the working point. When the machine is a lever, x,
will express the perpendiculars let fall from the centre of
motion upon the line of direction in which the forces act;
and if the machine is a wheel and axle, x, y will represent
the diameters of the wheel and the axle respectively. In
compound machines, which may be regarded as composed
of levers (Chap. II. Sect. I.), x will represent the sum of
all the levers by which the power acts, and y the sum of
all the levers by which the resistance acts.
Let P be the real pressure which the moving power
exerts at the impelled point of the machine, and R the
actual pressure which the mere resistance of the work to
be performed exerts at the working point, or which it di¬
rectly opposes to the exertion of the power. Let a be the
inertia of the power P, or the mass of matter which the
power P must move with the velocity of the impelled
point in order that P may exert its pressure at the im¬
pelled point; and let b be the inertia of the resistance R,
or the mass of matter which must be moved with the ve¬
locity of the working point in the performance of the
work.
Since the resistance arising from the friction of the
communicating parts is an uniformly retarding force, it
may be measured by a weight 9 acting at the working
point of the machine, which will oppose the same resist¬
ance to the moving power as the friction of the parts.
Let m be the inertia of the machine, or rather that quan¬
tity of matter which, acting at the working point ot the
machine, will require the same part of the moving force
to give it an angular motion ; then, since y represents the
arm of the lever by which the resistance acts, or the dis¬
tance of the working point from the centre of motion;
and since the momentum of inertia, or the momentum
with which any mass revolving round a centre resists be¬
ing put in motion, is equal to its quantity ot matter multi¬
plied by the square of its distance from its centre of mo¬
tion (see article Rotation), we have my1 for the momen¬
tum of inertia of the machine. It is obvious that eveiy
machine opposes a certain resistance to any force that en¬
deavours to give it an angular motion, and that this resist¬
ance will increase with the inertia of its parts. It is easy,
therefore, to find a quantity of matter which, when placed
at any part of the machine, will oppose the same resistance
to an angular motion as the combined inertia ot the vari¬
ous parts of the machine. This is the quantity of matter
which we have called and which we have supposed to
act at the working point, because to that point all the ot er
resistances have been reduced. Collecting the symbo s,
therefore, we have
x — the velocity of the impelled point, or fi16 ra
dius of the wheel, or the length ot the level
by which the power acts.
y — the velocity of the working point, or the ra ms
of the axle, or the length ot the lever^ }
which the resistance acts against the power.
393
n th
icinn i
'ect'{
chin:.
mr*'
■ _
MECHANICS.
P = the pressure exerted by the power at the im¬
pelled point of the machine.
R = the pressure which the resistance arising from
the work to be performed exerts at the
working point of the machine.
a — the inertia of the power P, or the quantity of
matter to which it must communicate the ve¬
locity of the impelled point.
b — the inertia of the resistance R, or the quantity
of matter which it must move with the ve¬
locity of the working point before any work
is performed.
p = a quantity of matter which, if placed at the
working point of the machine, would op¬
pose the same resistance to the moving power
as that which arises from the friction of the
communicating parts.
m — the quantity of matter which, if placed at the
working point of the machine, would oppose
the same resistance to the production of an
angular motion, that is opposed by the iner¬
tia of the various parts of which the machine
is composed. Hence, by the principles of
rotation, we have
mf = the momentum of inertia of the machine.
Vx — Jly—pj
18 ax* + + But in every rotatory machine the Maximum
velocities of its different parts are as their distance from Machines
the axis ; hence we shall have the velocities of the impel-    —
led and working points of the machine, by multiplying the
angular velocity by x, ij, the distances of the impelled and
working points of the machine from the centre of motion.
Therefore,
Vx2-
Ray — (pxy
—2 = the velocity of the impelled point, and
ax2 + hy- + my
Vxy — R?/ —(py~
ax* Jf- by* ^7^ = the velocity of the working point of
the machine ; and multiplying by R, we have, from Def. 4,
PxyR — R2y2 —pRy* _
= the work performed.
ax* 4- by* -f. my*
But as forces are proportional to the velocities generat¬
ed by them in equal times, the preceding quantities will
represent the accelerating forces. Now, the velocities are
as the forces and times jointly ; that is, v == F^, or is =r ;
but F, the accelerating force, which generates the velocity
of the impelled point, is represented by the formula
Rx2 — Rxi/ — tpxy
~ax* -f by2 _|_ my* ' ^Iiere^ore or ^ie absolute velocity
We are now prepared for determining the conditions of
construction which will enable any machine to produce a
maximum effect.
of the impelled point, is x gt, and the
absolute velocity of the working point ——^  
Prop. I.
To determine the velocities which must be given to the
impelled and working points of a machine, or the ratio
of the levers by which the power and resistance ought
to act, in order to obtain a maximum effect.
Let AB be a lever, whose fulcrum is F, and to whose
ixtremity B is applied
Fig. 91.
he power P to overcome
he resistance R, and let
FB = x, and FA — y.
Ihen we shall have, from
he following analogy, the
veight which, placed at
1, would be in equili-
- R • (V)R
ax* -j- by* -R my*
X fft. Again, by Def. 4, the effect of a machine, or the
work performed, is equal to the resistance of the work mul¬
tiplied by the velocity ; consequently, since R is the work,
we have for the performance of the machine,
Rxyll — R*y* — (pRy*
ax* -j- by2 -p my* ^
Now, considering y as the variable quantity, and making
the fluxion of the preceding formula — 0, we shall find
that the performance of the machine is a maximum, when
jQil
y
y
__|a2 X R + <pf + P2« X m + b\b—«R—(i<p
When R—0, we have
Rm + Rb
XX.
 + P2o x +
y=~
>rio with R ; a;: y z= R:
\y
the weight which will keep R in equilibrio, or the
Rm + Rb
Xx.
©JL III-J- L U
When pzrO, the first formula becomes
y=
-«R
 X x.
'eight which is equal to that part of the power P which
'alances the resistance R.
R?/
Hence, P   will be the ef-
x
Rm + Rb
W hen both R and pzzO, we have, after reduction,
\/a
V-
Xx.
ective force exerted by the power P, which, multiplied
y .r, its distance from the centre of motion, gives Rx —Ry
3r ^orce which is exerted in giving an angular motion
> the power and resistance. But the resistance of friction
as supposed equal to the weight <p acting at the working
°int, or at the distance FA or y ; consequently, <py will be
ie resistance which friction opposes to the force Pa;— Ry,
na therefore Pa; — Ry — <py is the motive force exerted
Y r. Now, the momentum of the inertia of the power
j °ro^ie force with which it resists being put in motion,
1 ax , and the momentum of inertia of the resistance R is
V' w‘,ule the momentum of inertia of the machine is my2.
lerefore, the sum of these momenta, viz. ax* -f by2 4- my*
• the mass to be put in motion by the power P. But the
e ocity generated in a given time is directly as the motive
>rce, and inversely as the quantity of matter to which that
»ce is applied. Lienee the angular velocity, or the num-
er ot turns which the machine will make in a given time,
VOL. xiv.
Vm-Rb
WThen b—0, the first formula becomes
— al * K + Pi2 + R2ant\\—gR—q<p
V~ Rm
When R, <p, and b = 0, we have
Xx.
\/a
y=-r- Xx.
m
When a : b=R : R, we have, by substituting P and R in¬
stead of a and b,
 P2 Xjt + p|' + P3 X ?» + R|i—PR — Rq
J~ ' Rm + RR   X^.
When Rm and <p=0, the last formula becomes
P2R2 + P3R||—PR /FiF+phi pr
PR X X—^ p?77i  — TTri X X.
P‘R2
X-*JR+1|~1’
PR
3 n
394
On the and when £=1, and Rzzl, we have
Effect of V—H~ 11—1 >
Machines, and when P— 1, and .Tzr!, we obtain
jf=yi+i|-i.
When xz=J,
!~\
].
MECHANICS.
y
=A+i
Vxy -
^which, divided by y, gives R = ^^
ance R + yjR, or J-ftR =
Pa;-
■9
, or R:
These various formulae, the application of which to par¬
ticular cases will be shown in the practical part of this ar¬
ticle, give us values of y for almost every species of ma¬
chinery ; so that the mechanic may easily determine the
velocities which must be given to the impelled and work¬
ing points of the machine in order to produce a maximum
effect.
When the machine, however, is already constructed, the
velocities of the impelled and working points cannot be
changed without altering the structure of the machine;
and therefore we must find the ratio between the power
and resistance, which will enable us to obtain a maximum
effect. The method of determining this will be shown in
the following proposition.
Prop. If.
To determine the ratio between the power and the resist¬
ance of a machine when its performance is a maximum.
Since the structure of the machine is given, the values
of x, y are known, and therefore we have to determine the
relative values of P and R when the effect of the machine
is a maximum. This would be easily done by making R
variable in the formula which expresses the performance
of the machine, and making its fluxion equal to 0, if none
of the other quantities varied along with R. It often hap¬
pens, however, that while R varies, the mass b suffers a
considerable change, though in other cases the change in¬
duced upon b is too unimportant to merit notice. This
proposition, therefore, admits of two cases; 1. when the
change upon b is so small that it may be safely omitted in
the investigation ; and, 2. when the change upon b is suf¬
ficiently great to require attention.
Case 1. When R is the only quantity which is va¬
riable, the fluxion of the formula
P^yR -_R2 y2_
ax2 + by" + my2 ’
which represents the work performed, is equal to the flux¬
ion of the numerator, because the denominator is constant,
that is, Pa^/R — 2RRt/2— pR?/2 — 0 ; and, dividing by R,
Pxy — 2Ry2— tpy- — 0 ; hence 2lly2 = Pxy — (py2, and
where d may be either an integer or a fraction. In order o
to simplify the investigation, we may consider the fraction Maxing
p as a resistance diminishing the impelling power, instead fffect™
of regarding it as a resistance to be added to the other re-^ac^
sisting forces. Thus the impelling power P will become
P — <p. In the same way we may consider the momen¬
tum of the machine’s inertia applied to the impelled point,
that is, instead of my~, it may be made mx2. Now, mak¬
ing P — (p, or the impelling power = 1, and making *=1,
we shall have by these substitutions in the formula which
Ry  R2?,2
expresses the effect of the machine, —~—|—r.'f-, or, for
r a + m + dRy- ’
the sake of simplicity, making a + m = q, we have for
R?/ R2?P
the performance of the machine ^ ; then,
R is the variable quantity, we shall find, after making the
fluxion of this formula = 0, that the performance is a maxi-
v t, _ cf+ cJdy 2—9
mum when R =
since
R_ V ’    y2y
Now, according to the experiments of Coulomb, the fric¬
tion is, in general, proportional to the resisting pressure,
or a certain part of that pressure, for example, yyR; and
calling Z = -jC, and omitting <py, we have for the resist-
;and
— (' A . 16.,
% \2y)^l5,'
making P == 1, and x — we have R = (2?/) -EtJ’S0 ^iat>
abstracting from the quotient J-S, which, being little great¬
er than 1, will not alter the result, the resistance should
be one half of the force which would keep the impelling
power in equilibrio.
Case 2. When b varies at the same time with R, it
will in most cases vary in the same proportions, and there¬
fore may be represented by any multiple of R, as c/R>
dy1
When 6 = R, then d— 1, and wre shall have
R
_ <f + quW — q
y
When a =: P and P = 1, and when m, the inertia of the
machine, = 0, we shall have a -R m—\—q, and then
the formula becomes
_ y + Hi — 1
yl
When y — .r, then y — \, and
r+~TU— 1
R
R = -
Scholium.
0-1142.
Those who wish to prosecute this interesting subject
may consult the different papers of Euler in the Comment.
Petropol. vol. x. p. 80, 1743, and in the Comment. Nov.
Petropol. vol. iii. and viii. This subject has been treated
with great ability by Dr Robison, though he has omitted
the various steps in the investigation which conduct to the
leading formulae. The subject has been also ably discuss¬
ed by Sir John Leslie, in a paper published in the first
edition of the appendix to Ferguson’s Lectures, vol. ii. p.
353; and as the results of his investigations may be of
great use in practice, we shall here present the reader with
a short abstract of them.
If the resistance is equal to the power, or double, triple,
or quadruple, &c. a maximum effect will be produced
when the velocity of the power, or its distance from the
centre of motion, is 1 + ^2, 2 \/6, 3 + -v/12, 4
— -v/20, 5 + ^/30, 6 + v/42, that of the weight being
1, &c. If the resistance is very great compared with the
power, the velocity should at least be double of that which
■would procure an equilibrium, in order that the machine
may produce a maximum effect.
If the velocity of the power, or its distance from the
centre of motion, be equal to, double, triple, quadruple,
&c. &c. of the velocity of the weight or resistance, a maxi¬
mum effect will be produced when the power R is equal
to R X 1 -j- \/2, RX y'-lr+ /y/f, R X ^ + VA’
+ y/(T¥> RXj+Vt |y, &c. where R is the resistance or
weight to be raised, if the velocity of the power be very
large, a maximum effect will be produced when the power
P is at least double of that which would procure an equi¬
librium. It appears also, from Sir John Leslie’s paper,
that in whatever way the maximum be procured, the force
which impels the weight can never amount to one fourth
part of the direct action of the power; and that, in ma-
xhe
es
MECHANICS.
395
tii chines where the velocity of the power is great, we mav added to that of the snhprp • ,
juili disregard the momenta of the connecting parts, and consi- is in equilibrio from the result of nvn f 4 ' J S6 ie,r? ,c 2n t)ie
to le force which ought to be eurploved as double of is pjuced b • “,r„f ^
whnt is barelv able to maintain the eoudibrium. a ,i .u .. ’ ’ acuug at me tower .
vhat is barely able to maintain the equilibrium.
CHAP. VIII.—ON
THE EQUILIBRIUM OF
AND ABUTMENTS.
ARCHES, PIERS,
Def. 1. Anarch
Misrepresented in fig.
' 92 by the assem¬
blage of stones ab,
cd, ef, See. forming
the mass ABMN,
whose inferior sur¬
face is the portion
of a curve. The
parts A, B are call¬
ed the spring of the
arch, the line AB
he span of the arch,
'h its altitude, h its
point ofA, while the other
force arises from the
weight of bede acting at
its upper point. The equi¬
librium of this chain of
spheres is evidently of the T
stable kind, as it will im¬
mediately recover its po¬
sition when the equili¬
brium is disturbed. Let
us now suppose this arch
inverted, so as to stand in
Arches.
Fig. 95.
u
T'd
a vertical plane, as in fig. 95. It will still preserve its
equilibrium. For the relative positions of the lines which
mark the directions remain unchanged by inverting the
curve, the force of gravity continues the same, and there¬
fore the result of these forces will be the same, and the
arch will be in equilibrio. The equilibrium, however,
which the arch now possesses is of the tottering kind, so
that the least disturbing force will destroy it, and it will
consequently be unable to support any other weight but
its own.
Let us now suppose that it is required to form an equi-
;rovvn, ab the hey stone, the curve or lower surface A6B
he intrados, and the roadway TUV the extrados; PQ
IS, the piers when they stand between two arches, anti .   ...... „„„ „ .etju.reu to torm an com-
he abutments when they are at the extremities of the hbrated arch, whose span is AB, whose altitude is
iridge.
Def. 2. A cate-
larian curve is the
urve formed by
ny line or cord
■erfectly flexible,
ndsuspendedbyits
xtremities. Thus
’ the chain ACB
e suspended by its
xtremities A, B, it
ill, by the action
Fig. 93.
and which will support the materials of a roadway, whose
form TUV is given. It is obvious, that if the spheres a,
b, c, d, &c. increase in density from ft towards a, the catena¬
rian curve will grow less concave at its vertex e, and more
concave toward its extremities A,13. Let us then suppose
that the densities of the spheres a, b, c, d, e, &c. are re¬
spectively as am, bn, co, dp, eq, See. the vertical dis¬
tances of their respective centres from the roadway TUV,
the arch will have a form different from that which it
would have assumed if the spheres were of equal density,
and will be in equilibrio when inverted as in fig. 95. Now,
„ - i - hi place of the spheres a, b, c, d, e, See. of different densi-
gravity upon all its parts, assume the form ACB, which ties> let us substitute spheres of the same density, and
called the catenary, or catenarian curve. having the same position as those of different densities ;
I here are three modes of determining the construction ^et us then load the sphere a with a weight which, when
arches ; the first of which is to consider the arch as an combined with the weight of a, will be equal to the weight
verted catenary ; the second is to establish an equilibri- °h the corresponding sphere a, that had a greater den-
n between the vertical pressures of all the materials be- s*ty; and let us load the other spheres b, c, d, &c. with
een the intrados and extrados ; and the third is to re- weights proportional to bn, co, dp, Sec. Then it is obvious
ird the different arch-stones as portions of wedges with- that the pressure of each sphere when thus loaded upon
it friction, which endeavour by their.own weight to force that which is contiguous to it, is precisely equal to the
eir way through the arch. The first of these methods pressure of the spheres of different densities upon each
is given by the ingenious Dr Hook, and is contained in other, because the density of these spheres varied as their
distances from the roadway. But the arch composed of
spheres of different densities was in equilibrio when in-
e following proposition.
Prop. I.
> determine the form of an arch by considering it as an
inverted catenary, when its span, its altitude, and the
form of the roadway or extrados, are given.
Lota, b,c,d, &c.be a number of spheres or beads connect-
by a string, and
Fig. 94.
D BUT
Upended by their ex-
t mities A, B ; they
v 1 form a catenarian
C"ve Ao&cB, and be
■ISquilibrio by theac'-
fn of gravity. Each
4iere is acted upon
two forces ; at its
flyer point by the
Jj'igbt of the spheres
"mediately below it,
verted, therefore, since the loaded spheres of the same
density have the same position and exert the same pres¬
sures, the arch composed of these spheres, and supporting
TUVBAA, composed of homogeneous materials, will be in
equilibrio. Hence a roadway of a given form, and com¬
posed of homogeneous materials, will be supported by an arch
whose form is that of a catenary, each of whose points va¬
ries in density as their distance from the surface of the
roadway ; or, which is the same thing, a roadway of a
given form, and composed of homogeneous materials, will be
supported bij an arch whose form is that of a catenary, each
of whose points is acted upon by forces proportional to the
distances of these points from the surface of the roadumy.
Hence we have the following practical method of as¬
certaining the form of an equilibrated arch, whose span
is AB, and altitude DA, and which is to support a road¬
way of the form T'U'V'. Let a chain AaAc/eB, of uniform
density, be suspended from the points A, B, so that it forms
&! at *t * k vavuoai/j* n uiii me puiiiLO JD, fcu mat it jui in©
us upper point by the weight of the same spheres a catenary whose altitude is DA, the required height of
396
MECHANICS.
On the
Equili¬
brium of
Arches.
Fig. 96.
XT
the arch. Divide AB into any number of equal parts,
suppose eight, and let the vertical lines \m, 2n, 3o, drawn
from these points, intersect the
;catenary in the points a, b, c.
From the points a, b, c, k, r, s, t,
suspend pieces of chain of uni- t
form density, and form them of
such a length, that when the whole
is in equilibrio, the extremities of
the chains may lie in the line T'U'V', A
fig. 95 ; then the form which the
catenary A/;B now assumes will be
the form of an equilibrated arch, ,
which, when inverted like AKB, T
will support the roadway TUV, si¬
milar to T'U'V', fig. 95. This is obvious from the last para¬
graph, for the pieces of chain am, bn, co, k\J, &c. are
forces acting upon the points a, b, c, k of the catenary, and
are proportional to am, bn, co, &c. the distances ot the
points a, b, c, k, &c. from the roadway.
An arch of this construction will evidently answer for
a bridge, in which the weight of the materials between
the roadway and the arch-stones is to the weight ot the
arch-stones as the weight of all the pieces of chain sus¬
pended from a, b, c, &c. is to the weight of^ the chain
A£B. As the ratio, however, of the weight of the arch¬
stones to the weight of the superincumbent materials is
not known, we may assume a convenient thickness tor the
arch-stones; and it from this assumed thickness then
weight be computed, and be found to have the required
ratio to the weight of the incumbent mass, the curve al¬
ready found will be a proper form for the arch. But if
the ratio is different from that of the weight of the whole
chain to the weight of the suspended chains, it may be
easily computed how much must be added to or sub¬
tracted from the pieces of chain, in order to make the
ratios equal. The new curve which the catenary then as¬
sumes, in consequence of the change upon the length of
the suspended chains, will be the form of an equilibiated
arch, the weight of whose arch-stones is equal to that which
we assumed.
Ee, B&, &c. and taking T)p of any length, make Er equal Ontk
to Yip, &c. and complete the parallelograms pc, rq. Again, Equiii*
Fig. 97.
Scholium.
In most cases the catenarian curve thus determined
will approach very near to a circular arc equal to 120
degrees, which springs from the piers so as to form an
angle of 60 degrees with the horizon. Ihe form of the
arch, however, as determined in the preceding proposi¬
tion, is suited only to those cases in which the superin¬
cumbent materials exert a vertical pressure. A quantity
of loose earth and gravel exerts a pressure in almost every
direction, and therefore tends to destroy the equilibrium
of a catenarian arch. This tendency, however, may be
removed by giving the arch a greater curvature towards
the piers. This will make it approach to the form of an
ellipsis, and make it spring more vertically from the piers
or abutments.
We shall now proceed to deduce the form of an arch
and its roadway, by establishing an equilibrium among the
weights of all the materials between the arch and the
roadway. This method was given by Emerson in his
Fluxions, published in 1742; and afterwards by Dr Hut¬
ton in his excellent work On Bridges.
Prop. II.
To determine the form of the roadway or extrados, when
the form of the arch or intrados is given.
Let the lines AD, DE, EB, BF, FG, GH lie in the same
plane, and let them be placed perpendicular to the horizon.
From the points D, E, B, &c. draw the vertical lines Dc/,
make Bs — qe, and complete the parallelogram ts; in like
manner, make FA = sb, and complete the parallelogram F/V
and so on with all the other lines, making the side of each
parallelogram equal to that side of the preceding parallelo¬
gram which is parallel to it. Let us now suppose that the
lines CD, DE, EB, &c. can move round the angular points
D, E, B, F, &c. the extremities A, C being immoveable;
and that forces proportional to Yid, Ye, Y>b, &c. are exerted
upon the points D, E, B, F, &c. and in the direction IW,
Ee, &c. Now, by the resolution of forces, the force Dd
may be resolved into the forces Dc, D/>, the force Ee into
the forces E</, Er, and the force B6 into the forces Bs, Bf,
and so on with the rest. The force Dc produces no other
effect than to press the point A on the plane on which it
rests, and is therefore destroyed by the resistance of that
plane; but the remaining force Dp tends to bring the
point D towards E, and to enlarge the angle ADE; this
force, however, is destroyed by the equal and opposite force
Yq, and in the same way the forces Er, B£, Fa; are de¬
stroyed by the equal and opposite forces Bs, FA, Gv, while
the remaining force G w is destroyed by the resistance of
the plane which supports the point C. When the lines
AD, DE, &e. therefore, are acted upon by vertical forces
proportional to Dd, Ye, BA, &c. these forces are all de¬
stroyed by equal and opposite ones, and the lines will re¬
main in equilibrio.
Now the force Dc : Dp or E^ zr sin. cdD or dDp : sin.
ADrf, that is, by taking the reciprocals,
Dc . Yq s^n ^D^ sin. dDp'
and, for the same reason,
E^: Bs =
Hence
sin. Ycq ' sin. bBs‘
Eg =
sin. Ee^ ’
Now, since E^ : Ee = sin. Yeq : sin. E^c, we have Ee =
Yq X sin. Yqe_ gjnce pyp^ _ ftqe, and eYBzz Eeq;
sin. Yeq
Ee _ % X sin. DEm therefore,by
— sin. cEB " ‘ sin. Ee?
substitution, we obtain
Ee =-
sin. DE m
• sin. Ee^ X sin. eEB
Now, as the same reasoning may be employed to find D^,
BA, &c. we have obtained expressions of the forces wincn,
when acting at the angular points D, E, B, &c. keep ^
whole in equilibrio, and these expressions are in terms o
the angles which the lines DE, EB, &c. form with the i
rection of the forces. If the lines AD, DE, &c. be 'n(?nlaS'te
in number so that they may form a polygon with an in m
number of sides, which will not differ from a curve i >
then the forces will act at every point of the curve, a
the line niY will be a tangent to the curve at the pom >
the and DEwwill be the angle of contact. The line ~Eq being
luili now infinitely small, will coincide with Em, and therefore
ira (! die angles eEq and eEB or Eeq will be equal to the angle
and consequently their sines will be equal. There¬
fore, by making these substitutions in the last formula, we
have an expression of the force at every point of the curve,
thus,
sin. DEm sin. DEm
Ee =-
MECHANICS.
397
right angle, and eEF = EFB, the angle GEe is the On the
complement of EFB, therefore sin. GEe = cos. EFB Equili-
= _ But, in the present case, the radius of cur- brium of
vature is the radius of the arch, or R, therefore Ec ^rcbes'
^ R X sin. GEe’ 0r> by substitution> ^ that is,
1
sin. eEm X sin. eEtn ' sin. eEm\2'
But the angle of contact DE;ra varies with the curvature
at the point E, and the curvature varies as the reciprocal
of the radius of curvature, therefore the angle of contact
varies as the reciprocal of the radius of curvature; hence,
by substitution,
since R is constant, Ec 4 But when the point E co¬
incides with B, the cosine b becomes equal to radius ;
therefore, in that case, Ec ^ -L and Ec becomes BU = m.
Ee
1
i 11 vib^
lienee^:—~m:Ec and Ecz=—. Now, by the notation
Fig. 98.
radius of curvature X sin. eEm2
In order to get rid of the con¬
fusion in fig. 97, where the
arch is a polygon, let us sup¬
pose ABC, fig. 98, to be the
aarve, mn a tangent to any
aoint E.and Ee a vertical line;
hen the pressure at any point
)f the arch is reciprocally as
he radius of curvature at that
mnt, and the square of the
ine of the angle which the tangent to that point of the curve
arms with a vertical line.
Corollary. Let us now suppose that the arch ABC
upportsa mass of homogeneous materials lyingbetween the
oadway TUV and the arch AEBC ; and the whole being
opposed in equilibrio, let us determine the weight which
iresses on the point E. The weight of the superincum-
icnt column Ecbd varies as Ec X gd, but gd = Ed X sin.
fE^, Ed being radius, and dEg—EnE, on account of the
parallels Ec, UB, therefore the weight of the column Ecbd
aries as Ec X Ed X sin. EraB, that is, as Ec X sin. E«B,
iccause Ed is a constant quantity ; but the pressure at E
R3' 63
R : 6 = BF : DF; therefore R3 : i3 = BF3
DF3, hence
R3 _ I BE3
63 ~ jj pa * anc^ multiplying each side by m, we have
mBF3
2R3
DF‘
but —gp — Ec, therefore the vertical dis¬
tance of the surface of the roadway from the point F, or
Ec
mhb3 BU X BF3
jyps — DF3 ’ ^ben the point E coincides
.Tas proved to vary as
1
radius curvature X sin. eEm2,
herefore the weight of the column Ecbd or EcX sin. ErcB
aries also as this quantity, that is,
1
Ec x sin. EnV> = —— =====.
' radius curvature x sin. eEm2
’>ut as the angle EwB is equal to the angle eEm, we shall
ave, by substitution and division,
that is,
' radius curvature X sin. eEm3
Vhen an arch supports a roadway, the pressure exerted
mn any point of it is reciprocally as the radius of curva-
xe, and the cube of the sine of the angle which the tangent
that point forms with a vertical line.
Having thus obtained an expression for Ec, we shall
oceed to show the application of the formula to the case
lien the arch is a portion of a circle.
Let EB be the
Fig. 99.
! ch of a circle
hose centre is F.
let the radiuszr R,
B =: versed sine,
E = x, DF — cos.
f = b, BU = m.
raw tlie tangent
E, and through E
e vertical line ce,
I fich will be paral-
to BE. Then,
: ice GEF is a
with B, BF = DF, and Ee = BU. When E coincides
with A, the cosine DF vanishes, and therefore Ec, or the
distance ot the point A from the extrados or roadway, is
infinite. The curve VUcT, therefore, will run up to an
infinite height, approaching continually to a vertical line
drawn from A, which will be its asymptote. Such a form
of the extrados, however, is inadmissible in practice; and
therefore a semicircular arch is not an arch of equilibra¬
tion. When the arch is less than a semicircle, as PBR,
the curve terminates in the point p ; and as it does not
rise very much above a horizontal line passing through
U when the arch is small, we might produce a perfect
equilibrium by making the horizontal, as t\Jv, and making
the density of the superincumbent columns En, Eo, which
press upon the points P, E respectively, in the ratio of
\p, Ec, the distances ot these points from the curvilineal
roadway.
The inconvenience, however, arising from the inflexion
of the extrados, may be considerably removed by throw¬
ing the point of contrary flexure to a greater distance,
which may be done by diminishing BU, the thickness of
the incumbent mass above the keystone. Thus, if BU is
diminished to Bd, and if points a, b are taken in the lines
Bp, Ec, so that Pa : Yp=Eb : Ec=Bd: BU, and so on
with all the points in the arch, and if a new roadway vdbat
be drawn through these points, the equilibrium of the arch
will stdl continue, for the various pressures which it sus¬
tained, though they are diminished, preserve the same pro¬
portion.
Let us suppose it necessary to have the extrados a ho¬
rizontal line, and let it be required to find BU=»i when
there is an equilibrium. In this case the point H coin¬
cides with U ; or rather, when the curve UcT cuts the
horizontal line t\Jv, the point FI coincides with U. By
substituting BF — BD instead of DF in the value Ec,
formerly determined, and by putting BD — y, we have
»zR3
Ec-
R-y\
r.i3*
But when H coincides with U, c coincides
with o, and therefore Eo = Ec = BD + BU = y + m,
consequently,
mB:
R—y\
f=y + and, multiplying by R—y^,
we have mR3 z=yX R —y\3 + X R — y\\ or mil3 +
398
On the
Equili-
MECHANICS.
X R—y\3z=.y X R—y\3, and, dividing by the co-effi
brium of cients of we have
Arches.
_ y X R — yf
that is,
R3—R — y
The thickness of the roadway above the keystone, when the
extrados is a straight line, is equal to the quotient arising
from multiplying the versed sine of half the arch by the cube
of its cosine, and dividing this product by the difference be¬
tween the cube of the radius and the cube of the cosine ; or,
to change the expressions, the thickness of the roadway
above the keystone, when the roadway is a straight line, is
equal to the quotient arising from multiplying the height of
the arch by the cube of the difference between the radius of
the arch and its height, and dividing this product by (he dif¬
ference between the cube of the radius and the cube of the
difference between the radius and the height of the arch.
When the arch is a semicircle, R —y vanishes, and m
becomes equal 0, so that the semicircular arch is evident¬
ly inadmissible. But when the arch is less than a semi¬
circle, the value of m will be finite. Thus, if the arches
are respectively
Arch.
60°, we have m — of the span,
90°, we have of the span, or
110°, we have m — -fj of the span nearly.
The two first arches of 60° and 90° manifestly give too
great a thickness to the part BU or m. In the third arch
of 110°, the thickness of BD is nearly what is given to it
by good architects, and is therefore the best in practice ;
for if the arch were made greater than 110°, the thickness
of BU or m would be too small. It is obvious, however,
that an arch of 110° is not an arch of joer/eci equilibration,
for this can be the case only when the roadway has the
form Uzr, fig. 95. When the roadwray, therefore, is hori¬
zontal, as Ur, there is an unbalanced pressure on both sides
of the keystone, produced by the weight of the materials in
the mixtilinear space rz\j. It is indeed very small, and
might be counteracted by making the materials below Z Vr
lighter than those below U ; but the unbalanced pressure briSf
is so trifling that it may be safely neglected. We may there- ^
fore conclude, that when the arch is to be circular with a's“V*’
horizontal roadway, an arch of WO degrees approaches near¬
est to an arch of equilibration.
When the arch is elliptical, it will be found, as in the nr •
„ v « IP 1116 F%ica!
y X R y\ . arches an.
An elliptical arch, how-periorto
circular
circle, that m —
R3 — R —y3 citoii
ever, has the advantage of a circular one, when the trans-arched
verse axis is horizontal; for, as it is much flatter, the pointwhe” their
of contrary flexure in the extrados is thrown at a greatertrai!SVerst
distance, and therefore it will, with less inconvenience
admit of a horizontal roadway. Elliptical arches have alsom0ntaL
the advantage of being more elegant, and likewise require
less labour and materials.
The cycloidal arch is likewise superior to a circular one,
but inferior to those which are elliptical. Parabolic, hy¬
perbolic, and catenarian arches may be employed when
the bridge has only one arch, and is to rise high; but in
other cases they are inadmissible. The method of deter¬
mining the roadway for all these forms of arches will be
found in Dr Hutton’s excellent work On the Principles of
Bridges, p. 3. See also Emerson’s Miscellanies, p. 156;
and his work On Fluxions, published in 1742.
When the form of the roadway is given, the shape of On the
the intrados for an arch of equilibration may be deter-mechanitil
mined. As the investigation is very difficult, unless whencurveot
the roadwray is a horizontal line, we shall merely give thee.quilita'
formula, which will enable any person to construct the**011’
curve. In all other curves the equilibrium of the arch is
imperfect; but the curve described by the following for¬
mula is an arch of perfect equilibration, and has been
called the mechanical curve of equilibration :
Fig. 100.
u
hyperbol. log.
ED = AF X 
BU + BD + V2BU X BD -f BD2
BU
hyperbol. log. J>U + BF + V2BU X BF + BP
BU
From this formula, which corresponds with fig. 100, Dr
Hutton has computed the following table, containing the
values ofcU and c-E, for an arch whose span AC is 100,
whose height BF is 40, and whose thickness at the crown
or BU is 6. The table will answer for any other arch
whose span and thickness are as the numbers 100, 40, 6;
only the values of cU and cE must be increased or dimi¬
nished in the same ratio as these numbers.
Table for constructing the Curve of Equilibration, when the Span, Height, and Thickness at the Crown, are as the
Numbers 100, 40, and 6.
Value of
cU.
0
2
4
6
8
10
12
13
14
Value of
cE.
6000
6035
6T44
6-324
6-580
6- 914
7- 330
7-571
7-834
Value of
cU.
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
Value of
cE.
8-120
8-430
8- 766
9- 168
9-517
9-934
10-381
10- 858
11- 368
Value of
cU.
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
Value of
cE.
11- 911
12- 489
13- 106
13- 761
14- 457
15- 196
15980
16- 811
17-693
Value of
cU.
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
Value of
cE.
18- 627
19- 617
20- 665
21- 774
22- 948
24- 190
25- 505
26- 894
28-364
Value of
cU.
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
Value of
cE.
29-919
31-563
33-299
35-135
37-075
39-126
41-293
43-581
46-000
The construction of arches has also been deduced from Parent, Bossut, Prony, and other French philosophers,
considering tlie arch-stones as frustums of polished w'edges and likewise by our ingenious countryman the late Mr
without friction, which endeavour to force their way through Atwood. This theory,°however, is more plausible than
the arch. I his principle has been adopted by Belidor, useful. So far from the arch-stones having liberty to slide
MECHANICS.
399
the:between those which are contiguous to them, without fric- librium Iwwoor, fEo™ • ^
itrujition, they are bound together" by the strongest cement, w v t j 0pP°SI^ forces> we have AM
lot[and sometimes connected by iron pins or wedges. The vv x KA orce o,
*ra , t.i • • .1 . .1 . . _ _ C5
theory likewise requires that the weight of the arch must
'regularly increase as the portion of the vertical tangent
cut off by lines drawn from a given point in a direction
parallel to that of the joints, and therefore either the den-
, sity or the magnitude of the arch-stones must be very
great at the spring of the arch, where the portion of the
vertical tangent is a maximum. Those who wish to be
acquainted with the mode of investigation by which the
equilibrium of arches is established in this theory, may
lj consult Prony’s Architecture Hydraulique, tom. i. p. 152.
X
of
GK — 1^11 X OM2, which, by reduction, be- v ^ ors‘on-
comes OM = */-_M X W x KA
MH x GK *
This formula gives
On the Construction of Piers and Abutments.
rue- In the construction of piers and abutments, there are
wo circumstances which claim our attention. 1. The
and Ltrength that must be given to them in order to resist the
ateral thrust which they sustain from the adjacent semi-
rches, and which tend either to overset them or make
hem slide upon their base. 2. The form which must be
;iven to their extremities, so that the force of the current
aay be a minimum. The adhesion of the pier to the place
n which it rests is always much greater than one third of
le pressure; and as the lateral thrust of the arch which
n's adhesion resists is oblique to the horizon, and may
e resolved into two forces, one of which is horizontal,
nd the other vertical, we have the vertical portion of the
teral thrust, the weight of the pier, and the friction on
s base, combined in resisting the horizontal portion of
ie lateral thrust which tends to make the pier slide upon
s base, so that there is no danger of the pier yielding to
ich a pressure. We do not here consider, that the la-
ral thrust which tends to give a horizontal motion to the
er is completely counteracted by the lateral thrust of
ie opposite semiarch, because it is necessary that the pier
lould have sufficient stability to resist the lateral thrust
one semiarch, in case of the failure of the opposite one.
2t us therefore consider the strength of the pier which
ill prevent it from being overset.
For this purpose, let ABC, fig. 100, be an arch, MHTO
e pier, and BUHA the loaded semiarch, whose pressure
inds to overturn the pier. Let G be the centre of gravity of
e mass BUHA. Join GA, and from G draw GK perpen-
' 2ular to AC, fig. 100. Then, since the whole pressure of
e arch is exerted at its spring A, and since this pressure
) the same as if the whole weight of the arch were collect-
1 into the point G, GA will be the direction in which the
' ught of the arch and the superincumbent mass acts upon
,le point A. Now, by Dynamics, the force GA may be
' solved into the two forces GK, KA, one of which, KA,
« deavours to give the pier a motion of rotation about the
jint 0, while the other, GK, denotes the weight of the
Uded arch in the direction GK. Putting W, therefore,
" the weight or area of the superincumbent mass, we
lire GK: KA rz W : —— . the pressure upon A-
us the breadth of the pier which is capable of balancino-
the lateral thrust, and therefore OM must be taken a lit¬
tle greater than the preceding value. In practice, OM is
generally between one fifth and one seventh of AC, the
span of the arch. The method of finding the centre of
gravity G of the loaded arch, whether the arch is in per¬
fect equilibrium or not, may be seen in Dr Hutton’s work
already quoted, p. 49. A very simple method of doing
this is to form the part BUHA of a piece of card, and to
find its centre of gravity G by the rules already given.
I his indeed supposes all the materials to be homogeneous;
but if they are of various kinds, we can load the arch made
of card in a similar manner, and determine its centre of
gravity as before.
The limits of this article will not permit us to apply the
method of fluxions to the determination of the form which
should be given to the ends of the pier, in order that the im¬
pulse of the current may be the least possible. The theory
of the resistance of fluids, indeed, differs so widely from
expei iment, that such an investigation would, in this place,
be of little practical utility. It may be sufficient merely to
remark, that the pier should have an angular form, and
that the impulse of the current will be diminished as the
angle is more acute. When the ends are semicircular, the
impulse of the stream is reduced to one half; and though
a triangular termination of the piers reduces the impulse
still more, yet semicircular ends are more pleasing to the
eye, and are particularly advantageous when small vessels
have occasion to pass the arch. When such vessels hap¬
pen to impinge against the piers, the semicircular ends are
more able to bear the shock, and do less injury to the ves¬
sel, wdiile the additional quantity of masonry will give
greater stability to the pier.
For fuller details on the subject of this chapter, and on
that of domes, cupolas, and octagonal pyramids, see the
article Arch in this work, vol. iii. p. 378.
CHAP. IX. ON THE FORCE OF TORSION.
Definition. Let ga be a metallic wire firmly fixed in
the pincers <7, by means
GK
,w, as this force tends to turn the pier round O by
1 ans of the lever OA, and as ON ~ AM is the perpen-
( ular from the centre of motion upon the line of di-
* yV
t"tion, we have AM X -
W X KA
GK
for the force which
huls to overturn the pier. Now, the force which is op-
fjsed to this is the weight of the pier MHTO collected
111 its centre of gravity g, which acts by the vertical
i*er Om — l. OM, because g is in the centre of the rect-
*yle But the weight or area of the pier may be
f resented by OM X MH ; therefore the force which
IJfts the lateral thrust of the loaded arch is OM X MH
'2OM, or ^MH X OM. Now, in the case of an equi-
of the screw £ ; let the
cylindrical weight P, fur¬
nished with an index 0,
be suspended at the low¬
er extremity of the wire ;
and let the axis of the
cylinder, or the wire ga
produced, terminate in
the centre of the divided
circle MNO. Then, if
the cylinder P is ipade
to move round its axis
so that the index o may
describe the arch ON,
the wire ga will be twist¬
ed. If the cylinder be
now left to itself, the
wire will, in consequence
of its elasticity, endeavour
to recover its form ; the
index o will therefore
Fig. 101.
On the
force of
torsion.
400
MECHANICS,
On the move backwards from N, and oscillate round the axis of
Force of the cylinder. The force which produces these oscillations
Torsion. js caiiecl the force of torsion, and the angle measured by the
arch ON is called the angle of torsion.
Prop. I.
t =
M xf ’•
dr2
t —
Vn x v^AM—M2
M ..dr1
X /—
J n
hnil^
force tl
Torsion.
V2AM — M-
M
Therefore the time of a complete oscillation will be
!i
T — kx 180°.
«/ n I
In order to compare the force of torsion with the force
of gravity in a pendulum, we have for the time T of a
complete oscillation of a pendulum whose length is l, g
being the force of gravity,
2 180°.
To deduce forrmilae for the oscillatory motion of the cy¬
linder, on the supposition that the re-action of the force r>   , , ,
of torsion is proportional to the angle of torsion, or nearly But V2 A M-iP rePresents <•» «<* or angle whose radm,
proportional to it. is A, and whose versed sine is M, which arch vanishes
Let PQ be a section of the cylinder P in fig. 101, and when M=:0, and which becomes equal to 90° when M=A.
let all the elements of the cy- Fig. 102.
linder be projected upon this
circular section in d, d\ d".
Let ACB, the primitive
angle of torsion, be called
A, and let this angle, after
the time t, become AC6, so
that it has been diminished
by the angle BC5 r=M ; then
ACb rr A — M — the angle
of torsion after the time t.
Since the force of torsion is
supposed to be proportional
to the angle of torsion, the momentum of the force of tor¬
sion must be some multiple of that angle, or n x A — M,
n being a constant co-efficient, whose value depends on the
nature, length, and thickness of the metallic wire. If,
therefore, we call v the velocity of any point d at the end
of the time t, when the angle of torsion becomes ACZ>, and
r — Ct/ the distance of the point d from the axis of rota¬
tion C, we shall have, by the principles of dynamics,
n x A — M x t—jdrv.
But if CD, the radius of the cylinder, be equal a, and if
T ——
9
Therefore, since the time in which the cylinder oscillates
must be equal to the time in which the pendulum oscillates,
we have
J
2 180° — -
9
2 x 180°
Hence, dividing byk180°,and squaring both sides, we obtain
y‘pr2\ l
n 1 ~g
We must therefore find for a cylinder the value of
or the sum of all the particles multiplied by the squares
of their distances from the axis. Now, if we make r
6*28318 the ratio of the circumference of a circle to its
u be the velocity of the point D after the time t, we have radius, a — radius of the cylinder, X = its length, d — its
7*U (flff
evidently v : u = r : a, and v — Now, by substituting density; then we shall have for the area of its base —,
the fluxion of this value of v in the place of v in the pre- multiplied by X, gives the solid content of the cy
ceding formula, we llave a linder = — ^ , and this multiplied by d gives -—r— for
rc X A—Mx‘t=uf~;
J a
and since t = —, we have, by substitution,
u
dr1
n X A — M x
whose fluent is
zt
• /• ar*
— u S —,
./ a
dr2
/(IT
7
2 1 ^ & 2
the sum of all its particles. But as this is to be multiplied
by the sum of the squares of all the distances of the par-
/a4 cf ri
pr- — —|—-•
But the number of particles in the cylinder, or the mass/i
of the cylinder, is —therefore, substituting/i instead
of this value of it in the preceding equation, we have
Taking the square root of both sides of the equation, we rpj3 _ and) dividing both sides by n, we have
have J 2
Vn x \/2AM-
~w-uxid—
J a-
J*pzr3
Multiplying both sides by f—, and dividing by n x
and, extracting the square root, and multi-
2n
plying by 180, it becomes
V2AM—M2, the equation becomes
/* . 1
.  vy 'i/ w ff   I TVT ^ >
aM
/»a,r^ra . i /»
■^1 amXa*J
dr2
jpr
X 180° =
2n
X 180°. Therefore
y'w X'V'SAM—M2 y'wx 'V/2AM—M2
1
M X /'
dr2
T - X 180;
2« 1
-M2*
VnY. V 2AM-
. • oM . „.
Therefore, since t —  , we shall have
and since
g/ia1
21
/pr2 l
r ~ g’
But go. is the weight W of the cylinder, there
2n
and, by reduction, n =:
9
til
rce
fore, by substituting W instead of we obtain n ~ —,
,a very simple formula for determining the value of w from
experiments.
If it were required to find a weight Q, which, acting at
the extremity of a lever L, would have a momentum equal
to the momentum of the force of torsion when the angle
MECHANICS.
Pa*
401
ed as a common fluxional quantity, we shall then have for On the
any number of oscillations Force of
XT 2m 111 Torsion.
N X  = = X
M
V—1
-1’
of torsion is A — M, we must make Q x L = n x A M.
In the preceding investigation we have supposed, what
is conformable to experiment, that the force of torsion is
proportional to the angle of torsion, which gives us w x
Let us now
n X y +1
where M represents the angle to which A becomes equal
after any number of oscillations N. Hence we obtain
M-    
fN x + i , __L_ \ x 1 ’
\ n X y + 1 + A1'—1/ x
A —M for the momentum of that force. UC( 1JUVV
suppose that this momentum is altered by any quantity S,
then the momentum of the force of torsion will become
n X y + 1 ‘ A"—1/ " v — I
which determines the value of M after any number of oscil¬
lations N.
&X. 2. If S :
n X A — M — S and the general equation will assume
this form,
X A —M|v + m' x A — M)/J to'and
/ being different values of to and v, we shall obtain, by
following the mode of investigation in the last example,
n x A — M — S x t — u J* ;
«x A—Mz=——- X
i/-f I
2m Av+, + Mv+1
 V _ * v
2 to'
v'+l
X
XM
-'+1
and, by substituting in place of t its value
the fluent, we have
aM
and taking
A -j- M 11 "j- 1 A -j- M
and if the retarding force is much less than the force of
torsion, we shall have for an approximate value of
dr1
n x SAM — W — 'Zj'SM = tf2
Ex. 3. In general, if S
v' + r
V -f- 1^
m xA —Ivli11 + to' x A —'MJ'
Now, in order to find the value of T or a complete oscil¬
lation, we must divide the oscillation into two parts, the
first from B to A, where the force of torsion accelerates
the velocity u, while the retarding force, arising from the
resistance of the air and the imperfection of elasticity, di¬
minishes the velocity u; and the second from A to B',
where the force of torsion, as well as the other forces,
concur in diminishing u or retarding the motion,
+ to" x A — M|v// -f- to'" x A — Ml'"', &c. we shall always
have for an oscillation, when S is smaller than the force of
torsion,
„ w \ Nr ^toA" , 2m!A'" , 2m"A'1" 2m"A^"'
n X A M zr —^ + 7—;- + -r—r + ~r, i > &c.
«' + 1 >'' + 1 v"+l
'+1
Ex. 1. If S to x A — Mv, we shall have for the state
of motion in the first portion BA
2Mx A—M|>'+1 2toAv+1 'fpr1
^ + 1 _ r+1 ~ J
nX 2AM—M2.
Hence, when the angle of torsion becomes equal to no¬
thing, or A — M = 0, we have
2»>A’t! = uu rif
1 */
nA”
^ +
ppr1
r.2 ’
which, dividing by J becomes
2TOAiv+1
wA2
U2 =
/
v I
jCt us now consider the other part of the motion from A
o B', and suppose the angle ACl/ = M', we shall find, by
filing U the velocity of the point A,
*M« , toM'v+1 U2—m2 s>pr2
X»/ a2
2 v 1 2
Then, by substituting instead of U its value as lately
Hind, and taking the fluents, we shall have, when the ve¬
rity vanishes, or when the oscillation is finished,
2m Av+1 -|- M',,+1
A + M' 5
Having thus given, after Coulomb, the mode of deducing
formulae fbi the oscillatory motion of the cylinder, we shall
proceed to give an account of the results of his experiments.
In these experiments M. Coulomb employed the torsion Torsion
balance repiesented in fig. 101, in which he suspended cy-balance,
finders of different weights from iron and brass wires of
different lengths and thicknesses; and, by observing care¬
fully the duration of a certain number of oscillations, he
was enabled to determine, by means of the preceding for¬
mulae, the laws of the force of torsion relative to the length,
the thickness, and the nature of the wires employed.0 If
the elasticity of the metallic wires had been perfect, and
if the air opposed no resistance to the oscillating cylin¬
der, it would continue to oscillate till its motion was
stopped. The diminution of the amplitudes of the oscil¬
lations, therefore, being produced solely by the imperfec¬
tion of elasticity, and by the resistance of the air, M. Cou¬
lomb was enabled, by observing the successive diminution
of the amplitude of the oscillation, and by subtracting the
part of the change which was due to the resistance of the
air, to ascertain, with the assistance of the preceding for¬
mula;, according to what laws this elastic force of torsion
was changed.
These experiments were m de with iron and brass wires
of the kind described in the following table :—
No. of the Weight in Grains, Weight under
Wires in of Six Feet of which the
Commerce. each Wire.
Nature of the
Wires.
•M' =
X
n x v+2
nd if the retarding forces are such that at each oscilla-
jon t‘le amplitude is a little diminished, we shall have for
be approximate value of A — M'
A —M'= —2—A>l .
Iron harp¬
sichord
wires,
(!2
1 7
Brass wires,
i i
n
5
14
56
5
18-5
66
Wires broke,
lbs. oz.
3 0
10
33
2
14
22
ad if the angle A
VOL. xiv.
'“X v+1
• M' is so small that it may be treat-
'Ihese wires were fixed one after another on the torsion
balance, shown in fig. 101, and were made to suspend
cylinders nineteen fines in diameter, and of different weights.
The circumstances under which the experiments were made,
and the results which Coulomb obtained, are given in the
3 E
402
MECHANICS.
On the following table. The angles of torsion were always so small
Force of that the particles of the twisted wires returned to their ori-
Torsion. ginal state. This was not the case, however, at angles
' greater than those in the table.
at r.i. r , Weight of Limit of the
No. of the Length of sUSpen[ie(j Centre of Torsion
Nature of the
Time of
Twenty
Line ui 1.11c Wirpain Wirpa in ^^
Wires. „" lres 1,1 n ires, m Cylinder.in for Isochronous Isochronous
Commerce. Inches. Pounds. Oscillations. Oscillations.
Harpsichord
iron wire,
Brass wires,
f 12
12
7
7
1
f12
12
7
7
7
1
9
9
9
9
9
9
9
9
9
36
9
0 5
2 0
0 5
20
2-0
0-5
2-0
0-5
2-0
2-0
2-0
180°
180
180
180
45
360
360
360
360
1080
50
120"
242
42
85
23
220
442
57
110
222
32
As the twenty oscillations of the cylinder were in these
experiments sensibly isochronous, Coulomb considered the
supposition on which the preceding formulae are founded,
as a fundamental law, that in all metallic wires, when the
angles of torsion are not very great, the force of torsion is
sensibly proportional to the angle of torsion ; and hence the
formulae may be safely used in the discussion of the expe¬
riments.
It appears from the first and second, third and fourth,
seventh and eighth, and ninth and tenth experiments, that
when the suspended weight was two pounds, the oscilla¬
tions were performed in the times
242", 85", 442", and 110",
while with weights of half a pound the times were
120", 43", 220", and 57",
which are nearly one half of the former. But 1 : 2 r:
: \/2. Consequently the durations of the oscillations are
proportional to the square roots of the suspended cylinders.
Hence it appears that the different degrees of tension produ¬
ced by the different weights used in these experiments has
no sensible influence on the re-action of the force of torsion.
If we vary the lengths of the wires without changing
their diameters, or the suspending weights, as in experi¬
ments ninth and tenth, where the lengths are as 9 to 36, or
1: 4, and the times 110" and 222", or as 1 : 2, it follows that
the times of the same number of oscillations are as the square
roots of the lengths of the wires, as the theory indicates.
When the diameters of the wires are varied without
changing their lengths, or the weight of the cylinders, the
momentum of the force of torsion varies as the fourth
power of the diameters of the wires. Now this result is per¬
fectly conformable to theory; for if we suppose two wires
of the same substance and of the same length, but having
their diameters as one to two, it is obvious, that in the
wire whose diameter is double that of the other, there are
four times as many parts extended by torsion as in the
smaller wire, and that the mean extension of all these
parts will be proportional to the diameter of a wire, the
same as the mean arm of a lever is relative to the axis
of rotation. Hence it appears that, according to theory,
the force of torsion of two wires of the same nature and
of the same length, but of different diameters, is propor¬
tional to the fourth power of their diameter.
From this it follows in general, that in metallic wires
the momentum of torsion is directly in the compound ratio of
the angle of torsionand the fourth power of their diameter, and
inversely as the length of the wires. If a, therefore, be the
angle of torsion, A the length of the thread, d its diameter,
and F the force of torsion, we shall have
When the angle of torsion is not great relative to the Ono,
length of the wire, the index of the cylinder returns to For<*Jf
the position which it had before the torsion took place Toraioii,
or, in other words, the wire untwists itself by the same''"^
quantity by which it had been twisted. But when the
angle of torsion is very great, the wire does not com¬
pletely untwist itself, and therefore the centre of torsion
will have advanced by a quantity equal to that which it
has not untwisted. If the angle of torsion, for example,
is 180°, and if after the oscillations have ceased the in¬
dex returns only 170° in place of 180°, the centre of
torsion is said to have advanced 10°, or to be displaced
by that quantity.
In his experiments on this subject, M. Coulomb used the
iron wire No. 1, 6^ inches long, and supporting a weight
of two pounds. The following were his results :—
Angles of Torsion. No. of Oscillations. Degrees Lost
90° 31 10°
45 101 io
23 10
46 10
When the wire was twisted through a greater angle than
90°, the centre of torsion suffered a displacement which
increased with the angle of torsion, as shown in the fol¬
lowing table :—
F =
?nad*
~T~
where m is a constant co-efficient for wires of the same
metal, depending on the tenacity of the metal, and dedu-
cible from experiment.
22f
1£
Angles of
Torsion.
Angle through which Successive Displacement T . ,
the Wire of the Centre of is- , a‘ .
untwists itself. Torsion. Displacement
% a circle 172° 8° 8*
1 circle 310 50 58
2 ... 410 310 1 circle + 8
3 ... 420 1 circle + 300 2 ... + 308
4 ... 430 2 ... + 290 5 ... +238
5 ... 440 3 ... + 280 9 ... + 158
6 ... 460 4 ... + 260 14 ... + 58
10 ... 480 8 ... + 240 22 ... +298
14 wire split longitudinally.
In this table the first column contains the angle through
which the index has been turned, the second shows the
angle through which the wire has untwisted itself. The
differences between the first column and the second con¬
stitute the third column, which shows the angle which the
wire wanted of returning to its primitive state, or the dis¬
placement of the centre of torsion at each successive ex¬
periment. The fourth column shows the total displace¬
ment of the centre of torsion, and is obtained by adding
any one displacement in column 3 to all that precede it.
From these experiments it appears that for angles of
torsion below 45°, the decrements of the amplitudes of the
oscillations were nearly proportional to the amplitudes of the
angles of torsion, and that when the angles exceeded 45°,
the decrements increased in a much greater ratio. From
the results in the second table, it appears that the centre
of torsion did not begin to advance or be displaced till the
angle of torsion w'as nearly 180° ; that this displacement
increases in proportion as the thread is twisted; that it is
irregular till the angle of torsion is 310°; and that for greater
angles the re-action of torsion remained nearly the same for
all angles of torsion.
From these and other experiments, which our limits will Conte-;
not permit us to give, Coulomb has deduced the following
theory of elasticity and cohesion in metals. _ aI)(jcoi]j.
In all metallic wares the forces necessary for compressingsjonjj
or dilating the integrant particles are proportional to thenietaii,
compressions or the dilatations they experience, or their
elasticity is perfect. Cohesion, however, which is differen|
from elasticity, unites these particles together. In smai*
torsions, when the twisting force is less than that of cohe¬
sion, the integrant particles are elongated or compressed
without any change of place in the points by which they
adhere. But when the torsions are so great that the force
of compression or dilatation is equal to the cohesion ot the
tii particles, these particles ought to separate, or slide upon
* ' one another. This sliding of the particles takes place in all
j ductile bodies 5 but if by this cause the body is compress-
ed, the extent of the points of contact and the extent of the
field of elasticity become greater. As the particles have a
given figure, the extent of the points of contact cannot
augment but to a certain degree, at which the body breaks.
In confirmation of this theory, Coulomb made the fol¬
lowing experiment, in which he varied the cohesion
without changing the elasticity. A copper wire which
broke with 22 lbs. was brought to the temper of a white
heat, which reduced its cohesion so much that it could
scarcely support 12 or 14 lbs. The two wires, however,
when twisted through the same angle by the same weight'
performed the same number of oscillations in the same
time, though the cohesion was only half as great in the one
wire as in the other, and the amplitude of elasticity dimi¬
nished in the same proportion.
Coulomb confirmed these views by some ingenious ex¬
periments on the flexion of steel plates in different states
with respect to cohesion, and he extends his views of the
constitution of metals to all bodies whatever. Their in¬
tegrant particles have always a perfect elasticity ; but bo¬
dies are haid, so^t, or fluid, according to the cohesion of
these particles. If they can slide upon one another, as in
hard bodies, without any sensible change of distance, the
3ody will be ductile or malleable ; but if they cannot thus
slide without their distance being sensibly altered, the body
vill break when the compressing or dilating force is equal
;o the cohesion. ' 1
Ihe resistance of solid bodies had never undergone that
:areful investigation which its importance demanded. Mr
I. Bevan, however, has supplied in a great measure this
Icfect, by a very complete series of frequently-repeated
xperiments on woojjls and metals.1 Ihe following table
contains the results of his experiments.
mechanics.
Species of Wood.
Pear
Pine, St Petersburg
•   Memel
   American
Plane
Plum
Poplar
Satin wood
Sallow
Sycamore
Teak
  African
Walnut
Specific
Gravity of
Wood.
•72
•59
•79
•333
1*02
Modului
of
Torsion.
Remarks.
18115
10500 Fresh.
13000 Four or five years old.
15000
14750
17617
23700
9473
30000
18600
22300
16800
27300
19784
Mr Bevan has given the following formula for finding
the deflection D, or the quantity of twisting, in inches and
decimals, viz. D = l being the length of a prismatic
shaft strained by a given weight or force w in pounds avoir¬
dupois, acting at right angles to the axis of the prism, and
by a given leverage — r, the side of the square shaft being
d, and T being the modulus of torsion as given in the pre¬
ceding table, /, r, D, and d being all in inches and decimals.
If the section of the prism is a rectangle whose breadth is
b and depth d, then the formula becomes D = — U ’
v-bd^ I
If an angular measure of the torsion is required, let A be
the number of degrees, p — 57-29578, then A = -~r\ or if
b cPT
Tg ~ t, then A
rlw
dH'
Thus, for wrought iron and steel,
Table showing the Modulus of Torsion in Woods.
Species of Wood.
A -
rlw
31000#
, and for cast iron, A
rlw
16600#'
icacia
tlder
.pple
ish
sh, Mountain
leech
lirch
ox
razil wood
ane
edar, scented
herry
hestnut, sweet
liestnut, horse
«rab
amson
eal, Christiana
I Ider
Slim
ir, Scotch
i azel
! oily
ji ornbeam
iburnum
uicewood
\ irch
' me or Linden
1 aple
' k, English
1 —- Hamburg
' — Dantzic
"1— from Po£T
ftier b
Specific
Gravity of
Wood-
•795
•55
•726
•449
•99
105
Remark*.
•71
•615
*763
•38
•755
•83
•86
101
•58
•675
•735
•693
•586
•67
Modulus
of
Torsion.
28293 Not quite dry.
16221 Cross grained.
20397
20300 Planted by Mr Bevan.
13933
21243
17250
30000 Old and very dry.
37800 Old and very dry.
21500 I Influenced by the hard
( surface.
12500
22800
18360
22205
22738
23500
11220
22285
13500
13700
26325 Not quite dry.
20543
26411 Not quite dry.
18000 Green, or fresh cut.
25245
18967
18309
23947 Partly cross grained.
20000
12000
16500
14500
18700
In exemplifying the application of the first formula, Mr
Bevan takes a square shaft of English oak fifty inches long
and six inches by six inches, subject to a strain of 3000
lbs. at the circumference of a wheel two feet in diameter,
or having a leverage of twelve inches ; then r —12, l — 50,
w — 3000, d — 6, and T — 20000 ; then we shall have D
= 0’83, or about |-ths of an inch. If the weight or force
to were 300 lbs., then, as the deflection is directly as the
force, the deflection will be y^th of an inch.
Mr Bevan observed, in a great many of his experiments,
that the modulus of torsion bears a close relation to the
weight of the wood when dry, whatever be the kind of
wood employed; and he has given the following formula
for determining the deflection D from the specific gravity
Q 1
D
rllw
• The amount of deflection thus obtained
30000#$
he considers sufficiently near the truth for practical pur¬
poses.
The following are Mr Bevan’s results for metals:
Table of the Modulus of Torsion for Metals.
Iron, wrought, English.
Iron, wrought, English.
Iron, thin hooping 
Steel  
Steel 
Steel   
Iron, cylindrical 
Iron, cylindrical 
Specific
Gravity.
Modulus of
Torsion.
.1810000
.1740000
.1916000
.1984000
.1648000
.1618000
.1910000
.1700000
' Phil. Train. 1829, p. 127-132 ; or Edinburgh Journal of Science, vol. i. p. 340, New Series.
403
On the
Force of
Torsion.
j Old, and partially de-
( caved.
404
On the
Construc¬
tion of
Machi¬
nery.
Iron, square 
Iron, square 
Iron, square 
Mean of iron and steel
Cast iron 
Cast iron 
Cast iron 
Mean of cast iron... ...
Bell metal 
MECHANICS.
Specific Modulus of
Gravity. Torsion.
.  1617000
_  1667000
. _  1951000
1779090
940000
963000
952000
7*163   951600
8*531   818000
By comparing the numbers in the preceding table with (w
the modulus of elasticity of the same metals, Mr Be van has Constnl
found that the modulus of torsion is one sixteenth oi the tioncf
modulus of elasticity in metals. Mach;.
The theory of torsion is particularly useful in delicate nei7
researches, where small forces are to be ascertained with aS"v'w
precision which cannot be obtained by ordinary means. It
has been successfully employed by Coulomb in discovering
the laws of the forces of electricity and magnetism, and in
determining the resistance of fluids when the velocities are
very small. Its application to these purposes will be found
in our articles on Electricity, Hydrodynamics, and
Magnetism.
PART II.—ON THE CONSTRUCTION OF MACHINERY.
We have already stated, when considering the maximum
effects of machines, the various causes which affect their
performance. It appeared from that investigation,^ that
there must be a certain relation between the velocities of
the impelled and working points of a machine, or between
the power and the resistance to be overcome, before it
can produce a maximum effect, and therefore it must be
the first object of the engineer to ascertain that velocity,
and to employ it in the construction of his machine. Ihe
performance of the machine is also influenced by the fiic-
tion and inertia of its various parts ; and as both these act
as resistances, and therefore destroy a considerable por¬
tion of the impelling pow er, it becomes an object of great
importance to attend to the simplification of the machinery,
and to ascertain the nature of friction, so as to diminish its
effect, either by the application of unguents or by mecha¬
nical contrivances. Since the impelled and working points
of a machine are generally connected by means of toothed
wdieels, the teeth must be formed in such a manner that
the wheels may always act upon each other with the same
force, otherwise the velocity of the machine will be vari¬
able, and its structure soon injured by the irregularity of
its motion. The irregular motion of machines sometimes
arises from the nature of the machinery, from an inequali¬
ty in the resistance to be overcome, and from the nature
of the impelling power. In large machines, the momenta
of their parts are generally sufficient to equalize these ir¬
regularities ; but in machines of a small size, and in those
where the irregularities are considerable, we must employ
fly-wheels for regulating and rendering uniform their va¬
riable movements. These various subjects, and others in¬
timately connected with them, we shall now proceed to
discuss in their order.
CHAP. I. ON THE PROPORTION BETWEEN THE VELOCITY
OF THE IMPELLED AND WORKING POINTS OF MACHINES,
AND BETWEEN THE POWER AND RESISTANCE, IN ORDER
THAT THEY MAY PERFORM THE GREATEST WORK.
In the chapter on the maximum effect of machines we
have deduced formulae containing x and y, the velocities
of the impelled and working points of the machines, and
including every circumstance which can affect their mo¬
tion. The formula which exhibits the value of y, or the
velocity of the working point, assumes various forms, ac¬
cording as we neglect one or more of the elements of
which it is composed. When the work to be performed
resists only by its inertia, which is the case in urging
round a millstone or heavy fly, the quantity R may be ne¬
glected, and the second formula (page 393, col. 2) should
be employed. In small machines, and particularly in those
where the motion is conveyed by wheels with epicycloidal
teeth, the friction is very trifling, and the element p may
be safely omitted. In corn and saw mills, the quantity b,
or the inertia of the resistance, may be left out of the for¬
mula, as the motion communicated to the flour or to the
saw-dust is too small to be subjected to computation. In
machines where one heavy body is employed to raise an¬
other merely by its weight, the inertia of the power and
the resistance, viz. a, b, are proportional to P, R, the powers
and resistances themselves, and consequently P, R may be
substituted in the formula in the place of a, b. The en¬
gineer therefore must consider, before he construct his
machine, what elements should enter into the formula,
and what should be omitted, in order that he may adapt
it to the circumstances of the case, and obtain from his
machine the greatest possible effect.
When the inertia of the power and that of the resistanceTofindtie
are proportional to the power and resistance themselves, relation
and wdien the inertia and friction of the machine may
omitted, the formula becomes y
=Vl
it
+ 1 — 1; from;
the reloci'
ties of the
and wort
which the following table is computed, which contains theingpoints
values of y for different values of P ; R being supposed of amt
— 10, and m—\. c^ne'
Table containing the best Proportions between the Velocities
of the Impelled and Working Points of a Machine, or
betiveen the Levers by which the Power and Resistance act.
Propor¬
tional
Value of
the Impel¬
ling Power,
or P.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
Value of the Velo¬
cities of the Work¬
ing Point, or y; or
of the Lever by
which the resist¬
ance acts, that of
x being 1.
0*048809
0*095445
0*140175
0*183216
0*224745
0*264911
0*303841
0*341641
0*378405
0*414214
0*449138
0*483240
0*516575
0*549193
0 581139
0*612451
0*643168
0*673320
0*702938
Propor¬
tional
Value of
the Impel¬
ling Power,
or P.
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
Value of the Velo¬
cities of the Work,
ing Point, or y; or
of the Lever by
which the resist¬
ance acts, that of
x being 1.
0*732051
0*760682
0*788854
0*816590
0*843900
0*870800
0*897300
0*923500
0*949400
0*974800
1-000000
1*236200
1*449500
1*645700
1*828400
2-000000
2*162300
2*316600
;he
;ruc
of
hi-
t appears, therefore, that when y — 5, 6, 7, the work per-
jrmed is 0-488, 0-5000, 0-49045 ; so that the effect is a
laximum when y zr 6, a result similar to what was ob-
lined from the table.
When the machine is already constructed, x and y can-
ot be varied so as to obtain a maximum effect. The same
tl0n!bject, however, will be gained by properly adjusting the
^er ,ower to the work when the work cannot be altered, or
ere..iework to the power when the power is determinate,
e. 'he formulae in Prop. II. Chap. VII. exhibit the values of
1 under many circumstances, and it depends on the judg-
icntof the engineer to select such of them as are adapted
) all the conditions of the case.
M ECHANICS.
In order to explain the use of this table, let us suppose
hat it is required to raise one cubic foot of water in a
econd, by means of a stream which discharges three cu-
dc feet of water in a second ; and let it be required to
ind the construction of a wheel and axle for performing
'his work; that is, the diameter of the axle, that of the
rheel being 6. Here the power is evidently three cubic
eet, while the resistance is only one cubic foot, therefore
J = 3 R ; but in the preceding table R — 10, consequently
> = 3 X 10 zz 30. But it appears from the table that when
1 — 30, y or the diameter of the axle is 1, upon the sup-
losition that the diameter x of the wheel is 1 ; but as x
nust be = 6, we shall have y = 6.
405
Instead of using the preceding table, we might find the On the
best proportion between x and y by a kind of tentative Construe-
p , tj P2 2 tion of
process, from the formula -—^ ^ , which expres-
ses the work performed. This method is indeed tedious ;
and we mention it only for the sake of showing the con¬
formity of the results, and of proving that there is a cer¬
tain proportion between x and y which gives a maximum
effect. Let a; zz 6, as in the preceding paragraph, and let
us suppose y to be successively 5, 6, and 7, in order to see
which of these values is the best. Since P zz 3, R zz 1,
and a: zz 6, we have,
Wheny zz 5,
u ’ Pa^+ Ry2
Padty—Ry
When y = 6,
Pa;2 + Ry2
When y zz 7, .
J ’ Par + Ry2 ■
3 X 6 X 1 X 5 — 1 X 5 X 5
3 X 6 X 6 + 1 X 5 X 5 “133
3X6X1X6 — 1X6X6 72
3X6X6+1X6X6 “144
3X6X1X7—IX 7 X 7 _ 77
3X6X6+1X7X7 ~ ~157
z=-^-zz 0-488;
- 0-500 ;
=z 0-49045.
The following table is founded on the formula
r> /y 1 — 1 ...
R = V 1 p j which answers to the case where the
inertia of the impelling power is the same with its pres¬
sure, and where the inertia and the friction of the machine
may be safely neglected. The second column contains
the different values of R corresponding to the values of y
in the first column. The numbers in the third column
show the ratio of y to R, or they have the same propor¬
tion to 1 which R has to the resistance which will balance
P. In the table it is supposed that P zz 1 and a; zz 1.
Fable containing the best Proportions between the Power and the Resistance, the Inertia of the Impelling Power
being the same with its Pressure, and the Friction and Inertia of the Machine being omitted.
Values of y, or
the Velocity of
the Working
Point, x being
equal to 1.
Values of R, or
the resistance to
be overcome, P
being = 1.
1-8885
1-3928
0-8986
0-4142
0-1830
0-1111
0-0772
0-0580
0-0457
Ratio of R to
the resistance
which would
balance P.
0-4724
0-4639
0-4493
0-4142
0-3660
0-3333
0-3088
0-2900
0-2742
to 1
Values of y, or
the Velocity of
the Working
Point, x being
equal to 1.
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
Values of R, or
the resistance to
be overcome, P
being = 1.
003731
0-03125
0-02669
0-02317
0-02037
0-01809
0-01622
0-01466
001333
Ratio of R to
the resistance
which would
balance P.
0-26117 to 1
0-25000
0-24021
0-23170
0-22407
0-21708
0-21086
0-20524
0-19995
To exemplify the use of the preceding table, let us sup-
1 >se that we are to raise water by means of a simple pul-
y and bucket, with a power zz 10, and that it is required
find the resistance R, or the quantity of water which
ust be put into the bucket, in order that the work per-
rmed may be a maximum. In the simple pulley x, y,
e arms of the vertical levers, or the velocities of the im-
led and working points, are equal; and since x is sup-
'sed in the table to be zz 1, we have y zz 1, which cor-
sponds in the table with 0-4142, the value of R, P be-
3=1 in the table: but in the present case P zz 10,
therefore 10 : 1 zz 0-4142 : 4-142, the value of R when P
zz 10.
The same result might be obtained in a more circuitous
method by means of the formula > which ex¬
presses the performance of the machine. Thus, let a; zz 1;
y zz 1; P zz 10, and let us suppose R successively equal
to 3, 4, 4-142, 5 ; so that we may determine which of
these values gives the greatest performance.
When R zz 3, the preceding formula becomes
10 X 3
When R zz 4, the formula becomes
10 + 3
10 X 4 — 4X4 24
3X3 21 ,
ZZ r ZZ 1-6154.
10 + 4
14
13
1-7143.
MECHANICS.
406
On the
Simplifica¬
tion of Ma¬
chinery.
n , , 10 X 4*142 —4-142I2 24-26384
When II z= 4-142, the formula becomes ; —j-   = - ■ , ,0 - == 1-7157
10 X 4-142
14*142
When R = 5, the formula becomes
10 X 5
5X5 25 ,.M„K
lo + s  =15=1-6666.
,0»tke|
^uplifia
tionofl|.:
chinetT,:
Hence it appears, that when R nr 3, 4, 4-142, 5, the
work performed is respectively rr 1*6154, 1*7143, 1*7157,
1-6666 ; so that the work performed is a maximum when
R is zr 4-142, the same result which was obtained from
the table.
CHAP. II. ON THE SIMPLIFICATION OF MACHINERY.
As the inertia of every machine adds greatly to the re¬
sistance to be overcome, and as the friction of the com¬
municating parts is proportional to the pressure, it becomes
a matter of great practical importance, that the different
parts of a machine should be proportioned to the strains
to which they are exposed. If the beam of a steam-en¬
gine, for example, is larger than what is necessary, an im¬
mense portion of the impelling power must be destroyed
at every stroke of the piston, by dragging the superfluous
mass from a state of rest into motion ; the pressure upon
the gudgeons will also be increased, and their friction
in their sockets proportionally enlarged. The engineer,
therefore, should be well acquainted with the strength of
the materials of which the machine is to be constructed,
and should frame its different parts in such a manner that
they may not be heavier than what is necessary for resist¬
ing the forces with which they are urged. When the
motions of the machine are necessarily irregular, and when
the machine may be exposed to accidental strains, the
parts must be made considerably stronger than what is
necessary for resisting its ordinary strains; but it is not
often that such a precaution should be observed. The
gudgeons of water-wheels, and of the beams of steam-en¬
gines, ought to be made as short and small as possible, as
the friction increases with the rubbing surfaces. This is
very seldom attended to in the construction of water¬
wheels. The diameter of the gudgeons is frequently thrice
as large as what is necessary for supporting the weight of
the wheel.
In the construction of machinery we must not only at¬
tend to the simplification of the parts, but also to the num¬
ber of these parts, and the mode of connecting them.
From the nature and quantity of the work to be perform¬
ed, it is easy to ascertain the velocity of the working point
w-hich is most proper for performing it. Now this velocity
may be procured in a variety of ways, either by a perplex¬
ing multiplicity of wheels, or by more simple combina¬
tions. The choice of these combinations must be left
solely to the judgment of the engineer, as no general rules
can be laid down to direct him. It may be useful, how¬
ever, to remark, that the power should always be applied
as near as possible to the working point of the machine,
and that when one wheel drives another, the diameter of
the one should never be great when the diameter of the
other is very small. The size of wheels is often deter¬
mined from the strains to which they are exposed. If,
for example, we are obliged to give a certain velocity to
an axle by means of a wheel with 120 teeth, and if the
force with which this wheel is urged requires the teeth
to be at least one inch thick in order to prevent them from
breaking, we shall be obliged to make its diameter at least
seven feet; for supposing the spaces between the teeth to
be equal to the thickness of the teeth, the circumference
of the wheel must at least be equal to 120 -f 120 — 240
inches, the sum of the teeth and their intervals, which
gives a diameter of six feet eight inches. There are some
cases where our choice of combination must be directed
by the nature of the machinery. If the work to be per¬
formed is a load raised with a certain velocity by means
of a rope winding round a hollow drum, and if the simplest
combination of mechanical powers for producing this ve¬
locity should give a small diameter to the drum, then this
combination must give way to another which corresponds
with a larger size of the drum ; for, on account of the in¬
flexibility of the ropes, a great portion of the impelling
power would be wasted in winding them about the cir¬
cumference of a small drum.
The advantages of simplifying machinery are well exem-Descrip.
plified in the folkwing capstan, which unites great streti'nhhonofi
Fig. 103
and simplicity. It is repre¬
sented in fig. 103, where
AD is a compound bar¬
rel composed of two cy¬
linders of different radii.
The rope DEC is fixed
at the extremity of the
cylinder D ; and after
passing over the pulley
E, which is attached to
the load by means of the
hook F, it is coiled round the cylinder D, and fixed at its
upper end. The capstan bar AB urges the compound
barrel CD about its axis, so that while the rope coils round
the cylinder D it unwinds itself from the cylinder C. Let
us suppose that the diameter of the part D of the barrel is
21 inches, while the diameter of the part C is only 20
inches, and let the pulley E be 20 inches in diameter.
When the barrel AD, therefore, has performed one com¬
plete revolution by the pressure exerted at B, 63 inches of
rope, equal to the circumference of the cylinder, will be
gathered upon the cylinder D, and 60 inches will be un¬
winded from the cylinder C. The quantity of wound rope,
therefore, exceeds the quantity that is unwound by 63 — 60
rr 3 inches, the difference of their respective perimeters;
and the half this quantity, or 1-J? inch, will be the space
through which the load or pulley E moves by one turn of
the bar. If a simple capstan of the same dimensions had
been employed, the length of rope coiled round the barrel
would have been 60 inches ; and the space described by
the pulley, or load to be overcome, would have been 30
inches. Now, as the power is to the weight as the velocity
of the weight is to the velocity of the power, and as the
velocity of the pow’er is the same in both capstans, the
weights which they wull raise will be as l-^ to 30. If it's
wished to double the pow er of the machine, we have only
to cover the cylinder C with lathes a quarter of an inch
thick, so that the difference between the radii of each cy
linder may be half as little as before ; for it is obvious that
the power of the capstan increases as the difference be¬
tween the radii of the cylinders is diminished. As we in¬
crease the power, therefore, we increase the strength of
our machine, while all other engines are proportionally en¬
feebled by an augmentation of power. Were we, for ex¬
ample, to increase the power of the common capstan, we
must diminish the barrel in the same proportion, supposing
the bar AB not to admit of being lengthened, which wil
not only diminish its strength, but destroy much of its
power by the additional flexure of the rope. This capstan
may be easily converted into a crane by giving the com¬
pound barrel a horizontal position, and substituting a winen
instead of the bar AB. The superiority of such a crane
MECHANICS.
Fig. 104
LPA
^ ibove the common'ones does not require to be pointed out;
jre nit it has this additional advantage, that it allows the
"(imi-iveight to stop at any part of its progress, without the aid
1101 if a ratchet-wheel and catch, because the two parts of the
ion' ope pull on the contrary sides of the barrel. The rope
^'ndeed which coils round the larger part of the barrel acts
vith a larger lever, and consequently with greater force,
han the other ; but as this excess of force is not sufficient
o overcome the friction of the machine, the weight will
emain stationary in any part of its path.
our)( The principle on which the preceding capstan is con-
ma,tructed might be applied with great advantage when two
on eparate axles AB, CD are driven by means of the winch
me { and the wheels B and A. It is evident that when the
’l0' /inch is turned round in one direc-
ion, the rope R is unwinded from
rie axle BD; the wheel B drives
ie wheel A, so that the axle AC
loves in a direction opposite to
lat of BD, and the rope is coiled
mnd the axle AC. If the wheels A,
are of the same diameter and the
ime number of teeth, the weight
7 will be stationary, as the rope
inded about one axle will be al-
ays equal to what is unwinded
am the other. If the wheels have different diameters, or
fferent numbers of teeth, the quantity of rope wound
und the one axle will exceed what is unwound from the
her, and the weight will be raised.
IAP. III.—ON THE LAWS OF FRICTION, THE FRICTION OF
AXLES, THE METHOD OF DIMINISHING THE EFFECTS OF
FRICTION IN MACHINERY ; AND ON THE RIGIDITY OF
ROPES.
The friction generated in the communicating parts of ma-
inery opposes such a resistance to the impelling power,
d is so injurious to the machine itself, that an acquaint-
ice with the nature and effects of this retarding force,
dwith the method of diminishing its effects on machinery,
of infinite importance to the practical mechanic.
1 he subject of friction has been examined at great length
Amontons,1 Bulfinger,2 Parent,3 Euler,4 and Bossut,5 and
f more recently occupied the attention of the late Mr
ince of Cambridge.
lie found that the friction of hard bodies in motion is an
uformly retarding force, and that the quantity of friction
nsidered as equivalent to a weight drawing the body
407
inseparable from such an investigation, and to give an ac- On the
curate and satisfactory view of this difficult branch of me- Nature
chamcal philosophy. By employing large bodies, and con-and Dimi-
ducting his experiments on a great scale, he has corrected of
several errors which arose from the limited experiments of FrlCtl0n•
others; he has brought to light many new and striking
phenomena, and confirmed others which were hitherto but
pai tially established. As it would be foreign to the nature
of this work to follow this ingenious philosopher through
his numerous and varied experiments, w« shall, only pre¬
sent the reader with a description of his apparatus, and an
account of the interesting results which he obtained.
. I he apparatus used by Coulomb in his experiments on
friction, consists of a solid table resting upon very strong
Fig. 105.
Fig. 106.
. i—71— ! 1 ~r ly/
kj
k
l® i;
H0f
ij , . ]\/T _i_ w v s
i ckwards is equal to M    , where M is the
.
j mng force expressed by its weight, W the weight of the
y upon the horizontal plane, S the space through which
'| ‘moving force or weight descended in the time t, and
i — 1G-087 feet the force of gravity. Mr Vince0 also
aid .that the quantity of friction increases in a less ratio
m the quantity of matter or weight of the body, and that
j: friction of a body does not continue the same when it
ifferent surfaces applied to the plane on which it
' 'es, but that the smallest surfaces will have the least
Iption.
Notwithstanding the attempts of preceding philosophers
tj«untold the nature of friction, it was reserved for the ce-
rated Coulomb7 to surmount the difficulties which are
legs. The plank cd, fig. 105, and dd', fig. 106, which con¬
stitutes the table, is eight feet long, two wide, and three
inches thick. Two pieces of oak AB, A'B', twelve feet
long and eight inches thick, are placed on the table in the
direction of its length, and at the distance of three inches
from each other. A pulley H of hard wood, a foot in dia¬
meter, and of fourteen pounds weight, is fixed upon an axle
of green oak ten lines in diameter, and moving in sockets at
the ends B, l/of the two pieces of oak. A cord passing over
this pulley carries at one end a scale P, and is fixed at the
other to a sledge S, fig. 106, which runs upon the table. The
scale P, for carrying weights, is capable of descending four
feet into a pit cut beneath it. A small horizontal wheel
and axle is placed at the other ends A, A' of the pieces of
oak AB, A'B. Above these pieces is fixed another plank
aaW, eight feet long, sixteen inches wide, and three inches
thick, having its upper surface smoothly planed. Sledges of
the form shown in the annexed figures are made to slide up¬
on this plank. The sledge ABDC,
fig. 107, is a plank eighteen
inches wide, but having its length
variable ; and there is nailed be¬
neath it two pieces ACmm', BDnn',
so that when this sledge is placed
upon the fixed plank aaW, it may x>
be retained by these pieces on
Fig. 107.
Recherchr^^Af13*)^^ ^ Commcntar. Petropolitan. tom. ii. p. 40.
rcj'es de Mathimutique et Physique, 1713, tom. ii. p. 462; and Man. Acad. Par. 1704, p. 174. 1
PM. Trans vnT lv’ 1'4)i’ j3'A12* and 133> 5 Traite Elementairc de Mecanique, edit. 1802, p. 178.
• vol. Ixxv. p. 107. ' Mem. des Savans Eirangers, tom. ix. and x.; and Mem. Acad. Par. 1700, p. 418
408
MECHANICS.
both sides with a play of two or
three lines, so that it may move
On the
Nature uiree lines, so mat it may muve /
and Dimi-unc[jsturbed in the direction of the \\
Friction P^an^' When the touching sur-
/ faces are required to be smaller,
Fig. 108.
Tl
other pieces of different widths are nailed upon the plank
ABDC, and their ends rounded for receiving the nuts, to
prevent them from rubbing on the plank, do one of the
hooks h is fixed the pulley cord, and to the other h the cord
which goes round the wheel and axle already mentioned,
and the use of which is to bring back the sledge to the side
A A' of the apparatus. In some of the experiments a steel¬
yard was used, as shown in fig. 106.
1. The friction of homogeneous bodies, or bodies of the
same kind, moving upon one another, is generally supposed
to be greater than that of heterogeneous bodies; but Cou¬
lomb has shown that there are exceptions to this rule. He
found, for example, that the co-efficient of friction of oak
upon oak was equal to - —of the force of pressure, or
when the surfaces were very small; the friction of
2-39
1 • • 1 n
pine against pine oa^ against Pine ^.5 ’anti
that ofelm against elm ppp With elm alone in small pres¬
sures the friction increases with the velocity, dhe friction
of oak against copper was rp, and that of oak against iron
nearly the same. . ,
2. It was generally supposed, that in the case of wood,
the friction is greatest when the bodies are dragged con¬
trary to the course of their fibres; but Coulomb has shown
that the friction is in this case sometimes the smallest.
When the bodies moved in the direction of their fibres, the
friction in the case of oak upon oak was -pp-of tlie force
with which they were pressed together ; but when the mo¬
tion was contrary to the courses of the fibres, the friction
was only
3. The longer the rubbing surfaces remain in contact, the
greater is their friction.—When wood was moved upon
wood, according to the direction of the fibres, the friction
was increased by keeping the surfaces in contact for a few
seconds ; and when the time was prolonged to a minute,
the friction seemed to have reached its farthest limit. But
when the motion was contrary to the course of the fibres,
a greater time was necessary before the friction arrived at
its maximum. When wood was moved upon metal, the
friction did not attain its maximum till the sm faces con¬
tinued in contact for five or six days ; and it is very re¬
markable, that when wooden surfaces were anointed with
tallow- the time requisite for producing the greatest quan¬
tity of friction was increased. The increase of friction which
is generated by prolonging the time of contact is so great,
that a body weighing 1650 pounds was moved with a force
of 64 pounds when first laid upon its corresponding surface.
After having remained in contact for the space of three
seconds, it required 160 pounds to put it in motion; and,
when the time was prolonged to six days, it could scarcely
be moved with a force of 622 pounds. When the surfaces
of metallic bodies were moved upon one another, the time
of producing a maximum of friction was not changed by
the interposition of olive oil; it was increased, however, by
employing swine's grease as an unguent, and was pro- 0
longed to five or six days by besmearing the surfaces with Cj
tallow. ai>(lDiini.:
4. Friction is in general proportional to the force with nutioi[«f
which the rubbing surfaces are pressed together ; and is, for
the most part, equal to between \ and ^ of that force In
order to prove the first part of this proposition, Coulomb
employed a large piece of wood, whose surface contained
three square feet, and loaded it successively with 74 pounds,
874 pounds, and 2474 pounds. In these cases the friction
was successively —-^rr, 2-9i* t^e ^orce Pres'
sure; and when a less surface and other weights were
used, the friction was 2^2’ 240* ^'m^ar results
were obtained in all Coulomb’s experiments, even when
metallic surfaces were employed. The second part of the
proposition has also been established by Coulomb. He
found that the greatest friction is engendered when oak
moves upon pine, and that it amounts to of the force
of pressure ; on the contrary, when iron moves upon brass,
the least friction is produced, and it amounts to ^ of the
force of pressure.
5. Friction is in general not increased by augmenting the
rubbing surfaces.—When a superficies of three feet square
was employed, the friction, with different weights, was
at a medium; but when a small surface was used,
2-28
the friction, instead of being greater, as might have been
expected, was only
6. Friction for the most part is not augmented by an in-Friction
crease of velocity. In some cases, it is diminished by andimimsiel
augmentation of velocity.—M. Coulomb found, that whenjl'j™'
wood moved upon wood in the direction of the fibres, jV e'
the friction was a constant quantity, however much the
velocity was varied ; but that when the surfaces were
very small in respect to the force with which they were
pressed, the friction was diminished by augmenting the ra¬
pidity the friction, on the contrary, was increased when
the surfaces were very large when compared with the force
of pressure. When the wood was moved contrary to the
direction of its fibres, the friction in every case remained
the same. If wood be moved upon metals, the friction is
greatly increased by an increase of velocity; and when
metals move upon wood besmeared with tallow, the fric¬
tion is still augmented by adding to the velocity. When
metals move upon metals, the friction is always a constant
quantity; but when heterogeneous substances are e™*
ployed which are not bedaubed with tallow, the friction is
so increased with the velocity, as to form an arithmetica
progression when the velocities form a geometrical one.
7. The friction of loaded cylinders rolling upon a hori¬
zontal plane, is in the direct ratio of their weights, and the
inverse ratio of their diameters.—In Coulomb’s expel iments,
the friction of cylinders of guaiacum wood, which were two
inches in diameter, and were loaded with 1000 poun s,
was 18 pounds, or of the force of pressure. Incyw
ders of elm, the friction was greater by §-, and was scarce
ly diminished by the interposition of tallow.
The following tables contain the most important resu
of Coulomb’s researches, which we have arranged un
three heads : 1. Woods upon Woods ; 2. Metals upon
tals ; and, 3. Metals upon Woods.
1 The Abbe Bossut had anticipated this curious result, from theoretical considerations.
MECHANICS.
tlfp Friction of H cods upoa Woods. I he following results were obtained with still higher O21 the
4£r. ]. Friction of oak upon oak, token freshly greased with Pressures> an(l with tallow that had been laid on and used :'ature
talloiv at event experiment. ,r some time, without being renewed in the course ofan
* 1 the experiments“utlon 01
r notion.
in (-f
non-
Pressure.
talloiv at every experiment.
Friction in Parts p ^ Co-efficient of
of the Pressure. 1 ressure- Friction.
409
|; 1
50 pounds 
>50 pounds.
50 pounds.
'18-5
1
2F3'
Pressure.
850 pounds.
J
1650 pounds.
3250 pounds..
1
'23-6
1
'25-8
1
27-6 ‘
The increase of friction produced by a diminution of
8 ressure is here very remarkable. Coulomb ascribes it to
he cohesion of the parts of the tallow, the influence of
I /hich increases as the pressure is diminished. He con-
iders five pounds as a measure of this cohesion, and de-
1
uces , as the relation of the friction to the pressure
hen corrected for the cohesion of the tallow.
Friction of oak upon oak, greased with tallow, and de¬
pending on the time of contact. The area of the rubbing sur¬
face was 180 square inches.
Pressure.
2310 pounds...
l
Pressure. Time of Contact.
0 minutes 
2 minutes 
1 hour 
16 hours 
f 0 minutes 
2 minutes 
4 minutes  
5810 pounds... <| 9 minutes 
26 minutes 
1 hour 
16 hours 
Co-efficient of
Friction.
12-3
1
5-9
1
" 5-12
1
"TiT
1
11-57
1
7-35
1
* 6-71
1
1
’ 5-6
1
‘ 4-9
1
lf8'
3. Friction of oak upon oak, in the direction of the fibres,
and token the surfaces are in motion, and without grease.
Surfaces one
foot square.
Pressure.
25 pounds.
188 pounds.
291 pounds.
Co-efficient of
Friction.
Surfaces redu¬
ced almost <
to lines 
5-7
1
 IFF
1
 IhiF
1
1788 pounds 1h2~
1
1
 TM
1
6588 pounds
47 pounds
447 pounds.
847 pounds.
12-4
1
When the velocities varied from nothing to four feet in
four or five seconds, the results were not sensibly changed.
II.—Friction of Metals upon Metals.
1. Friction of iron upon iron, and upon brass, after a cer¬
tain time of rest.
The rulers of iron used were four feet long and two
inches wide, attached to the fixed plank of the apparatus.
Other four rulers were employed, two of iron and two of
brass, fifteen inches long and eighteen lines wide. The
3 F
410
On the
Nature
and Dimi¬
nution of
Friction.
MECHANICS.
angles of the rulers were rounded, and the rubbing sur¬
faces were forty-five square inches.
Pressure.
Co-effi¬
cient of
Friction.
Pressure.
Co-effi¬
cient of
Friction.
j 52 pounds —
Iron upon f 33 Pounds'3^ Iron upon
ir0n 1453 pounds-^- bl ass' •' 1452 pounds^-.
The friction is here independent of the extent of the
rubbing surfaces, and Coulomb found that it did not vary
with the velocities. In the case of iron upon brass, when
the surfaces are extremely small, the friction varies from
_i_ to --; but it does not reach this last ratio till the
4*1 6-1 ’
friction has been continued above an hour, when the iion
and brass have taken their highest polish, and become free
of scratches.
Iron upon iron.
Pressure.
53 lbs.
2. Friction of iron upon brass when greased with tallow.
Pressure. Time of Contact.
Co-efficient
of Friction.
Brass up¬
on iron.
0 minutes.
50 pounds 4 minutes
8-33
1
 TTl
1
^30 minutes 7.14,
: n • 1
0 minutes TffiT
1
Co-efficient,
of Friction.
1
 6-2
1
  10-1
  10-3
1
  8
1
 Wi
1
 11
1
 8
1
 8-1
1
 7-9*
In one of these experiments, when the sledge moved one
foot in a second, the friction of the sledge was under a
pressure of 1652 pounds, more than one third less than when
the velocity was insensible, or even one inch in a second.
III.—Friction of Metals upon Wood.
1. Friction of iron upon oak, the surfaces not being greased.
Pressure. Time of Contact.
Iron upon brass.
Iron upon brass
when the grease <
was not renewed
443 lbs.
1653 lbs.
53 lbs.
443 lbs.
1653 lbs.
53 lbs.
443 lbs.
1653 lbs.
Nature 1
andBiui.;
nution of1
friction.:
450 pounds 4 minutes.
2 hours.
0 minutes.
3 minutes.
1650 pounds^
4 hours.
4 days.
9-37
1
'9’37
1
11
1
' 10-4
1
‘ 9-8
1
A a second.
30 seconds.
53 pounds ^ 60 seconds.
1 hour.
4 days.
A a second.
9-8
The great degree of friction produced with the small pres¬
sure of fifty pounds, is owing to the cohesion of the tal¬
low, which amounted to l£ pounds, which makes the fric-
1 - - i 1
tion __ at the shortest time ot contact, and
had reached its maximum.
1650 pounds <
9-5
when it
2. Friction of iron upon iron, and upon brass, when highly
polished.
After the surfaces were polished as highly as possible,
and greased with oil or tallow, they were attached to the
sledge, and made to rest upon one another under a great
pressure for half an hour, the grease being from time to
time renewed, till it had penetrated the pores of the me¬
tal, and in this manner communicated to the rulers a de¬
gree of polish which they could not have received from
any other method. The size of the rulers was the same
as m section 1, and the areas in contact the same. The
velocity of the sledge was below an inch in a second. The
friction was at first uncertain, but it became more regular
as the polish increased.
10 seconds.
80 seconds.
Co-efficient
of Friction.
1
""TM
1
•'••ToT
1
8-1
1
5’89
1_
  5-3
1
1
1
4 hours.
16 hours.
 11-38
1
 8-25
f
 5-9
days m'
In these experiments the friction does not obtain its
maximum till after a long time.
2. Friction of brass upon oak.
The results were nearly the same as with iron upon oak.
The friction, however, increased more slowly with the
1
time, and at its maximum it was
5-5*
3. Friction of iron upon oak, the surfaces not being greased.
When the velocity was insensible, the results were,
tl til'
atur
Dim
ion <j
ctioii
MECHANICS.
411
Iron upon oak <
Pressure.
53 pounds.
453 pounds.
853 pounds.
1653 pounds.
Co-efficient
of Friction.
1
11-8
1
i
12- 7
1
13- 2‘
Iron upon oak
53 pounds.
453 pounds.
853 pounds.
1653 pounds.
1
‘5’9
1
’£r8
‘5-5
I
'Ws'
Hence it follov/s, that the friction is nearly con¬
stant whatever be the pressure, the velocity being the
same; 2d, that the friction increases greatly with the ve¬
locity ; 3d, that the frictions increase in an arithmetical
progression when the velocities increase in a geometrical
one. Coulomb likewise found that when the pressure and
velocity were the same, the friction was the same for large
and small surfaces.
4. Friction of iron and brass on oak, the surfaces being
greased.
Friction is greatly diminished when the metals rub upon
wood greased with fatty bodies, and small velocities may
be in this case produced with less force than in any other
kind of friction.
When the velocities are greater, the friction increases
rapidly with the velocity; as in the case already stated
when dry metals rub upon wood. With small velocities
the following results were obtained :
, Pressure.
Iron upon oak 1650 pounds.
Brass upon oak 1650 pounds.
Co-efficient
of Friction.
1
*35-i
1
‘47T’
These results are highly important in practice; but the
grease must not be allowed to acquire any consistency,
otherwise the friction increases very perceptibly. It must
therefore be removed, and renewed when necessary. In
order to obtain an estimate of the influence of this thick-
emng ot the grease, Coulomb caused the sledge, when
carrying the plates of brass, to move fifteen times over the
nxed oaken plank, without removing or renewing the tallow,
the consequence of this was, that the friction was triple
of that which was necessary to give the sledge an insen¬
sible velocity when the tallow coating was new. The ve¬
locity of the sledge diminished, or the friction increased,
it every trial; anti at the fifteenth trial the sledge ceased to
mve. Hence it, follows that the tallow actually increases
the friction, or is injurious, when the surfaces move a long
tune without a renewal of the grease.
5. Friction of iron upon oak greased, the surfaces being On the
very small, and the friction across the grain of the wood. Nature
y ^ and Dirri-
The surfaces were covered with tallow, and afterwards nation of
wiped, in order merely to leave them greasy. Friction.
Pressure. Co-efficient
of friction.
47 pounds  ^
When the velocity was one foot per second, the results
were,
Iron upon oak <
13-4
1
447 pounds ^ y
1647 pounds - ■ *
Fig. 110.
The results were nearly the same when the surfaces
were well tallowed. The ratio of the friction to the pres¬
sure is constant, and not much influenced by the velocity.
This case is analogous to the case of axles of iron turning
upon wood.
From the preceding experiments, Coulomb has drawn
the following curious inferences respecting the structure
of the surfaces of woods and metals.
He supposes that the fi¬
bres of wood are as shown
in fig. 109, which repre-'
sents one surface lying up¬
on another.
When the fibres are bent
by the application of a force
to the upper surface, but
before the fibres are de*
tached from one another,
he supposes the two sur¬
faces to be like fig. 110.
When the surfaces are
detached, and the upper
surface is in motion over the
under one, he supposes the
surface to be as in fig. 111.
He considers the surfaces
of metals to be more smooth
than those of wood, and to
have the undulated struc¬
ture shown in fig. 112.
A series of very valuable experiments have recently MrGeorge
been made upon friction by Mr George Rennie,1 under Ptennie’s^
pressures of thirty-six pounds to the square inch, and within experi-
the limits of abrasion of the softest substance. The fol-I?\en!;s on
lowing table contains a general abstract of resul ts collected *rictlon‘
from the different tables. The co-efficient of friction is
contained in the first column, and the limiting angle of
resistance" in the second. This angle has for its tangent
the numbers in the first column, and is that angle at and
beneath which the moving surface will not begin to slide.
Tabular View of Mr Rennie's Experiments on Friction.
Co-efficient
of Friction. -A,^Ie 01
Names of the Substances.
Steel upon icc
Ice upon ice 
Hard wood upon hard wood.
36-00
1
‘ 7-73
Resistance.
0° 49'
1 35
7 22
^ Phil. Trans. 1829, p. 169.
rofe*sP^ Moseley’s Mechanics applied to the Arts, p. 47. In Professor Moselev’s table, there are some oversights near the be-
pnning, winch we have corrected here.
412
MECHANICS.
Names of the Substances.
On the
Nature
and Dimi¬
nution of
Friction. Brass upon wrought iron.
Brass upon cast iron   
Brass upon steel  
Soft steel upon soft steel 
Cast iron upon steel 
Wrought iron upon wrought iron
Cast iron upon cast iron 
Hard brass upon cast iron 
Cast iron upon wrought iron 
Brass upon brass 
Tin upon cast iron 
Tin upon wrought iron 
Soft steel upon wrought iron 
Co-efficient
of Friction.
1
 Tss
i
 7-11
]
 7-20
1
 if&t
i
 IwiI
1
6’26
1
 6-12
1
 6-00
* 1
  5-87
1
 5-70
1
 5-59
1
 5-53
1
  5-28
Limiting
Angle of
Resistance.
7° 43'
8 0
7 54
8 18
8 36
9 5
9 17
9 27
9 40
9 57
10 8
10 15
10 53
Leather upon iron 
Tin upon tin 
Granite upon granite 
Yellow deal upon yellow deal.
1
4-00
1
Ifts
i
3-30
1
14 21
14 49
16 52
19 9
Sandstone upon sandstone 
Woollen cloth upon woollen cloth 
1
¥75
1
2-30
19 59
23 30.
Mr Rennie has drawn the following conclusions from
his experiments.
1. The laws which govern the retardation of bodies
gliding over each other are as the nature of the bodies.
2. In fibrous substances, such as cloth, friction is in¬
creased by surface and time, and diminished by pressure
and velocity.
3. In harder substances, such as woods, metals, and
stones, and within the limits of abrasion, the friction is
directly as the pressure, without regard to surface, time,
or velocity.
4. With dissimilar substances, the friction will be de¬
termined by the limit of abrasion of the softer substance.
5. Friction is greatest with soft, and least with hard,
substances.
6. The effect of unguents is as the nature of the un¬
guents, without reference to the substances to which they
are applied.
7. The very soft woods, stones, and metals, approximate
to the laws which regulate the friction of fibrous sub¬
stances.
In comparing his results with those of Coulomb, Mr
Rennie found that the differences relate chiefly to time,
and he conceives that the small pressures used by the 0
French philosopher (varying from one pound to forty. Nat®
five pounds per square inch) account for these differences. aB(ll)iinj
The selection of substances used by Mr Rennie was
made on the following grounds: Action.
1. Ice, in reference to its resistance to sledges, skates, &c '
2. Leather, from its utility in the pistons of pumps.
3. Stones, in reference to their use in arches and buildings.
4. Cloth, from its remarkable properties of resistance in
opposition to the law observed by solids.
5. Woods and metals, from their universal application to
machinery, carriages, and railways.
Mr Rennie’s experiments on leather are very interesting.Friction
When nine square inches of leather, soaked in wafer,leather
moved over a plate of iron, seven pounds barely kept inUP0!1 iron,
motion fifty-six pounds after starting with the hand. After
a contact of five minutes twenty-nine pounds w'ere re¬
quired to start it; twenty-eight pounds barely kept in mo¬
tion sixty-four pounds after starting it; and after being one
minute in contact it took forty-two pounds to start it.
Where a surface of four and half inches area (one
and a half by three) was used, six and a half pounds barely
kept in motion thirty-six pounds after starting it. After
remaining five minutes it required twenty-one pounds to
start it. Hence the friction of hide leather soaked in water
is greatly increased by time and weight, a fact which ex¬
plains the enormous friction evinced in the pistons of pumps
when first put in motion.
When the hide leather moved dry over a surface of cast
iron, the friction evinced from one fourth to nearly one
sixth of the pressure, and w as, cceteris paribus, diminished
by a diminution of surface. The surfaces employed were
two and a fourth, four and a half six and three fourths, and
nine square inches.
The following are the angles at which different stones Friction(
commence gliding. On st01ies'
Well-dressed stones 28° to 36° llondelet.
39 to 40 Perronet.
Granite voussoirs of the Nevv Lon¬
don Bridge, well dressed, and
without mortar 33 to 34 Rennie.
With fresh and finely ground mor¬
tar 25 to 26 ditto.
Sandstone voussoirs from Bramley,
Fall, and Whitby 35 to 36
With mortar 33 to 34
According to Morisot, granite resists abrasion twelve
times more than lias, while it possesses a repulsive power
only three times greater. According to Boistard, the fric¬
tion of hard calcareous stones is 0-78.
On the Friction cf Axles.
In order to ascertain the friction experienced by the
axles of machinery in motion, Coulomb used axles of iron
moving in boxes of brass. The iron axis had a diameter
of nineteen lines, and a play of one and three-fourth lines in
the brass box. In order to give the rubbing surfaces the
highest polish, the iron axis was made to work a consider¬
able time in the brass box. The following is a brief ab¬
stract of the results w hich were obtained.
Pressure on
Kind of Greasing.
x\xis.
226 lbs. No greasing.
424 lbs. Ditto....
825 lbs. Ditto....
Co-efficient of
Friction.
1
5*4
1
b-o
1
6*4
tbs i
uri'
)imi
>n o
tion
Pressure on Kind of Greasing.
216 lbs. Greased with tallow.
420 lbs. Ditto 
827 lbs. Ditto 
117 lbs. With cart-grease 
218 lbs. Ditto 
320 lbs. Ditto 
422 lbs. Ditto  
831 lbs Ditto 
MECHANICS.
Nature of the Axis.
413
Co-efficient of
Friction.
12-3
1
TTg
1
11-5
1
On the
Nature
and Dimi¬
nution of
Friction.
6-7
1
8*4
1
8-5
1
200 to 1200 lbs.
’he cart grease of the preceding experiments was wiped
ff, the pores of the metal remaining unctuous,—
200 to 1200 lbs  -L.
7-9
'he surface of the metals was now fresh greased with olive
il,-
1 1
 * 7.5 ly.y*
then the greasing had not been renewed for a long time,
lough the machine had beeh much used,—
200 to 1200 lbs  ~.
7-5
From these experiments it appears that tallow was
inch more efficacious than cart-grease in diminishing the
•iction.
\\ hen the axles and the boxes or cheeks were made of
ilFerent kinds of wood, the following results were obtain-
J. The axes were three inches in diameter, and some-
mes moveable and sometimes fixed (in both which cases
ie friction was the same, and the touching surfaces were
larefully smoothed).
Nature of Co-efficient
the Box. of Friction.
Axis of iron, coating of tal-1 T • ,
low wiped off, and the axle > lS^um _—_
turned for some time j V1 se> ^
In all these experiments, the friction was least when the
surfaces were merely greasy, and not coated with tallow.
Unless in the first instants of rest, the velocity did not seem
to affect the friction. •
A series of valuable experiments on the friction ofMr G.
axles, both wifft and without unguents, was made by Mr Dennie’s
George Rennie. The weights with which he loaded theexPe”'
axle were generally about ten or eleven hundredweight, [he^HctPai
and in some cases he varied it down to one hundredweight. 0faxies-
Without unguents the friction of gun-metal on cast iron,
when loaded with weights varying from one to ten hun¬
dredweight, varied from to -r—-,and it was scarcely
0 7,6o 4-70 J
affected by length of time.
With yellow brass on cast iron the friction was gi-eater,
1
viz.
4-11
With cast iron on cast iron the friction was
6
With black lead and cast-iron on cast iron, the friction
was diminished to-—-—.
I'OO
With black lead and gun-metal on cast iron the friction
WaS 7-24*
With black lead and yellow brass on cast iron the fric¬
tion varied from -■ to ——, as. the pressure increased
roy (rbO
from one to eleven hundredweight.
With oil, gun-metal on cast iron gave the friction - \ ..
o’bS
With oil, yellow brass on cast iron gave the friction as
follows:
Weight
on Axle.
Nature of the Axis.
lohn oak running in a
box \
01 J
htto, the coating of tallow \
wiped off, and the surfaces >
being greasy )
htto, after being used several |
times without renewing the
htto, coated with tallow, and (
running in a box of. j"
Htto, both axis and box
wiped, the surfaces bein
greasy 
^ox-iuood coated with tallow, I
and running in a box of....J
htto, both axis and box
wiped, the surfaces being
greasy j
htto, coated with tallow, and)
running in .a box of. j
htto, both axis and box)
UlPed, and surfaces re¬
maining greasy....
 J
box)
-ing >-
\
Nature of
the Box.
Lignum
vitae,
ditto,
ditto,
Elm,
ditto,
Lignum
vitae,
ditto,
Co-efficient
of Friction.
£ cwt 
1 cwt 
2 cwt 
Co-efficient of
Friction.
J
Weight
on Axle.
37-33
I
Elm,
ditto,
26-3
1
16-7
I
Itfff
1
33-3
1
" 20
1
1
14-3
1
28-6
1
20
3 cwt.,
32-00
1
32-00
1
20-36
4 cwt.
5 cwt.
10 cwt.
Co-efficient of
Friction.
I
11 cwt 
18-28
1
19-14
1
5-78
l
inir
to
12-5
This great increase of friction with the weight Mr Ren¬
nie ascribes to the oil “being less fluid and sensible in the
one case, and more capable of preventing the contact of
metals in the other.”
With oil, cast iron on cast iron gave the friction
With hog's lard, cast iron on cast iron gave the friction
1
9-55
With hog's lard, yellow brass on cast iron, the results
were as follows:
Weight,
cwt 
J cwt 
Co-efficient
of Friction.
1
2 cwt.
3 cwt.
34-46
1
36-57
l
29*86
1
14-60
Weight.
4 cwt..
Co-efficient
of Friction.
1
5 cwt..4 
10 cwt 
10- 41
1
11- 78
1
9-29
414
MECHANICS.
On the With hog's lard, gun-metal on cast iron, the friction was
Nature 1
and with a pressure ot ten hundredweight,
nution of
Friction. With anti-attrition composition, yellow brass on cast iron,
the results were as follows:
Co-efficient of
Weight.
1 cwt.
Friction.
1
2 cwt.
3 cwt.
4 cwt.
14-93
1
Weight.
5 cwt.
Co-efficient of
Friction.
1
24-88
1
32-00
1
101 cwt.
102 cwt.
10 cwt.
38-62
1
5-89
1
47-65
1
56-00
With tallow, yellow brass on cast iron, the friction
1 1
varied from
to ——, as the pressure varied from
dti-7-2 1
36-57 40-72
1 to 5 hundredweight.
With soft soap, yellow brass on cast iron, the friction
1 1
varied from
„„-rr- to as the pressure varied from
26-35 37-96 1
1 to 5 hundredweight.
With soft soap and black lead, yellow brass on cast
iron, the friction varied from 0 ■ to ^ , as the
lU'Jo
pressure varied from ^ to 5 hundredweight.
From these various results, which we have abridged as
much as possible, Mr Rennie concludes “ that the dimi¬
nution of friction by unguents varies as the insistent weights
and nature of the unguents: the lighter the weight,
the finer and more fluid should be the unguent, and vice
versa."
On the Friction of Pivots.
In the construction of clocks and watches, and all deli¬
cate pieces of machinery, but particularly in the formation
of compasses, the proper form of pivots, as well as the
material of which they are made, and in which they move,
are subjects of the greatest importance.
All that we know on this subject is due to the celebrated
Coulomb, who made two different sets of experiments on
the friction of pivots. The last was made with most
accuracy, and in vacuo, to get rid of the effects of the air’s
resistance.
The apparatus used by Coulomb is shown in the an¬
nexed figure, where ahhb is a brass
wire fork, fixed at d to a con¬
cave lens of glass, whose radius is
about two or three lines. Two
metallic plates a, b are fixed to
the lower ends of the bent wire,
and the whole moves upon a pivot
beneath d, at the upper end of the
needle gd, which was made of tem¬
pered steel, and fixed into the cy¬
lindrical stand. A rotatory mo¬
tion is given to the fork by a
hooked rod ef and the whole is 'T-
enclosed in an air-tight glass re-
ceiver AB, in which a vacuum is
113.
lution was seven or eight seconds, and the weight ofa and b ^
about five or six gros (a gros is about the eighth part of
an ounce). It is unnecessary to perform the experiments and^
in vacuo, though it is proper to protect the apparatus from "^onof
currents of air, by placing it under a receiver. fiction,
In order to compare the experimental results, Coulomb''”^
investigated the following formula :3
b2
A —
— v
X a
in which A is the momentum of friction, b the primitive
velocity, X the space described from the beginning to the
plLT2
end of the motion, t —— the sum of each molecule /i
multiplied into the square of its distance r from the axis of
motion, and divided by the distance a from the axis of mo¬
tion of a point whose velocity is b. When the same re¬
ceiver is used, ^is a constant quantity.
With a different apparatus Coulomb made the following
preliminary experiments. He took a glass receiver, four
inches wide, five inches high, and five ounces in weight,
and having caused this to revolve upon a pivot, he ob¬
served the time employed in making the four ox fve
first turns, from a mean of which he obtained the primi¬
tive velocity b, and he then counted the number of revo¬
lutions performed by the revolving receiver till it stopped.
Having found that the resistance of the air bore no sensi¬
ble proportion to that of friction, the preceding results
enabled him to calculate the friction by which the receiver
was brought to rest. The following were the results:—
Time of performing
One Revolution.
Number of Revolutions
performed before the
Apparatus stopped.
Values of
X’
1
'■‘"347
1
550
1
"'557
Now, as the second term of the above expression for the
4 seconds 34-1.
6-25 seconds 14-1.
11 seconds 4*6.
momentum of friction is constant, and as the value of y,
the first term, appears to be constant in the preceding ex¬
periments, the average of which is —-, A or the mo-
551
made in the usual manner by an air-pump. Coulomb found
that when ab was two inches, the time of the fork’s revo-
mentum of friction is also constant; and hence Coulomb
drew the conclusion, that the friction of pivots is independent
of the velocity, and must therefore depend on the pressure.
In order to determine the friction of pivots when they
supported planes of different materials, Coulomb used the
apparatus represented above. The fork dhhb was nine
inches long, the distance of the branches akhb twenty-
four lines, the curve cdh was a semicircle of about three
inches long, and the branches ah, hb three inches long.
The pieces of metal a, b, and the plane d, were attached to
the wire by wax. At g, the top of the cylindrical support, was
fixed a small needle of tempered steel, whose point could
be made more or less sharp or obtuse, as the nature ol the
planes and the magnitude of the pressure required. The
angle of the point at g was, in the following experiments,
eighteen or twenty degrees, the weight of a and b was a
quarter of an ounce, and that of the fork about one fifth
of an ounce.
1 After remaining 41 hours in a state of rest with ten hundredweight.
Fresh composition having been applied. 2 See Mem. Acad. Par. 1/90, p- 451, 452.
the
are j
)imii
n oi
ion-
MECHANICS.
Nature of the
Planes.
Number of Revolu- Values of
Time of performing tions performed Momentum of
one Revolution.
before the Appara¬
tus stopped.
I'riction.
Steel, plane at d. 17 seconds 1-75  1 ^
510 V 2 257
Tempered and polished  8 seconds 7,25... . _J_ (
 464/
Glass, plane  8-75 seconds 7-5 _L)
370 l 1*777
Highly polished  4-25 seconds 2-9 J_ l
589/
Rock crystal, plane 13 seconds 4*62 JL
 781 l 1*313
Highly polished 14-5 seconds 3-75 _L
787.
Agate, \Azx\q  9 seconds 10-5  _L
831 L 1-214
Plighly polished  15 seconds 3-5  JL
 844,
Garnet, plane 12 seconds 7  L
 1008 \ 1-000
Highly polished   23 seconds  2 JL
 1050'
From these experiments, it is evident that garnet is the
est material for the cups of pivots, agate the next, rock
rystal the next, glass the next, and steel the worst.
Coulomb next proceeded to determine the effects pro-
uced by giving different angles to the pivots of the
eedle, the other circumstances remaining as before.
With a Plane of Polished Glass.
_ Number of Revolutions Values of
Pressure on the Time of performing performed before //-
rivot, in Ounces. One Revolution. the Apparatus —.
stopped. X
Values of
Nature of the Planes.
x-
0-41
Steel.,
Glass.
Agate..
Garnet,
45°
1
'2000
1
’1400
1
‘2l00
1
'2500
Angles of Pivots,
15°.
1200
6° or 7°.
1
230
1
450
1
800
2-08.
0-67,
2-08.
 I
j-24 seconds....  2 .,
I
<{ 14 seconds  5-75.
I
l 10 seconds 11-75-
9 seconds   10-75.
13 seconds  4-25.
With a Plane of Garnet.
1
lence it appears, that in all the planes except the steel
ne, the friction increases with the acuteness of the pivot, and
allows nearly the same ratio. In agate and steel, how-
ver, the friction, at an acuteness of 45°, is nearly equal,
diereas, when the angle of the pivot is reduced to 6° or
°, the friction of the steel is nearly four times as great
s that of the agate. Coulomb ascribes this to an infinite
I umber of minute pores in steel, even when it has the
ighest polish; the sharp point of the pivot working in
liese irregular openings.
Coulomb found, that when the body weighs about three
Rirths of an ounce, the best angle is from 30° to 45°.
Wth Jess weights, the angle of the pivot may be even re-
uced to 10° or 12° when the steel is good, provided the
’eight is not more than 100 grains.
In order to determine the relation of the friction to the
ressure, Coulomb repeated the experiment by varying
•e weights a and b. He took a pivot of the best tem-
eied steel, wrought to the first degree of steel temper,
e made its angle about 45°, and made it support in suc-
ession planes of highly polished glass and garnet. The
'stance ah was twenty-four lines, and the weight of the
)rk 1^ groS) or about one gjxtb 0f an ounce.
1152
1
’1127
1
'UTS
1
830
1
802
2400
1
1550
415
On the
Nature
and Dimi¬
nution of
Friction.
Hence it may be shown, that the momentum of friction
is proportional to the fd power of the pressure. When
the pressure was very considerable, and the pivot shaped
to any angle, the friction varied nearly as the pressure.
These results were deduced from the experiments with
the glass plane, as the friction was greater and the results
more regular with it than with either garnet or agate.
Coulomb found the cups made by the best workmen
very irregular in their curvature, and producing a friction
three or even four times greater than that of well-polished
planes of the same substance. With such cups the angles
of the pivots should be diminished.
On the Friction of Machines.
In the year 1786, and at subsequent periods, the late
Mr John Rennie made several experiments on the friction
and resistance of heavy machinery. He found that an
augmentation of resistance took place with the quantity of
machinery put in motion; in one instance in the ratio of
one to five, when from one fifth to one tenth of the power
expended was absorbed ; an anomaly which Mr George
Rennie ascribes to the irregularity of the movement, and
to the difficulty of producing simultaneous actions in com-
416
MECHANICS.
On the
Nature
plicated machinery. The resistance in these experiments
. was likewise increased by reversing the direction of mo-
an imi- ^on> ve]ocities not exceeding 120 feet a minute, ap-
Friction. Pearec» t° have had no influence.
^ The following experiments were made by Mr George
Ilennie :
1. Twenty-one civt. was suspended at each extremity of
a chain passing over two cast-iron sheaves two feet in dia¬
meter, with wrought-iron axles working in brass bearings
oiled, and twelve feet ten inches apart. It was disturbed
by three cwt. or y^th of the total weight. Another dou¬
ble-purchased crane gave one ninth.
2. A weight of 7057 lbs. suspended to a double-purchased
crane indicated ■ I- for the friction. Another similar
7*o2
one indicated one ninth. In one of the corn-mills at
Deptford, it required one tenth of the weight of the mass
to overcome the inertia and friction of the bearings and
tangential sui’faces. The pressures in this case varied
from twenty-eight lbs. to eight cwt. per inch, and the ve¬
locities of the surfaces from 50 to 120 feet per minute.
Mr Rennie remarks, that it has been usual to deduct one
fourtli of the power expended for friction ; but though this
may hold in machines newly set in motion, he conceives
that the proportion is much less when the bearings are
properly proportioned to the weights of the parts, and
their surfaces kept from contact by unguents.
Method of Having thus considered the nature and effects of friction,
diminish- we shall now attend to the method of lessening the resist-
ing the^ef- ance ^ opposes to the motion of machines. The
most efficacious mode of accomplishing this, is to convert
that species of friction which arises from one body being
dragged over another, into that which is occasioned by one
body rolling upon another. As this will always diminish
the resistance, it may be easily effected by applying wheels
or rollers to the sockets or bushes which sustain the gud¬
geons of large wheels and the axles of wheel-carriages.
Casatus seems to have been the first who recommended
fects of
friction.
Friction-’
wheels.
this apparatus. It was afterwards mentioned by Sturmius
and Wolfius, but was not used in practice till Sully applied
it to clocks in the year 1716, and Mondran to cranes in
1725. Notwithstanding these solitary attempts to intro¬
duce friction-wheels, they seem to have attracted little no¬
tice, till the celebrated Euler examined and explained, with
his usual accuracy, their nature and advantages. The dia¬
meter of the gudgeons and pivots should be made as small
as the weight of the wheel and the impelling force will per¬
mit. The gudgeons should rest upon wheels as large as
circumstances will allow, having their axes as near each
other as possible, but no thicker than what is absolutely ne¬
cessary to sustain the superincumbent weight. When these
precautions are properly attended to, the resistance which
arises from the friction of the gudgeon, &c. will be extreme¬
ly trifling.1
Friction The effects of friction may likewise in some measure be
may be di- removed by a judicious application of the impelling power,
mimshed anj proportioning the size of the friction-wheels to the
cious appli-Pressure which they severally sustain. If we suppose, for
cation of example, that the weight of a wheel, whose iron gudgeons
the impell- move in bushes of brass, is 100 pounds, then the friction
ing power, arising from both its gudgeons will be equivalent to 25
pounds. If we suppose also that a force equal to 40
pounds is employed to impel the wheel, and acts in the di¬
rection of gravity, as in the cases of overshot-wheels, the
pressure of the gudgeons upon their supports will then be
140 pounds and the friction 35 pounds. But if the force
of 40 pounds could be applied in such a manner as to act
in direct opposition to the wheel’s weight, the pressure of n l i
the gudgeons upon their supports would be 100 — 40, or Nat '
60 pounds, and the friction only 15 pounds. It is impos- andhimi!
sible, indeed, to make the moving force act in direct oppo- mitioncfl
sition to the gravity of the wheel in the case of water- 1’rictio"
mills, and it is often impracticable for the engineer to ap-^”'*'
ply the impelling power but in a given way; but there are
many cases in which the moving force may be so exerted
as at least not to increase the friction which arises from the
wheel’s weight.
When the moving force is not exerted in a perpendicu¬
lar direction, but obliquely, as in undershot-wheels, the gud¬
geon will press with greater force on one part of the socket
than on any other part. This point will evidently be on
the side of the bush opposite to that where the power
is applied; and its distance from the lowest point of the
socket, which is supposed circular and concentric with
the gudgeon, being called x, we shall have tan.
that is, the tangent of the arch contained between the point
of greatest pressure and the lowest point of the bush, is
equal to the sum of all the horizontal forces divided by
the sum of all the vertical forces and the weight of the
wheel, H representing the former, and V the latter quan¬
tities. The point of greatest pressure being thus deter¬
mined, the gudgeon must be supported at that part by
the largest friction-wheel, in order to equalize the friction
upon their axles.
The application of these general principles to particular
cases is so simple as not to require any illustration. To
aid the conceptions, however, of the practical mechanic, we
may mention two cases in which friction-wheels have been
successfully employed.
Mr Gottlieb, the constructor of a new crane, has re¬
ceived a patent for what he calls an anti-attrition axle-tree,
the beneficial effects of which
he has ascertained by a va¬
riety of trials. It consists of
a steel roller R, about four or
six inches long, which turns
within a groove cut in the in¬
ferior part of the axle-tree
C, which runs in the nave
AB of the wheel. When the
wheel-carriages are at rest,
Mr Gottlieb has given the  
friction-wheel its proper position ; but it is evident that
the point of greatest pressure will change when they are
put in motion, and will be nearer the front of the carriage.
This point, however, will vary with the weight of the load;
but it is sufficiently obvious that the friction-roller should
be at a little distance from the lowest point of the axle-tree.
Fig 114.
Mr Garnett of Bristol has applied friction-rollers in a dif¬
ferent manner, which does
not, like the preceding me¬
thod, weaken the axle-tree.
Instead of fixing them in
the iron part of the axle, he
leaves a space between the
nave and the axis, to be
filled with equal rollers al¬
most touching each other.
A section of this appara¬
tus is represented in fig.
115, where ABCD is the
metallic ring inserted in
the nave of the wheel. The
115.
1 An example of the application of friction-wheels is to be found in Atwood’s machine, described in a subsequent part of this
Article.
Dim
:on o:
tionl
lisbctp,
mechanics.
1C axle-tree is represented at E, placed between the friction-
rollers I, I, I, made of metal, and having their axes in
iserted into a circle of brass, which passes through their cen¬
tres. The circles are riveted together by means of bolts
^passing between the rollers, in order to keep them separate
and parallel.
As it appears from the experiments of Coulomb that the
least friction is generated when polished iron moves upon
brass, the gudgeons and pivots of ivheels, and the axles of
friction-rollers, should all be made of polished iron ; and
the bushes in which these gudgeons move, and the friction-
wheels, should be formed of polished brass.
When every mechanical contrivance has been adopted
hr diminishing the obstruction which arises from the at¬
trition of the communicating parts, it may be still farther
-emoved by the judicious application of unguents. The
most proper for this purpose are swine’s grease and tallow
when the surfaces are made of wood, and oil when they
ire of metal. When the force with which the surfaces are
pressed together is very great, tallow will diminish the fric-
ion more than swine’s grease. When the wooden surfaces
lire very small, unguents will lessen their friction a little;
>ut it will be greatly diminished if wood moves upon metal
greased with tallow. If the velocities, however, are in-
■reased, or the unguent not often enough renewed, in both
hese cases, but particularly in the last, the unguent will be
nore injurious than useful. The best mode of applying it
s to cover the rubbing surfaces with as thin a stratum as
lossible, for the friction will then be a constant quantity,
nd will not be increased by an augmentation of velocity.
In small vrorks of wood, the interposition of the powder
i black lead has been found very useful in relieving the
lotion. The ropes of pulleys should be rubbed with tal-
iw, and whenever the screw is used, the square threads
hould be preferred.1
A very important unguent for diminishing the friction
f machinery was accidentally discovered at Lowell in
mrth America. The substance is steatite or soapstone,
ulverised and mixed with oil, tallow, or tar, according to
ic use to which it is to be applied. It has been used
lost successfully ift all kinds of machinery, and it is said
) be equally applicable to carriage-wheels. The following
ict, stated by Mr Moody, the superintendent of the tar-
orks near Boston, will show the value of steatite as an un¬
pent. A horizontal balance-wheel of 14 tons runs on a
ep 5 inches in diameter, and revolves from 75 to 125
mes in a minute. This wheel is connected with the roll¬
's machine, and though 100 tons of iron are rolled in this
achine in a minute, yet the balance-wheel has sometimes
"en used from three to five weeks without inconvenience
lore the soapstone has been renewed. When machinery
begun to be heated, its application is said to succeed
hen all other unguents fail.2 In the case of carriage-wheels
ping set on fire by friction, the application of cow’s dung
particularly effectual. A more recently-discovered un-
1(\r\ *S ment‘oned in our chapter on wheel-carriages.
Vhen ropes pass over cylinders or pulleys, a consider-
1 e force is necessary to bend them into the form of the
rcumference round which they are coiled. The force
Inch is necessary to overcome this resistance is called the
Jf/iess or rigidity of the ropes. This important subject
is nrst examined by Amontons,3 who contrived an inge-
ous apparatus for ascertaining the rigidity of ropes. His
f Penments were repeated, and confirmed in part, by Desa-
mis and others, but particularly by M. Coulomb, who
$ investigated the subject with more care and success
•in any of his predecessors. His experiments were made
417
both with the apparatus of Amontons and with one of his On the
own invention ; and as there was no great discrepancy in Rigidity of
the lesults, he was authorized to place more confidence in R°Pes-
his experiments. The limits of this article will not per- V ^ Y
mit us to give an account of the manner in which the ex¬
periments were conducted, or even to give a detailed view
of the various conclusions which were obtained. We can
only present the reader with some of those leading results
which may be useful in the construction of machinery.
1. The rigidity of ropes increases, the more that the Results of
fibres of which they are composed are twisted. Coulomb’s
2. The rigidity of ropes increases in the duplicate ratio exPeri-
of their diameters. According to Amontons and Desagu-ments*
liers, the rigidity increases in the simple ratio of the dia¬
meters of the ropes ; but this probably arose from the flexi¬
bility of the ropes which they employed; for Desaguliers
remarks, that when he used a rope whose diameter was
half an inch, its rigidity was increased in a greater pro¬
portion ; so that it is probable that if they had employed
ropes from two to four inches in' diameter, like those used
by Coulomb, they would have obtained similar results.
(See No. 5.)
3. The rigidity of ropes is in the simple and direct ratio
of their tension.
4. The rigidity of ropes is in the inverse ratio of the dia¬
meters of the cylinders round which they are coiled.
5. In general, the rigidity of ropes is directly as their
tensions and the squares of their diameters, and inversely
as the diameters of the cylinders round which they are
wound.
. The rigidity of ropes increases so little with the velo¬
city of the machine, that it need not be taken into the ac¬
count when computing the effects of machines.
7. The rigidity of small ropes is diminished when pene¬
trated with moisture; but when the ropes are thick, their
rigidity is increased.
8. The rigidity of ropes is increased and their strength
diminished when they are covered with pitch; but when
ropes of this kind are alternately immersed in the sea and
exposed to the air, they last longer than when they are not
pitched. This increase of rigidity, however, is not so per¬
ceptible in small ropes as in those which are pretty thick.
9. The rigidity of ropes covered with pitch is a sixth
part greater during frost than in the middle of summer, but
this increase of rigidity does not follow the ratio of their
tensions.
10. The resistance to be overcome in bending a rope
over a pulley or cylinder may be represented by a formula
composed of two terms. The first term is a constant
r
quantity independent of the tension, a being a constant
quantity determined by experiment, Dn a power of the
diameter D of the rope, and r the radius of the pulley or
cylinder round which the rope is coiled. The second term
of the formula is T X ———, where T is the tension of the
rope, b a constant quantity, and Dn and r the same as be¬
fore. Hence the complete formula is
aDn
f rp .. T)?2
+ T X  , or  X a -f TZi.
The exponent n of the quantity D diminishes with the flexi¬
bility of the rope, but is generally equal to T7 or 1-8; or,
as in No. 2, the rigidity is nearly in the duplicate ratio of
the diameter of the rope. When the cord is much used,
its flexibility is increased, and n becomes equal to 1*5
or L4.
I appendix to Ferguson’s Lectures, vol. ii.
irotessor SUliman’s Journal, No. 27, p. 1<)2.
' v XIV,
3 Man. Acad. HJ99, p. 217.
4 Course or Nat. Phil. vol. i. p. 243.
3 G
418
MECHANICS.
On Fly-
Wheels.
CHAP. IV.-
-ON THE NATURE AND
WHEELS.
ADVANTAGES OF FLY-
Ad van¬
tages of
foot length of this chain weighs two pounds. It is evident On
that the resistance to be overcome in the first moment is Wi's'
1000 pounds added to 50 pounds the weight of this chain,
and that this resistance diminishes gradually as the chain
coils round the cylinder, till it is only 1000 pounds when
the chain is completely wound up. The resistance there¬
fore decreases from 1050 to 1000 pounds; and if the im¬
pelling power is inanimate, the velocity of the bucket will
A fly, in mechanics, is a heavy wheel or cylinder, which
  moves rapidly on its axis, and is applied to machines for
fly-wheels, purpose of rendering uniform a desultory or recipro¬
cating motion, arising either from the nature of the ma¬
chinery, from an inequality in the resistance to be over- . . . , , , .
come or from an irregular application of the impelling gradually increase; but if an animal be employed, it will
power When the first mover is inanimate, as wind, water, generally proportion its action to the resisting load, and
and steam an inequality of force obviously arises from a must therefore pull with a greater or less force according
variation i’n the velocity of the wind, from an increase or as the bucket is near the bottom or top of the well. In
decrease of water occasioned by sudden rains, or from an
augmentation or diminution of the steam in the boiler,
produced by a variation of heat in the furnace ; and ac¬
cordingly various methods have been adopted for regulat¬
ing the action of these variable powders. The same ine¬
quality of force obtains when machines are moved by horses
or men. livery animal exerts its greatest strength when
first set to work. After pulling for some time, its strength
will be impaired ; and when the resistance is great, it will
take frequent though short relaxations, and then com¬
as regula- mence its labour with renovated vigour. These intervals , . .
torsof ma-0frest an(i vigorous exertion must always produce a va- the velocity of machines, and the method ot rendering it
chinery, riation in tiie velocity of the machine, which ought parti- uniform by the intervention of fly-wheels, the utility, and
cularly to be avoided, as being detrimental to the com- in some instances the necessity, of this piece of mechan-
municating parts as well as the performance of the ma- ism, may be more obviously illustrated by showing the
chine, and injurious to the animal which is employed to propriety of their application in particular cases,
drive it. But if a fly, consisting either of cross bars or a When machinery is driven by a single-stroke steam-en-
massy circular rim, be connected with the machinery, all
these inconveniences will be removed. As every fly
this case, however, the assistance of a fly may be dispensed
with, because the resistance diminishes uniformly, and may
be rendered constant by making the barrel conical, so that
the chain.may wind upon the part nearest the vertex at
the commencement of the motion, the diameter of the
barrel gradually increasing as the weight diminishes. In
this way the variable resistance will be equalized much
better than by the application of a fly-wheel, for the fly,
having no motion of its own, must necessarily waste the
impelling power.
Having thus pointed out the chief causes of variation in
gine, there is such an inequality in the impelling power,
that for two or three seconds it does not act at all. Du-
wheel must revolve with great rapidity, the momentum of ring this interval of inactivity the machinery would ne-
its circumference must be very considerable, and will con- cessarily stop, were it not impelled by a massy fly-wheel
sequently resist every attempt either to accelerate or re- of a great diameter, revolving with rapidity, till the mov-
tard its motion. When the machine therefore has been ing powder again resumes its energy. _
put in motion, the fly-wheel will be whirling with an uni- If the moving power be a man acting with a handle or
form celerity, and with a force capable of continuing that winch, it is subject to great inequalities. The greatest
celerity when there is any relaxation in the impelling force is exerted when the man pulls the handle upwards
After a short rest the animal renews his efforts ; " '1 ‘ 1 ' ' ~ 1 ~“'1 1 "”‘u ^
power
but the machine is now moving with its former velocity,
and these fresh efforts will have a tendency to increase
that velocity. The fly, however, now acts as a resisting
power, receives the greatest part of the superfluous mo¬
tion, and causes the machinery to preserve its original ce¬
lerity. In this way the fly secures to the engine an uni¬
form motion, whether the animal takes occasional relax¬
ations or exerts his force with redoubled ardour.
from the height of his knee, and he acts with the least
force when the handle, being in a vertical position, is thrust
from him in a horizontal direction^ The force is again in¬
creased when the handle is pushed downwards by the man s
weight, and it is diminished when the handle, being at its
lowest point, is pulled towards him horizontally. But when
a fly is properly connected with the machinery, these ir¬
regular exertions are equalized, the velocity becomes uni¬
form, and the load is raised with an equable and steady
We have already observed that a desultory or variable motion,
motion frequently arises from the inequality of the resist- In many cases, where the impelling force is alternately
ance, or work to be performed. This is particularly ma- augmented and diminished, the performance of the ma¬
nifest in thrashing mills on a small scale, which are driven chine may be increased by rendering the resistance une-
by water. When the corn is laid unequally on the feed-- qua!, and accommodating it to the inequalities of the mov¬
ing board, so that too much is taken in by the fluted rollers,
this increase of resistance instantly affects the machinery,
and communicates a desultory or irregular motion even to
the water-wheel or first mover. This variation in the ve¬
locity of the impelling powTer may be distinctly perceived
by the ear in a calm evening when the machine is at work.
The best method of correcting these irregularities is to
ing power. Dr Robison observes, that “ there are some
beautiful specimens of this kind of adjustment in the me¬
chanism of animal bodies.”
Besides the utility offly-wheels as regulators ofmachinery,a9
they have been employed for accumulating or collectingm
power. If motion is communicated to a fly-wheel by means?1
of a small force, and if this force is continued till the wheel
employ a fly-wheel, which will regulate the motion of the has acquired a great velocity, such a quantity of motion
machine when the resistance is either augmented or di- will be accumulated in its circumference, as to overcome
minished. In machines built upon a large scale there is resistances, and produce effects which could never have
no necessity for the interposition of a fly, as the inertia of been accomplished by the original force. So great is tins
the machinery supplies its place, and resists every change accumulation of power, that a force equivalent to twenty
of motion that may be generated by an unequal admission pounds applied for the space of thirty-seven seconds to
of the corn. the circumference of a cylinder twenty feet diametei,
A variation in the velocity of engines arises also from which weighs 4713 pounds, would, at the distance of one
the nature of the machinery. Let us suppose that a weight foot from the centre, give an impulse to a musket-ba !
of 1000 pounds is to be raised from the bottom of a well equal to what it receives from a full charge of gunpowder.
50 feet, by means of a bucket attached to an iron chain In the space of six minutes and ten seconds, the same e -
which winds round a barrel or cylinder, and that every feet would be produced if the cylinder were driven by “
MECHANICS.
On ly- man who constantly exerted a force of twenty pounds at
Minis. a winch one foot long.1
—r"'' This accumulation of power is finely exemplified in the
ding. When the thong which contains the stone is swung
round the head of the slinger, the force of the hand is
continually accumulating in the revolving stone, till it is
discharged with a degree of rapidity which it could never
have received from the force of the hand alone. When
a stone is projected from the hand itself, there is even
then a certain degree of force accumulated, though the
stone only moves through the arch of a circle. If we fix
the stone in an opening at the extremity of a piece of
wood two feet long, and discharge it in the usual way,
there will be more force accumulated than with the hand
alone, for the stone describes a larger arch in the same
time, and must therefore be projected with greater force.
When coins or medals are struck, a very considerable
accumulation of power is necessary, and this is effected by
means of a fly. The force is first accumulated in weights
fixed on the rim of the fly. This force is communicated
to two levers, by which it is farther condensed; and from
these levers it is transmitted to a screw, by which it suf¬
fers a second condensation. The stamp is then impressed
on the coin or medal by means of this force, which was
first accumulated by the fly, and afterwards augmented by
the intervention of two mechanical powers. Hence it fol¬
lows, that if the fly-wheel, thus loaded with accumulated
power, should be detached from the steam-engine or the
first mover, whose power it regulates and accumulates, it
will go on for some time to do the work of the machine
after the prime mover has ceased to act. This effect is
finely illustrated by a fact stated by Mr Babbage :2 “ The
powerful effect,” says he, “ of a large fly-wheel, when its
force can be concentrated in a point, was curiously illus¬
trated at one of the largest of our manufactories. The
proprietor was showing to a friend the method of punch¬
ing holes in iron plates for the boilers of steam-engines.
He held in his hand a piece of sheet iron three eighths of
an inch thick, which he placed under the punch. Ob¬
serving, after several holes had been made, that the punch
made its perforations more and more slowly, he called to
the engine-man to know what made the engine work so
sluggishly, when it was found that the fly-wheel and
punching apparatus had been detached from the steam
engine just at the commencement of the experiment.”
Notwithstanding the great advantage of fly-wheels, both
as regulators of machines and collectors of power, their
utility wholly depends upon the position which is assigned
them relative to the impelled and working points of the
engine. For this purpose no particular rules can be laid
down, as their position depends altogether on the nature
of the machinery. We may observe, however, in general,
that when fly-wheels are employed to regulate machinery,
they should be near the impelling power ; and when used
to accumulate force in the working point, they should not
e far distant from it. In hand-mills for grinding corn
toe fly is for the most part very injudiciously fixed on the
axis to which the winch is attached, whereas it should al¬
ways be fastened to the upper millstone, so as to revolve
with the same rapidity. In the first position, indeed, it
must equalize the varying efforts of the power which
moves the winch; but when it is attached to the turning
mi stone, it not only does this, but contributes very ef-
ectually to the grinding of the corn.
new kind of fly, called a conical pendulum, has been
ingeniously employed by Mr Watt for procuring a deter-
u|jn mmate velocity at the working point of his steam-engine.
419
Fig. 116.
e 'awn! fci
'escr:
on ol
mica
endi
It is represented in fig. 116, where AB is a vertical axis On Fly-
moving upon pivots, and driven by 'Wheels,
means of a rope passing from the
axis of the large flyover the sheaf
EF. The large balls M, N are
fixed to the rods NG, MH, which
have an angular motion round P,
and are connected by joints at G
and H, with the rods GK, HK at¬
tached to the extremity of the le¬
ver KL, whose centre of motion is
L, and whose other extremity is
0 _ connected with the cock which ad¬
mits the steam into the cylinder. The frame CD pre¬
vents the. balls from receding too far from the axis, or from
approaching too near it. Now when this conical pendu¬
lum is put in motion, the centrifugal force of the balls M,
N makes them recede from the axis AB. In consequence
of this recession, the points G, H, K are depressed, and the
other extremity of the lever is raised, and the cock ad¬
mits a certain quantity of steam into the cylinder. When
the velocity of the fly is by any means increased, the balls
recede still farther from the axis, the extremity of the lever
is raised higher, and the cock closes a little and diminishes
the supply of steam. From this diminution in the impel¬
ling power, the velocity of the fly and the conical pendulum
decreases, and the balls resume their former position. In
this way, when there is any increase or diminution in the
velocity of the fly, the corresponding increase or diminu¬
tion in the centrifugal force of the balls raises or depresses
the arm of the lever, admits a greater or a less quantity
of steam into the cylinder, and restores to the engine its
former velocity.
In like manner, four iron balls have been applied to the
axis of a millstone to regulate its motion.3
Among the contrivances analogous to fly-wheels, the Prony’s
most useful and ingenious is that of Baron Prony, to which condenser
he has given the name of the Condenser of Forces. The0ff°rces-
problem which Prony proposes to solve is, to transmit to
any machine whose construction is determinate the ac¬
tion of the first mover, and to fulfil the following condi¬
tions :
1. To vary speedily and easily the resistance which the
first mover is intended to overcome.
2. To preserve the resistance constant till it is proper to
increase or diminish it.
3. To preserve the velocity of the machine constant
under the most sudden variations of the first mover.
The section and plan of a machine for applying his in¬
vention to a wind-mill is shown in figs. 6 and 7 of Plate
CCCLI. The wind-mill sails, which are not shown in
the figures, are supposed to give motion to the vertical
arbor Q, which carries a quadrangular frame eeee, at each
angle of which is fixed a curved wire of iron or steel bd.
Round the main arbor O are situated several vertical ar¬
bors a, a, a, a (eight being shown in fig. 2), each carrying
a curved piece of iron or steel af, so constructed that
when the arbor O revolves, all the other arbors a will re¬
volve also by the action of the arms bd, &c. upon of, &c.
the succeeding curve bd beginning to act upon the cor¬
responding one af, when the preceding has just quitted
its corresponding one af The same effect may be produced
by toothed wheels upon all the arbors, as shown in fig. 2.
Each arbor a, a, a, a, the number of which depends on the
circumstances of the case, carries a drum ttrr, round which
is coiled a cord passing over a pulley p, and sustaining a
weight Q, which slides upon the lever FG, upon any part
1 This has been demonstrated by Mr Atwood. See his Treatise on Rectilineal and Rotatory Motion.
Economy of Manufactures, § 20. 3 See Lanz and Betancourt’s Essai sur Machines, p. 84.
420
MECHANICS.
On the
Teeth of
Wheels.
Rev. Mr
(Jeeil’s re¬
gulator.
of which it may be fixed, G being the fulcrum of the lever.
The axis a passes loosely through the pinion gg, which
carries a click or ratchet bearing against teeth upon the
side rr of the drum, so that when the weight Q tends to
rise, the ratchet gives way, gg is thrown loose, and the
weight Q. continues to rise. When the arm bd has ceased
to act upon «/, the weight Q rises no further, but tends to
dftscend. The ratchet is then thrown into the teeth of r?,
so that, in descending, Q turns the pinion gg along with
the drum ttrr. The very same thing is going on with all
the other arbors, which are raising other weights Q, which
re-descend in their turn, and give motion to their corre¬
sponding pinions gg.
Now gg drives the wheel AB, which, by means ot the
bevelled wheel on its lower side GD acting upon the bevelled
wheel CF, raises the bucket or weight P, which is the work
to be performed. Hence the descent of all the weights
U, Q, &c. will concur in raising P. By regulating the
distance of the weights Q. from the centre of motion G, the
proper ratio between the power of the work to produce a
maximum effect may be obtained.
Baron Prony justly remarks, that advantage maybe taken
of the weakest breezes to obtain a certain effect, when all
other wind-mills are inactive.1
A very ingenious regulator for equalizing the velocity of
machinery has been described by the Rev. W. Cecil, of
Magdalen College, Cambridge. If we suppose two wheels
to be so connected that an increase in the velocity of the
first is accompanied with an increase in the velocity of the
second in the same ratio, and if these wheels have another
connection, by means of which an increase in the velocity
of the first is accompanied by an increase in the velocity
of the second in a higher ratio, then it will be impossible
that any increase should take place, as it would require the
second to move with two different velocities at once. These
conditions may be fulfilled by connecting the wheels in the
first instance by common teeth-work, and, in the next
place, by another toothed wheel, which slides into differ¬
ent positions as the centrifugal force varies. By these
means Mr Cecil gets a regulator which opposes no resist¬
ance up to a certain velocity, but which, at all greater ve¬
locities, presents an insurmountable resistance to any aug¬
mentation of velocity, and which may be readily united to
any revolving machinery, whatever be its construction and
power, the velocity of which it is required to equalize.
On t
epicycloidal teeth, their motion will be uniform. Let the  
wheel CD drive the wheel AB by means of the epicy- Teetl
cloidal teeth mp, nq, or, acting upon the infinitely small AVIl«
pins or spindles a, b, c ; and let the epicycloids mp,
&c. be generated by the circumference of the wheel AB,
rolling upon the convex circumference of the wheel CD.
From the formation of the epicycloid, it is obvious that
the arch ab is equal to mn, and the arch ac to mo; for
during the formation of the part nb of the epicycloid
nq, every point of the arch ab is applied to every point of
the arch mn ; and the same happens during the formation
of the part co of the epicycloid or. Let us now suppose
that the tooth mp begins to act on the pin a, and that b, c
are successive positions of the pin a after a certain time;
then nq, or will be the positions of the tooth mp after
the same time ; but ab = mn and ac = mo, therefore the
wheels AB, CD, when the arch is driven by epicycloidal
teeth, move through equal spaces in equal times, that is,
the force of the wheel CD, and the velocity of the wheel
AB, are always uniform.
In illustrating the application of this property of the
epicycloid, which was discovered by Olaus Roemer, the
celebrated Danish astronomer, we shall call the small
wheel the pinion, and its teeth the leaves of the pinion.
The line which joins the centre of the wheel and pinion
is called the line of centres. There are three different
ways in which the teeth of one wheel may drive another,
and each of these modes of action requires a different form
for the teeth.
1. When the action is begun and completed after the
teeth have passed the line of centres.
2. When the action is begun and completed before
they reach the line of centres.
3. When the action is carried on, on both sides of the
line of centres.
1. The first of these modes of action is represented in First
  - - „ . , nf o/d
CHAP. V.-
117.
-ON THE TEETH OF WHEELS AND THE WIPERS OF
STAMPERS.
In the construction of machines, we must not only at¬
tend to the form and number of their parts, but also to the
mode by which they are to be connected. It would be easy
to show, did the limits of this article permit it, that, when
one wheel impels another, the impelling power will some¬
times act with great¬
er and sometimes
with less force, un¬
less the teeth of one
or both of the wheels
be parts of a curve
generated after the
manner of an epicy¬
cloid, by the revo¬
lution of one circle
along the convex or
concave side of another. It may be sufficient to show
that, when one wheel impels another by the action of
fig. 118, where B is the centre of the
wheel,2 A that of the pinion, and
AB the line of centres. It is evident
from the figure, that the part b of the
tooth ab of the wheel does not act on
the leaf m of the pinion till they arrive
at the line of centres AB, and that all
the action is carried on after they have
passed this line, and is completed when
the leaf m comes into the situation n.
When this mode of action is adopted, W
the acting faces of the leaves of the
pinion should be parts of an interior epicycloid, generated
by a circle of any diameter rolling upon the concave su¬
perficies of the pinion, or within the circle adh ; and the
faces ab of the teeth of the wheel should be portions ot
an exterior epicycloid, formed by the same generating circle
rolling upon the convex superficies odp of the wheel.
But when one circle rolls within another whose diame¬
ter is double that of the rolling circle, the line generated
by any point of the latter is a straight line tending to the
centre of the larger circle. Therefore, if the generating
circle above mentioned should be taken with its diameter
equal to the radius of the pinion, and be made to roll up¬
on the concave superficies adh of the pinion, it will gene¬
rate a straight line tending to the pinion’s centre, wind
will be the form of the faces of its leaves ; and the teeti
of the wheel will be exterior epicycloids, formed by age^
nerating circle whose diameter is equal to the radius o
the pinion, rolling upon the convex superficies °f e
„.i—i This rectilineal form of the teeth is exhibite in
wheel.
1 See Annales des Arts et Manufactures, tom. xix.
2 In figs. 109, 110, 111, 112, the letter B is supposed to be placed at the centre of the wheels.
MECHANICS.
421
Fig. 119.
d ih fig. 119, and is perhaps the most advantageous, as it requires
>et!i ' less trouble, and may be executed with greater accuracy,
hee than if the epicycloidal form had been employed, though
"the teeth are evidently weaker than those in fig. 118. It is
recommended both by De la Hire and Camus as particu¬
larly advantageous in clock and watch work.
The attentive reader will perceive from fig. 118, that in
order to prevent the teeth of the wheel from acting upon
the leaves of the pinion before they reach the line of
centres AB, and that one tooth of the wheel may not
quit the leaf of the pinion till the succeeding tooth begins
to act upon the succeeding leaf, there must be a certain
proportion between the number of leaves in the pinion
and the number of teeth in the wheel, or between the ra¬
dius of the pinion and the radius of the wheel, when the
distance of the leaves AB is given. But in machinery the
number of leaves’and teeth is always known from the velo¬
city which is required at the working point of the machine ;
it becomes therefore a matter of great importance to deter¬
mine with accuracy the relative radii of the wheel and pinion,
ativj For this purpose, let A, fig. 119, be the pinion having the
!of't| acting faces of its leaves straight lines tending to the cen-
!e*al tre, and B the centre of the wheel. AB
ion' will be the distance of their centres.
Then, as the tooth C is supposed not to
act upon the leaf Aot till it arrives at the
line AB, it ought not to quit Am till the
following tooth F has reached the line
AB. But since the tooth always acts
in the direction of a line drawn perpen¬
dicular to the face of the leaf Am from
the point of contact, the line CH, drawn
at right angles to the face of the leaf
km, will determine the extremity of the
tooth CD, or the last part of it which
should act upon the leaf Am, and will also mark out CD
for the depth of the tooth. Now, in order to find AH,
HB, and CD, put a for the number of teeth in the wheel,
b for the number of leaves in the pinion, c for the distance
of the pivots A and B, and let x be the radius of the wheel,
and y that of the pinion. Then, since the circumference of
the wheel is to the circumference of the pinion as the
number of teeth in the one to the number of leaves in the
other, and as the circumferences of circles are proportional
to their radii, we shall have a : b — x : y, then, by com¬
position (Eucl. v. 18), a b \ b — c \ y (c being equal to
x "t* }))•> and consequently the radius of the pinion, viz.
cb ,
then) by inverting the first analogy, we have
b:a — y :x, and consequently the radius of the wheel, viz.
x ~~b ’ y being now a known number.
\ r?0^’ ^le tr‘ang^e AHC, right-angled at C, the side
* II is known, and likewise all the angles (HAC being equal
360\ . V & 4
0 ^ J ; the side AC, therefore, may be found by plain
trigonometry. Then, in tlie triangle ACB, the Z CAB,
equal to HAC, is known, and also the sides AB, AC,
which contain it; the third side, therefore, viz. CB, may be
< eteimined ; from which DB, equal to HB, already found,
bemg subtracted, there will remain CD for the depth of
me teeth. When the action is carried on after the line of
centres, it often happens that the teeth will not work in
/rntj 8 ^ ^eaveSl In order to prevent this, the
n /HTimUSt always be greater than half the Z HBP.
1 lc rrBP is equal to 360 degrees, divided by the num-
ci o teeth in the wheel, and CBH is easily found by plane
trigonometry. 1
^the teeth of wheels and the leaves of pinions be form-
11 according to the directions already given, they will act
upon each other, not only with uniform force, but nearly On the
without friction. The one tooth rolls upon the other, and Teeth of
neither slides nor rubs to such a degree as to retard the ^ aeelg.^
wheels or wear their teeth. But as it is impossible in v
practice to give that perfect curvature to the faces of the
teeth which theory requires, a quantity of friction will re¬
main after every precaution has been taken in the forma¬
tion of the communicating parts.
2. The second mode of action is not so advantageous as Second
that which we have been considering, and should, if possi- m°de of
ble, always be avoided. It is represented action,
in fig. 120, where A is the centre of the
pinion, B that of the wheel, and AB the
line of the centres. It is evident from the
figure, that the tooth C of the wheel acts
upon the leaf D of the pinion before they
arrive at the line BA; that it quits the
leaf when they reach this line, and have
assumed the position of E and F ; and
that the tooth C works deeper and deeper
between the leaves of the pinion, the
nearer it comes to the line of centres. , , ,
From this last circumstance a considerable quantity of fric¬
tion arises, because the tooth C does not, as before, roll
upon the leaf D, but slides upon it; and from the same
cause the pinion soon becomes foul, as the dust which lies
upon the acting faces of the leaves is pushed into the in¬
terjacent hollow's. One advantage, however, attends this
mode of action : it allows us to make the teeth of the large
wheel rectilineal, and thus renders the labour of the me¬
chanic less, and the accuracy of his work greater, than if
they had been of a curvilineal form. If the teeth C, E
therefore of the wheel BC are made rectilineal, having their
surfaces directed to the wheel’s centre, the acting faces of
the leaves D, F, &c. must be epicycloids formed by a ge¬
nerating circle whose diameter is equal to the radius Bo
of the circle op, rolling upon the circumference mn of the
pinion A. But if the teeth of the wdieel and the leaves of
the pinion are made curvilineal as in the figure, the faces
of the teeth of the wheel must be portions of an interior
epicycloid formed by any generating circle rolling within
the concave superficies of the circle op, and the faces of the
pinion’s leaves must be portions of an exterior epicycloid
produced by rolling the same generating circle upon the
convex circumference mn of the pinion.
3. The third mode of action, which is represented in fig. Third
121, is a combination of the first two
modes, and consequently partakes of
the advantages and disadvantages of
each. It is evident from the figure
that the portion eh of the tooth acts
upon the part be of the leaf till they
reach the line of centres AB, and that
the part ed of the tooth acts upon the
portion ba of the leaf after they have
passed this line. Hence the acting
parts eh and be must be formed accord¬
ing to the directions given for the first , , , , ■
mode of action, and the remaining parts eel, ba, must have
that curvature which the second mode of action requires ;
consequently eh should be part of an interior epicycloid
formed by any generating circle rolling on the concave cir¬
cumference ?nn of the wdieel, and the corresponding part
be of the leaf should be part of an exterior epicycloid form¬
ed by the same generating circle rolling upon bEo, the
convex circumference of the pinion; the remaining part
cd of the tooth should be a portion of an exterior epicycloid,
engendered by any generating circle rolling upon eh, the
concave superficies of the wheel; and the corresponding
part ba of the leaf should be part of an interior epicycloid
described by the same generating circle, rolling along the
422
On the
Teeth of
Wheels.
MECHANICS.
Relative
diameters
of the
wheel and
pinion.
concave side 6Eo of the pinion. As it would be extreme¬
ly troublesome, however, to give this double curvature to
, the acting faces of the teeth, it will be proper to use a ge¬
nerating circle, whose diameter is equal to the radius of the
wheel BC, for describing the interior epicycloid eh, and
the exterior one be ; and a generating circle, whose diame¬
ter is equal to AC, the radius of the pinion, for describing
the interior epicycloid ba, and the exterior one ed. In this
case the two interior epicycloids eh, ba will be straight lines
tending to the centres B and A, and the labour of the me¬
chanic will by this means be greatly abridged.
In order to find the relative diameters of the wheel and
pinion, when the number of teeth in the one and the num;
ber of leaves in the other are given, and when the distance
of their centres is also given, and the ratio of ES to CS,
let a be the number of teeth in the wheel, b the number of
leaves in the pinion, c the distance of the pivots A, B, and
let tn be to n as ES to CS ; then the arch ES, or Z SAE,
360°
will be equal to —^—, and LD, or Z LBD, will be equal to
... But ES : CS = w : w ; consequently LD : LC = m
a
: n, therefore (Eucl. vi. 16) LC X m — LD X n, and LC
_ ; but LD is equal to —therefore, by sub-
m a
~ 360 X n
stitution, LL  .
am
Now, in the triangle APB, AB is known, and also PB,
which is the cosine of the angle ABD, PC being perpendi¬
cular to DB ; AP or the radius of the pinion, therefore, may
be found by plain trigonometry. The reader will observe
that the point P marks out the parts of the tooth D and
the leaf SP where they commence their action; and the
point I marks out the parts where their mutual action
ceases j1 AP therefore is the proper radius of the pin¬
ion, and BI the proper radius of the wheel, the parts of the
tooth L without the point I, and of the leaf SP without
the point P, being superfluous. Now, to find BI, we have
ES : CS = m: m, and CS = —* U- ; but ES was shown
m
to be = —y—, therefore, by substitution, CS = T * n-.
b bm
Now the arch ES, or EAS, being equal to and
360 x w
CS, or CAS being equal to
bm
, their difference
EC, or the angle EAC, will be equal to  360 x n
b bm
360° x m — n
or  = . The
bm
EAC being thus found, the
triangle EAB, or IAB, which is almost equal to it, is known,
because AB is given, and likewise AI, which is equal to
the cosine of the angle IAB, AC being radius, and AIC
being a right angle, consequently IB the radius of the
wheel may be found by trigonometry. It was formerly
shown that AC, the radius of what is called the primitive
pinion, was equal to and that BC the radius of the
primitive wheel was equal to If then we subtract
AC or AS from AP, we shall have the quantity SP, which
must be added to tbe radius of the primitive pinion; and 0
if we take the difference of BC (or BL) and DE^ the Teeth
quantity LE will be found, which must be added to the
radius of the primitive wheel. We have all along supposed S^v"
that the wheel drives the pinion, and have given the pro¬
per form of the teeth upon this supposition. But when the
pinion drives the wheel, the form which was given to the
teeth of the wheel in the first case must in this be given
to the leaves of the pinion; and the shape which was for¬
merly given to the leaves of the pinion must now be trans-
ferred to the teeth of the wheel.
Another form for the teeth of wheels, different fromFurM
any which we have mentioned, has been recommended by the tee
Dr Robison. Pie shows that a perfect uniformity of action30^
may be secured, by making the acting faces of the teethtoCr^
involutes of the wheel’s circumference, which are nothin^*118011'
more than epicycloids, the centres of whose generating
circles are infinitely distant. Thus, in fig. 122, let AB he
a portion of the wheel on which Fig. 122.
the tooth is to be fixed, and let
Xpa be a thread lapped round
its circumference, havinga loop¬
hole at its extremity a. In this
loop-hole fix the pin a, and with
it describe the curve or involute
abedeh, by unlapping the thread
gradually from the circumfe-
x'ence Apm. This curve will I
be the proper shape for the teeth of a wheel whose dia¬
meter is AB. Dr Robison observes, that as this form ad¬
mits of several teeth to be acting at the same time (twice
the number that can be admitted in M. de la Hire’s me¬
thod), the pressure is divided among several teeth, and the
quantity upon any one of them is so diminished, that those
dents and impressions which they unavoidably make upon
each other are partly prevented. He candidly allows,
however, that the teeth thus formed are not completely
free from sliding and friction, though this slide is only
^\yth of an inch when a tooth three inches long fixed on a
wheel ten feet in diameter drives another wheel whose
diameter is two feet. (Append, to Ferguson’s Lectures.)
On the Formation of Exterior and hiterior Epicycloids,
and on the Disposition of the Teeth on the Wheel's Cir¬
cumference. ,
Nothing can be of greater
importance to the practical
mechanic, than to have a me¬
thod of drawing epicycloids
with facility and accuracy: the
following, we trust, is the most
simple mechanical method that
can be employed.—Take a
piece of plain wood GH, fig.
123, and fix upon it another  
piece of wood E, having its circumference mb of the same
curvature as the circular base upon which the generating
circle AB is to roll. When the generating circle is large,
the segment B will be sufficient: in any part of the circum¬
ference of this segment fix a sharp-pointed nail a, sloping
in such a manner that the distance of its point from the
centre of the circle may be exactly equal to its radius;
and fasten to the board GH a piece of thin brass, or cop¬
per, or tin plate, ab, distinguished by the dotted lines.
Place the segment B in such a position that the point w
the nail a may be upon the point b, and roll the segment
towards G, so that the nail a may rise gradually, and the
of the arch >0 ,i,h,he
MECHANICS.
the point of contact between the two circular segments may
tli o advance towards m ; the curve ah described upon the brass
plate will be an accurate exterior epicycloid. In order to
v'prevent the segments from sliding, their peripheries should
be rubbed with rosin or chalk, or a number of small iron
points may be fixed on the circumference of the generat¬
ing segment. Remove, with a file, the part of the brass on
the left hand of the epicycloid, and the remaining concave
arch or gage oh will be a pattern tooth, by means of which
all the rest may be easily formed. When an interior epi¬
cycloid is wanted, the concave side of its circular base
must be used. The method of describing it is represented
in fig. 124, where CD is Fig, 124.
the generating circle, F
the concave circular base,
MN the piece of wood on
which this base is fixed,
and cd the interior epicy¬
cloid formed upon the plate
of brass by rolling the ge¬
nerating circle C, or the
generating segment D, to¬
wards the right hand. The cycloid, which is useful in
forming the teeth of rack-work, is generated precisely in
the same manner, with this difference only, that the base
an which the generating circle rolls must be a straight
line.
In order that the teeth may not embarrass one another
Sefore their action commences, and that one tooth may
begin to act upon its corresponding leaf of the pinion be¬
fore the preceding tooth has ceased to act upon the pre¬
ceding leaf, the height, breadth, and distance of the teeth
must be properly proportioned. For this purpose the
litch-line or circumference of the wheel, which is repre¬
sented in fig. 119 and 120, by the dotted arches, must be
livided into as many equal spaces as the number of teeth
which the wheel is to carry. Divide each of these spaces
nto 16 equal parts ; allow 7 of these for the greatest
creadth of the teeth, and 9 for the distance between each ;
)r the distance of the teeth may be made equal to their
oreadth. If the wheel drive a trundle, each space should
)e divided into 7 equal parts, and 3 of these allotted for
die thickness of the tooth, and 3§ for the diameter of the
cylindrical stave of the trundle. If each of the spaces al-
■eady mentioned, or if the distance between the centres
)f each tooth, be divided into three equal parts, the height
it the teeth must be equal to two of these. These dis-
ances and heights, however, vary according to the mode
it action which is employed. The teeth should be round-
id off at the extremities, and the radius of the wheel made
i little larger than that which is deduced from the rules
n p. 421-22. But when the pinion drives the wheel, a
iinall addition should be made to the radius of the pinion.
the Nature of Bevelled Wheels, and the Method of giving
an Epicycloidal Form to their Teeth.
Hie principle of bevelled wheels was pointed out by De
a Hire, so long ago as the end of the seventeenth century,
t consists in one fluted or toothed cone acting upon an-
>ther, as is represented in fig. 125, where the cone OD
hives the cone OC, conveying its
notion in the direction OC. If these
ones be cut parallel to their bases,
IS at A and B, and if the two small
ones between AB and O be remov-
d, the remaining parts AC and BD
nay be considered as two bevelled
' heels, and BD will act upon AC in
!e .very same manner, and with the same effect, that the
,e cone OH acted upon the whole cone OC. If the
action be made nearer the bases of the cones, the same
423
Fig. 126
On the
Teeth of
Wheels.
Is.
Fig. 125.
effect will be produced. This is the case in fig. 126, where
CD and DE are but very small
portions of the imaginary
cones ACD and ADE.
In order to convey motion in
any given direction, and deter¬
mine the relative size and si¬
tuation of the wheels for this
purpose, let AB, fig. 127, be
the axis of a wheel, and CD
the given direction in which
it is required to convey the
motion by means of a wheel Fig. 127.
fixed upon the axis AB, and
acting upon another wheel
fixed on the axis CD; and
let us suppose that the axis
CD must have four times the
velocity of AB, or must per¬
form four revolutions while
AB performs one. Then
the number of teeth in the
wheel fixed upon AB must be four times greater than the
number of teeth in the wheel fixed upon CD, and their
radii must have the same proportion. Draw cd parallel
to CD at any convenient distance, and draw ah parallel
to AB at four times that distance, then the lines im and
in drawn perpendicular to AB and CD respectively will
mark the situation and size of the wheels required. In
this case the cones are Oni and Omi, and srni, rpmi are
the portions of them that are employed.
The formation of the teeth of bevelled wheels is more On the for-
difficult than one would at first imagine. The teeth of such mation of
wheels, indeed, must be formed by the same rules which their teeth,
have been given for other wheels ; but since different parts
of the same tooth are at different distances from the axis,
these parts must have the curvature of their acting surfaces
proportioned to that distance. Thus, in fig. 127, the part
of the tooth at r must be more incurvated than the part at
i, as is evident from the inspection of fig. 126; and the
epicycloid for the part i must be formed by means of circles
whose diameters are im and Ff, while the epicycloid for the
part r must be generated by circles whose diameters are
Cn and Dd.
Let us suppose a plane to pass through the points O, A,
D ; the lines AB, AO will evidently be in this plane,
which may be called the plane of centres. Now, when the
teeth of the wheel DE, which is supposed to drive CD the
smallest of the two, commence their action on the teeth of
CD when they arrive at the plane of centres, and conti¬
nue their action after they have passed this plane, the curve
given to the teeth CD at C, should be a portion of an in¬
terior epicycloid formed by any generating circle rolling
on the concave superficies of a circle whose diameter is
twice Cm perpendicular to CA, and the curvature of the
teeth at i should be part of a similar epicycloid formed
upon a circle whose diameter is twice im. The curvature
of the teeth of the wheel DE, at D, should be part of an
exterior epicycloid formed by the same generating circle
rolling upon the concave circumference of a circle whose
diameter is twice Dd perpendicular to DA ; and the epi¬
cycloid for the teeth at F is formed in the same way, only,
instead of twice Dd, the diameter of the circle must be
twice Ff. When any other mode of action is adopted, the
teeth are to be formed in the same manner that we have
pointed out for common wheels, with this difference only,
that different epicycloids are necessary for the parts F and
D. It may be sufficient, however, to find the form of the
teeth at F, as the remaining part of the tooth may be shaped
by directing a straight ruler from different points of the epi¬
cycloid at F to the centre A, and tiling the tooth till every
424
MECHANICS.
On the part of its acting surface coincide with the side of the ruler.
Wipers of The reason of this operation will be obvious by attending
Stampers. tQ the shape ortlie tooth in fig. 125. When the small wheel
' 7 ' CD impels the large one DE, the epicycloids which were
formerly given to CD must be given to DE, and those
which were given to DE must be transferred to CD.
On crown The wheel represented in fig. 128 is sometimes called
wheels. a crown wheel, though it is evident from the figure that it
belongs to that species
of wheels which we Fig. 128.
have just been consi¬
dering ; for the acting
surfaces of the teeth
both of the wheel MB
and of the pinion EDG
are directed to C the
common vertex of the
two cones CMB, CEG.
In this case the rules for
bevelled wheels must
be adopted, in which AS is to be considered as the radius
of the wheel for the profile of the tooth at A, and MN as
its radius for the profile of the tooth at M; and the epicy¬
cloids thus formed will be the sections or profiles of the
teeth in the direction MP, at right angles to MC the sur¬
faces of the cone. When the vertex C of the cone MCG
approaches to N till it be in the same place with the points
M, G, some of the curves will be cycloids and others in¬
volutes, as in the case of rack-work, for then the cone
CEG will revolve upon a plane surface. (Appendix to
Ferguson’s Lectures.')
Sect. II.— On the Wipers of Stampers, fyc. the Teeth of
Rack-work, Sfc. fyc.
straight line, the exterior epicycloid he and the interior Ontis
one ha will be cycloids formed by the same generating lViper!
circles which are employed in describing the other epiew Stai>'p
cloids. Since it would be difficult, however, as has already''“v;
been remarked, to give this compound curvature to the
teeth of the wheel and rack, we may use a generating cir-
cle whose diameter is equal to D.x the radius of the wheel
for describing the interior epicycloid eh, and the exterior
one he ; and a generating circle whose diameter is equal
to the radius of the rack, for describing the interior epi¬
cycloid ah, and the exterior one de ; ah and eh, therefore,
will be straight lines, and be will be a cycloid and de an
involute of the circle ex, the radius of the wheel being in¬
finitely great.
In the same manner may the form of the teeth of rack-
work be determined when the second mode of action is
employed, and when the teeth of the wheel or rack are
circular or rectilineal. But if the rack be part of a circle,
it must have the same form for its teeth as that of a wheel
of the same diameter with the circle of which it is a part.
In machinery, where large weights are to be raised, such Proper
as fulling-mills, mills for pounding ore, &c. or where largeformoi
pistons are to be elevated by the arms of levers, it is offfipers.
the greatest consequence that the power should raise the
weight with an uniform force and velocity ; and this can
be effected only by giving a proper form to the wiper.
Now there are two cases in which this uniformity of
motion may be required, and each of these demands a dif¬
ferent form for the communicating parts: 1. When the
weight is to be raised vertically, as the piston of a pump,
&c.; 2. when the weight to be raised or depressed moves
upon a centre, and rises or falls in the arch of a circle, such
as the sledge-hammer in a forge, &c.
1. Let AH be a wheel moved by any power which is
sufficient to raise the weight MN by its extremity 0, from
On the In fig. 129 let AB be the wheel which is employed to
wipers of elevate the rack C, and let their mutual action not com-
stampers. mence till the acting teeth
have reached the line of cen¬
tres AC. In this case C be¬
comes as it were the pinion
or wheel driven, and the act¬
ing faces of its teeth must be
interior epicycloids formed by
any generating circle rolling
within the circumference pq ;
but as pq is a straight line,
these interior epicycloids will
be cycloids, or curves generated by a point in the circum¬
ference of a circle rolling upon a straight line or plane
surface. The acting face op, therefore, will be part of a
cycloid formed by any generating circle, and mn, the act¬
ing face of the teeth of the wheel, must be an exterior epi¬
cycloid produced by the same generating circle rolling on
mr the convex surface of the wheel. If it be required to
make op a straight line, as in the figure, then mn must be
an involute of the circle mr formed in the manner repre¬
sented in fig. 122.
Fig. 129 likewise represents a wheel depressing the rack
C' when the third mode of action is used. In this case also
C' becomes the pinion, and DE the wheel; eh therefore
must be part of an interior epicycloid formed by any ge¬
nerating circle rolling on the concave side ex of the wheel,
and be must be an exterior epicycloid produced by the
same generating circle rolling upon the circumference of
the rack. The remaining part cd of the teeth of the wheel
must be an exterior epicycloid described by any generat¬
ing circle moving upon the convex side ex, and ha must
be an interior epicycloid engendered by the same gene¬
rating circle rolling within the circumference of the rack.
But as the circumference of the rack is in this case a
O to e, in the same time that the
wheel moves round one fourth of
its circumference; it is required to
fix upon its rim a wing OBCDEH,
which shall produce this effect
with an uniform effort. Divide
the quadrant OH into any num¬
ber of equal parts Om, mn, &c.
the more the better, and Oe into
the same number Oh, he, cd, &c ;
and through the points m, n, p, H
draw the indefinite lines AB, AC,
AD, AE, and make AB equal to A6, AC to Ac, AD to
Kd, and AE to Ac; then through the points 0, B, C, D,
E, draw the curve OBCDE, which is a portion of the spi¬
ral of Archimedes, and will be the proper form for the
wiper or wing OHE. It is evident, that when the point
m has arrived at O, the extremity of the weight will have
arrived at h, because AB is equal to A6; and, for the same
reason, when the points n, p, H have successively arrived
at O, the extremity of the weight will have arrived at the
corresponding points c, d, e. The motion, therefore, wi
be uniform, because the space described by the weight is
proportional to the space described by the moving power,
Ob being to Qc as Om to On. If it be required to raise
the weight MN with an accelerated or retarded motion,
we have only to divide the line Oe according to the law o'
acceleration or retardation, and divide the curve OBCD
as l3efore
2. When the lever moves upon a centre, the wreight will 1^
rise in the arch of a circle, and consequently a new
must be given to the wipers or wings. Let AB, ng- . ’arch
be a lever lying horizontally, which it is required to iais cjrck
uniformly through the arch BC into the position A > .
means of the wheel BFH furnished with the wing B >
which acts upon the extremity C of the lever; and e
Fig. 129.
Fig. 130.
MECHANICS. 425
)n ti be required to raise it through BC in the same time that sponding spaces eg, gi, ?M. The motion of the lever, there- On the
the wheel BFII moves fore, and also that of the power, are always uniform. QfWipers of
through one half of its all the positions that can be given to the point B, the most StamPers-
circumference; that is, disadvantageous are those which are nearest the points
while the point M moves F, H; and the most advantageous position is when the
to B in the direction chord Be is vertical, and passes, when prolonged, through
MFB. Divide the chord D, the centre of the circle.2 In this particular case, the
CB into any number of two curves have equal bases, though they differ a little in
equal parts, the more the point of curvature. The farther that the centre A is dis-
better, in the points 1, tant, the nearer do these curves resemble each other ; and
2, 3, and draw the lines if it were infinitely distant, they would be exactly similar,
lot 26, 3c, parallel to AB, and would be the spirals of Archimedes, as the extremity c
or a horizontal line pass- would in this case rise perpendicularly,
ing through the point B, It will be easily perceived that four, six, or eight wings
and meeting thearchCB may be placed upon the circumference of the circle, and
in thepointsot, 6,c. Draw may be formed by dividing into the same number of equal
the lines- CD, otD, 6D, parts as the chord BC, 4th, ^th, or ^th of the circumfe¬
rence, instead of the semicircle BFM.
That the wing BNO may not act upon any part of the
lever between A and C, the arm AC should be bent; and
that the friction may be diminished as much as possi-
cD, and BD, cutting the
circle BFH in the points
m, n, o, p,
Having drawn the diameter BM, divide the semicircle
BFM into as many equal parts as the chord CB, in the ble, a roller should be fixed upon its extremity C. When
points q, s, u. Take Bm, and set it from q to r; take Bn a roller is used, however, a curve must always be drawn
and set it from s to t; take Bo and set it from u to v ; and, parallel to the spiral described according to the preceding
lastly, set Bp from M to E. Through the points r, t, v, E, method, the distance between it and the spiral being every-
draw the indefinite lines DN, DO, DP, DQ, and make DN where equal to the radius of the roller.
If it should be required to raise the lever with an ac¬
celerated or retarded motion, we have only to divide the
chord BC, according to the degi-ee of retardation or ac¬
celeration required, and the circle into the same number
of equal parts as before.
As it is frequently more convenient to raise or depress
weights by the extremity of a constant radius, furnished
with a roller, instead of wings fixed upon the periphery of
a wheel, we shall now proceed to determine the curve
which must be given to the arm of the lever which is to
be raised and depressed, in order that this elevation or
depression may be effected with an uniform motion.
Fig. 132.
equal to Dc, DO equal to D6, DP equal to Da, and DQ.
equal to DC. Then through the points Q, P, O, N, B,
draw the spiral BNOPQ, which will be the proper form
for the wing of the wheel when it moves in the direction
EMB.
That the spiral BNO will raise the lever AC, with an
uniform motion, by acting upon its extremity c, will appear
from the slightest attention to the construction of the
figure. It is evident, that when the point q arrives at B,
the point r will be in in, because Bm is equal to qr, and
the point N will be at c, because DN is equal to Dc; the
extremity of the lever therefore will be found in the point
c, having moved through Be. In like manner, when the
point s has arrived at B, the point t will be at n, and the
point 0 in b, where the extremity of the lever will now be
found; and so on with the rest, till the point M has ar¬
rived at B. The point E will then be in p, and the point
Q in C; so that the lever will now have the position AC,
having moved through the equal heights Be, cb, ba, ac,1 in
the same time that the power has moved through the equal
spaces i/B, sq, us, Mzir. The lever therefore has been raised
uniformly, the ratio between the velocity of the power and
that of the weight remaining always the same.
If the wheel D turn in a contrary direction, according
to the letters MHB, we must divide the semicircle BHEM, Let AB, fig. 132, be a lever, which it is required to raise
into as many equal parts as the chord cB, viz. in the points uniformly through the arch BC, into the position AC, by
ff, h. Ihen, having set the arch Bm from e to d, the means of the arm or constant radius DE, moving upon D
arch Vm from g to f, and the rest in a similar manner, draw, as a centre, in the same time that the extremity E de-
through the points d, , h, E, the indefinite lines DR, DS, scribes the arch EeF\ From the point C draw CH at
Bi, DQ.: make DR equal to Dc, DS equal to D6, DT right angles to AB, and divide it into any number of equal
equal to Da, and DQ. equal to DC; and through the points parts, suppose three, in the points 1, 2; and through the
>> B, S, 1, Q, describe the spiral BRSTQ, which will be points 1, 2, draw la26, parallel to the horizontal line AB,
10 proper form for the wing when the wheel turns in the cutting the arch CB in the points a, b, through which
rulection MEB. For, when the point e arrives at B, the draw aA, 6A. Upon D as a centre, with the distance
point d will be in m, and R in c, where the extremity of DE, describe the arch EfeF, and upon A as a centre, with
t ic lever will now be found, having moved through Be in the distance AD, describe the arch eOD, cutting the arch
'e time that the power or wheel has moved through EfeF in the point e. Divide the arches Eie and Fse, each
'e division eB. In the same manner it may be shown, that into the same number of equal parts as the perpendicular
cFI, in the points k, i, s, m, and through these points about
the centre A describe the arches kz, ig, qr, mn. Take zx
ie lever will rise through the equal heights cb, ba, aC, in
le sanie time that the power moves through the corre-
. 16 arches Be, cb, &c. are not equal; but the perpendiculars let fall from the points c, a, b, &c. upon the horizontal lines
i a, b, &C. are equal, being proportional to equal lines el, 1, 2. Eucl. vi. 2.
vol 116 ^®Ure’ we ^ave taken the point B in a disadvantageous position, because the intersections are in this case more distinct.
MECHANICS.
426
On the and set it from k to l, and take gf, and set it from i to h.
Wipers of Take rq, also, and set it from s to t, and set rnn from o to
Stampers.^ anj ^ from e t0 Qt Then through the points E, l, h,
o, and O, t, p, F, draw the two curves E^/tO, and O^F,
which will be the proper form that must be given to the
arm of the lever. If the handle DE moves from E to¬
wards F, the curve EO must be used; but if in the con¬
trary direction, we must employ the curve OF.
It is evident, that when the extremity E of the handle
DE has run through the arch E£, or rather E£, the point
l will be in h, and the point z in x, because xz is equal to
hi, and the lever will have the position Ab. For the same
reason, when the extremity E of the handle has arrived
at i, the point h will be in i, and the point ^ in/, and the
lever will be raised to the position Aa. Thus it appears,
that the motion of the power and the weight are always
proportional. When a roller is fixed at E, a curve parallel
to EO, or OF, must be drawn as formerly. (See Appen¬
dix to Ferguson’s Lectures.)
CHAP. VI. ON THE FIRST MOVERS OF MACHINERY. First
Movt
The powers which are generally employed as the firstoflIac
movers of machines are, water, wind, steam, and animal ne’71
exertion.1 The mode of employing water as an impellino'^v
power has already been given at great length in the article
Hydrodynamics. The application of wind to turn ma¬
chinery will be discussed in the chapter on Wind-mills •
and what regards steam will be more properly introduced
into the article Steam-Engine. At present, therefore, we
shall only make a few remarks on the strength of men and
horses ; and conclude with a general view of the relative
powers of the first movers of machinery. The following
table contains the weight which a man is able to raise
through a certain height in a certain time, according to
different authors.
Number of Pounds
raised.
Height to which the
Weight is raised.
Time in which it
is raised.
Duration of the
Work.
Names of the
Authors.
1000
601 ~
25 r 1
170 £
1000
1000
30
26 or 30
180
22011
i)£
330
225
31
2'45 feet
60 minutes
1 second
145 seconds
1 second
60 minutes
60 minutes
1 second
1 second
8 hours
half an hour
10 hours
Euler
Bernoulli
Amontons
Coulomb
Desaguliers
Smeaton
Emerson
Schulze
According to Amontons, a man weighing 133 pounds
French ascended sixty-two feet French, by steps, in thir¬
ty-four seconds, but was completely exhausted. The same
author informs us that a sawer made 200 strokes of eigh¬
teen inches French each, with a force of twenty-five
pounds, in 145 seconds; but that he could not have con¬
tinued the exertion above three minutes.
It appears from the observations of Desaguliers, that an
ordinary man can, for the space of ten hours, turn a winch
with a force of thirty pounds, and with a velocity of two
feet and a half per second; and that two men working at
a windlass with handles at right angles to each other can
raise seventy pounds more easily than one man can raise
thirty. The reason of this is, that when there is only one
man, he exerts variable efforts at different positions of the
handle, and therefore the motion of the windlass is irre¬
gular ; whereas, in the case of two men, with handles at
right angles, the effect of the one man is greatest when the
effect of the other is least, and therefore the motion of
the machine is more uniform, and will perform more work.
Desaguliers also found, that a man may exert a force of
eighty pounds with a fly when the motion is pretty quick;
and that, by means of a good common pump, he may raise
a hogshead of water ten feet high in a minute, and conti¬
nue the exertion during a whole day.
According to Dr Robison, a feeble old man raised seven
cubic feet of water, — 437‘5 pounds avoirdupois, ll^- feet
high, in one minute, for eight or ten hours a day, by walk¬
ing backwards and forwards on a lever ; and a young man
weighing 135 pounds, and carrying thirty pounds, raised
9^ cubic feet of water, — 578T pounds avoirdupois, 11^
feet high, for ten hours a day, without being fatigued.
From the experiments of Mr Buchanan, it appears that
the forces exerted by a man pumping, acting at a winch,
ringing, and rowing, are as the numbers 1742, 2856,3883,
and 4095.
The most interesting experiments on the strength of
men were made by M. Coulomb; and as they are highly
valuable, we shall endeavour to give a condensed account
of them.
1. His first object was to ascertain the quantiy tof ac¬
tion which a man furnished while ascending a stair un¬
loaded.
A man whose weight may be taken at seventy kilo¬
grammes ascended the stairs of a dwelling-house at the
rate of fourteen metres, provided he did not ascend more
than twenty or thirty metres. His quantity of action is
therefore 980 kilogrammes raised one metre in one minute;
and if he continue at the work four hours, it will be 235,200
kilogrammes raised one metre in four hours.
The party of sailors who accompanied the Chevalier
Borda to the top of the Peak of Teneriffe ascended 2923
metres in 7^ hours. Hence their quantity of action in a
day was 204,610 kilogrammes raised one metre in 7| houn.
Coulomb therefore considers 205 kilogrammes raised
one kilometre as the quantity of action furnished by a man
ascending a stair.
2. When a man, loaded with firewood, ascended a stair,
his quantity of action was 109 kilogrammes raised one
kilometre. Another man of unusual strength furnished
129 kilogrammes through one kilometre ; but he had over¬
exerted himself.
But even taking this extreme result, it follows that the
quantity of action of a man unloaded is to that when he is
loaded as 205 to 129, or as 16 to 10.
3. In order to determine the load which a man ought to
1 The elastic power of heated air has been ingeniously employed as the first mover of machines by the Reverend Mr Stirling;
and the still more intense power of liquefied carbonic acid has been tried, though unsuccessfully, by Mr Brunei; but our limits
will not allow us to give any description of the mechanism by which these powers are applied. (See page 436, column second.)
w tb carry in order to produce a maximum useful effect, Cou-
First ]0mb remarks, that the only useful effect furnished by a
[ove man when loaded is the conveyance of the load. If his load
was nothing, his actual quantity of action would be a maxi-
■ fj^Vmum, but the useful effect would be nothing; and in like
manner, if his load was 150 kilogrammes, he could scarce¬
ly move it, and the useful effect would also be nothing.
Between 0 and 150 kilogrammes there will be some load
by which the useful effect will be a maximum. Now, since
a man unloaded raised 205 kilogrammes through one kilo¬
metre in a day, while a man loaded with 68 kilogrammes
raised only 109 kilogrammes through one kilometre, it fol¬
lows that 68 kilogrammes diminished his quantity of daily-
work 205 — 109 zr 96 kilogrammes through one kilo¬
metre.
Let us now, as Coulomb has done, suppose the quantities
of action lost proportional to the loads ; then, calling P the
load, and q the quantity of action lost, we shall have P : q
96
z: 68:96, and ^ z: P -- zz P41 P, or P41 kilometres mul-
tiplied by P. Hence the quantity of action furnished under
the load P will be 205 — P41 P. If h is the height
through which the man is able to ascend in a day with the
load P, then Yh will be the useful effect of his work, and
(70 -f- P) A will be his total quantity of daily action, 70
kilogrammes being taken as his weight. Hence we obtain
(70 + P) /i z= 205—• P41 P, and, by reduction,
p (205-1-41 P). -
MECHANICS,
•, which becomes
P/<
70 + P
making az=. 205, b-=. 1*41, and W = 70, we have
— p (g
1 * “ rw + P ’
which will be a maximum when
P z: W {^J1 + ^ “ 0*754 Wzz53 kilogrammes.
If this value of P is now substituted in the formula,
(205-P41P),
~ 70 + P
we shall have P/j = 56 kilogrammes x-aised through 1 kilo¬
metre in a day as the measure of the useful effect of a man
when carrying a load up a stair.
Hence this mode of employing the strength of a man
consumes nearly fths of his real action, his useful effect
being only 56, while his total effect is 205 ; and, there¬
fore, the expense of employing him will be four times more
than that of a man who, having ascended the stair unloaded,
raises a weight (by his own descent by gravity) through
the height to which he ascended.
If we suppose the man to be so loaded as to perform no
! work, a case which happens when he bears the greatest
weight he can cai*ry, then 205— P41 P zz 0, and Pzz 145
kilogrammes, which is the weight which an ordinary man
can barely carry.
Hence, the formulae of Coulomb above given correspond
to the maximum of the total action of a man ascending a
’tair unloaded, to the minimum of action when he is load¬
ed with a weight which he can barely carry, and to an in-
'('mediate quantity of action of 68 kilogrammes, the ordi-
aary load with which a man can ascend stairs.
4. Sir David Brewster has greatly simplified the formulae
?iven by Coulomb, by considering, what Coulomb found to
be nearly the case, that the quantity of useful effect is only
3d of the total quantity of action, and making 1*41 zz H.
ra jp)p
by these substitutions the formula PAv yylpp— becomes
pi - EPA _ aw _ iip
W + P ,ana'*- W + P
a maximum when P zz W (v^S — 1) zz 0-732 W.
When P zz 2 W, we obtain 3W — 11 P = 0, and A zz 0 ;
from which it follows, that when P or the load is equal to
2W, or twice the weight of the man, or zz 2 X 70 zz 140
kilogrammes, he loses the power of ascending.
When P zz W, or when the load is equal to the weight
of the man, the mean quantity of action will be reduced
one half. This agrees with the observation made by Cou¬
lomb, that the reduction of action was in this case from
205 to 96 when the load was 68, the value of w being 70
kilogrammes.
5. The next case discussed by Coulomb is that of a
man walking along a horizontal road either unloaded or
loaded.
A man walking unloaded for several days in succession
can accomplish easily 50 kilometres in a day, which gives a
quantity of action equal to 3500 kilogrammes carried 1 kilo¬
metre.
Porters loaded with 58 kilogrammes of furniture had a
quantity of action of 2048 kilogrammes carried 1 kilometre.
Hence the quantity of action in these two cases, without
and with a load of 58 kilogrammes, is as 7 to 4.
When the load was 44 kilogrammes, the quantity of ac¬
tion was 2166 kilogrammes carried 1 kilometre.
When the load is 58 kilogrammes, Coulomb assumes as
the best measure of the quantity of action 2000 kilogrammes
carried 1 kilometre.
But the quantity of action lost in carrying a load is 3500
— 2000 zz 1500 kilogrammes carried 1 kilometre; and as¬
suming as before that the losses q are proportional to the
loads P, we shall have 58 : P zz 1500 : q, and <7 zz P
1500
= 25-86 Y, and the real quantity of action will be
3500 — 25-86 P; and making this equal to 0, we have
P zz 135-4 kilogrammes, which coincides nearly with 140,
the result of our simplified formula, as the greatest load
which a man can carry.
Hence Coulomb obtains his general formula in the fol¬
lowing manner:—
Calling d the distance through which a man can carry the
load P, and W the weight of the man, w e have (P + W)a?
for his quantity of action. Hence we obtain (P + W)d
ornn o-c* n 13 ; (3500 — 25*86 P)P
zz 3500 — 2o-86 P, and Yd zz   —- or,
P + W
(«—AP)P
making 3500 zz a, 25-86 zz A, we have Yd
P+W
which becomes a maximum when Pzz W 1 —lj»
or P zz 0-72 W.
Sir David Brewster has simplified these formulae, and re¬
duced them to the very same as those formerly given, by
considex-ing that 3500 zz 50 X 70, that is, a zz 50 W, and
by making the co-efficient of P 25 instead of 25-86. By
(50 W
such substitutions we have Yd zz
P + W
25 P)P
-, and
rfzz
50 W —25 P
which becomes a maximum when P
P + W
zz W(a/3 — 1) zz 0-732 W, the very same result as when
the man ascended stairs.
When P zz 2W, then 50 W — 25 P zz 0, and d — 0;
wdxich shows that when the load is equal to twice the weight
of the man, he can no longer carry it through any distance.
The following is a comparison of these results with one
another and with those of Coulomb :
427
On the
First
Movers
of Machi¬
nery.
428
On the
First
Movers
of Machi¬
nery.
MECHANICS.
Values of P.
Nature of the Work. Coulomb. Brewster.
In ascending a height by stairs. 0-754 W 0-732
In travelling along a horizontal
road   ?. 0-72 W 0-732
mum
when P = ^ + (^1 + ^ - l) or P = 61-25, ^
and P = 0-9 W. ^
The preceding formulae have likewise been simplified
by Sir David Brewster, by considering that WD = 50 W
that D = 50, and by taking i = 25 in place of 25
'i- that b — tjD. By substituting these values, we ob
obtain
_ (2500 W — 25D2P)P
1 X ~ “iD(100 W + P) ’
280 (y/ll_l).
Mean 0-737 0-/32
6. Coulomb’s next case is, when the porters return un
loaded to carry away a new load.
If we cal' the distance which a man can travel unloaded
D and x the distance through which he travels unloaded . , „
during the day’s work, then WD will be the quantity of ac- winch becomes a max,mum when P
tion when he travels the whole day unloaded, and Wx a Hence
War ^ -ii h 1 ^ kilogrammes, or = 0-8989 W;
portion of his days journey. Then j) Vvl e t a ]oad very nearly equal to that which porters are in the
nortion of his day’s work when he is unloaded, the whole practice of carrying under similar circumstances.
I : , IfwesubstitutedifferentvaluesofPmCoulombsfor-
day’s work being unity; for — = 1 if ^ = D- But as ^ie mulse from 58 to 65, we shall find that Par, the maximum
^ 0 ^ of useful effect, varies from 690 to 691, which shows that
labourer walks over the same space ar loaded, and as his dady n varjati0n of several kiloerammes in the load occasions a
action when carrying a load P is 3500 — 25-86 P, the por¬
tion of his action under the load P will be (P + Wjar, and
the ratio of this quantity to the daily quantity of action, or
(P + W)ar
3500 — 25-86 P’
which he furnishes under the load P. The sum of these
two quantities, namely, when loaded and when unloaded,
, will indicate the part of his daily labour
will be equal to the labour of the entire day,
x
°r D
+
(P -f W)r __ j
3500 — 25r8"6P ~~
But if we suppose D to be fifty kilometres, and W = 70
kilogrammes, as before, we have WD = 3500 ; then, calling
25-86 = b, we shall have, after reduction,
^ (WD2— M)P)P
1 * “ 2WD + (D —6)P’
which is the useful portion furnished by the man in one
day.
Calling WD2 = a, bT) = c, 2WD = e, and D — b
«P — cP2
= f we obtain Par = -—, which becomes a maxi-
e +/P
a variation of several kilogrammes in the load occasions
very trifling change in the useful effect.
From a comparison of the preceding results, it follows
that the quantity of action of a man travelling unloaded
is to that when he travels loaded, under the circum¬
stances of the present case, as 505 to 100, or as 5 to 1
nearly.
Coulomb has made a very interesting comparison of the
quantity of fatigue undergone by a man ascending a stair
and travelling along a horizontal road. The quantity of
action in these two cases has been shown to be as 205 to
3500, or 1 to 17. Now, the ordinary height of a step is
about 135 millimetres, or 5f English inches, and its
width thrice as great, or about 16^- English inches. Hence
17 X 135 = 2295 millimetres, is the length of a horizon¬
tal road on which the man can walk with the same fatigue
as in ascending 135 millimetres. But the force of a man
is 650 millimetres, or twenty-six inches, consequently the
man experiences the same fatigue in ascending 135 milli¬
metres (5f inches) as in advancing horizontally three
paces and a half, or seven feet seven inches English mea¬
sure.
The following table exhibits the preceding results in a
condensed form.
Table of the Quantity of Daily Action of a Man when exerting himself in different ways.
-xt . -«xr i Nature of the Mechanical Effect.
Nature of tli6 Motion. Nature of the Avoik. Ground. Kilogrammes.
1. Walking Unloaded   Level 2500 raised 1 kilometre.
f Loaded with 58 kilog., and returning 4
2. Walking unloaded for another burden. The >...Level  692-4) Ido.
useful effect is  )
3. Walking Always loaded Level  912 1 do.
4 Walking . { With a loade(? wheel-barrow. Thel _Level 1022.7 1 do.
&  ( useful effects J
5. Walking up a stair Unloaded. The mechanical effect is  205  Ido.
6. Standing   f Raising a weight to drive piles. The)   75.2 ,
7. Standing Raising a weight to coin money  39-5 1 do.
0 . . (Loaded with 58 kilogrammes. The 1 kc i an
8. Walking up a stair  > is ° }   1 d°-
9 St-indinp- i Raising water from a well by a dou- ( 71  j do.
10. Standing Pumping    190  Ido.
11. Standing Turning a winch  116  Ido.
12. Standing Reaping  259  Ido.
13. Standing Rowing  273  Ido.
14. Digging with a spade      62-3 1 do.
I th£
I4rst
over
ltd
iery.i
V'
MECHANICS.
The following important results have been given by M. Hachette:—
Mechanical Effect.
1. A man walking up an inclined plane of 14 centimetres to 1 metre with a load of 7^ Kilogrammes.
kilog., and himself weighing 70 kilog. and walking 7£ hours daily 225 raised 1 kilom.
2. A man walking loaded in a mountainous country 140 1 do.
3. A porter carrying wood up a stair, including his weight1 112 to 120 1 do.
4. A porter carrying coals up a stair, his weight included 40 1 do.
5. A man raising a weight to drive piles2 48 1 do.
6. A man drawing a boat a la bricole 110 1 do.
In the following results, given also by M. Hachette, the numbers are dynamical units or cubic metres of water car¬
ried a metre on a horizontal road.
1. A soldier loaded with from 20 to 25 kilog. travelling 20 kilometres a day 1800 to 1900 raised 1 kilom.
2. A Roman soldier travelling 40 kilometres a day by forced marches 4400 to 4800 1 do.
3. Hawker with crotchets, his weight not included 792 to 880 1 do.
4. Porters drawing a 4-wheel waggon over unequal ground3 626 1 do.
5. Do. on horizontal planks 900 to 1000 1 do.
6. Ditto on the ground, with superficial inequalities 600 1 do.
7. A man drawing a boat in a canal, or 50,000 kilog. transported 11 kilometres 550,000 1 do.
429
Among the various ways of applying the strength of
men to produce great mechanical effects, the following
method of weighing anchors, used by the natives of the
coast of Coromandel, is extremely interesting and instruc¬
tive. It was communicated to the writer of this article
many years ago, by a celebrated naval officer, who him¬
self witnessed the process of raising the anchor of his ma¬
jesty’s ship Minden, in September 1814.
The natives, who had been permitted by Sir Samuel
Hood to show their method of weighing anchors, formed
a raft about three or four feet in diameter, by lashing to¬
gether, in the form of a rude cylinder, a number of spars,
such as top-masts, jib-booms, &c. The buoy-rope of the
anchor was wound round the middle of this, and made fast.
Thirty small ropes having been fixed to the raft, were
coiled round it several times in an opposite way to the
buoy rope, so as to form “ slew-ropes,” or turning ropes.
Sixty natives then got upon the spar, and pulled by the
ropes so as to turn the raft of spars round. The buoy-
rope soon became tight, and any farther rotation of the
spar was prevented. The natives now held the slew-ropes
tight and firm in both hands, and, standing erect and in a
line on the top of the spar, the whole sixty, at the word of
command, threw themselves suddenly backwards, so that
they all fell flat on the surface of the water at the same
instant. By this act the raft of spars turned round one
quarter of a circle from the vertical to the horizontal posi¬
tion of the men. This operation did not, of course, start
the anchor, but it tightened the buoy-rope to such a de¬
gree as to require considerable force to prevent the raft
from turning back again. The next turn was made by
alternate pairs of the men keeping their horizontal posi¬
tion on the water, while the intermediate pairs climbed up
by means of their slew-ropes to the top of the raft. When
there, they again tightened their ropes, threw themselves
on their backs as before, and then turned the raft another
quarter of a circle, the other men “ taking in the slack,”
or tightening their slew-ropes, during the operation. The
same operation was repeated by the other half of the party,
till the anchor was fairly lifted off the ground. All the
natives then continued stretched on the water till the
boats towed the raft and the anchor into deep water, when
it was hove in the usual way. The anchor was three tons
in weight.
When the anchor is lifted off the ground the raft has a
tendency to turn back again. This actually took place, in
consequence of some of the natives getting tired and let-
tinggo their hold ; and the rest not being able to overcome
the additional load thus suddenly thrown upon them, the
anchor sunk to the bottom, and gave such a rapid whirl to
the raft, that some of the natives were actually carried
round along with it. This might be prevented, as our cor¬
respondent suggests, by having two buoy-ropes in place
of one, and coiling them round the raft in opposite di¬
rections, the rope that slackens or uncoils itself by each
quarter turn of the raft being again tightened. This too
would allow the whole strength of the party, in place of
half of it, to be employed in the operation. A water wind¬
lass, to be worked by men in boats, might, as the narrator
suggests, be contrived so as to be used when amphibious
workmen, such as those of the coast of Coromandel, cannot
be had.
In the above process the cylindrical raft is the axle, the
men the handspikes, and their weight the moving power.
The less the diameter of the spar round which the rope
coils, the greater is the power; and . the greater the diame¬
ter of the part upon which the men stand, the larger is
the lever by which they act. The raft should therefore
be constructed to give this advantage; and there might
be two cylinders of different diameters for the two buoy-
ropes, upon the principle of the wheel and axle, shown in
fig. 27.
The strength of men varies with the climate and the food.
Coulomb found that the grenadier performed one third
more work than the other companies. “ I have executed,’
he says, “ great works at Martinique by the troops when
the thermometer rarely stood below 68° of Fahrenheit,
and I have executed in France the same kind of work by
troops ; and I am assured that under the 14th degree of
latitude, where the men are almost always inundated by
perspiration, they are not capable of one half the quantity
of daily work which they can furnish in our climate.” I he
following measures of the strength of different races of
men were made by M. Peron, with Regnier’s dynamo¬
meter.
England   71-4
France 99*2
Timor 58'7
Van Diemen’s Land 51*8
New Flolland 506
Average strength 6034
1 This case is No. 6 of Coulomb’s table, where the porter’s weight was not included.
a This result was obtained by M. Lamande, from the work of thirty-eight men, who raised by a pulley a weight of 587 kilog. to
drive piles.
3 Guinevau, Essai sur lea Machines, p. 271. The ground was often clayey.
430
MECH
On the
Strength
of Horses,
&c.
On the Strength of Horses, &>c.
Very few accurate observations have been made on the
quantity of work done by different quadrupeds, and it
would therefore be desirable if the subject were taken up
in reference to the different breeds of horses, and the va¬
rious purposes for which they are employed.
The following table contains several accurate results
collected by M. Hachette. The daily action is measured
by the draught and the distance travelled over, and the
useful effect is measured in dynamical units, each of which
is the weight of a cubic metre of water carried a metre
upon a horizontal road.
Useful
Kilog. Kilom. Daily action. Effect
Dyn. Units.
1. A cart-horse, 140 x 40
2. A post-horse, 90 x 38
3. A horse moving in a circle,
and working a pump 
4. A horse raising plaster, 12 ^
hours daily J
5. A horse working at a pump. }
Mean of three horses J
= 5000
— 3420
1684
1185
585
842
595
6. A horse raising water by a ^
pump. Mean of eight horses, j
7. A horse raising coals. Mean {
of two horses. Doubtful. /
8. A horse drawing a load of 4
150,000 kilogrammes eight r
kilometres...  j
9. The force of a horse acting j
24 hours is equal to /
2948
675
780
800
5974 dyn. units.
The comparative strength of horses and men has been
variously given by different authors, and the discrepancy
is so great as to render more necessary the experimental
inquiry which we have above recommended. The follow¬
ing table will justify this observation :
One horse is equal to 14 men. Schulze.
One horse is equal to 7 men. Bossut.
One horse is equal to 5 men. DesaguliersandSmeaton.
One ass is equal to 2 men. Bossut.
The following results have been given by Desaguliers.
One horse can draw 200 pounds two and a half miles per
hour for eight hours a day. If the load is 240 pounds, he
can work only six hours.
One horse can draw from 450 to 750 pounds up a steep
hill, which is more than three men can carry up it.
One powerful horse can draw 2000 pounds up a short
and steep hill.
One horse has been known to carry 650 or 700 pounds
for seven or eight miles without a rest, and to continue
this as its ordinary work.
One horse carried 1232 pounds, or eleven hundred¬
weight, of iron, for eight miles.
In these, as well as in the following results taken from
different authors, nothing is said of the nature of the road,
which is an essential element in the consideration of this
subject.
Two horses, according to Amontons, when ploughing,
can exert a force of 150 pounds, or seventy-five pounds
each.
One horse, according to Smeaton, can raise 250 hogs¬
heads of water in an hour by means of pumps.
One horse, according to Mr Fenwick, can raise 1000
pounds avoirdupois thirteen feet per minute for twelve
hours, the horse moving about two miles an hour, by means
of a wheel and axle.
One horse, according to Mr Fenwick, can exert a force
of seventy-five pounds, moving thirteen feet per minute,
and for nine and a half hours.
A N I C S.
Four horses, according to Regnier, had a mean draught n
of thirty-six myriogrammes in 794 hours. 8 tlle!
One mule, according to Cazand, can, in the West Indiesof 2
exert a force of 150 pounds, walking three feet in a se* ^
cond, and working two hours out of about eighteen.
One horse is supposed to be able to drive 1000 spindles
with preparation of cotton water-twist, 1000 spindles with
preparation of cotton mule yarn, and seventy-five spindles
with preparation of flax yarn.
One horse can draw 140 pounds with the velocity of 200
feet per minute.
The force of a horse has been estimated as follows:
Useful
Mechanical Effect.
44,000 pounds raised one foot in one minute. Desaguliers
29,916 pounds raised one foot in one minute. Smeaton.
33,000 pounds raised one foot in one minute. Watt.
Fig. 133.
Methods of applying the Power of Men and Horses to drive
Machinery.
The methods of applying the power of men and horses
to drive ordinary machines is so familiar to every person,
that it rtmuld be unprofitable to give any particular de¬
scription of it. Nothing is more familiar to us than a man
working at a pump, either by a lever or by a winch turn¬
ing an axle, or driving round a vertical axis by a lever, and
continually walking in a circle. The application of one
or more horses to a thrashing-mill, where the horses walk
round in a circle, yoked to the extremities of levers which
drive a vertical axis, is equally familiar. There are some
methods, however, of applying animal power, which, though
now little used, are historically interesting, and may in
some cases be still resorted to with advantage.
The simplest of these is the tread-mill or tread-wheel,
which has within the last twenty years become common in
our jails and bridewells, as an instrument of punishment
as ■well as of useful labour. It is shown in the annexed
figure, where one or more
men are seen climbing as
it were up steps on the
circumference of a large
wheel, whose axis is thus
put in motion. The men
hold by a fixed rail, and as
their weight presses down
the step upon which they
tread, they ascend the
next step, and thus drive the wheel. The muscular force
used by the men re-acts principally on the horizontal bar
on which they rest, and therefore their weight is the prin¬
cipal source of the moving force.
Another method of applying the force of a man is shown
in fig. 134, where the man climbing on a rope employs
both his weight and his muscular force in
turning round the pulleys round which the
rope passes. The re-action of his muscular
force is certainly in this case borne by the
machine, as Professor Moseley remarks; but
notwithstanding this, we cannot agree with
him in the conclusion, that it “appears to pos¬
sess great advantages over the tread-wheel,
in the economy of force, space, and mate¬
rials.” In the first place, the weight of the
man does not act vertically, and a consider¬
able part of it is injuriously employed in bending the rope
and increasing the friction, by pressing it against the rims
of the pulley. The friction of two axles is also a disad¬
vantage, and even though the mechanical force of the man
w'ere greater during a short time than on the tread-wheel,
Fig. 134.
MECHANICS.
431
"i* /e are quite convinced that his daily labour would be less,
om his experiencing more fatigue in the one case than
ses.-je other.
A very excellent way of employing the power of a man,
i to make him ascend steps on the inside of a large ver-
cal wheel, a method which we saw in action not many
F. ears ago in London, where the force of the man was thus
s'! mployed to work a crane.
An ancient method of employing horses or oxen to
« ork a crane is shown in the annexed figure, where the
jb } 1imal constantly ascends the inclined plane of awheel
laced obliquely to the horizon, and drives it by the action
"its feet against low steps of wood crossing its path.
sometimes be useful as supplementary ones, when the mov-
ing power fails ; and the passengers might in turn assist in
driving the carriage to its destination.
"When horses are yoked in thrashing-mills, they gene¬
rally pull with unequal force, and too much work is done
by those which are best disposed for their work. A very
ingenious contrivance for regulating the action of horses
under these circumstances, was invented by Mr Walter
Samuel, blacksmith at Niddry, in Linlithgowshire, and is
now in actual use in many parts of Scotland. In the an¬
nexed figure, it is represented as applied to four horsps,
Fig. 137.
On the
Strength
of Horses,
&c.
Fig. 135.
Another method is shown in fig. 136,"where a horse tied
a post has its hind feet
sting on low steps on the Fig. 136.
itside of a wheel, while
is fore feet rest upon a
:ed plank beside the post.
this case, both the
fight of the h'orseand the
ascular force of its legs
i|) 9 combined in giving a
tatory motion to the
■ i icel or cylinder.
It is a remarkable fact,
at so recently as Novem-
r 1830, Mr Bramley and Lieutenant Parker took out a
tent for various contrivances for applying the power of
a an and horses to impel carriages on railways. Their first
m is to place a horse upon two tread-wheels or drivers,
i ving raised edges or ribs on their circumferences, against
lich the fore and hind feet of the horse are intended to
ass when in the act of stepping, in order to make the
icels revolve by the weight of his body, and by trains of
)thed wheels to the running wheels of the carriage.
ie horse being harnessed to the sides of the frame in which
wheels are mounted, it is intended that he shall impel
19 wheel also by his muscular power.
The next contrivance is more novel and, grotesque, and
jen if it had more merit than it has, we should be asham-
" to see our fellow-creatures lying prostrate on the ground
1 perform the functions of the beasts that perish. In or-
' r to impel a railway carriage, a man is placed in a ho-
1 ontal position in the carriage, supported by his body
' aring upon a rest. His feet are connected to stirrups,
: d his legs being put in motion, as in the act of swim-
1 »g> he communicates a reciprocating motion, which, by
L intervention of rods and cranks, turns the running
!ieels. But while our unfortunate friend is labouring with
feet, some occupation is found also for his head, and he
entrusted with the duty of directing with his hands the
« ering apparatus in front.
A third plan of these gentlemen is to unite with the ho-
1 ontal man a perpendicular one, who is to aid his neigh-
ar by stepping upon treadles connected by rods and
(inks with the running wheels. Such contrivances might
but it may readily be applied to any other number. The
figure is a plan of the vertical axis AA of the thrashing-
mill, and the levers B, B, &c. by which that axis is driven,
and supporting the great wheel which drives the horizontai
axis that enters the mill. Upon two frames C, C, fixed to
A, and supported on the arms B, B, are fixed two pulley-
blocks with running sheaves, which shift either inward to
the axis or outward from it. Over these sheaves, at the
ends 12 and 13, passes an endless rope or chain DEDE,
which also goes over two sheaves E, F, to keep the rope
or chain clear of the revolving axle A.
Two ropes FF, FF, pass over the sheaves 11 and 14,
and to each end of them is fastened a block C with run¬
ning sheaves, over which pass the double ropes GLKl and
G2, which the horses pull when driving the machine, the
ropes for each horse being fastened to hooks 1, 2 ; 3, 4 ;
5, 6 ; 7, 8 ; after passing through running sheaves in the
limbers H, I; K, L; M, N; and O, P.
By this mechanism, any tendency of the horses to pull
inwards or outwards is corrected, and the strain of the
draught presses fairly on their shoulders; an advantage
which, in the ordinary way of yoking horses, cannot be
obtained without a particular contrivance.
As all the horses, when yoked, are now connected toge¬
ther, it will be seen, that when any one horse relaxes from
his labour, the action of the other horses will instantly
press the collar to his shoulders, and excite him to exer¬
tion. If the horse at 1, 2, for example, relaxes, the one at
5, 6 would instantly take up his rope, and either cause the
horse 1, 2 to exert himself, or be pulled backwards. The
same thing would happen with any or all of the other
horses, so that all of them are as it were united into one
power driving the machine. If it is necessary to take out
432
MECHANICS.
On the
Construe,
tion of
Wind-
Mills.
one horse, as that at 7, 8, an iron hook upon the rope F is
hooked into the eye of a bolt fastened to the arm, as
at R.
Another contrivance connected with the draught of
.horses deserves a place in this chapter. It is an invention
of Baron de Prony for unyoking horses, to prevent them from
injuring the machine when its motion is accidentally ob¬
structed. It may also be employed for limiting the efforts
of horses thus employed. In the annexed figure, ropes
Fig. 138.
a,
a, a, a pass over friction-pulleys in the openings b, b of the
frame dd, which is attached to the end of the lever cc
fixed to the vertical axis which gives motion to the ma¬
chine. Each rope terminates in an eye, which lays hold
of a pin on an arbor e, which revolves upon pivots. A
rope coiled round this arbor passes over pulleys pp, and
suspends along the vertical axis the weight w, which forms
the resistance which we wish to oppose to the efforts of
the horse. Let it be twenty lbs. and let a stick obstruct
the machine. The horse acts against it, and might break
the machine ; but the instant his effect exceeds w or twen¬
ty lbs. the arbor e will describe a quarter of a circle, and
the pins having quitted their vertical position, the ends of
the ropes which were there united escape from one an¬
other, the animal is fixed, and the machine stops.1
CHAP. VII.—ON THE CONSTRUCTION OF WIND-MILLS.
G of the sails their surface is inclined to the axis 72° • and
at their farthest extremities A, D, &c. the inclination of Co:
the sail is about 83°. Now, when the sails are adjusted to ti(
the wind, which happens when the wind blows in the di- V
rection of the wind-shaft E, the impulse of the wind upon
the oblique sails may be resolved into two forces, one of
which acts at right angles to the wind-shaft, and is there¬
fore employed solely in giving a motion of rotation to the
sails, and the axis upon which they are fixed. When the
mill is used for grinding corn, a crown-wheel, fixed to the
principal axis E, gives motion to a lantern or trundle
whose axis carries the moveable millstone.
That the wind may act with the greatest efficacy upon Met
the sails, the wind-shaft must have the same direction asofu
the wind. But as this direction is perpetually changing, the:
some apparatus is necessary for bringing the wind-shaft andlH
sails into their proper position. This is sometimes effect¬
ed by supporting the machinery on a strong vertical axis,
whose pivot moves in a brass socket firmly fixed into the
ground, so that the whole machine, by means of a lever,
may be made to revolve upon this axis, and be properly-
adjusted to the direction of the wind. Most wind-mills,
however, are furnished with a moveable roof, which revolves
upon friction-rollers inserted in the fixed kerb of the mill;
and the adjustment is effected by the assistance of a simple
lever. As both these methods of adjustment require the
assistance of men, it would be very desirable that the same
effect should be produced solely by the action of the wind.
This may be done by fixing a large wooden vane or wea¬
ther-cock at the extremity of a long horizontal arm which
lies in the same vertical plane with the wind-shaft. By this
means, when the surface of the vane, and its distance from
the centre of motion, are sufficiently great, a very gentle
breeze will exert a sufficient force upon the vane to turn
the machinery, and will always bring the sails and wind-
shaft to their proper position. This weather-cock, it is
evident, may be applied either to machines which have a
moveable roof, or which revolve upon a vertical arbor.
A wind-mill is represented in fig. 139, where MN is the
circular building that contains the machinery, E the extre¬
mity of the wind-shaft or principal axis, which is generally
inclined from 8 to 15 degrees to the horizon ; and EA, EB,
EC, ED, EF five rectangular frames, upon which sails of
cloth of the same form are stretched. At the lower extremity
On the Form and Position of Wind-mill Sails.
From an examination of more than fifty wind-mills in
the vicinity of Lille, Coulomb has furnished us with the di¬
mensions of the sails of the best Dutch mills. As these
mills performed nearly the same amount of work when the
velocity of the wind w-as about 19 feet per second, although
there were slight differences in the arrangement of their
sails, as well as in the inclination of their wind-shafts, Cou¬
lomb concluded that they were so constructed as to pro¬
duce nearly a maximum effect.
In these mills the distance of the extremities of two op¬
posite sails was sixty-six feet. The form of the sails
was that of a rectangle, and their width was six feet,
five feet of which was covered with cloth stretched on
a frame, the remaining foot being a light board. The
sail commenced 6 feet from the wind-shaft, so that the
length AG was ~ — 6 = 27 feet. The junction of the
board with the cloth formed, on the side which faces the
wind, a curve perceptibly concave at the commencement
of the sail, and the curvature gradually diminished to¬
wards the extremity, where it vanished. Although every
line of the surface of the cloth is curved, yet we may
consider the surface of the sail as consisting of straight
lines having different inclinations to the plane of the
sail’s motion. The inclination of these lines to this plane
is called the angle of weather; and in Dutch sails this
! See Annales det Arts, tom. xix. p. 190.
Jhe angle is 30° at the commencement G of the sail, diminish-
Cortfuc- ing gradually to the extremity D, where in some cases it
tic of is 12°, and in others 6° ; the inclination of the wind-shaft
Wd- varying from 8° to 15°.
It appears from the investigations of Parent and Beli-
r'r’’,li dor, that a maximum effect will be produced when the
n2ti(.aS- sails are inclined 54° 4P 13" to the axis of rotation, or
siirnitby when the angle of weather is 35° 15'47" In obtaining
Pare this conclusion, however, M. Parent has assumed data
errors, whichare inadmissible, and has neglected several circum¬
stances which must materially affect the result of his in¬
vestigations. T. he angle of inclination assigned by Parent
is certainly the most efficacious for giving motion to the
sails from a state of rest, and for preventing them from
stopping when in motion ; but he has not considered that
the action of the wind upon a sail at rest is different from
its action upon a sail in motion j for, since the extremities
of the sail move with greater rapidity than the parts nearer
the centic (in the Dutch nulls as 33 to 6), the angle of
weather should be greater towards the centre than at the
extremity, and should vary with the velocity of each part
of the sail. The reason of this is very obvious. It has
been demonstrated by Bossut, and established by experi¬
ence, that when any fluid acts upon a plain surface, the
force of impulsion is always exerted most advantageously
when the impelled surface is in a state of rest, and that
this force diminishes as the velocity of the surface increases.
Now, let us suppose, with Parent and Belidor, that the
most advantageous angle of weather for the sails of wind¬
mills is o5^0 for that part of the sail which is nearest the
centie of rotation, and that the sail has everywhere this
angle of weather; then, since the extremity of the sail
moves with the greatest velocity, it will in a manner with¬
draw itself from the action of the wind, or, to speak more
properly, it will not receive the impulse of the wind so
advantageously as those parts of the sail which have a less
degree of velocity. In order, therefore, to counteract this
diminution of force, we must make the wind act more per-
MECHANICS.
of the radius, c ~
at § of the radius, c =
2a
~3
433
On the
at i, Construc-
5a
g ; and at the extremity of the radius,
4a ,
c — > at c
c By substituting these different values of c instead
of c in the theorem, and by making a = I, the following
table will be obtained, which exhibits the angles of inch
nation and weather which must be given to different parts
of the sails. 1
tion of
Wind-
Mills.
Parts of the 11a-
dius from the
Centre of Mo¬
tion at E.
Velocity of the
Sail at these
Distances, or
Values of c,
Angle made
with the Axis.
or
a
3"
2a
~3
a
4a
T
5a
3
2a
Angle of
Weather.
Deg.
63
69
74
77
79
81
Min.
26
54.
19
20
27
0
Deg.
26
20
15
12
10
9
Min.
34
6
4
40
33
0
Mr Smeaton found, from a variety of experiments, that Results of
the common practice of inclining plane sails from 72° to Smeaton’s
75° to the axis, was much more efficacious than the ano-leexpeB-
assigned by Parent, the effect being as 45 to 31. When ments-
the sails were weathered in the Dutch manner, that is,
when their surfaces were concave to the wind, and when
^ .,w.vaCIui, i..u c j- t!le anSle of inclination increased towards their extremi-
pendicularly upon the sail/by diminishing ffrobffiTukror ties> theyproduced a, greater effect than when they were
its angle of weather. But since the velocity of every part ,we,athfed either in the common way, or according to Eu-
of the sail is proportional to its distance from the centre of ei'! 1 • (?rem* But when the sa!ls were enlarged at their
motion, every elementary portion of it must have a differ- extie“ltles, as represented at a/3 in fig. 140, so that a/3 was
— _ JUi5t e a amer- one third of the radius ^ and aD tQ D/3 ag 3 tQ g' thdr
power was greatest of all, though the surface acted upon
by the wind remained the same. If the sails be farther
enlarged, the effect is not increased in proportion to the
surface ; and besides, when the quantity of cloth is great,
represent the velocity of the windrand ^7^100^of ^ ™aJchinTe ^m“ch exposed to injury by sudden squalls
any given part of the sail; then the effort of the wind upon WincL , S1meatPn s experiments, the angle of wea-.
that part of the sail will be greatest when the tangent of ^ 77* Wlth ^ dl1stanlce f;om the a>“s ; and it ap-
the angle of the wind’s incidence, or of the sail’s inclina- Peared from, several trials, that the most efficacious angles
  were those in the following table.
tion to the axis, is to radius, as */2 + |^.+to 1.
i r —j yvivivu ui it iuUot nave a airrer-
ent angle of weather diminishing from the centre to the
extremity of the sail. The law or rate of diminution, how¬
ever, is still to be discovered, and we are fortunately in
, P?ss^ssi°.n a theorem of Euler’s, afterwards given by
kw l aurin’ .whlcI! determines this law of variation. Let
4aa ‘ 2a
m i'ii dJn °r(ler t0 ,a-pp]y tIlls Bieorem, let us suppose that
pli , 1m ?dlUS or whlP ED of thc sad «%, is di
is Vl^ed into six ennnl .i.V
. lnto six equal parts; that the point
pres n .ls equidistant from E and D, and is the
point of the sail which has the same velocity
ost e wind; then, in the preceding theorem,
e shall have c = a when the sail is loaded
w a maximum ; and therefore the tangent
o the angle which the surface of the sail
n makes with the axis when
a = 1,
will be
y
9 3
~ + T + 5 = 3*561 = tangent of
Parts of the Radius
ED, which is divided
into six parts.
Angle with the
Axis.
72
71
72
74
771
83
Angle of
Weather.
18
19
18 middle.
16
12|
4 19', which gives 15° 41' for the angle of
eat ier at the point n. Since, at J of the radius c — ay
snnn rnCe C Is Pr°P01'tional to the distance of the corre-
Ponchng part of the sail from the centre, we will have, at
VOL. XIV.
If the radius ED of the sail be 30 feet, then the sail
will commence at J-ED, or 5 feet from the axis, where the
angle of inclination will be 72°. At f ED, or 10 feet from
the axis, the angle will be 71°, and so on.
It has been proposed by Euler and other writers to make
the sails elliptical sectors, and to intercept the whole cy-
3 i
434
On the
Construc¬
tion of
Wind-
Mills.
Effect.
MECHANICS.
Relative
effect of
wind-mill
sails, ac¬
cording to
Smeaton.
Absolute
effect of
wind-mills
in making
oil of rape-
seed.
finder of wind, whose circumference is ACBFD, fig. 139 ;
but recent experiments have proved that a maximum effect
is produced when the wind can escape between the sails.
On the Relative and Absolute Effects of Wind-Mill Sails.
The following maxims, deduced by Smeaton from his
experiments, contain the most accurate information upon
this subject.
Maxim 1. The velocity of wind-mill sails, whether
unloaded or loaded, so as to produce a maximum effect, is
nearly as the velocity of the wind, their shape and position
being the same.
Maxim 2. The load at the maximum is nearly, but
somewhat less than, as the square of the velocity of the
wind, the shape and position of the sails being the same.
Maxim 3. The effects of the same sails at a maximum
are nearly, but somewhat less than, as the cubes of the
velocity of the wind.
Maxim 4. The load of the same sails at the maximum
is nearly as the squares, and their effects as the cubes, of
their number of turns in a given time.
Maxim 5. When sails are loaded so as to produce a
maximum at a given velocity, and the velocity of the wind
increases, the load continuing the same,—1st, the increase
of effect, when the increase of the velocity of the wind is
small, will be nearly as the squares of those velocities;
2dly, when the velocity of the wind is double, the effects
will be nearly as 10 :27] ; but, Mly, when the veloci¬
ties compared are more than double of that where the
given load produces a maximum, the effects increase near¬
ly in the simple ratio of the velocity of the wind.
Maxim 6. In sails where the figure and positions are
similar, and the velocity of the wind the same, the num¬
ber of turns in a given time will be reciprocally as the ra¬
dius or length of the sail.
Maxim 7. The load at a maximum that sails of a si¬
milar figure and position will overcome at a given distance
from the centre of motion, will be as the cube of the radius.
Maxim 8. The effects of sails of similar figure and po¬
sition are as the square of the radius.
Maxim 9. The velocity of the extremities of Dutch
sails, as well as of the enlarged sails, in all their usual po¬
sitions when unloaded, or even loaded to a maximum, is
considerably quicker than the velocity of the wind.
The following very important results were obtained by
M. Coulomb, in examining the wind-mills at Lille, in the
Netherlands. These mills were made for the manufacture
of oil of rape-seed, and were constructed in the following
manner: Seven stampers for bruising the seeds were
raised by means of an arbor carrying 14 wipers. Five of the
stampers were of oak, each from 20 to 22 feet long, and
from 9 to 11 inches square ; their lower ends were shod
with iron, weighing from 50 to 60 lbs.; and each stamper
weighed about 1020 lbs. The other two stampers were
of the same length, but only from 6 to 7 inches square, and
weighed about 500 lbs. each : their purpose was to lock
and unlock the wedges used in expressing the oil. One of
these two only acted at once, but the rest acted together.
Work done
in Twenty-four
Hours.
No work done,
f Striking two
j blows each
i 18 inches
Velocity of
Wind in
Feet per
Second.
Revolutions
of Sails per
Minute.
°2
Number of
Stampers used.
Weight of
Stampers
in lbs.
No stampers raised.
1020
Velocity of
Wind in
Feet per
Second.
Revolutions
of Sails per
Minute.
Number of
Stampers used.
Weight of
Stampers
in lbs.
Work done
in Twenty-four
Hours.
13
20*
28f
171
13
171
' 2
2540 200 lbs. of oil.
5600 31 tons of oil.
5600 5 tons of oil.
On the
Construc¬
tion of
Wind-
Mills.
lbs.
2 = 2040 }
500/
J5 — 5100 {
( 1 = 500 /
J 5 - 5100 (
( 1 = 500 /
By taking an average of the work performed during se¬
veral years, Coulomb found that each wind-mill manufac¬
tured annually 400 tons of oil. About one sixth of the
force communicated to the stampers he conceives to be
absorbed by their blows and the action of the wipers, in¬
cluding friction. Hence he calculates that 100 kilo¬
grammes or one ton of oil requires for its manufacture
12,500 dynamical units.
M. Halle at Lille found that a steam-engine of ten-
horse power prepared in twenty-four hours 500 kilo¬
grammes of oil, which gives fifty kilogrammes for each
horse. But we have already seen that the power of a
horse working twenty-four hours is equal to 5974 dyna¬
mical units. Hence
Kilog. Units. Kilog.
as 50 : 5974 = 100:11948 units,
agreeing very nearly with 12,500, the result obtained by
Coulomb.
By supposing three tons to be the average work of one
mill during an average state of the wind, we have
u
= 133 for the number of days of twenty-four hours to
which the whole wind of the year at Lille is equivalent,
blowing at the rate of a little less than four metres per
second.
Coulomb likewise examined the effect of wind-mills in Fffentsin
grinding corn. _ grinding
The millstone performed Jive revolutions in the same corn,
time that the sails and vertical arbor performed one.
Velocity of Wind
per Second.
Revolutions of the
Sails in a Minute.
Ditto of the
Millstone.
Work performed in
Twenty-four Hours,
or Flour ground.
10,000 kilog.
21,6004
l high.
4 metres. The sails just began to turn.
5-8 11| 57£
9T 22 110“
From these and various other experiments, M. Hachette
has drawn the conclusion, that from 500 to 550 dynami¬
cal units are required to grind 100 kilogrammes of corn.
M. Lulofs of Leyden examined a Dutch wind-mill thatEffectsin
drained marshes, and which had four rectangular sails set raising wa.
at a weather of 17°. It raised 1500 cubic feet of water ter.°^other
four feet high in a minute when the velocity of the wind wei£llts*
was 30 feet per second.
Coulomb found that in the Dutch mills, whose dimen¬
sions are given in page 432, the effect was 1000 lbs. rais¬
ed 218 feet in a minute when the wind blew 20 feet in a
second. He computed also that the force lost by friction
was 1000 lbs. raised 18]- feet per minute ; and that the
force consumed by the action of the wipers on the stamp¬
ers was equal to 1000 lbs. raised 16% feet in a minute.
Hence it follows that the total force of the wind was equi¬
valent to 1000 lbs. raised 218 + 16]- + 18] = 253 feet
in a minute.
Loth Smeaton and Coulomb have attempted to deter¬
mine the ratio between the velocity of the wind and that
One ton is equal to 100 kilogrammes.
f™, anl “ ^ ^ “le ”ilto ChanSe
MECHANICS.
On the of the arbor or wind-shaft of the mill. Smeaton has given
Construe- the following results from Dutch sails in their common
tion ot position, when they had a radius of 50 feet.
Mills. Velocity of Wind Revolutions of the Ratio of these two
v , _ ^ per Hour. Arbor in a Minute.
orizon.
1 wind-
ills.
2 miles.
4
5
Velocities.
0’666 to 1
0-800 to 1
0-833 to 1
Wind-
Mills.
7i
' 2
in
in
Rates of these
Velocities.
1-7 to 1
1-22 to 1
1-05 to 1
1-17 to 1
M3 to 1
0-93 to 1
Coulomb’s results, which are as follows, differ widely
from those of Smeaton, though they are susceptible of
explanation.
Velocity of Wind Velocityof the Wind Revolutions of
per Hour. per Second. Arbor in a Minute.
5-1 miles. 2-27 metres. 3
9-14 4-06
14-6 6-5 13
20-4 9-1
13-0 5-8
20-4 9-1 22
In order to account for the discrepancies between
these results and those of Smeaton, we may observe,“that
in the two first experiments, where the difference is the
greatest, viz. 1-7 to 1, and 1-22 to 1, the mill was not do¬
ing its full work. The average of the ratios in the other
four experiments, where the mill was doing full work, is
T07, which is less different from Smeaton’s results.
The principal cause of the discrepancy, however, is,
that the ratio increases, as in all Smeaton’s experiments,
with the velocity of the wind; and as Smeaton’s highest
velocity was only five miles per hour, whereas the aver¬
age velocity in the four last experiments of Coulomb was
so high as 17-6 miles per hour, it is not difficult to under¬
stand how the ratios deduced from them should be so
high.
A new mode of constructing the sails of wind-mills has
been recently given
by Mr Sutton, and Fig. 141.
fully described by 154.34   B
Mr Hesleden of
Barton, in a work
exclusively devoted
to the subject.
The limits of this
article will not per¬
mit us to enter into
any discussion re¬
specting the prin¬
ciples upon which
Mr Sutton’s gravi¬
tated sails are con¬
structed. It may be
proper, however, to
remark, that Mr
Sutton gives his sails
the form represented in fig. 141, and makes the angle of
weather at the point M, equidistant from A and B, equal
to 22° 30'. The inclination of the sail at any other point
N of the sail, is an angle whose sine is the distance of that
point from the centre of motion A, the radius being the
breadth of the sail at that point. Fig. 141 shows the angles
at the different points of the sail, and the apparent and
absolute breadths of the sail at these points. Mr Sutton’s
mode of regulating the velocity of the sails, and of bringing
them into a state of rest, is particularly ingenious.
ON HORIZONTAL WIND-MILLS.
Various opinions have been entertained respecting the
relative advantages of horizontal and vertical wind-mills.
Mr Smeaton, with great justice, gives a decided preference
to the latter; but when he asserts that horizontal wind-
38-58 Inches,
apparent breadth
the sail.
83-53
Inches.
50-1 Inches,
absolute
breadth of
the sail.,
435
mills have only i or of the power of vertical ones, he On the
certainly forms too low an estimate of their power. Mr Construc-
Beatson, on the contrary, who has received a patent for tion of
the construction of a new horizontal windmill, seems to be
prejudiced in their favour, and greatly exaggerates their-
comparative value. From an impartial investigation, it
will probably appear that the truth lies between these two
opposite opinions; but before entering on this discussion,
we must first consider the nature and form of horizontal
wind-mills.
In fig. 142 CK is the wind-shaft, which moves upon pi¬
vots. Four cross bars, CA, 1
CD, IB, FG, are fixed to Fig. 142.
this arbor, which carry the
frames APIB, DEFG. The
sails AI, EG, are stretched
upon these frames, and are
carried round the axis CK,
by the perpendicular im¬
pulse of the wind. Upon
the axis CK a toothed
wheel is fixed, which gives
motion to the particular
machinery that is employ¬
ed. In the figure only two sails are represented; but Common
lere are always other two placed at right angles to these, method of
i\ow, Jet the sails be exposed to the wind, and it will be^’g^g
evident that no motion will ensue; for the force of thebaclc t^le
wind upon the sail AI, is counteracted by an equal andsails ,
opposite force upon the sail EG. In order, then, that the ST1
wind may communicate motion to the machine, the force
upon the returning sail EG must either be removed bv
screening it from the wind, or diminished by making it
present a less surface when returning against the wind.
Ihe first of these methods is adopted in Tartary, and in
some provinces of Spain ; but is objected to by Mr Beat-
son, from the inconvenience and expense of the machinery
and attendance requisite for turning the screens into their
proper positions. Notwithstanding this objection, how-
ever, we are disposed to think that this is the best method
of diminishing the action of the wind upon the returning
sails, for the moveable screen may be easily made to fol
low the direction of the wind, and assume its proper posi¬
tion, by means of a large wooden weathercock, without
the aid either of men or machinery It is true, indeed
that the resistance of the air in the returning sails is not
completely removed; but it is at least as much diminished
as it can be by any method hitherto proposed. Besides
when this plan is resorted to, there is no occasion for any
moveable flaps and hinges, which must add greatly to the
expense of every other method.
Ihe mode of bringing the sails back against the wind, Beatson’s
which Mr Beatson invented, is, perhaps, the simplest and method,
best of the kind. He makes each sail AI to consist of six
or eight flaps or vanes, APM, blc2, &c. moving upon hinges
represented by the dark lines AP, bi, c2, &c. so that the
lower side 51, of the first flap overlaps the hinge or higher
side of the second flap, and so on. When the wind there-
ore, acts upon the sail AI, each flap will press upon the
hinge of the one immediately below it, and the whole sur¬
face of the sail will be exposed to its action. But when
the sail AI returns against the wind, the flaps will revolve
round upon their hinges, and present only their edges to
the wind, as is represented at EG, so that the resistance
occasioned by the return of the sail must be greatly dimi¬
nished, and the motion will be continued by the g/eat su¬
periority of force exerted upon the sails in the position
AI. In computing the force of the wind upon the sail
AI, and the resistance opposed to it by the edges of the
flaps in EG, Mr Beatson finds, that when the pressure up¬
on the former is 1872 pounds, the resistance opposed by
the latter is only about thirty-six pounds, or ^ part of the
436
On the
Construc¬
tion of
Wind-
Mills.
MECHANICS.
Buchanan’s
method.
whole force ; but he neglects the action of the wind upon
the arms CA, &c. and the frames which carry the sails,
because they expose the same surface in the position AI,
as in the position EG. This omission, however, has a
tendency to mislead us in the present case, as we shall
now see; for we ought to compare the whole force exerted
upon the arms, as well as the sail, with the whole resist¬
ance which these arms and the edges of the flaps oppose
to the motion of the wind-mill. By inspecting fig. 142 it
will appear, that if the force upon the edges of the flaps,
which Mr Beatson supposed to be twelve in number,
amounts to thirty-six pounds, the force spent upon the bars
CD, DG, GF, FE, &c. cannot be less than sixty pounds.
Now, since these bars are acted upon with an equal force
when the sails have the position AI, 1872 -j~ 60 1932
will be the force exerted upon the sail Aland its append¬
ages, while the opposite force upon the bars and edges of
the flaps, when returning against the wind, will be 36
+ 60 96 pounds, which is nearly of 1932, instead of
^2, as computed by Mr Beatson. Hence we may see the
probable advantages of a screen over moveable flaps, as it
will preserve not only the sails, but the arms and the frame
which support it, from the action of the wind.
A very ingenious method of bringing the sails back
against the wind has
been invented by Fig. 143.
Mr G. Buchanan of
Edinburgh, and is
represented in the
annexed figure. The
sails are attached, as
usual, to the hori¬
zontal arms of the
vertical axis CBA,
and each of them
moves horizontally
round its own axis,
as shown at H, in ,
an opposite direction
tion of
Wind-
Mills.
_______ L,-f
Compari¬
son be¬
tween ver¬
tical and
horizontal
wind-mills.
to, and with half the angular direction of, tht horizontal
arms. In order to effect this, a toothed wheel ah is at¬
tached to the frame EF, and is therefore stationary while
the mill revolves ; £>c is a toothed pinion working in ah,
and moved by its axis cd, while this axis, fixed to the
arm HI, revolves with the principal axis CBA, through
which it passes at k. Two pinions f, g, are fixed to the
ends of the axis cd, and work in the two wheels h, i, which
are attached to the axis of the sails. They will, therefore,
move round these sails in the same time, and with a velo¬
city depending on the relative number of teeth in the
wheels and pinions, and so adjusted as to give them half
the angular velocity of the principal axis CBA. The wheel
ah is made moveable round its axis, so that it maybe
shifted into any position, and keep the sails always to the
wind.
By these means, when one of the sails M, is fully ex¬
posed to the action of the wind, the opposite one N, will
only present its edge to the wind. As M advances, it gra¬
dually turns itself away from the wind, till it comes round
into the position N, when the wind ceases to have any
power over it. All the other sails do the same, and it will
readily be seen, by constructing a diagram of the relative
position of the sails at any point of their revolution, that
the area of the returning sails exposed to the wind is al¬
ways much less than the area of the sails urged forward
by the wind.
We shall now conclude this chapter with a comparison
of the powei of horizontal and vertical wind-mills. It has
been already stated, that Mr Smeaton rather underrated
the former, when he maintained that they have only one
eighth or one tenth the power of the latter. He observes,
that when the vanes of a horizontal and a vertical mill are On the
equal in dimensions, the power of the latter is four times Construe-
that of the former, because, in the first case, only one sail "
is acted upon at once by the wind, while, in the second,
all the four receive its impulse. This, however, is notv
strictly true, since the vertical sails are oblique to the di¬
rection of the wind. Let us suppose that the area of each
sail is 100 square feet; then the power of the horizontal
one will be 100, and the power of a vertical one may be
called 100 x sine 70°2 (70° being the common angle of
inclination) — 88 nearly ; but since there are four vertical
sails, the power of them all will be 4 x 88 = 352; so that
the power of the horizontal sail is to that of the four ver¬
tical ones as 1 to 3*52, and not as 1 to 4, according to Mr
Smeaton. But Mr Smeaton likewise observes, that if we
consider the disadvantage which arises from the difficulty
of getting the sails back against the wind, we need not
wonder if horizontal wind-mills have only about one eighth
or one tenth the power of the common sort. We have
already seen, that the resistance occasioned by the return
of the sails amounts to one twentieth of the whole force
which they receive; by subtracting therefore, from
3-52
,5 we shall find that the power of horizontal wind-mills
1-03
is only or little more than one fourth that of vertical
ones. This calculation proceeds upon a supposition that
the whole force exerted upon vertical sails is employed in
turning them round the axis of motion, whereas a consi¬
derable part of this force is lost in pressing the pivot of
the axis or wind-shaft against its gudgeon. Mr Smeaton
has overlooked this circumstance, otherwise he could never
have maintained that the power of four vertical sails was
quadruple the power of one horizontal sail, the dimensions
of each being the same. Taking this circumstance into
the account, we cannot be far wrong in saying, that, in
theory at least, if not in practice, the power of a horizon¬
tal wind-mill is about one third or one fourth of the power
of a vertical one when the quantity of surface and the
form of the sails is the same, and when every part of the
horizontal sails has the same distance from the axis of mo¬
tion as the corresponding parts of the vertical sails. But
if the horizontal sails have the position AI, EG, in fig. 142,
instead of the position CAdm, CDon, their power will be
greatly increased, though the quantity of surface is the
same, because the part CP3ra, being transferred to BI3d,
has much more power to turn the sails.
Mechanical Agents not generally introduced.
In giving an account of the mechanical agents which
are or may be employed to move machinery, we must
enumerate elastic springs, heated air, explosive mixtures,
and carbonic acid gas.
The spring is so common a first mover in our watches
and clocks, and the method of rendering its varying force
uniform by the fusee so well known, that it would be a waste
of time to describe it here, and the more so as it will be
referred to in another part of the work. See Scholium,
p. 365. Heated air has been occasionally employed as a
source of mechanical power. We have seen the model of
a pump, in which the air in the barrel was rarefied by
burning wood shavings at the top of the barrel, an air¬
tight cap being put on when the rarefaction was supposed
to be a maximum. A certain quantity of water was thus
raised above the valve at the bottom of the barrel, and the
operation was repeated till the water rose to the desired
height.
About ten or fifteen years ago a patent was taken out
*
MECHANICS.
On the
Construc¬
tion of
Wind-
Mills.
leated
dr-engine.
vtmosphe.
ical heat-
d air-en-
ine.
ixplosive
lixture
igine.
for a heated air-engine, by the Rev. Mr Stirling; and we
believe that several such engines were actually construct¬
ed, and performed useful work, at Perth, Glasgow, and
other places. The air was heated in an iron cylinder kept
at a red heat, and after acting mechanically by its expan¬
sive force, it was cooled and returned to the cylinder by
a very ingenious contrivance. The practical difficulty,
however, which was encountered arose from the speedy
destruction of the iron cylinder.
In the year 1824, Mr Samuel.Brown took out a patent
for what he called an atmospherical engine, in which a
vacuum was created by burning coal or oil gas within the
cylinder, and thus consuming the atmospherical air. The
statements of the power of this engine were greatly exag¬
gerated, and high expectations were formed of it, but we
believe that it turned out a total failure.1
The Rev. Mr Cecil2 of Cambridge had, previously to Mi-
Brown’s patent, invented an engine in which the power
was obtained by taking advantage of the vacuum created
by the explosion of a mixture of hydrogen gas and com¬
mon air; and he also suggested that the expansive force
of this explosion might be employed as the first mover of ma¬
chinery. A mixture of one measure of hydrogen with two
and a half measures of common air expands to three times
its bulk on ignition, and then collapses instantly to about one
half of the original volume of the mixture. If, therefore, we
take a cylindrical vessel divided at one third of its length
into two portions by a throttle valve (one which moves
round its axis in the line of its diameter); if there be a
solid piston in the shorter portion, and if at the end of the
larger portion there is placed a light valve opening easily
outward; then, supposing the throttle valve closed, and
the piston lying down upon it, if the piston be now raised,
.and the mixed gases be permitted to flow in to supply
the void left by the piston till it reach the end of its
stroke; if at this time the valve be opened, and at the
same instant a jet of flame be introduced at a touch-hole
in the side of the cylinder to fire the explosive mixture,
then the explosion will drive out the common air by the
end valve from the larger portion, the valve will close, and
the pressure of the atmosphere into the rare medium in
the cylinder will force down the piston until it reaches
nearly to the middle valve, when the mixed gases are
again admitted, the middle valve closed, and the end one
opened. The ascent of the piston will of course be pro¬
duced by the action of a fly-wheel put in motion by the
downward stroke.
In this machine the expansive force of the explosion
does not produce the moving power, as it might be made
to do. It merely drives out the common air, and produces
a partial vacuum. The pressure of the atmosphere is in
reality the moving power.
When Mr Faraday had made his beautiful discovery of
the liquefaction of chlorine gas, Sir Humphry Davy com¬
municated to the Royal Society of London a paper “ On
the application of liquids formed by the condensation of gases
as mechayiical agents." In this way the attention of Mr
Brunei was turned to the application of liquid carbonic
acid gas as a first mover of machinery. Its remarkable
powers of expansion by small degrees of heat pointed it
out as peculiarly adapted for mechanical purposes, and
the highest expectations where excited when Mr Brunei
directed his great mechanical genius to the subject. He
437
Wind-
Mills.
soon contrived a suitable mechanism for the application of On the
this extraordinary agent, and took out a patent for it in Construc-
England, and another in France in concert with MM. Ter- tion of
naux and Delessert. In the apparatus which he prepared,
the liquefied acid was at the temperature of 50°, and un-
dei the piessure of 30 atmospheres. The liquid gas was
contained in two cylinders placed at the two extremities
of the apparatus, and put in communication. The destruc¬
tion of the equilibrium was effected by varying the tempera¬
ture of the liquid in one of the condensers. Such, however,
was the effect of the heat upon the liquid, that for a rise of
temperature of 180° we obtain a pressure of 90 atmo¬
spheres, an enormous power, which having no resistance
but that of the gas in the other condenser, tends to displace
a piston with a force of 90 — 30 n 60 atmospheres. Of this
engine Mr Brunei constructed a working model, and he
afterwards began a machine with a power of eight horses.
In the course of his experiments, however, with this ma¬
chine, he met with anomalies in the law of expansion of
the liquefied gas which seemed to throw insuperable dif¬
ficulties in his way, and led him to abandon his under¬
taking.
At the time that Mr Brunei was occupied with this
subject, Mr Faraday had obtained it only in small quanti¬
ties ; but M. Thilorier has lately discovered a new pro¬
cess, by which it may be obtained in quantities in a very
few moments. From this cause M. Thilorier has had an
opportunity of studying its properties ; and we hope it may
yet be found to realise at least some of the anticipations
of earlier chemists. He found that the pressure of the
vapour formed by the liquefied gas from 32° to 86° Fahr.
amounts to from 36 to 73 atmospheres, and its volume from
20 to 29, the pressure being equal to an increase of one at¬
mosphere to every centigrade degree, and the expansion
being four times greater than that of atmospheric air. At
86° its specific gravity is 0-60, at 32° it is 0-83, and at
— 68° it is 0-90.3
Comparison of the Quantity of Action furnished by differ¬
ent Mechanical Agents.
W hen a horse is employed in raising coals by means of
a wheel and axle, and moves at the rate of about two miles
an hour, Mr Fenwick found that he could continue at work
12 hours each day, two and a half of which were spent in
short intervals of rest, when he raised a load of 1000 pounds
avoirdupois, with a velocity of 13 feet per minute; and
that he will exert a force of 75 pounds for nine hours and
a half when moving with the same velocity. Mr Fenwick
also found that 230 ale gallons of water delivered every
minute on an overshot water-wheel, 10 feet in diameter ;
that a common steam-engine, with a cylinder 8 inches
in diameter, and an improved engine with a cylinder 6-12
inches in diameter, ivill do the work of one horse, that is,
will raise a weight of 1000 pounds avoirdupois through the
height of 13 feet in a minute. It appears from Mr Smea-
ton’s experiments, that Dutch sails in their common posi¬
tion with a radius of nine feet and a half, that Dutch sails
in their best position with a radius of eight feet, and that
his enlarged sails with a radius of seven feet, perform the
same work as one man, or perform one fifth part of the
work of a horse. Upon these facts we have constructed the
following table, the first four columns of which are taken
from Mr Fenwick’s Essays on Practical Mechanics.
* and S,cience18’ voL viii-. N°- 44’ P- 57; and Edinburgh Journal of Science, vol. i. p. 339.
3 f Vvdx'<1)ren gas t0 Produce a moving power, Cambridge Transactions, vol. i. 1
and 1c Gfolr tom Saence’ No’ ix’ p' 108; London and Edinburgh Philosophical Magazine, June 1836, No. 50, p. 583;
438
On the
Construc¬
tion of
Wind-
Mills.
MECHANICS.
Table showing the relative Strength of Overshot- Wheels, Steam-Engines, Horses, Men, and Wind-Mills of different
hinds.
Number of
Ale Gallons
delivered on
an Overshot
Wheel, 10
feet in dia¬
meter, every
Minute.
230
390
528
660
790
970
1170
1350
1445
1584
1740
1900
2100
2300
2500
2686
2870
3055
3240
3420
3750
4000
4460
4850
5250
Diameter of
the Cylinder
in the Com¬
mon Steam-
engine, in
inches.
8-
9-5
10- 5
11- 5
12- 5
14-
15- 4
16- 8
17- 3
18- 5
19- 4
20*2
21-
22*
23-1
23- 9
24- 7
25*5
26- 25
27-
28- 5
29- 8
31- 1
32- 4
33- 6
Diameter of
the Cylinder
of the im¬
proved
Steam-engine,
in inches.
6-12
7- 8
8- 2
8-8
9-35
10- 55
11- 75
12- 8
13- 6
14- 2
14- 8
15- 2
16- 2
17-
17- 8
18- 3
19-
19- 6
20- 1
20-7
22-2
23-
23- 9
24- 7
25- 5
Number of
Horses work¬
ing 12 Hours
per Day, and
moving at
the rate of
two Miles
per Hour.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
22
24
26
28
30
Number of
Men work¬
ing 12 Hours
a Day,
5
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
80
85
90
95
100
110
120
130
140
150
Radius of
Dutch Sails
in their com¬
mon position,
in feet.
21-24
30-04
36-80
42-48
47-50
52-03
56-90
60-09
63-73
67-17
70-46
73-59
76-59
79-49
82-27
84-97
87-07
90-13
92-60
95-00
99-64
104-06
108-32
112-20
116-35
Radius of
Dutch Sails
in their best
position,
in feet.
17-89
25-30
30-98
35-78
40-00
43-82
47-33
50-60
53-66
56-57
59-33
61-97
64-50
66-94
69-28
71-55
73-32
75-90
77-98
80-00
83-90
87-63
91-22
94-66
97-98
Radius of
Mr Smea-
ton’s en¬
larged Sails,
in feet.
15-65
22-13
27-11
31-30
35-00
38-34
41-41
44-27
46-96
49-50
51-91
54-22
56-43
58-57
60-62
62-61
64-16
67- 41
68- 23
70-00
73-42
76-68
79-81
82-82
85-73
Height to
which these
different
Powers will
raise 1000
pounds avoir,
dupois in a
Minute.
13
26
39
52
65
78
90
104
117
130
143
156
169
182
195
208
221
234
247
260
286
312
338
364
390
Dutch sails are always constructed so that the angle of stroke being 51 feet long. Its consumption of coal was
weather may diminish from the centre to the extremity of 14,080 bushels in 61 days, hence its duty was 6 901 753
the sail. They are concave to the wind, and are in their In the year 1793, the improvements of Messrs Boulton
common position when their extremities are parallel to the and Watt were so important, that the average duty of 17
plane in which they move, or perpendicular to the direc- engines of their construction was 19,569,000? bein^ an in-
♦ /"v f ♦'Vt tr\ r\ t 4- *-»!-» 11 r» m D ^ — 2 J.*  _ "I , • .1 • ^ "1 /-k 7 ^
tion of the wind. Dutch sails are in their best position
when their extremities make an angle of seven degrees
with the plane of their motion. Mr Smeaton’s enlarged
sails are Dutch sails in their best position, but enlarged
at their extremities.
crease of duty in the ratio of 28 to 10.1
Since that time the use of steam of high temperature,
the construction of fire-places with superior drafts, or
iion tubes passing through the boiler, and other improve¬
ments in the execution of the machinery, have given such
Qrl ri 1 flnnol ^   • _ . 1 . -I .1
j, i . v ui tnc ujdLimiery, iicivc jnvGn sucii
It appears from M. Coulombs experiments on Dutch additional power to the steam-engine, that in 1829 the
wind-mills^ with rectangular sails, that when the distance highest monthly average duty of one of the engines was
79,000,000, surpassing in duty the engine of 1778 in the
ratio of 111 to 1, and those of 1793 as 4 to 1.
Mr laylor expresses the improvement on steam-engines
by the number of bushels of coal that are requisite toper-
form a given piece of work.
W ith the early steam-engine 16 bushels.
between the extremities of two opposite sails is 66 feet
French, and the breadth of each sail six feet, a wind mov¬
ing at the rate of 20 feet per second will produce an effect
equivalent to 1000 pounds raised through the space of 218
feet in a minute.
It will be seen in our article Steam-Engine, that the    0.Cau.-CugHit:  ib
efficiency of a steam-engine is equal to the column of During Boulton and W7att’s patent   4
water in pounds raised at each stroke, multiplied by the About the year 1825   _   2
length of the stroke and the number of strokes in a given The best Cornish engines 
time ; and that what is called the duty of a steam-engine The following interesting comparisons have been given
is equal to the same quantity divided by the number of by Sir John Herschel. “ It is well known ” savs he “ to
On^of tCh° nH “rT !n Same 'T' i • mofern engineers, that^wmWMe in abushelofcoals,pro-
One of the old standard engines, as they were made in perly consumed, to raise seventy millions of pounds weight
1778, wrought pumps 17 inches in diameter at the depth
of 58 fathoms, at the rate of six strokes in a minute, each
a foot high. I his is actually the average effect of an en¬
gine at this moment working in Cornwall. Let us pause
“tfiusTom/r'T.in aireicr' an,d wUch “*«*» ««
of constant exertion in the preceding table. When fhe cylinder Ts 19 inches in diampt^r68 ^01^ing m.ne h°urs and a half, the time
feet each per minute, its power is equivalent to twelve horses workina’ constantlv 116 en^1.n.e makes 25 strokes of four
and when the cylinder is 24 inches in diameter, and the engine Zkes 22Trokes if W f ^ T-S Work^ nil?e hours a?d a half ’
that of 20 horses working constantly, or 50 horses working'mne hours and a half. f ^ ^ in a minute’ lts Power 13 e1ual to
On the
Construi
tion of
Wind.
Mills.
MECHANICS.
On the
Construe
tion of
Wheel-
carriages
a moment, and consider what this is equivalent to in mat¬
ters of practice.
“The ascent of Mont Blanc from the valley of Chamouni
is considered, and with justice, as the most toilsome feat
that a strong man can execute in two days. The combus¬
tion of two pounds of coal would place him on the summit.
“ The Menai Bridge, one of the most stupendous works
of art that has been raised by man in modern ages, con¬
sists of a mass of iron not less than four millions of pounds
in weight, suspended at a medium height of about 120
feet above the sea. The consumption of seven bushels of
coal would suffice to raise it to the place where it hangs.
“ The great pyramid of Egypt is composed of granite. It
is 700 feet in the side of its base, and 500 in perpendicu¬
lar height, and stands on eleven acres of ground. Its
weight is therefore 12,760 millions of pounds,°at a medium
height of 125 feet; consequently it would be raised by
the effort of about 630 chaldrons of coal, a quantity con¬
sumed in some founderies in a week.
“ The annual consumption of coal in London is estimated
at 1,500,000 chaldrons. The effort of this quantity would
suffice to raise a cubical block of marble, 2200 feet in the
side, through a space equal to its own height, or to pile
one such mountain upon another.
“ The Monte Nuovo, near Pozzuoli (which u7as erupted
in a single night by volcanic fire), might have been raised
by such an effort from a depth of 40,000 feet, or about eight
miles. It will be observed, that in the above statement
the inherent power of fuel is, of necessity, greatly under¬
rated. It is not pretended by engineers that the economy
of fuel is yet pushed to its utmost limit, or that the whole
effective power is obtained in any application of fire yet de¬
vised ; so that were we to say 100 millions instead of 70, we
should probably be nearer the truth.”
439
Fig. 145.
i the
(e of car
Se‘
eels.
CHAP.VIII. ON THECONSTRUCTION OF WHEEL-CARRIAGES.
It is evident, from Cor. 8, p. 360, that when a wheel sur-
■ mounts an obstacle, it acts as a lever of the first kind, and
that its power to overcome such resistances increases with
its diameter. The
power of the force P,
for example, to raise
the wheel NB over the
eminence C, is pro¬
portional to the ver¬
tical lever FC, which
increases with the dia¬
meter of the wheel,
while the lever of re¬
sistance FA, by which
the weight of the
wheel acts, remains
unchanged; hence we
see the advantages of
large wheels for over¬
coming such obstacles as generally resist the motion of
wheel-carriages. There are some circumstances, however,
which, independent of the additional weight and expense of
large wheels, prescribe limits to their size. If the radius AC
of the wheel exceeds the height of that part of the horse to
which the traces are attached, the line of traction DA will
be oblique to the horizon, and part of the power P will
be employed in pressing the wheel upon the ground. A
wheel exceeding four and a half feet radius, which is the
general distance from the ground of that part of the horse
to which the traces are attached, has still the advantage
of a smaller wheel; but when we consider that the traces
or poles of the cart will, in this case, rub against the flanks
of the horses, so that the power of the wheel is diminish
ed by the increase of its weight, we shall be convinced On the
that no power is gamed by making the radius of the Construc-
wheels greater than four and a half feet. Even this size tion of
is too great, as shall be afterwards shown when we treat wheel-
of the line of traction, so that we may safely assert that Car™ges-
the diameteis of wheels should never be greater than six Y
feet. The fore-wheels of our carriages are still unaccount¬
ably small, and it is not uncommon to see carts movin'1-
upon wheels scarcely fourteen inches in diameter. The
convenience of turning is urged as the reason for dimi¬
nishing the fore-wheels of carriages, and the facility of load¬
ing the cart is considered as a sufficient reason for usino-
wheels so small as fourteen inches. The first of these ad¬
vantages, however, may be obtained by going to the end of
a stieet, or to a proper place for turning the carriage ; and
a few additional turns of a windlass will be sufficient to con-
vey the heaviest loads into carts mounted on high wheels.
The next thing to be determined is the shape of the
wheels. A cylindrical wheel, with the spokes perpendi¬
cular to the naves, is perhaps the form which every me¬
chanic would give to his wheels, before he had heard of
the advantages of concave or dishing wheels, or those
which have inclined spokes and conical rims.
It has been alleged, indeed, and with truth,
that the form represented in fig. 145, where
Ar, Bs is the conical rim, and oA, pB the
inclined spokes, renders the wheel stronger
than it would otherwise be ; that by extend¬
ing the base of the carriage it prevents it
from being overturned ; that it hinders the
fellies from rubbing against the load or the
sides of the cart; and that when one wheel
falls into a rut, and therefore supports more
than one half of the load, the spokes are
brought into a vertical position, which ren¬
ders them more capable of sustaining the
additional weight.
Two of these advantages exist only in very bad roads •
and if they are necessary, in a country like this, where the'
roads are so excellently made and so regularly repaired
they can easily be procured, by making the axle-tree a
few inches longer, and increasing the strength of the
spokes. But it is allowed on all hands that perpendicu¬
lar spokes are preferable on level ground. The inclina¬
tion of the spokes, therefore, which renders concave wheels
advantageous in rugged and unequal roads, renders them
disadvantageous when the roads are in good order; and
where the good roads are more numerous than the bad
ones, as they certainly are in this country, the disadvan¬
tages of concave wheels must overbalance their advantages.
It is true, indeed, that in concave wheels the spokes lire*
in their strongest position when they are exposed to the
severest strains, that is, when one wheel is in a deep rut
and sustains more than one half of the load; but it is
equally tiue, that on level ground, where the spokes are
in their weakest position, a less severe strain, by continu¬
ing for a much longer time, may be equally if not more
detrimental to the wheel.
We shall now endeavour to show that concave dishing
wheels are more expensive, more injurious to the roads, and
more liable to be broken by accidents, than those wheels
in which the spokes are perpendicular to the naves By
inspecting fig. 145, it will appear that the whole of the pres¬
sure which the wheel AB sustains is exerted alono- the in¬
clined spoke ps, and therefore acts obliquely on the level
ground nD, whether the rims are conical or cylindrical,
ibis oblique action must necessarily injure the roads, by
loosening the stones more between B and I) than between
L and n ; and if the load w^ere sufficiently great, the stones
would start up between s and D. The texture of the
.- loads, indeed, is sufficiently firm to prevent this from tak-
MECHANICS.
440
On the ing p]ace . buj-j in consequence of the oblique pressure, the
tion oT" stones between s and D will at least be loosened, and, by
Wheel- admitting the rain, the whole of the road will be material-
Carriages. ly damaged. But when the spokes are perpendicular to
the nave, as pn, and when the rims mA, wB are cylindri¬
cal, or parallel to the ground, thg weight sustained by the
wheel will act perpendicularly upon the road; and how¬
ever much that weight is increased, its action can have no
tendency to derange the materials of which it is compos¬
ed, but is rather calculated to consolidate them, and ren¬
der the road more firm and durable.
It was observed that concave wheels are more expen¬
sive than plane ones. This additional expense arises from
the greater quantity of wood and workmanship which the
former require ; for in order that dishing wheels may be
of the same perpendicular height as plane ones, the spokes
of the former must exceed in length those of the latter,
as much as the hypothenuse oA of the triangle oAm ex¬
ceeds the side om ; and therefore the weight and the re¬
sistance of such wheels must be proportionably great. The
inclined spokes, too, cannot be formed nor inserted with
such facility as perpendicular ones. The extremity of the
spoke which is fixed into the nave is inserted at right
angles to it, in the direction and if the rims-are cylin¬
drical, the other spoke should be inserted in a similar man¬
ner, while the intermediate portion has an inclined posi¬
tion. There are therefore two flexures or bendings in the
spokes of concave wheels, which requires them to be form¬
ed out of a larger piece of wood than if they had no such
flexures, and renders them liable to be broken by any sud¬
den strain at the points of flexure.
The obstacles which carriages have to encounter are
almost never spherical protuberances, that permit the ele¬
vated wheel to resume by degrees its horizontal position.
They are generally of such a nature that the wheel is in¬
stantaneously precipitated from their top to the level
ground. Now the momentum with which the wheel strikes
the ground is very great, arising from a successive accumu¬
lation of force. The velocity of the elevated wheel is con¬
siderable when it reaches the top of the eminence ; and
while it is tumbling into the level ground it is receiving
gradually that proportion of the load which was transfer¬
red to the other wheel, till, having recovered the whole, it
impinges against the ground with great force. Butin con¬
cave wheels the spoke which then strikes the ground is in
its weakest position, and therefore much more liable to be
broken by the impetus of the fall than the spokes of the
lowest wheel by the mere transference of additional weight;
whereas, if the spokes be perpendicular to the nave, they
receive this sudden shock in their strongest position, and
are in no danger of giving way to the strain.
In the preceding observations we have supposed the
rims of the wheels to be cylindrical. In concave wheels,
however, the rims are uniformly made of a conical form,
as Ar, Bs, fig. 145, which increases the disadvantages which
we have ascribed to them. Mr Gumming, in a late Trea¬
tise on Wheel-Carriages, points out the disadvantages of
conical rims, and the propriety of making them cylindri¬
cal ; but we are of opinion that he has ascribed to conical
rims several disadvantages which arise chiefly from an in¬
clination ot the spokes. He insists much upon the injury
done to the roads by the use of conical rims; yet though
we are convinced that they are more injurious to pavements
and highways than cylindrical rims, we are equally con¬
vinced that this injury is occasioned chiefly by the oblique
pressure of the inclined spokes. The defects of conical
rims are numerous and obvious. Every cone that is put
in motion upon a plane surface will revolve round its vertex,
and if force is employed to confine it to a straight line, the
smaller parts of the cone will be dragged along the ground, On the
and the friction greatly increased. Now when a carri- Construe
age moves upon conical wheels, one part of the cone rolls bon of
while the other is dragged along, and though confined to
a rectilineal direction by external force, their natural ten- . 'ania»e?
dency to revolve round their vertex occasions a great and
continued friction upon the linch-pin, the shoulder of the
axle-tree, and the sides of deep ruts.
Mr Edgeworth made some interesting experiments on
this subject. He compared a pair of conical wheels, whose
inside diameter was thirty-three, while their outside dia¬
meter was twenty-seven, with a pair of cylindrical ones,
the diameter of which was as thirty-four. When they
moved on smooth deal-boards, the conical wheels required
an addition of 50 per cent, to the moving power in order
to make their velocity equal to that of the cylindrical ones.
On a fine gravel road, the addition required was only eight
per cent, while on a newly-made coarse road there was a
perceptible difference between the two kinds of wheels, al¬
though they were only eight inches high and four broad.
A very able paper on the wheels of carriages, contain¬
ing views different from those we have given above, has
been recently published1 by Mr James Walker, civil engi¬
neer, and containing the substance of his examination be¬
fore the House of Commons. When the road is perfectly
smooth, and the motion of the carriage regular, and with¬
out any tendency to strain in a lateral direction, he con¬
siders the cylindrical wheel as decidedly the best, “be¬
cause the power of the spokes of the wheel to oppose such
a pressure is greater when they are perfectly upright
under their load, and because the joints, being square,
can be made with greater care and accuracy than bevelled
ones.” As roads, however, are not of this description, he
considers the cylindrical wheel as deficient in bracing ; and
he remarks, “ that wheels so constructed soon get loose at
their joints ; that the whole wheel gets crippled in conse¬
quence ; and that, for durability under heavy work and rough
roads, such wheels will not answer the purpose.” Besides
the strength arising from the bracing of the conical wheel
and bent axle, Mr Walker ascribes to it the following ad¬
vantages. As these wheels project outwards at top, the
rims of carriage-wheels coming into collision with each other
in passing will meet in an oblique direction ; and unless the
wheels get locked, the lightest of the two carriages is pushed
off laterally, and the abrasion of the fellies may be the only
damage. With cylindrical wheels, on the contrary, he
conceives that the effect of a collision would be much more
serious, one of them being either brought to a dead stand,
or some part of it or of the harness broken. Mr Walker
remarks also, that in light carriages the dished wheels
throw off the mud from the traveller. When the tire of
the wheel consists of a single hoop of iron, Mr Walker
states that it increases in length by beating against the
road; that in cylindrical wheels the result of this will be,
either that the iron rim will get loose upon the fellies, or
the spokes will be loose in the nave ; whereas, in dished
wheels, the only effect of an expansion of the tire will be
that the spokes will become more upright, or the wheel a
little less dishing. This argument, however, we must ob¬
serve, falls to the ground when the tire consists of separate
segments.
I he amount of Mr Walker’s argument in favour of dish¬
ed wheels is, that such wheels are a firmer and more dura¬
ble piece of carpentry. This argument, however, loses all
its force if cylindrical wheels could be made as strong as
dished ones by any new combination of spokes and fellies,
which have the effect of bracing. That such a combina¬
tion is possible we cannot doubt; and when we consider
the smooth and level surface which prevails under an im-
Edinburgh Journal of Science, vol. i. p. 274.
MECHANICS.
On the proved system of road-making, we should be disposed still
Construe-to adopt the cylindrical wheel for the sake of the horse
Wheef that t0 ^raw it:’ °r rat^er ^or t^ie Purpose of obtaining a
Carriages. greater load from the same horse, even though the wheels
might not last so long as dished ones. If the fellies were
connected with the nave by means of spokes equally but
oppositely inclined to the strongest axle, we are persuaded
that a cylindrical wheel might be made as firm as a dish¬
ed wheel, and of even greater strength in resisting any
sudden impulse against the road.
The shape of the wheels being thus considered, we must
now attend to some particular parts of their construction.
The tire or iron plates of which the rims are composed
should never be less than three inches in breadth, as nar¬
row rims sink deep into the ground, and therefore injure
the roads and fatigue the horses.1 When any load is sup¬
ported upon two points, each point supports one half of
the weight; if the points are increased to four, each will
sustain one fourth of the load, and so on; the pressure
upon each point of support diminishing as the number
of points increases. If a weight therefore is supported
by a broad surface, the points of support are infinite in
number, and each of them will bear an infinitely small por¬
tion of the load ; and, in the same way, every finite por¬
tion of this surface will sustain a part of the weight in¬
versely proportional to the number of similar portions
which the surface contains. Let us now suppose that a
cart carrying a load of sixteen hundredweight is support¬
ed upon wheels whose rims are four inches in breadth,
and that one of the wheels passes over four stones, each
of. them an inch broad and equally high, and capable of
being pulverized only by a pressure of four hundred pounds
weight. Then as each wheel sustains one half of the load,
and as the wheel which passes over the stones has four
points of support, each stone will bear a weight of two
hundredweight, and therefore will not be broken. But
if the same cart, with rims only two inches in breadth,
should pass the same way, it will cover only two of the
stones ; and the wheel having only two points of support,
each stone will be pressed with a weight of four hundred¬
weight, and will therefore be reduced to powder. Hence
we may infer that narrow wheels are in another point of
view injurious to the roads, by pulverizing the materials
of which they are composed.
As the rims of wheels wear soonest at their edges, they
should be made thinner in the middle, and ought to be
fastened to the fellies with nails of such a kind that their
heads may not rise above the surface of the rims. In
some military waggons we have seen the heads of these
nails rising an inch above the rims, which not only de¬
stroys the pavements of streets, but opposes a continual
resistance to the motion of the wheel. If these nails were
eight in number, the wheel would experience the same re¬
sistance as if it had to surmount eight obstacles, one inch
high, during every revolution. The fellies on which the rims
are fixed should in carriages be three inches and a fourth
deep, and in waggons four inches. The naves should be
thickest at the place where the spokes are inserted • and
the holes in which the spokes are placed should not be
bored quite through, as the grease upon the axle-tree
would insinuate itself between the spoke and the naves,
and prevent that close adhesion which is necessary to the
strength of the wheel. J
their highest than at their lowest point, whether they are
of a conical or of a cylindrical form. In this country, how-
evei, the wheels are always made concave, and the ends of
the axle-trees are universally bent downwards, in order to
make them spread at the top and approach nearer below.
In some carriages which we have examined, where the
wheels were only four feet six inches in diameter, the dis¬
tance of the wheels at top was fully six feet, and their dis¬
tance below only four feet eight inches. By this foolish
practice the very advantages which may be derived from
the concavity of the wheels are completely taken away,
while many of the disadvantages remain; 'more room is
taken up in the coach-house, and the carriage is more
liable to be overturned by the contraction of its base.
With some mechanics it is a practice to bend the ends
of the axle-trees forwards, and thus make the wheels wider
behind than before. This blunder has been strenuously
defended by Mr Henry Beighton, who maintains that
vyheels in this position are more favourable for turning,
since, when the wheels are parallel, the outermost when
tinning would press against the linch-pin, and the inner¬
most would rest against the shoulder of the axle-tree. In
lectilineal motions, however, these converging wheels en-
gendei a great deal of friction both on the axle and the
giound, and must therefore be more disadvantageous than
parallel ones.
On the Line of Traction, and the Method by which Horses
exert their Strength.
441
On the
Construc¬
tion of
Wheel-
Carriages.
On the Position of the Wheels.
It must naturally occur to every person reflecting upon
tins subject, that the axle-trees should be straight and the
wheels perfectly parallel, so that they may not be wider at
M. Camus attempted to show that the line of traction
should always be parallel to the ground on which the car¬
nage is moving, both because the horse can exert his great¬
est strength in this direction, and because the line of draught,
being perpendicular to the vertical spoke of the wheel acts
with the largest possible lever. M. Couplet, however,
considering that the roads are never perfectly level, and
that the wheels are constantly surmounting small eminences
even in the best of roads, recommends the line of traction
to be oblique to the horizon. By this means the line of
draught HA (which is by far too much inclined in fig 144)
will in general be perpendicular to the lever AC which
mounts the eminence, and will therefore act with the long¬
est lever when there is the greatest necessity for it. We
ought to consider, also, that when a horse pulls hard against
any load, he always brings his breast nearer the ground •
and therefore it follows, that if a horizontal line of traction
is preferable to ail others, the direction of the traces should
be inclined to the horizon when the horse is at rest, in or¬
der that it may be horizontal when he lowers his breast
and exerts his utmost force. The particular manner, how¬
ever, in which living agents exert their strength against
great louds, seems to have been unknown both to Camus
and Couplet, and to many succeeding writers upon this
subject. It is to M. Deparcieux, an excellent philosopher
and ingenious mechanic, that we are indebted for the only
accurate information with which we are furnished • and
we are sorry to see that philosophers who flourished’after
him have overlooked his important instructions. In his
memoir on the draught of horses he has shown, in the most
satisfactory manner, that animals draw by their weight,
and not by the force of their muscles. In four-footed ani¬
mals, the hinder feet is the fulcrum of the lever by which
their weight acts against the load, and when the animal
pulls hard, it depresses its chest, and thus increases the
ever of its weight, and diminishes the lever by which the
AD thpi-8 ltsfeforts: Tllus>111 fig- 144, let P be the load,
AD the line of traction, and let us suppose FC to be the
hinder leg of the horse, and AE part of its body, A its
“ “ ““ <*the mail-coaches is „ **
3 K
a half i
442
MECHANICS.
On the chest or centre of gravity, and CE the level road. Then
AFC will represent the crooked lever by which the horse
Wheel- acts’ w^'c^ equivalent to the straight one AC. But
Carriages. when the horse’s weight acts downwards at A, so as to
'drag forward the rope AD and raise the load P, CE will
represent the power of the lever in this position, or the
lever of the horse’s weight, and CF the lever by which it
is resisted by the load, or the lever of resistance. Now if
the horse lowers its centre of gravity A, which it always
does when it pulls hard, it is evident that CE, the lever
of its weight, will be increased, w'hile CF, the lever of its
resistance, will be diminished, for the line of traction AD
will approach nearer to CE. Hence we see the great be¬
nefit which may be derived from large horses; for the
lever AC necessarily increases with their size, and their
power is always proportioned to the length of this lever,
their weight remaining the same. Large horses, therefore,
and other animals, will draw more than small ones, even
though they have less muscular force, and are unable to
carry such a heavy burden. The force of the muscles
tends only to make the horse carry continually forward his
centre of gravity; or, in other words, the weight of the
animal produces the draught, and the play and force of its
muscles serve to continue it.
From these remarks, thgp, we may deduce the proper
position of the line of traction. When the line of traction
is horizontal, as AD, the lever of resistance is CF; but if
this line is oblique to the horizon, as Ad, the lever of re¬
sistance is diminished to Cf, while the lever of the horse’s
weight always remains the same. Hence it appears, that
inclined traces are much more advantageous than horizon¬
tal ones, as they uniformly diminish the resistance to be
overcome. Deparcieux, however, has investigated expe¬
rimentally the most favourable angle of inclination, and
found, that when the angle DAF made by the trace Ad
and a horizontal line is fourteen or fifteen degrees, the
horses pulled with the greatest facility and force. This
value of the angle of draught will require the weight of
the spring-tree bar, to which the traces are attached in
four-wheeled carriages, to be one half of the height of that
part of the horse’s breast to which the fore end of the
traces is connected.
When several horses are yoked in the same carriage, as
represented in fig. 146, and when the declivity changes,
Fig. 146.
we may resolve this force into the two forces En, Ep, one On the
of which En is solely employed in dragging the cart up Construe
the inclined plane DA, while the other Etp is solely em- bon of
ployed in pressing the first horse E to the ground. Let rWh.eeI-
the horse be now removed from R to R', the direction nfv arriage;
the traces becomes RF'F, and PE — FE is the power ex-
erted by the horse at R' and the direction in which it is
exerted. But this force is equivalent to the forces Em, Ef,
the first of which acts directly against the load, while the
other presses the horse against the ground. Hence we
see the disadvantages of long traces, for the force which
draws the load when the horse is at R' is to the force when
the horse is at R, as Em to En, and the forces which press
the horse upon the ground as Ef to <p, or as E’m to Fra.
Now E<p z=. En = FE X sin. wEF; hence Ep — F'E X sin.
(nEf — FE^') (fE being parallel to AB') and En — EF
X cos. (tiEf — FE#'). In like manner we have E/— FE
X sin. (nEf — F'E#'), and Em = EF X cos. (nEg' —
F'E#'). Now sin. FE#' = sin. FE# — 5^, and sin. FE#'
R'#' R# ,
— ER' — ER/ ’ — BR
EQ= BR — BR
X cos. nEgf r= BR X (1 — cos. nEg). By substituting
this value in the equations which contain the values of Ep,
En, Ef, Em, and considering that the angles F'E#', F'E#
are always so small that their arcs differ very little from
their sines, we have
FE# =
F'E#' =
BR XI — cos. nEg
ER
BR X 1 cos. nEq
ER7 “*
, and
By substituting these values in the preceding equations,
we have
T7>  T7'n' v> • / T7 BR X 1 cos. wE#
Lp = EF X sin. («E#  ^
E/» = EF X sin. (nEy — BR X ”E^,
Ek = EF X cos. (riEg - ^ X
ER
Em = EF X cos. (nF.o _
v y ER'
the length of the traces has a considerable influence upon
the draught. From the point E, where the traces are
fastened to the horse next the load, draw ER to the same
point in the second horse R, and let R' be another posi¬
tion of the second horse; it is required to find the differ¬
ence of effect that will be produced by placing the second
hoise at R or at R', or the comparative advantages of short
and long traces. From R', the point where the traces are
fixed, di aw RF'E; and from E draw Emn parallel to the
declivity DA. lake EF — EF' to represent the power of
the horse in the direction of the traces, which will be the
same whether he is yoked at R or at R'; draw EA per¬
pendicular to DA, Fra, E'm parallel to EA,and E<p, FT pa¬
rallel to En. Ihen, since the second horse when at R
pulls with a force represented by FE, in the direction FE,
If AB is horizontal, and the declivity AD = 1, we shall
have mE# = 9° 28', or in parts of the radius = 0-16522,
and cos, nEg = 0-98638. Then, if EF = 200 pounds,
BR = 3^ feet, ER = 8 feet, ER' =12 feet, then we shall
have, from the preceding formulae, Fp = 31-716 pounds,
Ef — 32-350 pounds, En = 197*470 pounds, and Em
— 197-404. Hence an additional length of four feet to
traces eight feet long presses the horse E to the ground
withan additional force of 32-250—31-716 =0-534 pounds,
and diminishes the effect of the other horse by 0-066
pounds.
On the Position of the Centre of Gravity, and the Manner of
disposing the Load.
If the axle-tree of a two-wheeled carriage pass through
the centre of gravity of the load, the carriage wdll be in
equilibrio in every position in which it can be placed with
respect to the axle-tree; and in going up and down hill
the whole load will be sustained by the wheels, and will
have no tendency either to press the horse to the ground
or to raise him from it. But if the centre of gravity is
above the axle-tree, as it must necessarily be, according
to the present construction of wheel-carriages, a great part
of the load will be thrown on the back of the horses from
MECHANICS.
On the the wheels when going down a steep road, and thus tend
Construe- to accelerate the motion of the carriage, which the animal
Wheel- str^v^nS to prevent; while, in ascending steep roads, a
Carriages. Part °* ^ ^oa(^ be thrown behind the wheels, and
^^^tend to raise the horse from the ground, when there is
the greatest necessity for some weight on his back to ena¬
ble him to fix his feet in the earth, and overcome the great
resistance which is occasioned by the steepness of the
road. On the contrary, if the centre of gravity is below
the axle, the horse will be pressed to the ground in go-
ing up hill, and lifted from it when going down. In all
these cases, therefore, where the centre of gravity is either
on the axle-tree or directly above it or below, the horse
will bear no part of the load in level ground. In some
situations the animal will be lifted from the ground when
there is the greatest necessity for his being pressed to it,
and he will sometimes bear a great proportion of the load
when he should rather be relieved of it.
The only way of remedying these evils is to assign
such a position to the centre of gravity, that the horse
may bear some portion of the weight when he must exert
gieat foice against the load, that is, in level ground, and
when he is ascending steep roads ; for no animal can pull
with its greatest effort unless it is pressed to the ground.
Now this may be in some measure effected in the following
manner. Let BCN (fig. 144) be the wheel ofa cart, AD
one of the shafts, D that part of it where the cart is sus¬
pended on the back of the horse, and A the axle-tree ; then,
if the centre of gravity of the load is placed at m, a point
equidistant from the two wheels, but below the line DA,
and before the axle-tree, the horse will bear a certain
weight on level ground, a greater weight when he is going
up hill and has more occasion for it, and less weight when
he is going down hill, and does not require to be pressed
to the ground: all this will be evident from the figure.
When we recollect that the shaft DA is horizontal, the
centre of gravity will press more upon the point of sus¬
pension D the nearer it comes to it; or the pressure upon
D, or the horse s back, will be proportional to the distance
of the centre of gravity from A. If w?, therefore, be the
centre of gravity, &A will represent its pressure upon D,
when the shaft DA is horizontal. When the cart is as¬
cending a steep road, AH will be the position of the shaft,
the centre of gravity will be raised to a, and aA will be
the pressure upon D. But if the cart is going down hill,
AC will be the position of the shaft, the centre of gravity
will be depressed to «, and cA will represent the pressure
upon the horse’s back. The weight sustained by the horse,
therefore, is properly regulated by placing the centre of
gravity at m. We have still, however, to determine the
proper length of ba and bm, the distance of the centre of
gravity from the axle, and from the horizontal line DA;
but as these depend upon the nature and inclination
of the road, upon the length of the shaft DA, which
depends on the size of the horse, on the magnitude
of the load, and on other variable circumstances, it would
be impossible to fix their value. If the load, along with
the cart, weighs 400 pounds, if the distance DA be eight
feet, and if the horse should bear 50 pounds of the weight;
then t>A should be one foot, which, being one eighth of
D A, will make the pressure upon D exactly 50 pounds,
if the road slopes four inches in a foot, bm must be four
inches, or the angle bkm should be equal to the inclina¬
tion of the road; for then the point m will rise to a when
ascending such a road, and will press with its greatest
force on the back of the horse.
When carts are not made in this manner, we may in
some degree obtain the same end by judiciously disposing
443
the load. Let us suppose that the centre of gravity is at On the
w ien the cart is loaded with homogeneous materials, Construc-
such as sand, lime, &c.; then if the load is to consist of he- tion of
terogeneous substances, or bodies of different weights, we JVh.eel-
siould place the heaviest at the bottom and nearest the
front, which will not only lower the point o, but will bring
it forward, and nearer the proper position m. Part of the
load, too, might be suspended below the fore part of the
carriage in dry weather, and the centre of gravity would
approach still nearer the point m. When the point m is
thus depressed, the weight on the horse is not only judi¬
ciously regulated, but the cart would be prevented from
overturning; and in rugged roads the weight sustained by
each wheel would be in a great degree equalized.
Composition for diminishing the Friction of the Wheels of
Carriages, fyc.
The following composition has been very recently dis¬
covered by Mr Partridge, and secured by patent.
“ lo about twenty gallons of clear soft water apply
three or four pounds of fresh lime, put them into a cask,
and stir them well about; then let it stand about twenty-
four hours, or until the water is quite clear, when it may
be drawn off as wanted. The lime-water should be stirred
up every five or six days, that the water may be kept fully
impregnated with the lime. To one part or proportion of
tins solution of lime water add one part or proportion of
olive oil. These ingredients are to be placed in an open
vessel, and whisked, beat, or stirred well together until
they are completely blended; or they may be placed in a
bottle or jar, and well shaken, until the same effect takes
place. I he composition of lime-water and oil will then
have the consistency and appearance of thick cream ; and
if the composition made from the above proportions should
be found too thick, it may be thinned or reduced in con¬
sistency by adding a little more oil; and I would remark,
that the composition should be well shaken or mixed up
before using; and the lime-water should be kept free from
air, and as cool as possible.
For axle-trees and other bearings this composition will
be found superior to pure oil, and will not be consumed
so rapidly.
To render this composition more applicable to the lu¬
brication of cogs or teeth of wheels, Mr Partridge pre¬
fers whale or other common oil, which may be used in one
part or proportion to two parts or proportions of lime-
water; and when perfectly commixed, as before stated, to
A is to be added palm oil or tallow, or both, and well
rubbed or ground therewith until the composition assumes
the appearance of thick paste, when a small quantity of
carbonaceous matter, such as plumbago, black leadf or
soot, may be added, and when incorporated with each other
the composition will be fit for use.”1 *
Description of different Carriages.
In figure 147 is represented a carriage invented by Mr
Richard, a physician in Rochelle, which moves without
horses, merely by the exertion of the passengers. The
machinery by which this is effected is placed in a box be¬
hind the carriage, and is shown in fig. 148, where A A is a
small axis fixed into the box, and E a pulley over which a
lope passes, whose two extremities are tied to the ends of
he levers or treddles C D: the other ends of the ?evers
aie hxed by joints to the cross-beam MN. The cranks
are fixed to the axle KL, and move upon it as a
i See the London Journal and Repertory of Arts, &c. No. 55, October 1836, p. 33.
444
MECHANICS.
On the
Construc¬
tion of
Wheel-
Carriages
Fig. 147.
centre. Each of them has
catches in the teeth of the
wheels H, H, so that they
can move from F to H with¬
out moving the wheel, but
the detent tooth catches in
the teeth of the wheels when
the cranks are brought back¬
ward, and therefore bring
the wheel along with them.
When the foot of the pas¬
senger, therefore, is placed
upon the treddle D, it brings
down the crank F, and along with it the wheel FI, so
that the large wheels fixed on the same axis perform
part of a revolution ; but when D is depressed, the rope
DA descends, the extremity C of the other treddle rises,
and the crank F rising along with it, takes into the teeth
of the wheel H, so that when the elevated treddle C is
depressed, the wheels H, H, and consequently the wheels
I, I, perform another part of a revolution. In this way,
by continuing to work at the treddles, the machine ad¬
vances with a regular pace.
A carriage of this kind, where the mechanism is much
more simple and beautiful than that which we have de¬
scribed, has been lately invented and constructed by Mr
Nasmyth of Edinburgh, a gentleman whose mechanical
genius is scarcely inferior to his talents as a painter. The
Fig. 149.
a detent tooth at F, which
Fig. 148.
pulley E and axle A A are rendered unnecessary; leather On the
straps are substituted in place of the cranks F, F, and the Construe,
whole mechanism is contained in two small cylindrical tion of
boxes about six inches in diameter and one and a half^ llee^
broad.
A carriage driven by the action of the wind is exhibited ”
in fig. 149. It is fixed on four wheels, and moved by the
impulse of the wind upon the sails C, D, being guided by
the rudder E. Carnages of this kind will answer very
well in a level country, where the roads are good and the
wind fair; and are said to be much used in China. In
Holland they sometimes use similar vehicles for travelling
upon the ice ; but they have a sledge instead of wheels,
so that if the ice should happen to break, there will be
no danger of sinking. Stephinus, a Dutchman, is said to
have constructed one of these carriages with wheels, which
travelled at the rate of twenty-one miles an hour with a
very strong wind.
Fig. 150.
The carriage re¬
presented in fig. 150
is made so as to sail
against the wind by
means of the spiral
sails E, F, G, H, one
of which, F, is ex¬
panded by the wind.
The impulse of the
wind upon the sails
gives a rotatory mo¬
tion to the axle M,
furnished with a
cog-wheel K, whose
trundles act upon
teeth placed on the
inside of the fore¬
wheels.
A carriage which cannot be overturned is represented
in figure 151, where AB is the body of the carriage,
Fig. 151.
consisting of a hollow globe, made of leather or wood, at
the bottom of which is placed an immoveable weight
proportioned to the load which the carriage is to bear.
1 wo horizontal circles of iron D, E, connected with bars
HI, and two vertical circles F, G, surround the globe; and
the wheels are fastened by a handle K to the perpendicu¬
lar bars HI. Then, since the body of the carriage moves
freely in every direction within the iron circles, the centre
of gravity will always be near C, and the carriage will
preserve an upright position even if the wheels and frame
were overturned.
MECHANICS.
On Me¬
chanical
Notation.
PART III.—DESCRIPTION OF MACHINES.
As machines for various purposes in the arts have al¬
ready been described in their appropriate places, we shall
confine ourselves, in the present division of this article,
to an account of Mr Babbage’s mechanical notation; a
description of the elements which enter into the composi¬
tion of all machines; of machines which are illustrative
of the general doctrines of mechanics ; and of a few others
which have not been described in any previous part of this
work.
The second class of signs are as follows :
CHAP. I ON MECHANICAL NOTATION, OR THE METHOD
OF EXPRESSING BY SIGNS THE ACTION OF MACHINERY.
late
We have already given a general notice of this import-
CXLVIII. •/ w — —j. 
'ant method, invented by Mr Babbage, and pointed out its
great importance in mechanics. We shall now endeavour
to explain it more minutely, and show the method of ap
plying it to a machine of a given structure. The first step
in this method consists in drawing, on a sheet of paper, as
many vertical lines as there are pieces or moving parts in
the machine; to each of these pieces its name must be af¬
fixed, and the letter which marks it out in the drawing.
These vertical lines must then be crossed with horizontal
lines, upon which we must write,
1. The nature of the motion of each piece, indicated by
a conventional sign.
2. The number of teeth in the wheels, pinions, or sectors,
or the number of pins or studs on any revolving barrel.
3. The velocities, whether absolute or relative, of the
several parts of the machine.
4. The mode in which the motion is communicated or
transmitted.
5. The modes of adjustment, some of which are perma¬
nent and made by the mechanist, while others depend on
the nature of the work they are intended to perform, such
as the distance between the mill-stones in a flour-mill, on
which the fineness of the flour depends, or such as the wind¬
ing up of the weight or spring, which may be called a pe¬
riodic adjustment.
6. The times or durations of the movements.
Mr Babbage employs two classes of signs, viz. those for
indicating the peculiar nature of the means by which the
motion is transmitted, and those which denote the state of
motion or rest of every particular part of the machine.
The first of those classes are as follows :
1. When one piece receives its motion from another, in
consequence of being permanently fixed to it, such as a
pin upon a wheel, or a wheel and pinion on the same axis.
This may be indicated by an arrow with a bar at the end,
thus, I—
1. Bolted on the right side.
2. Bolted on the left side.
3. Unbolted, the two lines being nearer the indi¬
cating line.
As illustrations of the application of this method, Mr
Babbage has selected the common eight-day clock and the
hydraulic ram; but these examples are a little too com¬
plicated, especially that of the clock, which would require
several plates to make it intelligible. We have therefore
taken the case of an ideal but simple machine, which con¬
sists of a large wheel driving a system of levers and stamp¬
ers, also a large beam driven by a crank. The motion is
communicated by means of ropes. The system of simis
is shown in Plate CCCXLVIII.
CHAP. II. ON THE ELEMENTS OF MACHINERY.
2. When one piece is moved by another, so that the
motion of the one is the necessary result of the motion of
the other, but without any permanent connection, as when
a pinion drives a wheel, the motion may be indicated by an
arrow without a bar, thus, ——
3. When the piece moved is attached to the piece that
moves it by stiff friction, the sign is an arrow formed by a
line interrupted by dots, thus,   
4. When the piece moved does not always move with
the piece that moves it, as in the case of a stent lifting a
ball once in the course of its revolution, the sign may be
an arrow half full and half dotted, thus,   
5. When one wheel is connected with another by a
ratchet, as the great wheel of a clock is attached to the
fusee, we may use a dotted arrow with a ratchet-hook at
its end, thus, . K . . .
The simple mechanical powers, which we have already
fully described, are in reality machines or instruments by
which useful mechanical effects are produced; but a ma¬
chine is, properly speaking, a combination of the simple
mechanical powers, arranged in such a manner as to pro¬
duce the desired effect. The nature of this combination
depends not only on the kind of mechanical agent which
is to be the first mover, and on the nature of the work to
be performed, but often on the locality of the machine
itself, and other accidental causes; and the skill of the en¬
gineer is pre-eminently conspicuous in the adaptation of his
machinery to these secondary conditions.
The principal elements of machinery are cylindrical
and conical or bevelled wheels and pinions, and rack-work.
When an axis is to receive motion from another axis lying
parallel to it, the effect is produced by placing a cylindri¬
cal wheel upon each, as in fig. 104, so that half the sum of
the diameters of the two wheels may be equal to the dis¬
tance of the axes, and making the number of teeth in each
wheel inversely proportional to the respective velocities
445
On the
Elements
of Machi¬
nery.
1. Unbroken lines indicate motion.
2. Lines on the right side indicate motion from
right to left.
3. Lines on the left side indicate motion from left
to right.
4. Parallel straight lines denote uniform motion.
5. Curved lines denote a variable velocity, and the
ordinates of the curve should express the velocity.
6. When the motion begins at a fixed point, and
its termination is uncertain, the line must begin with
a small cross line.
7. When the commencement of the motion is un¬
certain, and its termination fixed, the line must end
with a small cross line.
8. Dotted lines imply rest.
9. If the thing be indicated by a check, bolt, or valve,
its dotted line should be on the right side if it is out
of action, unbolted, or open, and on the left side if
the reverse.
10. If a bolt can rest in three positions ; 1st, bolted
on the right side; 2d, bolted on the left side; M, un¬
bolted ; the figures are,
446
MECHANICS.
to adopt quite a different kind of chain, and
to make them lay hold of pins or hooks pro¬
jecting from the circumference which they
put in motion. Two of these chains are
shown in the annexed figures. In fig. 152
the links of the chain AC lay hold of the
pins p, p, projecting from the circumference
of the wheel DE.
In fig. 153, metal¬
lic teeth t, t, t, pro¬
ject from the jointed
chain ABC, and en¬
ter into grooves or
indentations in the
circumference of the
wheel.Various chains
used in machinery
are shown in the an¬
nexed figure. That
marked A was in¬
vented and used by the great mechanist Vaucanson
Fig. 154.
On the
Elements
of Machi.
On the which are required in the two axes. If the two axes are
Etements inclined to each other, then conical wheels are used, as
° neraC^1" s^own ’n %s* 1^5, 126, and 128,
v > But it is not always necessary that the wheels move
one another by means of teeth. In machines where the
resistance of the work is trifling, one wheel may drive
another by the mere friction of their circumferences. This
may be done in several ways.
1. The circumference of the wheels may be faced with
buff leather, the friction of which upon itself is consider¬
able. We have seen this plan adopted in a pair of bellows,
where the wind is propelled by a revolving vane which is
driven by a winch and two intermediate wheels faced with
buff. The circumferences of the wheels are pressed against
each other by a spring, in order to maintain sufficient con¬
tact for the purpose. Rims made of caoutchouc would
answer the purpose much better.
2. The circumference of the wheels may be faced with
wood cut across the grain. Dr O. Gregory informs us
that this plan was actually adopted in a saw-mill at South¬
ampton, where all the wheels impelled one another by the
contact of the end grain of the wood. The machine did
its work with very little noise, and wore
very well, having been in use for twenty (T7)] ((ll (M (Cj (°)
years. Xs,£'/ ^ m I \
The same effect might be produced by
putting a circumference of metal contain¬
ing a great number of small blunt spikes
or points upon the impelling wheel, and a
rim of hard wood upon the other, upon
which these blunt spikes act in turning it.
Belts and When one wheel drives another, they
ropes. necessarily turn in opposite directions. If it is required One of the simplest and most durable expedients for
that they should move in the same direction, the best way communicating motion is the crank, which is nothing more
is to unite them by a rope or leather belt which does not than a lever fixed upon the axis, which is to be moved by
cross itself at any point between the wheels, for if the belt a force applied to the end of the lever. This lever may
crosses, the wheels will move in opposite directions. be fixed at the end of the axis, as in the common grind-
The great use of ropes or belts is to communicate stone, or in the electrical machine, where wheels are not
motion from one axle to another, at such a distance that used ; or it may be fixed upon a wheel carried by the axle,
two wheels uniting the axles would be ridiculously large, when the object of the mechanism is to put a wheel in
In belts the motion is conveyed by friction. The friction motion. This is the case in the old cylindrical electrical
betvyeen the impelling wheel and the belt puts the belt in machines, where a handle is fixed upon the face of the
motion, and the friction ofthe belt upon the impelled wheel largest wheel, employed to give velocity to the cylin-
moves it in the same manner. der. The crank lever may be fixed in the middle of
The great disadvantage of ropes and belts however is, an axis; but in this case the axis must necessarily be
that they become slack, and thus lose their power of turn- bent, and the force applied at the part projecting from the
ing the wheel. This evil may be partially removed by in- 1 1 ‘ ’ ' * ''
creasing the friction by rubbing them with chalk, or, what
is still better, by shortening them. Another method equally
Crank.
axle, as shown in fig. 155, where
Fig. 155. Fig. 156.
mn is the axis_ bent
Fig. 157.
LeUn TJJ Uy
3
1=4-7Z.
THT
<z
3
«/■
Chains.
effectual, is to have upon one of the wheels grooves of dif¬
ferent diameters, so that a slack belt may be tightened by
slipping it upon a groove of larger diameter. This however
alters the velocity of the axle upon which this change has
been made j1 and the only way to remove this evil, or to
tighten a belt without altering the relative velocity of the
two axles, is to have grooves of corresponding diameters on
both wheels, so that the loose belt may be half tightened
by shifting it to a groove of larger diameter on one wheel, twice, at a and c, so as to form a double crank. Now if one
and the tightening completed by shifting it also to a groove man were to apply his/orce at a and another ate, they would
of larger diameter on the other wheel. The best method, work with a lever whose length was equal to the distance of
liowevei,of effecting the object in question would be to have aandefrom the axle or line mw. A triple crank is shown at
ontyoi more caoutchouc springs forming part of the belt. fig. 156; and a variable single crank in fig. 157 where mn
is the axle, a the point where the power is applied, and
c, d,e,f four parallel bars, which, by pins passing through
the small holes, may be fixed in any position, so as to vary
the distance of a from mn. In place of applying the power
of a man at a, the power of any other mechanical agent
may be madej to turn the axle mn, by means of rods ba,
From these remarks it will be obvious, that in nice ma'
chinery, where regular movements are essential to its per¬
formance, or in cases where the work occasions a great
strain upon the machinery, belts and ropes cannot with
pi opiiety or safety be employed. In such cases chains
of various forms are substituted in their place. These ^oy uC mauc, tu turn u.e ™,t, u.y u.Cu«B u, .uu.
c mins are sometimes jointed like those of a watch, and dc, fig. 155, &c. which have a reciprocating or a backward
conv ey the motion by friction ; but in general it is necessary and forward rectilineal motion. This is exemplified in
In a turning-lathe or an electrical machine, where a change of velocity does no harm, this contrivance answers very well.
On the the grind-stone and the
Elements turning lathe, where the
of Machi- p0wer is the downward
ner-v'> y pressure of the foot of a
man upon a foot-board,
as in fig. 158, where A    
may be a grindstone, or a wheel driving a pinion.
When the power applied at a is obtained from the re-
MECHANICS.
159.
ciprocating motion of a rod, as in the
case of a steam-engine, it acts as in the
annexed figure, where b is the crank
fixed near the circumference of the
wheel A, and MN a vertical rod mov¬
ing upwards and downwards between
the guides cd, ef, and connected with
the crank by the bar ab.
When a man and a power moving in
a fixed direction are applied to the
same crank, the mode of action is in
the two cases essentially distinct. In
every mode of action both the man and
the power push in one semicircumfe¬
rence of the circle, which the end of the cran^describes,
and pull in the other semicircumference ; and it is very ob¬
vious, that in every position of the crank, both powers must
act with different degrees of effect. Wdien the crank lever
is horizontal, and the man pushes it down with the aid of
his weight, his force is a maximum ; and when he pulls it
upwards in the next horizontal position, his force is very
great. At all intermediate positions he works to a disad¬
vantage ; but there are no positions of the crank in which
the man has no power to turn it, because he is able to apply
his power in any direction he chooses. This, however, is im¬
possible when the man works by a vertical pressure, or a pres¬
sure given in direction upon a foot-board, or when the crank
is moved by a reciprocating rod. In these cases, as will be
447
A. This combination of cranks is used in the Stanhope On the
pi ess, in which the axle C drives a screw, wdiich presses Elements
the paper with great force upon the types. of Machi-
Another contrivance similar in principle to the crank is. nery~ ,
frequently introduced into machinery. It is called the Ec-tZTc
centric, and is shown in fig. 165, where AB is a centric*
rod which is to be raisedand depressed between Fig. 165.
the guides mn, op, by means of a continued cir- &
cular motion. Let C be the centreof this circu¬
lar motion, or a section of the revolving axis. Up¬
on this axis C,isjixeda circle DE eccentric to it,
O being its axis, and CO the degree of eccen¬
tricity. This circle DE works in a circular
opening of the frame BED fixed to BA by a
joint at B. As the axis C and the circle DE
form one piece, and as C is fixed in position,
the effect of turning the axis C must be to
raise and depress BA between the guides, the ^
power being always proportional, as in the crank, to a per¬
pendicular let fall from C upon BD. When this perpendi-
w1! h RO nheS’ TlACh-ulalPpenS When the line C0 coincides
with BO, the rod A will be at its highest or its lowest point
An ingenious contrivance for conveying motion is known
by the name of Hookes Universal Joint. The driving axis Universal
Fig. 166.
seen at A, B, C, D in the annexed figures, there are two
Fig. 160.
Fig. 162. Fig. 163.
Fig. 164.
opposite positions in which the rod has no power to move
the crank. This happens in the positions C and D, where
the centre m is between a and b, or when a is between m
and b. In the other positions shown in the figures, the
power of the rod ba to move the crank is proportional to
the perpendicular let fall upon ab from the centre m; and
when that perpendicular coincides with ma, or when ma
is perpendicular to ba, the power is a maximum either in
pushing or pulling the lever.
. A combination of two cranks has been used for produc-
mg a [high ^degree of pressure. This
will be understood from the annexed
figure, where the same lever BC unites
two crank levers AB, CD, which move
round joints or centres at A, B, C, and
D. If we suppose a moving force ap¬
plied to DC, to make it turn round D
from right to left, it is obvious that the
lever BC will be pulled in the direction
BC with the greatest force, when BCD is
a straight line. The force thus exert¬
ed acts upon the lever AB at B, and it
will exert the greatest force when CB is
peipendicular to BA. The force therefore originally ap¬
plied to move CD will be very great when exerted at
and the axis to be driven are shown
at A, B. Each of them terminates in
semicii cles, joining two rectangular
bars, CD, EF, by means of pivots at
their extremities C, D, E, F. It is
obvious that when A is made to re¬
volve, B will revolve with the same
velocity; for if A moves round without
changing its direction, the points C, D
must move in a circle round the inter¬
section of the crossed bars, and this
motion of the cross will make the
points E, F move round the same in- ^
tersection, in consequence of which the shaft B^ill revolve
the two shafts turning in the very same manner as if each
had a pivot at the intersection, and were impelled with
equal velocities. The one axis A will notP drive the
other B if their vertical inclination is less than 140.
When the inclination of the axis
is between 50° and 90°, a double
universal joint is used, consisting of
four semicircles and two crosses, and
acting in the same manner as the other.
It is shown in the annexed figure. An¬
other form of the apparatus is shown
in the annexed figure. Universal joints
may be constructed by fastening/cwr
pins 90° from one another on the cir¬
cumference of a hoop or solid ball.
Universal joints are gene¬
rally used in cotton-mills, where
it is necessary to convey the
motion through great distances.
In this case it is advisable to
divide the rods into lengths, and
connect them by these joints.
Universal joints are also much
used in large telescopes upon
equatorial axes, in order to give
the vertical and horizontal mo¬
tions to the tube while the obser¬
ver continues to look through it.
Another instrument for connecting the parts of ma-Carn.
chines is called the Cam, oxCamb,ox Wiper, and the general
object of it is to convert a circular into a rectilineal motion.
It is extensively used in the tambouring machinery, and
in machines for making lace.
joint.
448
Contrivan¬
ces for
changing
motion.
MECHANICS.
Fig. 171.
Can;,
CHAP. Ill ACCOUNT OP CONTRIVANCES POR CHANGING
’ ONE KINO OF MOTION INTO ANOTHER.
The different changes of motion which are most useful in
machinery may be classified as follows:—
1. A continued circular motion into a rectilineal, alter¬
nating, or vibrating motion.
2. A continued circular motion into a circular alternating
motion.
3. A continued rectilineal into a continued circular mo¬
tion.
4. A rectilineal alternating into a circular alternating
motion.
1. A continued circular into a rectilineal alternating
motion.
The simplest of all the contrivances for this purpose
is the cam, already referred to. The cam may have
one, two, or three, or more wipers, according as we wish to
have one, two, three or more alternations of the required
motion during one revolution of the axis of the cam. If
the alternating or vibrating rod stand vertically, it descends
by its own weight, and is lifted by each succeeding cam.
If a pause is necessary after each descent, then there must
be a blank space in the revolving wheel, to allow the ne¬
cessary time to elapse before the next cam come round to
elevate the stamper.
Fig. 169-
Pinion and
double
rack.
If the alternat¬
ing rod be placed
horizontally, as
ah, which moves
between the
guides m, n, its
extremity h, pres¬
ses against the
spring s, so as to
push the rod back
again upon the
succeeding wiper,
which is placed on
the lateral face of
the wheel AB, which is driven by a handle H. This con¬
trivance is used in the manufacture oi fishing nets, and in
a machine for pricking holes in leather for making cards.
In this last case the prickers will be placed at the end b,
and the spring s will bear against some projecting shoulder
of the bar. If all the teeth in AB were reduced to one,
they would form a circular inclined plane, and one vibration
of ah would be performed during each revolution of the
wheel.
Another contrivance for this purpose, namely, a double
rack and pinion, is
shewn in fig. 170. A pin- Fig. 170.
ion P, works in the teeth
of the rack AB,with cir¬
cular ends. This pinion
can move freely in a
groove mn, cutout of the
cross piece CD. When
the end B comes up to
the pinion P, by the re¬
volution of the latter, a
projecting piece a, presses against the springs; and the
pinion descending in the groove mn, enters the lower side
or the rack, and carries it back, so that an alternating rec¬
tilineal motion is maintained.
Another ingenious contrivance ot the same bind is shewn
in the annexed figure. In this case the pinion P, is fixed,
and the rack is moveable
by means of two jointed
rods ah, cd. When the
pinion is at the circular
end of the rack, the rack
receives a small lateral
motion from a b and c d,
which brings forward the
other side of the rack
within the action of the
pinion, in order to pro¬
duce the returning mo¬
tion.
An elegant piece of me¬
chanism, invented by M.
Zureda,is shewn in the an¬
nexed figure. For the pur¬
pose of giving an alternat¬
ing horizontal motion to
the rod ah, a handle H, or
any other means, turns
the cylinder AB round
its axis. Two opposite
grooves, like the threads
of a female screw, are cut
in its surface, so as to
unite or run into one another at both ends of the cylinder.
The end 6 of the rod ah, fits this groove, while the end amoves
up and down in a groove in the frame CD. As the cylinder
revolves, the end h follows the spiral direction of the groove,
till it reaches the end B, and it then enters the opposite
groove, by which it returns to its original place, as in the
figure. If a cone be substituted for the cylinder, the path
of ah or the degree of its inclination to the revolving axis, is
determined by the angle of the cone.
Another contrivance for producing a vertical alternating
motion is shewn in fig. 173, where
ah is a rod moving vertically
between guides. A wheel AB,
put in motion by a handle or
other means, carries a project¬
ing pin or cylinder p, which
moves with a little play in the
curvilineal groove Dj»ED. As
the wheel AB turns, the pin p,
carried along with it, acts on the
under side of the curve, and de¬
presses the rod; and when the
pin p has reached its lowest
point, it begins to raise the rod
ah, by acting on the upper side
DjaE of the groove. If the groove
DE had been a straight line, the
ascent or descent of ab would
have been variable, being equal
to the versed sine of the arch de¬
scribed by the wheel.
When a circle revolves in the
inside of another of twice the dia¬
meter, any point of the smaller
circle will describe a straight line,
which is the diameter of the
larger circle. This straight line
is an epicycloid; and this beau¬
tiful property has been embo¬
died as a piece of mechanism,
for converting a continuous cir¬
cular into a rectilineal alterna¬
ting motion. The mechanical
expression of the geometrical
property is shewn in Jig. 174,
Fig. 173.
Fig. 174.
41=#
Contri var
ces for
changing
motion.
mechanics.
449
Contrivan. where AB is a concave tootyhed wheel, in which another that nf twr, „
ices for wheel of half its diameter works. If the wheel C is made to other heino- rl • f(|ne ()^f' Uc l 18 seen at 176, the Contrivan-
changing revolve within the other by means of a wtoch anvnoim in hs oS L 8 " ^ ^spended at the extremities res for
The ingenious method of M. Berthelot of obtaining a eon- falling bs^te^ravdy'en.ranerwk'lfthe^nh,"1' th<! f'"'1'
tinuedmretdar from an alternating motion is shewn in fig. the axis ai against the toothed wheel Yhe mpe^S^ses
175. The
alternat¬
ing mo¬
tion is
commu¬
nicated
from the G
frame
GGGG, to
hooks in
which are fixed the ends of two ropes XX, YY, which pass
round the two wheels A, B, which move freely on the axis mn,
in one direction, but carry the axis along with them in an¬
other direction. This is effected by ratchet wheels and
clicks, one of which is placed on the inner side of A, and
the other on the outer side of B. By moving the frame to
the right, the wheel A being unable to move upon the axis
mn, carries it round with it, and by moving the frame to
the left, the wheel A being no longer fixed bv the rliek anrl
ratchet turns freely on the® axle mn, buttheotherBbetng altSnat inff drcuZ 'into “ .«* converting an
now locked to the axle, carries the axle along with 1? stwn l^thTantxeTfigur nUe<1 m°tkm' *
andin the same direction as the wheel A did, so that the axle The axis AB is made to move
mn thef. rece^f a contin^d rotatory motion from the re- asif drivenby a pendulumswing-
aprocabon of the frame ood ing at A< ^ axle ^
M. Betancourt s machine for converting continuous cir- two ratchet wheels m n with
™0:tl0^S int0t reL(iti mea a ternat“1S' motions of a given their teeth oppositely inclined,
through the fork l, and when a button a upon the rope near
S is engaged in the fork l, the piece umn is made to turn
about its axis^7, and the arm m striking the handle b, un¬
locks the click a!b' before taking a horizontal position. * But
as soon as it passes this position the counterweight P fall¬
ing on the other side, the branch u pushes the pin c, and
carries to the right hand the axis ah which carries the
endless screw h to engage itself with the wheel G, the click
cd by its own weight engaging with the pin y. In this way
the two cylinders behind F and G turn with these wheels
m opposite directions, and the bucket S descends while the
other ascends. A piece of iron is placed on the rims of the
buckets to make them take a position for discharging the
water as at S. The axis ab may be driven by wind or
any other power,2
2. ^4 continued circular into an alternating circular mo¬
tion, or the reverse.
A very ingenious piece of mechanism for converting an
circular m
Fig. 178.
length, is shewn in the
annexed figure, where
rib is the revolving axis,
the pivot of which be¬
low b is supported by
the piece of wood e fur¬
nished with two rollers
which enter into a
groove (See fig. 177.) in
the box m'n', so that by
the motion of e to the
right or the left, the axis
ab can approach one
after another to the
toothed wheels F,G, and >
drive them by the end- J iXj
less screw h. Two
clicks a'b' cd, turning
round their axes a' and
c are fixed to e, and
these clicks carry two
arms b' and d perpendi¬
cular to them. A metal¬
lic bar (fig. 177), with
a rectangular branch u is
fixed at the end of an
axis#/; which carries a
double fork il; at the
end g of the axis gf is
fixed a counterweight P.
Fig. 176.
Fig. 177.
and also two bevelled tooth
wheels C, D, which are how¬
ever only slightly fixed to it by   
friction, ihese last wheels carry two catches p, q, so that
when one or other falls into the teeth of the ratchet wheels
m, n, this wheel moves round along with the axis, while the
other wheel, which is not connected with its catch, moves
round by any force greater than its friction. The bevelled
■w heel E, which is to receive a continued circular motion, is
engaged by its teeth both in C and D.
If we suppose the axis AB to swing so that m and C are
fixed by the catch p, the wheel C will turn with the axle,
and the wheel E will move in the same direction ; and as
the teeth on the right hand side of E are engaged on those
of D, the latter will turn round upon the axle AB. When
AB returns, or its motion is reversed, the teeth of n will
move against the catch q, the wdieel D will move with the
axle AB, and E will be driven in the same direction as be¬
fore, the wheel C now moving loosely upon AB. By
changing the place of the ratchet wheel and catches, the
motion of E would be reversed.
Another example of the change of
motion under our consideration is seen
when wipers fixed upon a revolving
wheel raise a forge hammer moveable
about a centre.
Another contrivance of this kind is
shewn in the annexed figure, where
AB is a one toothed wheel, the tooth
Fig. 179.
• . • . Two square pins xy, whose pro- being an inclined plane winding round
m Ttllckness t0 tlle clicks a'b' cd, are fixed its axis. This plane presses against the
f .OX, m n: . et us now suppose that the alternating extremity a of a crooked lever abc, and
n o be obtained from the rotation of the axis ab is gives it an alternating circular motion
1 See Borsjnis Essai, &c. p. 370.
* Lanz and Betancourt’s Essui sur le Composition des Machines, p. 82, 83.
3 i.
450
MECHANICS.
Contrivan- round the centre C, a spring s occasioning the return of the
ces for lever to receive a new impulse from the revolving plane,
changing p>y ]oafpn(j- the arm cba the lever would return by the action
motion. gravity alone.
M. St. Cyr has produced an alternating circular motion,
so that the velocity may vary according to any required
law by the mechan- -r,. . on
ism in %. 180; and F,g. 180.
he has employed the
principle used in the
construction of e-
quation clocks. An
equation curve BCD
is fixed on the annu¬
al wheel A, and in
the curve is formed
a groove in which
the pivot E can
move. This pivot
is united with the
levers EF, EG, the
last being fixed to
the cannon H which
carries the minute hand HI, so that it follows the vibration
of the curve in more than one half of the circumference of
the minute dial which is sufficient to mark the inequalities
arising from the equation.1
Another pretty contrivance is shewn in fig. 181, where
A, a wheel partly toothed
drives two toothed wheels B,
C, on the same axis DE. Af¬
ter the toothed part A has
driven B through a certain
angle, it quits it and drives C
in the opposite direction; thus
giving an alternate circular
motion to DE.
Fig. 181.
3. A continued rectilineal into a continued circular
motion.
This change of motion is easily effected by means of a
rectilineal rack acting upon a toothed wheel; but the con¬
tinued circular motion of the wheel must terminate when it
has made as many revolutions as the number of teeth in the
wheel are contained in the number of teeth in the rack.
4. A rectilineal alternating into a circular motion, or
the reverse.
This change of motion is exemplified in the drill-bow of
w atchmakers and smiths, and in the handles of pumps. In
the first the rectilineal alternating motion of the bow gives
a circular alternating motion to an axle round which the
bow-string is coiled. The extent of angular motion of the
axle is determined by the number of times that the cir¬
cumference of the pulley upon the axle is contained in the
length of the stroke of the bow. In pumps the handle
moves through an arch of a circle when the piston rises or
falls in a straight line.
1 he various contrivances used by the early constructors
of steam engines, and the more elegant ones invented by
Mr. Watt for giving an alternating motion to the beam by
the rectilineal movements of the piston belong to this class
of contrivances, and will be fully described under the article
Steam Engine.
In the simple piece of mechanism shewn in fig. 182 ; the
Fig. 182.
Fig. 183.
bar AB attached to the axis C by two
ropes AC, BC rises and falls by giving
it a circular motion which twists the
ropes, and makes it rise towards C. In
untwisting them by the opposite motion
of AB the bar descends. A drill D
may thus be put in motion.
The mechanism shewn in fig. 183 pro¬
duces an analogous effect. The lever
AB vibrates round C as a centre. The
ends of a rope FMLD are fixed at F,
and D, and pass over two pulleys M, N.
By depressing the end B of the lever,
the point L of the rope will move towards N ; and by again
raising B it will return. A force
applied at L to give a motion in
the direction MN will again pro¬
duce an oscillation of the lever
AB round C.
A combination of levers called
zig-zag, or lazy tongs, or scissors,
shewn in fig. 184, is of the same
kind. Joints being placed at the N
intersection of all the pieces
which compose it, it is evi- ^'1S‘
dent that if the ends MN
open or shut by a circular
motion, the points A, B will
approach to, or recede from,
one another.* These lazy
tongs are ingeniously ap¬
plied by Mr. Aldous of Clap¬
ton, for conveying the motion of the beam of his steam en¬
gine to the crank which gives the circular motion. See the
London Journal, or Repertory of Arts, No. 55, Oct. 1836,
p. 57.
Contrivan¬
ces for
changing
motion.
CHAP. IV. DESCRIPTION OP MACHINES WHICH ILLUSTRATE
THE DOCTRINES OF MECHANICS, OR ARE CONNECTED
WrITH THEM.
Ativood’s Machine.
The machine invented by Mr. Atwood for illustrating the Atwood’s
doctrines of accelerated and retarded motion, is represented inach'ne'
in figs. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Plate CCCXLIX., and enables us toPkcccxm
discover, 1st, the quantity of matter moved; 2d, the moving
force ; 3d, the space described; 4th, the time of description;
and, 5th, the velocity acquired at the end of that time.
1. Of the quantity of matter moved.—In order to observe
the effects of the moving force, which is the object of any
experiment, the interference of all other forces should be
prevented; the quantity of matter moved, therefore, con¬
sidering it before any impelling force has been applied,
should be without weight; for though it be impossible to
abstract w eight from any substance whatever, yet it may be
so counteracted as to produce no sensible effect. Thus, in
the machine fig. 1, A, B represent two equal weights affixed Fig-1.
to the extremities of a very fine silk thread; this thread is
stretched ovfer a wheel or fixed pulley abed, moveable round
a horizontal axis: the two weights A, B being equal, and act¬
ing against each other, remain in equilibrio; and when the
least w eight is superadded to either (setting aside the effects
of friction), it will preponderate. When AB are set in mo¬
tion by the action of any weight m, the sum A -f- B -f- m,
would constitute the whole mass moved, but for the inertia
of the materials which must necessarily be used in the com¬
munication of motion. These materials consist of, 1st, the
' ^ee Machines Approuveespar lAcademic, tom. iii.-No. 146 ; tom. iv. No. 235, 269, 278 : tom. viii. No. 488, 495.
Ibid. tom. vi. No. 429. Borgnis Essai, &c. p. 163, 169.
MECHANICS.
Description wheel abed, over which the thread sustaining A and B pass-
es; 2d, the four friction wheels on which the axle of the
wheel abed rests; 3d, the thread by which the bodies A and
B are connected, so as when set in motion to move with
equal velocities. The weight and inertia of the thread are
too small to have any sensible effect on the experiments ;
but the inertia of the other materials constitute a consider¬
able proportion of the mass moved, and must therefore be
taken into account. Since, when A and B are put in mo¬
tion, they must move with a velocity equal to that of the
circumference of the wheel abed to which the thread is ap»
plied; it follows, that if the whole mass of the wheels were
accumulated in this circumference, its inertia would be truly
estimated by the quantity of matter moved; but since the
parts of the wheels move with different velocities, their ef¬
fects in resisting the communication of motion to A and B,
by their inertia, will be different; those parts which are fur¬
thest from the axis resisting more than those which revolve
nearer in a duplicate proportion of those distances. (See
Rotation.) If the figures of the wheels were regular, the
distances of their centres of gyration from their axis of mo¬
tion would be given, and consequently an equivalent weight,
which being accumulated uniformly in the circumference
abed, would exert an inertia equal to that of the wheels in
their constructed form, would also be given. But as the
figures are irregular, recourse must be had to experiment,
to assign that quantity of matter, which being accumulated
uniformly in the circumference of the wheel abed, would
resist the communication of motion to A in the same man¬
ner as the wheels.
In order to ascertain the inertia of the wheel abed, with
that of the friction wheels, the weights AB being removed,
the following experiment was made :—
A weight of thirty grains was affixed to a silk thread of
inconsiderable weight; this thread being wound round the
wheel abed, the weight thirty grains, by descending from
rest, communicated motion to the wheel, and by many trials
was observed to describe a space of about 38^ inches in
three seconds. From these data the equivalent mass or in¬
ertia of the wheels will be known from this rule.
Fig. 2. ^et a weight P, fig. 2, be applied to communicate motion
to a system of bodies by means of a very slender and flex¬
ible thread going round the wheel SLDIM, through the
centre of which the axis passes, (G being the common centre
of gravity, R the centre of gravity of the matter contained
in this line, and O the centre of oscillation). Let this weight
descend from rest through any convenient space s inches,
and let the observed time of its descent be t seconds ; then
if l be the space through which bodies descend freely by
gravity in one second, the equivalent weight sought— ‘
Wx SRxSO YxtH
SD"
Here we have p-
P.
:30 grains, fcz3 seconds, /—193 inches,
451
In order to avoid troublesome computations in adjusting Description
ie quantities of matter moved and the moving forces, some °f
determinate weight of convenient magnitude may be assum- Machines.
ed as a standard ; to which all the others are referred. This
standard weight in the subsequent experiments is a quarter
of an ounce, and is represented by the letter m. The in¬
ertia of the wheels being therefore =2f ounces, will be de¬
noted by 11 m. A and B are two boxes constructed so as
to contain different quantities of matter, according as the
experiment may require them to be varied; the weight of
each box, including the hook to which it is suspended—]i
oz., or, according to the preceding estimation, the weight
of each box will be denoted by 6 these boxes contain
such weights as are represented by fig. 3, each of which Fig. 3.
weighs an ounce, so as to be equivalent to 4 m; other weights
of \ oz.=2 and aliquot parts of m, such as 1 m, | m,
may be also included in the boxes, according to the condi¬
tions of the different experiments hereafter described.
If 4| oz. or 19 be included in either box, this, with the
weight of the box itself, will be 25 m; so that when the
weights A and B, each being 25 m, are balanced in the man¬
ner above represented, their whole mass will be 50 m, which
being added to the inertia of the wheels 11 7n, the sum will
be 61 m. Moreover, three circular weights, such as that
which is represented at fig. 4, are constructed, each of which
=% oz., or m; if one of these be added to A and one to B,
the whole mass will now become 63 m, perfectly in equili-
brio, and moveable by the least weight added to either,
(setting aside the effects of friction), in the same manner
precisely as if the same weight or force were applied to
communicate motion to the mass 63 m, existing in free space
and without gravity.
2. 2%e moving force—It will be convenient here to apply
a weight to the mass A as a moving force. When the sys¬
tem consists of a mass=63 m, according to the preceding
description, the whole being perfectly balanced, let a weight
% oz., or m, such as is represented in fig. 5, be applied on Fig. 5.
the mass A; this will communicate motion to the whole
system ; by adding a quantity of matter m to the former
mass 63 m, the whole quantity of matter moved will now
become 64 m ; and the moving force beingzrm, this will
give the force which accelerates the descent of A=
64 tn
s=38.5 inches; and
Px^ no_30 X 9 X 193 on
s ” 385 ’JU:
:1322
or part of the accelerating force of gravity.
By the preceding construction, the moving force may be
altered without altering the mass moved ; for suppose the
three weights m, two of which are placed on A and one on
B, to be removed, then will A balance B. If the weights
3 m be all placed on A, the moving force will become 3 m,
and the mass moved 64 m as before, and the force which
3 m 3
accelerates the descent of A=-^—— —parts of the force by
which gravity accelerates falling bodies.
grains, or 2f ounces. Suppose it were required to make the moving force 2 m,
This is the inertia equivalent to that of the wheel abed, the mass moved continuing the same. Let the three weights,
and the friction wheels together ; for the rule extends to each of which —m, be removed ; A and B will balance each
the estimation of the inertia of the mass contained in all the other ; and the whole mass will be 61 m ; let 4 m, fig. 5, pj,, 5
wheels. be added to A, and m to B, the equilibrium will be pre- °
The resistance to motion, therefore, arising from the served, and the mass moved will be 62 m; now let 2 m be
wheel’s inertia, will be the same as if they were absolutely added to A, the moving force will be 2 m, and the mass
removed, and a mass of 2|- ounces uniformly accumulated moved 64 m as before ; wherefore the force of acceleration
in the circumference of the wheel abed. This being pre- = jg part of the acceleration of gravity.
mised, let the boxes A and B be replaced, being suspended 3. Of the space described. The body A, fig. 1, descends Fig. 1.
by the silk thread over the wheel or pulley abed, and ba- in a vertical line ; and a scale about sixty-four inches in
lancing each other; suppose that any weight m, be added length divided into inches and tenths of an inch is adjusted
to A, so that it shall descend, the exact quantity of matter vertical, and so placed that the descending weight A may
moved, during the descent of the weight A, will be ascer- fall in the middle of a square stage, fixed to receive it at the
tained, for the whole mass will be A + B-j-w-f 2f oz. end of the descent; the beginning of the descent is esti-
452
MECHANICS.
Description mated from 0 on the scale, when the bottom of the box A
Mach* is on a Ievel with The descent of A is terminated when
ines. the bottom 0fthe box strikes the stage, which may be fixed
at different distances from the point 0 ; so that by altering
the position of the stage, the space described from rest may
be of any given magnitude less than sixty-four inches.
4. The time of description is observed by a seconds pen¬
dulum ; and the experiments may be so constructed that
the time of motion shall be a whole number of seconds.
The estimation of the time, therefore, admits of consider¬
able exactness, provided the observer takes care to let the
bottom of the box A begin its descent precisely at any beat
of the pendulum ; then the coincidence of the stroke of the
box against the stage, and the beat of the pendulum at the
end of the time of motion, will show how nearly the ex¬
periment and the theory agree. There might be various
devices for letting the weight A begin its descent at the
instant of a beat of the pendulum W; for instance, let the
bottom of the box A, when at 0 on the scale, rest on a flat
rod, held in the hand horizontally ; its extremity being co¬
incident with 0, by attending to the beats of the pendulum ;
and with a little practice, the rod which supports the box
A may be removed at the moment the pendulum beats, so
that the descent of A shall commence at the same instant.
5. Of the velocity acquired. It remains only to describe
in what manner the velocity acquired by the descending
weight A, at any given point of its path is made evident
to the senses. The velocity of A’s descent being continu¬
ally accelerated will be the same in two points of the space
described. This is occasioned by the constant action of
the moving force ; and since the velocity of A at any
instant is measured by the space which would be described
by it moving uniformly for a given time with the velocity
it had acquired at that instant, this measure cannot be ex¬
perimentally obtained, except by removing the force by
which the descending body’s acceleration was caused.
In order to shew in what manner this is effected particu¬
larly, let us again suppose the boxes A and B —25 m each,
so as together to be =50m; this with the wheel’s inertia
11m will make 6lm; mnv let m be added to A, and an
equal weight m to B. these bodies will balance each other,
and the whole mass will be 63m. If a weight m be added
to A, motion wall be communicated, the moving force being
m, and the mass moved 64m. In estimating the moving
force, the circular weight =:m was made use of as a mov¬
ing force ; but for the present purpose of showing the ve¬
locity acquired it will be;convenient to use a flat rod, the
weight of which is also =m. Let the bottom of the box
A be placed on a level with 0 on the scale, the whole mass
being as described above =63m, perfectly balanced. Now
let the rod, the weight of which =m, be'placed on theup-
}>ei surface of A ; this body wall descend along the scale in
the same manner as when the moving force was applied in
the form of a circular weight. Suppose the mass A, fig. 5.
to have descended by constant acceleration of the force of
m, for any given time, or through a given space : let a cir-
culai frame be so affixed to the scale, contiguous to winch
the weight descends, that A may pass centrally through it,
and that this circular frame may intercept the rod m by
which the body A has been accelerated from rest. After
the moving force m has been intercepted at the end of the
given space or time, there will be no force operating on any
part of the system which can accelerate or retard its mo¬
tion ; this being the case, the weight A, the instant after
m has been removed, must proceed uniformly with the ve¬
locity which it had acquired that instant: in the subsequent
part of its descent, the velocity being uniform will be mea¬
sured by space described in any convenient number of se¬
conds.
This machine is useful for estimating the velocities com¬
municated by the impact of elastic and nonelastic bodies ;
the resistance opposed by fluids, as well as for various other
purposes. It may be necessary to show' in what manner
the motion of bodies resisted by constant forces are reduced
to experiment by this machine* Suppose the mass contained
in the weights A and B, fig. 5, and the wheels to be 61 m,
when in equilibrio ; let a weight m be applied to B, and let
two long weights or rods, each —m, be applied to A, then
will A descend by the action of the moving force m, the
mass moved being 64ra ; suppose that when it has described
any given space by constant acceleration, the two rods m
aie intercepted by the circular frame above described, while
A is descending through it, the velocity acquired by that
descent is known ; and when the two rods are intercepted,
the weight A will begin to move on with the velocity ac¬
quired, being now retarded by the constant force m ; and
since the mass moved; is 62 m, the force of retardation
will be g-g part of that force whereby gravity retards bodies
thrown perpendicularly upwards. The weight A will there¬
fore proceed along the graduated scale in its descent, with
an uniformly retarded motion, and the spaces described,
times of motion, and velocities destroyed by the resisting
force, will be subject to the same measures as in the ex¬
amples of accelerated motion.
^ In this description, three suppositions have been assum¬
ed, which though physically are not mathematically true.
1. It has been assumed that the force which communi¬
cates motion to the system, is constant, which is true only
when the line which suspends the weights A and B is
without weight. The effect of the string’s weight, how¬
ever, is so trivial that if, in a particular case, we calculate
the time of descent we shall find it to be 3.9896 seconds;
and when the string’s weight is considered, 4.0208 seconds,
giving a difference of only three hundredths of a second,
which is unappreciable by observation.
2. It has been also supposed that the bodies move in va¬
cuo, but as the greatest velocity is only 26 inches in a se¬
cond, the time of descent cannot be increased by the air’s
resistance, the tw o hundred and fortieth part of the whole.
3. The machinery has been supposed without friction,
but the effect of the friction is such that 1^ grains will
destroy the equilibrium of the weights A and B. In ex¬
periments, on retarded motion, where friction does be-
Description
of
Machines.
come sensible, it may
corrected by adding 1^ or 2
grains to the descending
body, or a little more than
will destroy the equilibrium
of A and B.
In constructing one of
these machines for the Fa¬
culty of Sciences at Paris,
Mr. Fortin has made a con¬
siderable improvement upon
it by adding a detent for caus¬
ing the weight A to begin its
descent at the instant that
the second’s hand marks; 0"
on the dial plate.
This contrivance will be
understood from the annexed
figures. Two pillars of brass
e’f fixed beneath the platform
CD support a horizontal axis
yh perpendicular to two arms
of a lever, one of which is
larger than the other, the use
of the shortest being to sup¬
port the weight A in its first
position. (See fig. 186.) The
longer lever being at first de¬
tained by a catch, disengages
Fig. 185.
Description itself and makes the axis gh turn. The short lever turning at
of the same time leaves its first position, and the weight&A,
Machines. no jonger sustained by the short lever, begins to°move’.
y In fig. 186, which is a section at right angles, to gh the axis
gk is projected into g. The short and long levers gh, gk
are shewn by the dotted lines as in their first position the
first is sustaining A, and in their second position by gl',
gk' the end k of the larger one having descended to k'
and being detained at ^ by a fork.
The disengagement of the end k of the Ions' lever ak at
the instant of the second’s hand ~ 9
pointing to zero in the time-
plate is thus effected. A lever
with two arms is fixed on a
horizontal axis attached to the
platform which supports the
pendulum. The inner arm of
this lever im is held by the
plate, and the outer one mnr
consisting of two branches mn, ■
?ir united by a joint or pivot
about which the branch mn may
turn. The other branch nr,
which is a flat surface, can
move only horizontally in the
groove of a pulley t. A verti¬
cal iron rod v, v' is capable of
taking these two positions cor¬
responding to the two positions
of the moveable plate nr. In
the first position v it passes
through a cut out part of the
plate nr, and in the second po¬
sition v' its extremity bears
against the full or uncut part
of the branch nr. In the posi¬
tion v' of the rod the end k of
lever gk is engaged in the fork
v' at the end of the rod. A
wiper, seen in fig. 186, fixed
to the toothed wheel of the
pendulum acts upon the end t
of lever m. Thejoint stakes the
position rc' fig. 185; the branch
nr slides horizontally in the
same direction, and o', no long¬
er supported by the uncut part
of nr, falls through the part that H
is cut out and takes the position v whenlt is
stopped by a horizontal rod xx' fixed between
the upright bars ¥x, yx'z, the one rising from
the pendulum box P, and the other from a
shelf y below the pendulum. For the pur-
I>°se of bringing the end k' of the lever o/fe'
into the fork v of the vertical rod, a thread
attached to k passes first through the fork,
and next through an eye z of the bent part of the rod yx'z.
Another thread goes to the same eye from the fork, and by
successively drawing these two threads the plate nr is push¬
ed at the end r towards yx'z, and the vertical rod v'is then
supported by the uncut part. In order to make the second’s
hand point to 0 on the dial plate when the wiper sets off the
detent « hg. 187, let us suppose that the second’s hand in-
dicates 15 on the dial plate when the detent sets out, or
rather when the vertical rod which supports the end of the
lever falls, we have only to turn the second’s hand 15" up-
on its axis m a direction opposite to that of the ratched
wheel, and the object in view will be obtained.
mechanic s.
Fig. 187.
able improvements into this machine. The first consists in
selecting a line mr suspending the weights of as delicate a
ini'X)'SeSSing aS httle rigidity as Possible. He
was led to this improvement m consequence of finding bv
experiment that the greater proportion of the whole resis¬
tance of a web made Atwood’s Machine is to be ascribed to
die rigidity of the cord employed ; a circumstance which
Mr. Atwood had entirely overlooked. The second im¬
provement consists in supporting the axis of the large
whee. or pullym the manner shewn infigG, plateCCCXLIX
which represents the machine removed from the pillar on
which it must be raised when used. The mode of support¬
ing the axis will be more readily perceived in the annexed
figure, where AB repre¬
sents the axis terminating Fig. 188.
in finely finished conical
points of tempered steel ^
resting as represented on
the sides of the conical a-
gate caps C, D, care being
taken to adapt the form of H
453
Description
of
Machines.
Dunn's improved Atwood’s Machine.
Mr. Dunn of Edinburgh has introduced two very valu-
the points of the axis and the cups to each other, so that
the portions of the axis in contact with the agates may be
of the smallest possible size.
The agate caps are inserted into the ends of the large
rv'i'v tCtv'S m the fi'ame of the instrument, fig. 6, plate
L CCAiAX. When the wheel is put into its place the screws
A, B are turned forwards until they approach sufficiently
near each other to prevent the wheel being thrown out of
its place, but not so near as to force the points of the axis
against the bottoms of the caps. In a number of experi¬
ments made by a committee of the Society of Arts for
Scotland m 1828, appointed to investigate the merits of Mr.
Dunn s machine, it was found that when the wheel weigh¬
ed 4458 grains (including the cord) the strings being load¬
ed with 60 grains each, the addition of ^ of a grain pro¬
duced a very sensible motion ; and when the load of each
string was increased to 2423 grains, ^ of a grain were suf¬
ficient. Hence it would appear from these data, that un-
der equal pressures the rigidity was three times the friction.
These results, however, when used for computing the
momentum of the wheel gave an inertia much greater than
what its form and weight would have sanctioned, and the
experiments were repeated and a few others added. With
these the results were still discordant, and it was at last
found that they had been materially affected by the vibra¬
tions of the floor on which the machine stood. In order to
overcome this difficulty another set of experiments was in¬
stituted for detecting the amount of resistance by observ-
ing its effects upon motions caused by different accelerating
forces. In all these the space described was seven feet,
and the time was measured by a metronome adjusted to ~
seconds. When one of the ends was loaded with 40, and
the other with 37 grains, the time was 26£ seconds; and
each end being loaded with 2423 grains, and an additional
weight of 10 grains superadded to one, the time was 20 se¬
conds, while when the accelerating force was 100 grains, it
was only seconds.
From these experiments the whole resistance was found
to be 22 grains, grains more than that given by At¬
wood for the resistance of his machine), and the inertia
came out exactly to 2000 grains. It is probable, however,
that of the 2 grains of friction allowed by Atwood, 1^ was
owing to the greater rigidity of his cord, and only 1 grain
to real friction. Such a near coincidence in the perfor¬
mance of the two machines, shews that for all prac¬
tical purposes the simple machine of Mr. Dunn is as good
as the more complex one originally invented by Mr. At¬
wood, and will, from its cheapness, be used in preference,
except, perhaps, in the few cases where the machine is de¬
sired to be the best possible, and without any regard to the
454 MECHANICS.
Description cost. But, even in this case, the greater liability to be af-
fected by dust, may render the advantages of the original
i «tc nnes. form Joubtful. The object still to be aimed at is the re-
duction of the stiffness of the silk line, for till that is still
further reduced the diminution of the friction, which is the
smaller portion of the whole resistance, is less essential, and
Mr. Dunn, in partly disregarding it, has effected an impor¬
tant practical improvement.
The theory of this machine is a particular one of D’Al¬
embert’s principle of the distribution of motion, viz. that
in which the two inclined planes have a vertical position.
See Poisson’s Traite de Mecanique, p. 46.
Mach ine for illustrating the Theory of the Wedge.
Pl.cccxi.ix This machine is represented in fig. 7, where KILM and
LMNO are two flat pieces of wood joined together by a
hinge at LM ; P is a graduated arch on which these pieces
of wood can be moved so as to subtend any angle not great¬
er than 60°, and a, h two screws for fixing them at the re¬
quired angle. The back of the wedge will therefore be
represented by IKNO, its sharp edge by LM, and its two
sides by KILM, LMNO. The weight/) suspended to the
wedge by the hook T, and the weight of the wedge itself,
may be considered as the force employed to drive the
w'edge. The wooden cylinders AB, CD, have their extre¬
mities made like two flat circular plates to prevent the
wedge from slipping off at one side. To the pivots of these
cylinders, two of which are represented at e and f are fast¬
ened the cords eW, jfU, CV, AX, which passing over the
pulleys U, V, X, W are fastened to the two bars u v, x to,
on which any equal weights Y, Z may be hung at pleasure.
The tendency of these weights is evidently to draw the cy¬
linders towards each other, and they may therefore be re¬
garded as the resistance of the wood acting against the sides
of the wedge. The cylinders themselves are suspended by
their pivots to the threads E, F, G, H, which may be fixed
to the ceiling of the room, or to the horizontal beam of a
frame made on purpose. By placing various equal weights
at Y and Z, it may be easy to determine the proportion be¬
tween the power and the resistance when the wedge is in
equilibrio. In this machine the impelling power is the
pressure of the weight p, whereas, in the real wedge, the
impelling power is always an impulsive force which is in¬
finitely more powerful.
Machine for illustrating the effects of the centrifugal force
in flattening the poles of the Earth.
PI. cccxlix Fig. 8. represents this machine, which consists of two
flexible circular hoops, AB and CD, crossing one another
at right angles, and fixed to the vertical axis EF at its low¬
er extremity, but left loose at the pole or intersection e.
It this axis be made to revolve rapidly by means of the
winch m, and the wheel and pinion n, o, the middle parts
A, B, C, D will, by their centrifugal force, swell out and
strike against the frame at F and G; if the pole e, when
sinking, is not stopped by means of a pin E fixed in the
vertical axis. The hoops, therefore, will have a spheroidal
form; the equatoreal being longer than the polar diameter.
Machine for trying the Strength of Materials.
Machine The piece of wood, whose strength is to be tried, is re-
for trying presented by EF, and the force is applied to it by means of
th ofthe winch A. which winds up the rope BC, passing over
materials the PuJlc>7 and below the PulleY and attached to the
Plate cccl. P°int D °f the. beam EF‘ The Pulleys slide on two paral-
Fig. 1. ^ hars fixed in a frame, held down by a projecting point,
at G, of the lever GR, which is graduated like a steelyard,
and measures the force employed. The beam EF is held
by a double vice IK with four screws, two of which are in- Description
visible. When a wire is to be torn it is fixed to the cross of
bar LM; and when any body is to be crushed, it must be Macllil>es.
placed beneath the lever NO, the rope BC being fixed to
the hook N, and the end O being held down by the click
which acts on the double ratchet OP. The lever is double
from O to Q, and acts on the body by a loop fixed to it by
a pin. See Young’s Natural Philosophy, vol. i. p. 768, from
which this drawing and description are taken.
Machine for shewing the Composition of Forces.
The part BEFC is made to draw out or push in to the Machine
wooden square ABCD. The pulley H is joined to BEFC, for shew-
so as to turn on an axis which w ill be at H when the square k’g the
BEFC is pushed in, and at A when it is drawn out. A ball c.ornPosi-
G is made to slide on the wire k, which is fixed to BEFC, r00 of
and the thread m attached to the ball goes over the pulley iorces‘
to I, where it is fixed. Now, when the piece BEFC is Plate cccl.
pulled out, the pulley, wire, and ball move along with it, in Fig. 2.
the direction DCF, and it is evident that the ball G will
slide gradually up the wire k. It is therefore acted upon
by two forces; one in the direction GH, and the other in
the direction GC, and will be found at the end of the mo¬
tion at g, having moved in the direction G g, the diagonal
of a parallelogram whose sides are GH, GC.
Smeaton’s Machine for experiments on Windmill Sails.
In the experiments with this machine, the sails were car- Apparatus j
ried round in the circumference of a circle, so that the same for wind
effect was produced as if the wind had struck the sails at
rest with the velocity which was thus given them. In the Plate cccl.
pyramidal frame ABC is fixed to the axis DE, which car- F'g- 2.
ries the arm FG with the sails GI. By pulling the rope Z,
which coils round the barrel H, a motion of rotation is given
to the sails, so that they revolve in the circumference of a
circle, whose radius is DI. At L is fixed a cord which
passes round the pulleys M, N, O, and coils round a small
cylinder on the axis of the sails, and raises the scale C, in
which different weights are placed for trying the power of
the sails, and which, being in the direction of the axis DE,
is not affected by the circular motion of the arm DG. The
scale C is kept steady by the pillars Q, R, and prevented
from swinging by the chains S, T, which hang loosely round
the pillars. VX is a pendulum composed of two leaden
balls moveable upon a wooden rod, so that they can be ad¬
justed to vibrate in any given time. The pendulum hangs
upon a cylindrical wire, on which it vibrates as on a rolling axis.
Smeaton’s Machine for experiments on Rotatory Motion.
This machine is exhibited in fig. 1, where the vertical Apparatus
axis NB is turned by the rope M passing over the pulley f°r rotator^
R, and carrying the scale S. The axis NB carries two equal moti°n.
leaden weights K, D, moveable at pleasure on the horizon- Plate cccl.
tal bar HI. The upper part N of the axis is one-half the Fig. 4. i
diameter ot the part M, so that when the rope is made to
wind round N, it acts at half the distance from the axis, at
which it acts when coiled round M. When the rope is
wound round N, the same force will produce in the same
time but half the velocity which is produced wdien the rope
coils round M, the situation of the leaden weights being
the same ; but when the weights K, L, are removed to a
double distance from the axis, a quadruple force w ill be re¬
quired in order to produce an equal angular velocity in a
given time.
Machine for Illustrating the Parallelogram of Forces.
Phis apparatus, described by Professor Moseley, is shewn
MECHANICS.
Description in the annexed figure 189, where AB is
a circular frame or ring of wood sup- Fig. 189.
Machines. p0rte(j vertically upon a stand BCD.
Three moveable pulleys, Pi, P2, P3,
made with as little friction as possible,
are so constructed that they can be
placed on any part of the circumference
of the ring AB, the wheels being paral¬
lel to the surface of the ring. Three
fine silken strings, united at one point
O, are made to pass over the pulleys in
the lines OPi, Pa, Pg, and to support
at their other extremities the weights
Wi, W2, W5. After a certain time
these weights will come into a position of equilibrium, when
the three pieces acting at O will balance each other. Fill
up the interior part of the ring AB with a board slightly de¬
pressed beneath the nearer surface of the ring, so that the
strings may not rub against it, and draw lines upon the
board in the direction of the strings OPi, OPs, OP3 ; and
taking the tenth of an inch, or any other unit of magnitude,
divide the lines OPi, OP2, OP5, into tenths. Then, if
there are six units of weight in Wi, (ounces or any other
unit), make OP=6-10ths, and OQ as many tenths as there
are units or ounces in \\ 2, and complete the parallelogram
OPRQ, by drawing lines upon the board. When this is
done, we shall find that there will be as many tenths of an
inch in the diagonal OR, as there are units of weight or
ounces in the weight W3, which balances the forces pro¬
duced along the lines OP], OPa, or their compounded or
united action in the diagonal OR. This diagonal OR will
be found to lie in the same straight line with OPg. Hence
it follows that whatever be the weights Wi, Ws, Wg, or
the position of the pulleys Pi, P2, Pg, two forces acting
along the sides of a parallelogram OPi, OPs, and propor¬
tional to these sides, are equal to a force acting along its
diagonal, and proportional to it.
In place of using strings which cannot easily be gradu¬
ated, and therefore renders it necessary to note the gradu¬
ations on a board behind them, the apparatus shewn in the
annexed figure has been substituted in
the class of Experimental Philosophy Fig. 190.
in King’s College, London. A paralle¬
logram OPQR is formed of thin slips of
boxwood, so as to be very light, and is
divided into inches and tenths. The
slips are united at the angles by move-
able joints, and the joints P and Clare
made to slide along either of the sides
which they unite. A slip of wood RC
moves freely along with OP and OQ,
on the joint O. An inch, or any part of it, being taken as
the unit of length, and an ounce as that of wreight, the joint
is made to slide along OP, until OP contains as many
inches as there are ounces in the weight Wi; and Q is
moved till OQ contains as many inches as Ws contains
ounces. By means of other sliding joints, PR and PQ are
made equal to OQ ami OP. Strings are then fastened to
the ends A, B, C of the slips OP, OQ, and R'O, and these
are passed over the pulleys Pi, P2, P3 0f the wooden ring
in the preceding instrument, and made to suspend the
weights Wi ,Ws,\Y 3. In a certain time, as before, the sys-
tem of forces will come into a state of equilibrium ; and
when this has taken place, it will be found that the slip OR'
has taken the position of the diagonal OR, and that it con¬
tains as many inches as there are ounces in Wg. This in¬
strument was made by Messrs. Watkins and Hill, philoso¬
phical instrument makers, Charing Cross.
f ® XL
455
Apparatus for Illustrating the Equilibrium of a number Desc,iPtio11
ofF°™- Machine,
Professor Moseley,* in his excellent work on mechanics, '
has aescribed an instructive apparatus for exhibiting the equi-
librium of a number of forces applied to different points of
a body, but acting all in one place. This apparatus is shewn
m the annexed figure,
where ABC is a smooth Fig. 191.
flat board, resting on
three small ivory balls,
laid on a smooth hori¬
zontal table, and round
the edge of the table are
fixed a number of pulleys,
Pi, Ps, Pg, the plane of
their action being per¬
pendicular to that of the
table, and each having the
highest point of its cir¬
cumference or oroove
level with the surface of
the board ABC. Assume any points on the board, viz., px,
Pq, p3, pand. having fixed strings at them, make these
strings pass over the pulleys Pi, P2, P3, p4, &c., and sus¬
pend weights at the other ends, represented by the letters
ii, Ps, Pg, &c. . If this system of forces is left to take up
a position of equilibrium, the following relation will be found
between the directions of the forces and their measures Pi,
, 2’ ,3’ R" from any point M on the surface of the
board ABC, we draw perpendiculars Mmi, Mms, Mm3, &c.,
upon the directions ,pa,p3, &c., of the forcesPi, P2, Ps,
&c., we shall find that the sum of the products arising from
multiplying the lengths of the perpendiculars Mm 1, M/»s,
c\, by the forces Pi, P2, &c., in whose direction they are
drawn, taken in reference to those forces which tend to turn
t e system about that point, will be equal to the sum of
these, taken in reference to the forces tending to turn it in
t e opposite direction. In the present figure, for example.
we
shall find Pi X Mmr+P2 xM^ + Pg x Mmg =
PixMm* -j- P5 x M?m5.
Another property of such forces is deducible from this
apparatus. If the forces Pi, P2, &c.,are all made to act upon
a single point, but parallel to their present directions, they
xV? be in efluilibrio’ and the point remain at rest.
When a system of forces Pi', P2, P3, and P4 , is not in
equilibrium, we may determine the magnitude and direction
of a fifth force Ps., which shall place them in equilibrium.
On the surface of the board take any point N, and drawT
.parallel tQ P! so as t0 represent the force Pi ; and
m like manner m ^2, ^3j ?23 representing the other
three forces P2, Pg, and P4; then, if we join N and n\,
the line Nrc* will represent in magnitude, and be parallel in
direction to P5, the force required to balance the other force.
We must now find where to apply this balancing force,
in order to satisfy the condition expressed in the preceding
formula. I his will be effected by applying it parallel to
Wrc, and at such a distance from M, that the product of
Ps x Mm5 may be equal to the sum of the similar products
of all the other forces. The distance Mm5 may be easily
found, by dividmg die difference of the sum of the products
about M by the force P5. If we now draw through M a
line Mm5, equal to the distance found above, and perpen-
icu ar to N«4, then a line Psps? drawn perpendicular to
this, is that in which the force must be applied. The force
Pa, now found, is the resultant of all the other forces; for
Treatise on Mechanics applied to the Arts, p. 20.
456
MECHANICS.
Description if all the rest were removed, and this put in their place, the
°f equilibrium would continue.
Description of Mr. Bate’s Balance for verifying the
National Standard Bushel.
Machines.
When Captain Kater and Mr. Bate were employed by go¬
vernment in the adjustment and construction of the new
standard weights and measures, they were under the neces¬
sity of constructing a balance capable of determining a
weight equal to that of the standard bushel measure, which
was about 170 lbs., together with the eighty lbs. of water
it should contain, which made altogether a weight of 250
lbs. In this difficult task Mr. Bate has exhibited great skill
and sagacity, in combining with strength and solidity of
structure that delicacy of adjustment which the object he
had in view rendered absolutely necessary.
Mr. Bate’s balance is represented in the annexed figure.
Fig. 192.
In the construction of the beam he first tried cast iron ; but
though it was as light as was consistent with the required de¬
gree of strength, the inertia of the mass was so considerable,
that much time would have been lost before the balance would
have answered to the small differences he wished to ascer¬
tain. Lightness being essentially necessary to the sensi¬
bility of the balance, and bulk being also very desirable, in
order to preclude such errors as might arise from partial
alterations of temperature in the beam, he determined to
employ dry mahogany. The beam was therefore made of
a plank of this wood, about seventy inches long, twenty-two
inches wide, and 21 thick, tapering from the middle to the
extremities. An opening was cut in the centre of gravity
of the beam, as at L, and strong blocks screwed to each side
of the plank, to form a bearing for the back of a knife edge
which passed through the centre. Similar blocks were like¬
wise screwed to each side of the plank at its extremities, to form
a bearing for the knife edges which support the scales or pans.
In order that the whole weight should not be thrown
upon short portions of the knife edges, as was usually the
case, by which these edges were exposed to injury, as well
as to a change of form, Mr. Bate made his knife edges long.
Fig. 193.
the central one being six inches, and the
other two five inches in length. They were
triangular prisms, with equal sides, each being
3-4ths of an inch long, very carefully finished.
The angles were of course 60°each, but they
were ultimately wrought to an angle of 120°, , ,
which prevented all risk of injury, without ® Td
impeding the rotation of the beam. *
The central knife edge, and the mode of
attaching it, and the plane which supports it
to the beam L, and to the frame N, are shewn
in the annexed figure. The knife edge F is
screwed to a thick plate of brass L, the
touching surfaces having been previously ground together.
Fig. 194.
The support M upon which the knife edge rested, and re-Description
volyed through its whole length, was formed of a plate of of
polished hard steel screwed to a block of cast iron; and Machines,
this block was passed through the opening in the centre of "'“-'v—'
the beam already mentioned, and properly fixed to the frame
of cast iron CC, fig. 192. By means of screws s, s, the knife
edge is placed as accurately as possible at right angles to the
surface of the beam, and by means of other screws, not seen in
the figure, it is adjusted so as to be slightly above the centre of
its axis. In the cross horizontal bar, which is sustained by the
columns CC, and which carries the steel plane M, there is an
aperture, through which a fork-shaped piece of brass N passes,
forming part of the stand DED. This fork is completely de¬
tached from the beam when the balance is in use; and by
the motion of the handle H, it can be raised so as to make
the fork catch a piece L (see fig. 193), projecting from the
piece of brass which carries the knife edge. Two similar
hooks are placed at the ends of the frame DED, by which
the other two knife edges may be raised above their support¬
ing planes by the motion of the handle H; and by this means
the three knife edges are protected from that injury which
they would receive from always resting upon the steel planes.
The mechanism of the ends of the beam for carrying the
knife edges and their steel planes, is shewn in the annexed
figure. These pieces project from the
ends of the beam, and are placed at
exactly equal distances from the ful¬
crum, or central knife-edge. In these
pieces the knife edge F has its edge
turned upwards. The scales or pans
are each attached by a hook to the
lower end of stirrups, shewn at S', which
receive between their two uppermost
branches the extremity F' of the beam.
The steel plane M' is fixed to the upper
branches of the stirrup, and rests upon
the knife edge when the balance is in
use. The knife edges are‘adjusted, like the central one, by
small screws, which give it a horizontal and a vertical mo¬
tion. The adjustment of the central knife edge to a point
a little above the centre of gravity of the beam, is facili¬
tated by means of small weights which screw on the wires
seen between S' and N', in fig. 192; and by screwing these
nearer to or farther from the fulcrum, the centre of gravity
s is moved into its required place.
Since this balance was described in the Philosophical
Transactions for 1826, Mr. Bate has made a very great im¬
provement upon it. By an ingenious device, the beam and
scales are in the first instance suspended on cylindrical axes,
and afterwards by continuing the motion of the handle H,
they are made to rest upon the knife edges. In this way
the weights in the opposite scales may be nearly balanced,
while the beam and scales rest upon the cylindrical axis,
and the extremely delicate part of the operation will then
be completed in a shorter time when the beam and scales
are put upon the knife edges.
I he performance of this balance was fully equal to the
expectations of Captain Kater and Mr. Bate. With 250
lbs. in each scale, the addition of a single grain produced an
immediate variation in the index of one twentieth of an inch,
to a radius of fifty inches. Hence the balance was sensible
to the 175^000 Part °f ^e weight.1
Description of Dr. Blades simple and delicate Balance.
Ibis simple and accurate instrument which any person
may readily construct for himself, was invented by the cele¬
brated Dr. Black, and an account of it communicated to
.Tames Smithson, Esq. The beam AB was a thin piece of
fir wood not thicker than a shilling, a foot long, 1-^-10ths
of an inch thick at each end, and twice that thickness at
See Iddl Trans. 1826, Part I. p. 11. and Moseley’s Treatise on Mechanics, p. 70.
MECHANICS.
Description the middle. The whole length was divided into twenty
of parts by transverse lines, and each of these subdivided into
Machines, halves and quarters. One of the smallest needles mn was
fixed across the middle with wax for the horizontal axis.
A piece of plate brass, CD is bent so as to form three sides
of a cube. It rests
on its middle side, Fig. 195.
and the tw o vertical m
sides form the ful- \
457
crum on which the.vSliSS
needle run rests.
The height of mn
above the table is only 1-| f>r tw o-tenths of an inch,* so as to
allow only a very limited play to the beam AB. The edges
upon which the needle rests are ground at the same time
on a plain surface. The weights were one globule of gold
weighing one grain, and two or three others one-tenth of a
grain each, along with a number of small rings of fine brass
wire formed by coiling it round a thicker brass wire into a
close spiral. The end of the wire being tied hard with a
waxed thread, the coiled wire was put into a vice, and a
sharp knife being applied and struck with a hammer, a
great number of the coils were cut at one stroke, and were
found to be as equal to one another as could be wished.
These weights were about the l-30th of a grain each, and
by means of them the weight of any body from one grain
to the of a grain could be readily weighed. By using
a thinner beam and grinding the needle to an edge, a still
more delicate balance could be made, and a paper scale
added if necessary.1 Captain Kater has foundthat
a balance of this kind is sensible to the tcl5 part Fig. 185.
of a grain when loaded with ten grains. He found
it necessary, however, when accuracy wras essen¬
tial, to use a scale of thin card paper of the form
shewn in the annexed figure, a thread being ^ _
passed through the two ends in order to bring them to¬
gether.2
Description of a Chinese Mangle.
This simple and ingenious piece of machinery is repre¬
sented in fig. 197. which
the writer of this article Fig. 197.
found on a large scale on
a series of paper-hangings
for rooms. The late Andw.
Waddel, Esq. of Hermi¬
tage Hill, who had seen it
at work at Canton in 1786,
had previously furnished
us with a drawing of it.
On the floor FF, which is
paved writh tiles, was a
concavity C lined with
hard wood. A roller R,
having the cloth to be
mangled wrapped round it,
was placed in this con¬
cavity. The weight used
was a sandstone S of about 11 cwt., and shaped as at A,
so as to leave the line of direction from its centre of gra¬
vity, falling within either of its two bases. By resting on
the timber frame MN, the workman steps on the uppermost
end of the stone S, and causes its under surface to descend
gently upon the rolled up cloth R. He is then in the posi¬
tion shewn in the figure, and by the alternate pressure of
each foot he gives the stone an oscillating motion which
moves the roller over the cloth and the whole of the smooth
concave surface C, and with any degree of velocity that he
chooses, till the mangling of the cloth be completed.
Account of the Mechanical Process of cutting Steel with Description
Soft Iron. of
As this process seems to depend on a new principle of Machines,
mechanical action, it may probably be modified and ex- " r —
tended, so as to produce effects which have not hitherto
been contemplated. I he process to which we allude seems
to have been invented by the Shakers in America. It con¬
sists in cutting the hardest steel by means of a buzz, or
wheel of soft iron, made to revolve with great rapidity. By
this means a file may be cut in two, while the soft iron plate
is not in the least degree impressed by the file. Mr. Barnes
cut a saw plate and formed the teeth by the same means.
In the process a band of intense fire appeared round the
soft iron wheel, which emitted sparks with great and con¬
tinued violence. Professor Silliman was of opinion that
this was nothing more than “ a peculiar method of cutting
red hot, or possibly white hot steel; for the mechanical force
produces these degrees of heat, and the steel loses its tem¬
per at the place of action.” (Silliman’s Journal, vol. viii.
p. 342. But it appears from a very careful examination of
the process by MM. Darien, and Colladon of Geneva, that
the process has a more recondite origin. The following is
a general abstract of the results which they obtained:
1. Having found that the iron wheel was covered with
. small fragments of the steel, they could see by a microscope
no appearance of softening; on the contrary, they found
these fragments as hard as the best tempered steel.
2. Having fitted up a lathe by which they could give a
determinate velocity to the iron wheel, they found that
with a velocity of 34 feet per second, an iron wheel was
easily cut by a steel graver without any reaction on the
graver. With a velocity of 34 feet 9 inches the iron was
less attacked, and the graver began to experience the im¬
pression from the iron. At a velocity of 35 feet 1 inch, the
action of the iron on the graver was decided, and increased
with greater velocities, till at a velocity of 76 feet per se¬
cond, the iron was no longer touched by the steel, while
the steel was cut with the greatest violence.
3. In order to determine the effect of softening or an¬
nealing on the steel, our authors examined the fragments
of steel detached from the graver at different velocities,
from 40 to 100 feet per second ; and in every case when
the iron was only touched for an instant with the steel grav¬
er, the latter exhibited no trace of annealing; but when
the graver was long and strongly pressed it sometimes be¬
came red hot. In that case, however, the fracture of the
steel became quite different, and the action upon it was
rather diminished than increased.
4. Having thus ascertained that the effect is not owine
to the annealing of the steel, and found that the effect was
not increased by the fragments of steel, which after some
time collect on the iron wheel, our authors justly suppose
that the whole effect is directly mechanical, arising from
the brittleness of the steel, which is torn asunder before it
has time to introduce itself amongst the molecules of the
soft iron ; and they consider it as analogous to the penetra¬
tion of wood by a ball of tallow.
5. Upon using wheels made of a mixture of copper and
iron, and wheels of pure copper, no effect was produced by
them on the graver, though they cut different alloys harder
than themselves.
In these experiments, however, a very remarkable effect
occurred. Little or no heat was generated, when files and
steel springs were held firmly against the revolving copper
wheel; and our authors observed several other curious facts,
which they mean to study with greater care, connected
with the production of heat by the friction of metals. See
Edinburgh Journal of Science, vol. i p. 341.; Bibliotheque
Umversells, April 1824, p. 283—290, and Silliman’s Jour¬
nal, vol. vi. p. 336—354.
VOL. xiv.
1 Annals of Philosophy, N. S. vol. x. p. 52.
Lardner’s Mechanics, p. 293.
3 M
458
MECHANICS.
Description On the adhesion of solid bodies as displayed in the Lift-
big Plug, and in the power of Nails.
Machines. simpie instrument called a Lewis for lifting loose
v“" stones has been long known and employed in architecture.
A much more simple and efficacious contrivance was nearly
forty years ago invented by Mr. Richardson of Keswick,
and called the lifting plug. It excited little notice till it was
made known in Scotland by Mr. Spottiswmode of Spottis-
woode, who used it to a greater extent than any other per¬
son, and found it an invaluable apparatus for pulling large
stones out of the soil.
A cylindrical hole about two inches deep is cut vertically
out of the stone by the steel boring chisel used by masons.
A cylindrical plug of common iron, a little less than that
of the hole, is then driven into it, about an inch deep, by
two or three smart blows of a hammer. By using a com¬
mon windlass or pulley attached by a hook carried by the
plug, the heaviest stones may be raised, and the largest
masses of stone torn out of the ground by no other fasten¬
ing than the adhesion of the plug to the hole. When the
stone is raised to its place, the pulley may be detached from
it by giving a sharp stroke or two from a hammer upon the
stone. The elasticity of the stone is no doubt the cause
of the adhesion of the plug, the stone grasping the plug as
wood does a polished nail; but another cause undoubtedly
is the enormous friction occasioned by the particles of the
stone being jammed into the surface of the soft iron plug.
It has been thought by some that the first of these causes
is the only one, and that the circumstance of the plug being
detached by a slight vibratory motion of the stone is a proof
of this ; but if the two causes which wre have mentioned,
concur in producing the adhesion of the plug, then it is ob¬
vious that when one of these causes of adhesion is removed
by the vibrations of the stone, the other being inadequate
to sustain the weight, the stone must quit its hold of the
plug. Independently of this argument, however, it appears
to us that the same cause which releases the plug from the
influence of elasticity, tends also to relieve it from the ab¬
raded material which unites the surface of the stone with
the surface of the iron. In all vibratory movements there
is an alternate contraction and extension of the vibrating
body, and in one of these phases no doubt the great weight
of the stone overcame the diminished force by which it was
previously sustained. A drawing and description of the
machine for raising stones, by Professor Low, will be found
in the Edin. Phil. Journal, first series, vol. iv. p. 281.
Bevan’s ex- The subject of the adhesion of nails in wood is so inti-
pemnems mately connected with the principles of the lifting plug,
Lesion of" our reaciers we are sure, thank us for any infor-
nails. mation on the subject. The only person who has directly
investigated the subject is Mr. B. Bevan,1 who constructed
a machine for measuring the force with which nails adhere
to wood into which they are driven. He employed it in
drawing out nails of different lengths, from a quarter of an
inch to 21- inches long, from dry Christiania deal, at right
angles to the grain of the wood. The following table con¬
tains the results of his experiments:—
Kind of Nail,
Pound.
Fine sprigs, 4560
Do 3200
Threepenny brads,... 618
Cast iron nails,  380
Sixpenny nails,  73
Do  _
Do  —
Fivepenny,  139
No. of Nails Inches
to the in
Length.
0*44
0-53
1-28
1-00
2*50
Inches dri- Pounds
ven into required to
the wood, extract them.
2-00
0-40
0-44
0-50
0-50
1-00
1- 50
2- 00
1-50
22
37
58
72
187
327
530
320
Machines.
The weights necessary to press a sixpenny nail into dry Description
Christiania deal, to different depths, are as follows :  of
Pressure required. Depth in the wood.
24 lbs 0*25 inches.
76 — 0-50 —
235 — 1-00 —
400 — 1-50 —
610 — 2-00 —
Mr. Bevan extended his experiments to screw nails.
Those which he used were about two inches long, of an
inch diameter at the exterior of the threads, at the bot¬
tom ; the depth of the worm or thread was T§§g of an inch
and the number of threads in an inch twelve. They were
screwed through pieces of wood exactly half an inch thick,
and drawn out by the weights stated in the following
table :—
Dry Sycamore, 830 lbs.
Dry sound Ash, 790  
Dry Beech, 790  
Dry Mahogany, 770  
Dry Oak, 760 —
Dry Elm,.... 635 —
Dry Beech (another kind), 460  
When the wood was deal, or any of the softer woods, the
force required to draw out the nails was only about one-
half of the above weights. The mean of the first six expe¬
riments is .762 lbs., and of all the experiments, 719. Hence
we may infer that the force required in the softer woods is
about 370 lbs.2
Buncds Pile Engine.
A side view of this engine is shewn in figs. 5 and 6. It Plate cccr.
consists of two endless ropes or chains A, connected by cross
pieces of iron B, B, &c. (fig. 6.) which pass round the wheel
C, the cross pieces falling into corresponding cross grooves,
cut in the periphery of the wheel. When "the man at S,
therefore, drives the wheel m by means of the pinion p, he
moves also the wheel C fixed on the axis of m, and makes
the double ropes revolve upon the wheels C, D. The wheel
D is fixed at the end of a lever DHK, whose centre of mo¬
tion is H, a fixed point in the beam FT. Now, when the
ram L (fig. 5, 6,) is fixed to one of the cross pieces B by
the hook M, the weight of the ram, acting by the rope,
moves the lever D K round H, and brings the wheel D to
G, so that, by turning the winch, the ram L (fig. 5.) is raised
in the vertical line LRG. But when it reaches R, the pro¬
jecting piece R disengages the ram from the cross piece B,
by striking the bar Q; and as the weight is removed from
the extremity D of the lever, the counterpoise I brings it
back from G to its old position at F, and the ram falls with¬
out interfering with the chain. When the hook is descend¬
ing, it is prevented from catching the rope by means of the
piece of wood N suspended from the hook M at O; for
being specifically lighter than the iron weight L, and mov¬
ing with less velocity, it does not come in contact with L
till the ram is stopped at the end of its path. When N,
therefore, falls upon L, it depresses the extremity M of the
hook, and therefore brings the hook over one of the cross
pieces B, by which the ram is again raised.
Fixed Iron Crane.
Plate CCCLI. figs. 4 to 7, shew the elevation, plan, sec¬
tion, and outer frame of a fixed iron crane or compound
winch, used for raising heavy weights to a considerable height,
as it is employed at the present day for the erection of build-
ings, &c. The triangular framings FFF, &c., are of cast
iron, and give support to three horizontal revolving shafts of
malleable iron running in cylindrical journals. The princi-
See PM. Mag. vol. Ixiiii. p. 1G8. and Edin. Journal of Science, vol. i. p. 150.
I ml. Mag. Oct. 1827, p. 291. and Edin. Journal of Science, No. xv. p. 159.
M E C
Mechain. pal shaft is in the axis AX of the hollow cast iron barrel
to which one end of the rope is attached, so as to be
coiled and uncoiled by the revolutions of the barrel, in op¬
posite directions. The barrel carries with it a toothed
wheel W W, connected with a pinion V placed on a second¬
ary axis QM in such a manner as to revolve freely upon it,
or be carried round along with it at pleasure. On the end
of this axis QM are placed the crank handles, to which the
power may be applied through the pinion V to the wheel
W and tne barrel B directly. But if a more powerful and
slower motion be required, the means of obtaining it are
provided in connection with a third axis PN; this axis is
immediately connected with the wheel W by the pinion V
which revolves with it, and turns the axle PN, and with it
the secondary wheel VV. But the circumference of VV is
acted on by the teeth of the pinion TT, which is also made
to reyo ye independently of its own axle, or in connection
with it, by means of the lever LL and the clutches CC.
I he change of power is effected in the following manner:
ihe drawings represent the pinions Y and T both disen-
gaged from their axle, and revolving freely around it in
oiled bushes ; but if the smaller power is to be used, the
attendant lays hold of the lever handle L, and drawing it
towards T, engages the clutch towards Y with the pinion
1, and as the clutches C and C are feathered on the axle,
they must revolve with it, and carry round that pinion with
which they are engaged. In this way, the pinion Y being
made to give the motion of the crank handles directly to the
barrel, give the less power; but if the greater power and
slower motion are to be used, the clutch at Y is disengaged,
the leyer is reversed, the pinion T is caught and carried
round by the other clutch, and thus the motion of the axis
M E C
459
tn r re i ftrOUgh the Wheel VV t0 the axis PN, Mechain
and to the pinion V, which works on the primary wheel
Wh!’ , ^ rT°Wer118 mcreased in the ratio of V to T.
When the lever L is placed, as in the figures, so that neither
fn thp <T mFa1’ 'Vlt‘‘ axle’ the barrel is free to revolve
in the direction of any force applied to it, so that the weight
may be run down with great rapidity; and the following
contrivance gives a regulating power to this motion: An iron
stiap SfeS embraces closely a wooden drum on the axis of
BB and is attached at both ends to bolts on either side of
the fulcrum of the bar HI, which has a handle at H, at a
considerable distance from the fulcrum, so that by depress-
lr!S ecc djUm may be firmlY embraced by the friction
strap bbfe, and stopped at any point in its descent, or mode¬
rated to the requisite degree. This last appendage is of
great consequence in saving time, and preventing the danger
attendant on lowering the weights with great velocity.
Revolving Jib Crane.
Plate CCCLII. figs. 1,2, and 3, shew the plan, side elevation
and back elevation of the revolving jib-crane or wharf-crane,
ts w lee s give a variable power in the same way as those
in figs. 4, 5, 6, and 7, plate 351.
^ a detacbed portable equilibrium crane ; its
pyramidal iron base merely rests on the ground, and may
even run on a road or railway, and when very great weights
are raised, counterpoises may be placed on die platform
with the attendants.
For the description of a great variety of useful machines,
the reader is referred to the second volume of Gregory’s
Mechanics, and to Dr. Young’s Natural Philosophy. See
also Hydrodynamics.
MECHAIN, Peter Francis Andrew, a well-known
practical astronomer and geographer, was born at Laon, on
the 16th April 17 44. His father was an architect, and edu¬
cated him with the intention of making him his successor in
his business. He afterwards took charge of two young men
at Sens, as their private tutor, and accidentally became ac¬
quainted with Lalande, under whose patronage he was sub¬
sequently brought forward as an observer, surveyor, and com¬
puter. He made two voyages with M. de la Bretonniere,
and assisted him in surveying some parts of the coast of
r ranee. He was afterwards employed in various computa¬
tions by the Marquis de Chabert, and the Due D’Ayen. Hav¬
ing obtained a prize from the Academy of Sciences in 1782,
for a Memoir on Comets, he became a member of the Aca¬
demy the same year. About the year 1785, he undertook
the pubhcaBon of the Connaissance des Terns, and continu¬
ed it till he was employed in geodetical operations at a dis¬
tance from Pans. He was appointed member of a commit¬
tee, along with Cassini, de Thury, and Legendre, to meet
the English astronomers for the determination of the rela¬
tive situation of the observatories, which had been proposed
by Cassini. It was in these operations that he first brought
Borda s circle into general use. In 1791 he was appointed,
m conjunction with Delambre, to execute the intentions of
ie Constituent Assembly, with regard to the determination
of a basis of linear measures. A variety of delays and diffi¬
culties occurred in these operations. In Spain he was
wounded in the head and side, by an accident which oc-
curred whilst he was inspecting a water-wheel; and the
political circumstances of the times produced many embar-
rassments, which caused him to linger in Italy perhaps a lit-
mprlr eTi th r* WaS a?tuaJly necessary ; but the establish-
ment of the Bureau des Longitudes, and his nomination as
a member of it, determined his immediate return to Paris.
Sth^ *°W d1irector of the Observatory, and he entered
with great zeal on a series of observations, which were to
rival those of Flamsteed, of Bradley, and of Maskelyne; but
he seems to have been a little tired of the confinement, and
be readily accepted, or rather solicited, the appointment to
assist in the measurements required for the still farther ex¬
tension of the arc of the meridian to the south of Barcelona.
ut the secret motive for his seeking this humbler emplov-
ment appears to have been a desire to remove some doubts
which he entertained respecting the latitude of Barcelona, as
it appeared after his death from his papers, that there had
been a discordance of 3" in some observations which he had
not made public. In this unfortunate undertaking, he paid
a heavy penalty for any want of candour which may have
been attributed to the concealment. Shipwreck and dis¬
ease awaited him ; and he died at last, on the 20th of Sep¬
tember 1805, of a fever, which fatigue and a bad climate had
brought on.. From the time of his accident in Spain he had
become habitually melancholy and timid, though regardless
of personal danger in the pursuit of his professional objects.
His whole time was occupied in observing and calculatino-;
he published little ; and never ventured to advance any re¬
flections on the subjects which employed him, being pro¬
bably more in the habit of acting than of speculating. He
married, in 1777, Mademoiselle Therese Maijon, with whom
he had become acquainted at Versailles. This connexion
was in every respect happy ; he was indebted to it for a com¬
petent fortune, and he left a daughter and two sons.
• V °£hlS Pu!)lications the most important are to be found
in the Memoires des Savans Grangers ; that is, besides some
Observations of eclipses and occulations, a Memoir on the
comets o/1532a^l66l, showing that theyare not the same;
and their non-appearance seven or eight years afterwards
fully justified his conclusions, and the adjudication of the prize.
2. In the Memoirs of the Academy, from 1782 to 1784,
there are several of his Observations of transits, eclipses,
peculations, and comets. 3. There are also some letters of
Mechain in Zach’s Geographical Ephemerides about 1800,
on the instruments of the Parisian Observatory, and on other
subjects. 4. Heeditedthe Connaissance des Terns, from 1786
MECHANICS’ INSTITUTIONS.
460
Mechanics’to 1794. (See Lalaude.) 5. Base du systems metrique,
Institutions decimal. 3 v. 4. Paris, 1806, 1807, 1810. This last is the
^—   joint work of Mechain and his friend and colleague Delambre.
MECHANICS’ INSTITUTIONS have for their object
the instruction of the working classes in those branches of
science and art, which are of practical application in the
exercise of their several occupations.
It has been a subject of very considerable controversy to
whom the honour of having originated those institutions ought
to be attributed. Some have contended that to Professor
Anderson, the founder of the institution in Glasgow, which
bears his name, it is alone due; because in addition to the
clauses in his will, which especially provide for the formation
of a class of manufacturers and artificers, he had for a pe¬
riod of thirty years, w hilst professor of natural philosophy in
the university of that city, opened a class to which manu¬
facturers and others had access, for the purpose of becom¬
ing acquainted writh the fundamental principles of experi¬
mental physics. Others, again, have affirmed that although
Professor Anderson had such an intention in view when he
framed his will, it was only through the exertions of Dr.
Birckbeck, the second professor of the Andersonian Institu¬
tion, that the project was carried into complete and prac¬
tical effect. Without going into the merits of this ques¬
tion, however, it appears to us that to Professor Anderson
is certainly due the merit of having originated the idea of
instructing that previously neglected but valuable por¬
tion of the community. But whilst we give all the weight
to which that admission is entitled, we are of opinion that
in as far as regards the usefulness of the idea when car¬
ried into effect, the merit is due to Dr. Birckbeck. Pro¬
fessor Anderson1 was in the frequent habit of visiting
and spending several hours in the workshops of the me¬
chanics of Glasgow, and freely entering into conversation
with them; amongst others he was often found at the
workshop of our illustrious countryman James Watt, then
a watchmaker in Glasgow; and it was in consequence of
the avidity with which the workmen, availed themselves of
the theoretical information which on these visits he was in
the constant practice of imparting, that he first conceived
the idea of bringing within their reach those principles of
science, the attainment of which had hitherto been confined
to the higher and wealthier classes.
He then commenced within the walls of the university a
course of lectures on natural philosophy, for the especial
benefit of that class of society, and divided the course into
two branches; one meeting four times a-wreek, in which the
mathematical principles of the science were considered
apart from experimental illustration ; and the other, which
met twice a-week, consisting entirely of those branches
which admitted of such illustration, and in which the prin¬
ciples of mathematics were less called into operation. This
latter class was regularly and numerously attended by
a great many manufacturers and others engaged in opera¬
tive occupations, and was continued for several years with
great success; and he called it his antitoga class, in contradis¬
tinction to his regular academic attendance, which was deno¬
minated the toga class. It was in consequence of the decided
improvement in the arts and manufactures of Glasgow, which
from that time became very evident, and which Professor
Anderson justly attributed to his instructions, that he
conceived the truly philanthropic intention of bequeathing
his ample fortune for “ the good of mankind and the im¬
provement of science.” In the provisions of his will there
was an especial reference to the formation of classes upon
the principle of that which he had himself so successfully
taught within the walls of the university.
Professor Anderson died on the 16th of January 1796;
and at a meeting ofhis executors, held on the 23d of March Mechanics’
following, it was resolved to carry his intentions into imme- Institutions
diate effect. Accordingly on the 21 st of September of the s'“~v—
same year, Dr. Thomas Garnett was elected first professor
of natural philosophy.
The lectures however were at first only popular. Dr.
Garnett, in 1800, was appointed to the chair of natural phi¬
losophy in the Royal Institution of Great Britain, founded at
the suggestion of Count Rumford and Sir Joseph Banks; and
Dr. George Birckbeck was elected in his stead. It was then,
upon the suggestion of Dr. Birckbeck, that the trustees were
enabled to give full effect to Professor Anderson’s favour¬
ite idea, as expressed in his will, of affording instruction in
experimental philosophy to the artizans of Glasgow. Such
was the origin of the first mechanics’ class, which has now
been taught for upwards of thirty-six years with increasing
success and advantage to this interesting class of students.
But important as was this era in the history of the class
which was thus instituted, it was not until upwards of twen¬
ty years afterwards that the example was followed by any
other city in the kingdom. At length, however, in 1821, the
School of Arts for the instruction of mechanics was formed
in Edinburgh; and within a year or two afterwards, the ex¬
ample was followed, and another institution of the same na¬
ture was originated in Glasgow, in consequence of some dif¬
ferences which had arisen between Dr. Ure, (Dr. Birckbeck’s
successor in the Andersonian Institution), and the students
who attended his operative class. A great many of these
left the Andersonian and founded the Mechanics’ Institu¬
tion, of which Dr. Birckbeck, at their solicitation, consented
to become the patron. About the same time the London
Mechanics’ Institution was instituted, and within a very few
years after this period there was hardly a city of any note in
the kingdom which had not institutions of a kindred de¬
scription.
As might have been expected, there exists a variety of
opinions both as to the precise kind of instruction which these
institutions ought to afford in order to carry their objects
into the most complete effect, and also in regard to the man¬
ner in which they ought to be governed. Some conceive
that the course of instruction ought to be of a popular na¬
ture, admitting amongst the lectures upon the graver and more
abstruse sciences, prelections of a lighter and more attract¬
ive kind ; whilst others are of opinion that the course ought
to be strictly confined to those branches of physical science
alone which are of practical application in the arts or manu¬
factures. The management of several, indeed of the greater
number, is entirely in the hands of the mechanics themselves;
some have an admixture of these with the upper classes of
society, w hilst in others of a third description, the govern¬
ment is entirely vested in the latter, or wealthier classes.
Favourable as we are to the universal diffusion of know¬
ledge amongst the great mass of the people, w e conceive,
that the paramount object which these institutions have in
view, namely, the advancement of the arts and manufactures,
will be most decidedly and advantageously promoted, by con¬
fining the attention of the student to those branches of the
physical sciences which bear more especially on the great
majority of the useful arts. We have seen and examined
carefully the plans of study as follow ed by most of the lead¬
ing institutions of this kind throughout the kingdom; but,
whilst we generally approve of them all, we shall confine
ourselves to a more extended outline of the course followed
by the Edinburgh School of Arts, as being that which seems
to us most likely to promote the great objects they all have
in view. It being self-evident that the elements of mathe¬
matics, mechanical philosophy, and chemistry, are of the
most general application to the useful arts, it has been tire
1 Professor John Anderson was the eldest son of the Rev. James Anderson, minister of the parish of Roseneath, in Dumbartonshire,
and was born there in 1726.
MECHANIC S’ INSTITUTIONS.
Mechanics’principal aim of the directors of that institution to urge the
Institutions necessity of acquiring a knowledge of these upon the notice
^ v ” the student by every possible means ; and especially that
they should thoroughly understand the fundamental princi¬
ples of mathematics, both from the intimate connexion
these have with all the physical sciences, and as supplying
a course of mental discipline, highly favourable "to the
successful prosecution, at any after period of life, of those
studies the principles of which are more immediately in¬
volved in the ordinary occupations of life, and by the appli¬
cation of which alone any decided improvements in the arts
may reasonably be looked for. And in order to encourage
the student to adhere steadily to a certain course of study,
an honorary certificate or diploma was instituted, confer-
rmg on the successful candidate the privilege of availing
himself gratuitously, during his life, of all advantages ox
the institution. That course of study is as follows
I. A junior class of mathematics meeting twice a-week, in
which the following branches are taught: Arithmetic, in¬
cluding vulgar and decimal fractions; Algebra, as far as
simple and quadratic equations ; Geometry, first and second
books of Euclid. In diis class, a portion of each hour of
teaching is devoted to exercises and examinations.
_A senior class ol mathematics meeting once a-week,
in which the following branches are taught: Geometry, the
remaining books of Euclid; Logarithms ; Mensuration and
l rigonometry, with their various practical applications. In
this class, also, a portion of each hour of teaching is devoted
to exercises and examinations.
HE A class of Natural Philosophy, illustrated by experi¬
ments, meeting once a-week, in which the following branches
are taught: Mechanics, including statics and dynamics;
Hydrostatics, Hydraulics, Pneumatics, and Optics, with such
additional matter as time may permit of. A part of every
fourth lecture of this course is devoted to examinations on
the subjects treated of in the three preceding lectures.
I\. A class of Theoretical Chemistry, in which the prin¬
ciples of the science are taught, together with their appli¬
cation to tlie principal arts and manufactures in the processes
of which chemical principles are involved. This class meets
oncea-week; and apart of every fourth lecture of this course
is devoted to examinations upon the subjects of the three
preceding lectures.
V. It is of course left optional to the students to attend
as many of the classes in one session as they please, and
also to attend them separately in whatever order they
prefer. But the directors, impressed with the benefits which
may arise from such a course of study, earnestly recom¬
mend those who desire fully to avail themselves of the bene¬
fits of the institution, to pursue their studies on the following
plan, viz. During the first year, to attend the junior mathe¬
matical class alone ; during the second year, to attend the
senior mathematical and the chemistry classes ; and dur¬
ing the third year, to attend the natural philosophy and the
chemistry classes.
It was therefore with the view of encouraging students to
pursue this regular and systematic plan of education, that the
directoFS instituted the honorary certificate above mentioned.
1 his course of study has for the last four years been most
steadily persevered in, and the acquirements of the students
who obtained the certificates after the most searching ex¬
aminations, have completely satisfied the directors and other
competent judges who were present on these occasions, that
the great object of the institution had, in their case at least,
been attained, and that the information acquired by them
was sound and practical.
Within the last year an addition to the course of study
afforded by this institution has been made, and it promises
to have the most beneficial effect on the advancement of
those branches of art, in which the principles Design are
m any way involved, viz. a class for Ornamental Modelling.
461
It is by no means intended in this class to open a nursery for Mechanics’
artists, but only to teach those engaged in trades where orna- Institutions
ment is in the least concerned, such as silver-chasers, jew-
ellers, plasterers, glass-cutters, brassfounders, smiths, die-
sinkers, and a variety of others, to form their ideas of design
on the most approved models of ancient and modern excel¬
lence ; to enable them, instead of servilely imitating existing
patterns, with a vague uncertainty and want of acquaintance
with the laws which regulate art, to classify their labours, and,
by accustoming their minds to contemplate and imitate ac¬
knowledged excellence, gradually to lead the way to that
creative skill in the execution of designs, which may event¬
ually lead to the commencement of a new era in such de¬
partments of art.
The fee for each of the four classes above mentioned se¬
parately, the junior mathematics, the senior mathematics,
the natural philosophy, and the chemistry, is five shillings.
A ticket which gives admission to all the lectures, twelve
shillings. The privileges of the library is extended to all
students, whether attending one or more classes.
When these institutions were first originated, a great many
excellent persons were led to withhold from them their
countenance and support, fearing that the moral effect which
they might have on the minds of the working classes would
be unfavourable to the reception of those great and funda¬
mental principles of religion, without which all human ac¬
quirements sink into insignificance; and that they would only
fit their pupils more thoroughly for becoming the dupes
and tools of designing men. Our opinion, however, of their
effects upon society at large, is very different indeed; for
by invigorating the faculties and enlarging the information
of the student, this training serves the double purpose of
enabling them to understand the evidences and truths of
religion more easily and more thoroughly than they could
otherwise have done, and of fortifying them more strong¬
ly against those sophistries by which its enemies so often
and so fatally perplex the ignorant and the simple. It is
true that knowledge is not always accompanied with such
results; but its natural tendency is to counteract and pre¬
vent the very evils which have been apprehended as likely
to result from it. Proceeding on the supposition that the
young men who attend these institutions have previously,
under the parental roof and at the schools where they obtain¬
ed their elementary education, been taught the principles
of religion, the mental discipline which they receive therein,
and the course of study they are encouraged to pursue, fur¬
nish them with the means of cherishing a more enlightened,
vigorous, and steady attachment to those great doctrines,
which constitute the perfection and the glory of all science;
and as industry is one of the best safeguards of moral con¬
duct, they will operate most beneficially in that respect on
those whose chief danger arises from the temptations which
beset them at their leisure hours. Being necessarily so much
occupied with objects of sense, and so little accustomed to
purely mental exercises, when they seek for enjoyment,
they are apt to look for it in the indulgence of mere appe¬
tite. Now these institutions are calculated to rescue them from
the power of such temptations, not only by filling up their
spare time with innocent and laudable pursuits, and pro¬
viding them with occupations which elevate them far above
the grossness of sensuality, but by training them up to ha¬
bits of purity, sobriety, and correct deportment.
It is pleasing, therefore, to be enabled to say that the pro¬
gress and advancement of the arts since the commencement
of these institutions, has been most striking. They have
attained an elevation, and partaken of a character which
was formerly unknown; and since that period we may date
the discovery and improvement of several of the most widely
useful inventions, and the consequent dissemination of those
comforts and elegancies of life, which have had such an in¬
fluence on the whole social system.
462 M E C
Mechlin MECHLIN or Maeines, a circle of the province of Ant-
il wei'p, in the Netherlands, divided into five cantons and
1 bur en" thirty-eight communes, containing 87,800 inhabitants. The
v ^ capital is the city of the same name, situated in a fertile
plain, watered by the river Dyle, and connected by a canal
with Louvain. It is the seat of an archbishop, for whom
there is a magnificent palace, and a cathedral, with a tower
350 feet in length. Some of the other public edifices are
on an extended scale. There is an ecclesiastical seminary,
and a convent of Beguines, wherein formerly were 800 pro¬
fessed females; and though the number is now reduced, it
is both respectable and useful, as it affords visitors to the
poor and the sick, and relief to the distressed, in an exten¬
sive and gratuitous way. It contains 3000 houses, and
about 20,000 inhabitants, who are very industrious. There
are numerous hat-makers, and weavers of woollen cloths
and blankets. The most distinguished of the fabrics is that
of thread lace of the finest description, which bears the name
of the city, and is highly esteemed in every part of the world
where it is known. Lat. 51. 15. 2. N. Long. 4. 23. 39. E.
MECHOACAN, a province of Mexico, or New Spain, in
America, bounded on the north by Panuco and Guadala¬
jara, on the south by the Pacific Ocean, and on the west by
Guadalajara and the South Sea. It is about 200 miles in cir¬
cumference, and its population in 1793, amounted to 289,314.
The soil is exceedingly fertile, and the climate so whole¬
some, that the Spaniards imagine it possessed of some
peculiarly restorative quality, for which reason the sick and
infirm flock to it from all quarters. The commodities are
sulphur, indigo, sarsaparilla, sassafras, cacao, vanelloes, am¬
bergris, hides, wool, cotton, silk, sugar, the root mechoacan
or white jalap, and silver. This province formed an inde¬
pendent kingdom at the time when Mexico was reduced by
Cortez. The sovereign had long been the inveterate enemy of
the Mexicans, and was considered next to the republic of
Tlascala, as the most formidable barrier against the exten¬
sion of the imperial frontier. However, he submitted to
Cortez without striking a blow, being intimidated by the
wonders he had performed with a handful of men; and thus
Mechoacan became a province of the Spanish empire, and
a valuable addition to Mexico. The country at that time
was exceedingly populous, but the natives are now much
thinned. The capital of the province, called Mechoacan by
the natives, but Valladolid by the Spaniards, contained
17,093 inhabitants in 1793.
MECKLENBURG-SCHWERIN, a grand duchy in the
north of Germany. It extends from 10. 34. to 12. 20. E.
long., and from 53. 8. to 54. 19- N. lat. It is bounded on
the north by the Baltic Sea, on the east and south by the
Prussian territory, and by the Danish, late Hanoverian, pro¬
vince of Lunenburg. It is a compact duchy, except that
some small portions of it are within the Prussian province
of Brandenburg, and others in Mecklenburg-Strelitz. It ex¬
tends over 4924 square miles, and is divided politically into five
provinces, in which there are forty-one cities or walled towns,
seven market towns, and 621 villages, with, in 1827, 430,928
inhabitants. The population is derived from a tribe of
W endens or Vandals, though they have not retained their
old language, but now speak the dialect of German com¬
monly known by the name of platt Deutsche. At present
the whole of the peasantry are in a state of freedom from
the feudal system which once universally prevailed in Eu¬
rope ; but in Mecklenburg it was the longest retained, hav¬
ing been only abolished in 1825. The religion of the duchy
is Lutheran, but there are about 1000 Catholics, and 300
Calvinist dissenters, and 3000 Jews, with a few scattered
Menonites. The principal river is the Elbe, which receives
the waters of five smaller streams, and has on its banks the
towns of Domitz and Boitzenburg, by which navigation is
carried on upwards to Berlin, and downwards to Hamburg.
There are several lakes in the country; that of Schwerin is
M E C
the most extensive; and for the most part they discharge their Mecklen-
waters by small rivers into the Baltic Sea. The face of the kurg.
country is generally level; much of the soil is sandy, but a
part is moderately fertile, and being well cultivated, yields
a larger surplus of corn, chiefly wheat, than any other part
of Europe of the same extent. Corn and wool are the chief
commodities for export. The greater part of the land is
occupied by the proprietors ; and by the application of marl
and the increase of the flocks of sheep, stimulated by the
high prices obtained in the markets of Holland, Sweden, and
England, cultivation has been much extended. The horses
of Mecklenburg are much esteemed, and great pains have
been taken to improve the racer, by the introduction of
valuable horses and mai*es from England and other countries.
Races, too, have been established of late years, the professed
object of which has been to give encouragement to improve
the whole race of horses. The government is hereditary in
the family of the sovereign, which is asserted to be the old¬
est reigning house of any in Europe. The Grand Duke is
limited in his power by the States, which assemble yearly,
to adjust the public accounts, and to recommend new enact¬
ments, as well as to attend to local affairs. The income of
the Duke consists in a great degree of the domains and roy¬
alties, with some taxes on foreign goods, and amounts to
about £200,000. The public debt is about £300,000, but
by a sinking fund is diminishing. The military, including
cavalry, infantry, guards, and artillery, consists of 3500 men,
besides which there is a numerous militia or landsturm.
There are some manufactures of linen and woollen goods,
but solely for domestic consumption, and some for the more
common articles of every-day use. The foreign trade consists
in the exportation of the productions of the land, chiefly from
Rostock and Weimar, and in part from Boitzenburg; they
consist of corn, wool, wood, bacon and hams, feathers, and corn
spirits. The imports are wine, fruits, and colonial wares. The
capital is Schwerin, but the ducal residence is at Ludwigslust,
or, in summer, at Dahlenburir, a bathing place on the Baltic.
MECKLENBURG-STRELITZ, a grand duchy in
the north of Germany. It is composed of two portions of
the old duchy of Strelitz and the principality of Ratzeburg,
and has some territory intermixed with that of other states.
It extends over 796 square miles, and comprehends nine cities
and towns, 219 villages, 245 princely domains, and 10,805
houses, with 45,500 inhabitants, chiefly employed in culti¬
vation, who all adhere to the Lutheran church, with the
exception of about fifty catholics and 750 Jews. The in¬
come of the state amounts to £50,000 annually, chiefly
arising from the ducal domains. The public debt is so in¬
terwoven with that of Mecklenburg-Schwerin that its exact
amount is not known, but by the operation of a sinking fund it
is decreasing. The regular forces consists of a battalion of
infantry and a division of husars, numbering together 772 indi¬
viduals. The courts of law for both Mecklenburgs are united.
King George III. having married a princess of the house,
has connected it with the royal family of England. The
capital is the city of Strelitz, with 5350 inhabitants. There
are in the duchy mines yielding silver, lead, and iron; the
last of these is worked into the various articles for which it
is adapted at the several manufactories of the duchy. The
only manufactures, besides, are those of linen and the seve¬
ral kinds of leather. The chief foreign trade is by the
Rhine with Holland, whence supplies of sugar and coffee,
and the other colonial wares are obtained. The duke,
in 1817, established a kind of representative legislature of
two houses of nobles and burghers. The income of the
state is about £188,000 annually ; the public debt amounts
to £500,000; the annual expenditure is £155,000; and the
surplus of income is applied to diminish the debt. The re¬
gular troops are 2800, besides which there is a numerous
militia or landsturm, in which all males from nineteen to
twenty-five years of age are bound to serve.
463
MEDALS.
Medals. Medal denotes a piece of metal in the form of a coin,
such as was either current money amongst the ancients, or
had been struck upon any particular occasion, in order to
preserve to posterity the portrait of some great person, or
the memory of some illustrious action. Scaliger derives
the word medal from the Arabic methalia, a sort of coin
haying on it a human head. But the generally received
opinion is that of Vossius, viz. that it comes from metallum,
metal, of which substance medals are commonly made.
I-—Utility of Medals in History and other Sciences.
There are few studies of more importance to history than
that of medals ; the sole evidence we can have of the ve¬
racity of a historian being only such collateral documents
as are evident to every body, and cannot be falsified. In
modern times these are found in public memoirs, instruc¬
tions to ambassadors, and state papers of various kinds.
Such memorials, however, are subject to various accidents,
and, besides, commonly remain in the countries where they
are first published, and cannot therefore give to the world
at large that perfect and entire satisfaction which ought to
be derived from genuine history; and hence more durable
and widely diffused monuments are still to be wished for.
Such are public buildings, inscriptions, and statues; but
these, excepting a few instances of the two last, are always
confined to particular countries ; and medals alone remain
as infallible documents of truth, capable of being diffused
throughout all/countries in the world, and of remaining to
the latest ages.
The first who showed the importance of medals in ascer¬
taining the dates and arranging the order of events in
ancient history, was Vaillant, in his History of the Kings
of Syria, printed at Paris in 1681. By means of medals
alone he has been enabled to fix the chronology and im¬
portant events in the history of the three most ancient
kingdoms of the world ; namely, Egypt, Syria, and Parthia.
Since his time there have been discovered many coins
which confirm the accounts he has given. He was followed
in this method by Father Hardouin, though with much less
success. Hardouin’s best work is his Herodiades, or series
of successors to Herod king of Judaea. The same plan
was pursued by Noris in his Treatise on the Syro-Mace-
donian princes, and by Bayer in his History of Osrhoene,
as well as by Froelich in his Annales Regum et Rerum
SyricB, Vienna, 1754, and Kevenhuller’s Regum veterum
Numismata Anecdota, auctore Ferrara, Vienna, 1752, 4to,
of which Froelich was properly the author. Corsini and
Cary likewise published works of a similar nature ; that of
the former appeared in 1744, under the title of Be Minni-
fari, aliorumque Armenice Regum, Nummis ; the latter pub¬
lished, in 1752, Histoire des Rois de Thrace, et du Bos-
phore Cimmerien, eclaircie par les Medailles.
1 he study of the Greek coins does not show the dates
of events, though it illustrates the chronology of reigns.
I his defect, however, is abundantly supplied by those of
Rome, which commonly mark the date of the prince’s con¬
sulship, and the year of his tribunician power ; giving also,
upon the reverse, the representation or poetical symbol of
some grand event. The year of the tribunician power is
sometimes imagined by antiquaries to be synonymous with
that of the emperor’s reign ; but this is not the case; and
Mr Pinkerton is at some pains to. set them right in this re¬
spect. He finds fault with Julius Caesar, when he assumed
the sovereign authority, for taking upon him the title of
I erpetual Dictator, as being synonymous with that of king
or absolute governor which the Romans abhorred. « He Medals
ought, says our author, “ under the disguise of some   
pi erne magistracy of annual election, to have lulled the
people with a dream that they might terminate his power
when they pleased, or that he himself would resign it
when the necessities of state, which had required his tempo¬
rary elevation, had subsided.” To this error Mr Pinkerton
ascribes the assassination of the dictator, and commends
the policy of Augustus, who, with far inferior abilities, con-
tmued in possession of the most absolute authority as long
as he lived. The tribuneship was an office of annual elec¬
tion, and, if put into the hands of any others than plebeians,
must have been the supreme power of the state, as it be¬
longed to that office to put a negative upon every public
measure whatsoever. Augustus, being of senatorial rank,
could not assume this office ; but he invested himself with
the tribunician power, which had the advantages of appear¬
ing to be only a temporary supremacy, though in truth it
was continued during his whole lifetime. Towards the end
of his rmgn, he frequently assumed his intended successor,
1 menus, as his colleague, though in the beginning he had
enjoyed it alone. This, with the artifice of resigning his
power every ten years, and re-assuming it at the desire, as
was pietended, of the senate, secured his sovereignty as
long as he lived. His example was followed by his suc-
cessors; so that most of them have the inscription Trihu-
mcia Potentate upon their medals, with the date affixed to
it, thus, TV. Pot AII. Yet though this date generally im-
phes the year of the emperor’s reign, it sometimes happens
that the emperor, by special favour from a former prince
had been endowed with this title before he came to the
throne, as being the successor to that prince; of which we
have already given an instance in Tiberius. Besides the
tnbunician power, the emperors very frequently enjoyed
lat of the consuls ; and the date of their consulship is fre¬
quently expressed in their coins.
The office of Pontifex Maximus was likewise assumed
by the Roman emperors, in order to secure themselves in
their authority ; an artifice which, Mr Pinkerton observes
was one of the most efficacious they could have fallen up¬
on. “ In the Greek heroic times,” says he, “ king and
priest were carefully united in one person ; and when sove¬
reigns arose in Denmark and Sweden, the same plan was
toliowed, as appears from Snorro and other writers. No¬
thing could lend more security to the person of the mo¬
narch than an office of supreme sanctity, which also con¬
firmed his power by all the terrors of superstition. Even
the Christian system was afterwards debased by a mock al-
hance with government, though it be clear from the whole
New Testament that such an alliance is subversive of its
genuine institution, and the greatest of all its corruptions.
Bu the Roman Catholic clergy, in the dark ages, were the
authors of ‘ no church, no king,’ for their own interest;
whilst the Roman emperors only sought to strengthen their
power by the mystic awe of superstition. The title of Pon¬
tifex Maximus was so important, that it was retained even
by the Christian emperors till the time of Gratian. Its in¬
fluence in the state was indeed prodigious. Cicero ob¬
serves, that to this office were subject temples, altars, pe-
nates, gods, houses, wealth, and the fortune of the people.”
I hat of augur is also borne by many emperors ; and its au¬
thority was such that, by the law of the twelve tables, no
public business could be transacted without a declaration
from the augur concerning its event. The proconsular
power was also given to Augustus and the other emperors.
It conferred a direct authority over all the provinces, and
464 MED
Medals, implied that the emperor was chief proconsol or governor
' ■/'-'-^'of each and of all. Another special power assigned to the
emperors, but not occurring on coins, was the Jus Rela-
tionis Tertke, Quarto., &c. or the right of making three or
four motions in the senate on the same day, whilst the se¬
nators could only propose one.
Hence it has been inferred that medals afford the most
authentic documents of the Roman history, in particular,
that could have been invented by man. The histories of
Nerva and Trajan are much better elucidated by medals
than by authors ; for the history of Suetonius ends with
Domitian, and the Historic Augustes Scrip to res begin with
Hadrian ; so that the reigns of the two emperors just men¬
tioned are almost unknown, and Mr Pinkerton is surprised
that none of the learned have attempted to supply the de¬
fect. “ Capitolinas,” says he, “ in his life of Maximinus
Junior, is quite puzzled to know if Maximus and Pupienus
were two emperors, or two names for the same. Had he
happened to consult any of those coins which bear M. Cl.
Pupienus Maximus Aug. he would have seen at once that
Maximus was only another name for Pupienus.”
Medals are useful in other sciences besides history. In
geography, we find the situation of towns determined by
their vicinity to some noted river, mountain, or other phy¬
sical object. Thus, MACKHTHN 2ITITAOT shows that
Magnesia is situated under Mount Sipylus. In like man¬
ner, it is shown from a medal that Ephesus stood on the
river Cayster ; and there is extant a medal bearing an in¬
scription which signifies Alexandria on the Scamander, a
name given to Troy by Alexander the Great. The reverse
has upon it the famous Apollo Smintheus of Homer. In
natural history, also, medals are useful chiefly from the coins
struck on the celebration of the secular games, in which
the figures of various animals are preserved; and thus it
may very often be determined whether any animal was known
to the ancients or not. On many of the Greek medals are
several uncommon plants and animals. Thus, on most of
the medals of Cyrene is the figure of the celebrated Sy-
phium ; and on those of Tyre, the shell-fish from which the
famous Tyrian purple rras procured. By means of medals,
also, the exact delineations of many noble edifices are pre¬
served, though not even a vestige of their ruins be now in
existence ; so that the uses of them to the architect are
very considerable. To the connoisseur they are absolutely
necessary; because by them alone he is enabled to ascribe
ancients busts and statues to their proper persons, with
multitudes of other points of knowledge which cannot be
otherwise determined. The elucidations of obscure pas¬
sages in ancient authors, by means of medals, are so nu¬
merous and well known that it is needless to insist upon
them.
Mr Addison has treated the connection between medals
and poetry at considerable length ; but Mr Pinkerton finds
fault witli him for preferring the Latin to the Greek poets.
He observes, also, that the knowledge of Greek medals is
most necessary for a sculptor, and perhaps an architect;
but an acquaintance with Latin ones is preferable for a
poet, or perhaps a painter. The reason of this difference
is, that the former generally have on the obverse the head
of some king, god, or goddess, of exquisite relief and work¬
manship ; but the reverse seldom exhibits much fancy of
symbol in the early Greek coins, and in the imperial Greek
coins is chiefly impressed with the temples of their deities.
To a person of poetical imagination, however, the Roman
coins afford the greatest entertainment, from the fine per¬
sonifications and symbols to be found on their reverses. Of
this the following are instances.
Happiness has sometimes the caduceus or wand of Mer¬
cury, which, Cicero tells us, was thought to procure every
wish. She has, in a gold coin of Severus, heads of poppy,
*■« pxoress that our prime happiness consists in the oblivion
A L S.
of misfortune. Hope is represented as a sprightly girl, Medals,
walking quickly, and looking straight forward. With her
left hand she gathers up her garments, that they may not
impede the rapidity of her pace ; whilst in her right hand
she holds forth the bud of a flower, an emblem infinitely
finer and more poetical than the trite one of an anchor,
which is the symbol of Patience, and not of Hope. This
personification, with some others, must have been very fa¬
miliar to the ancients; for often in this, and in a few more
instances, no name, as Spes Aug. or the like, is inserted
in the legend. Abundance is imagined as a sedate ma¬
tron, with a cornucopias in her hands, of which she scatters
the fruits, and does not hold up her cornucopiae and keep
the contents to herself, as many modern poets and painters
make her do.
The Emperor Titus having occasion to import a great
supply of corn during a scarcity at Rome, that supply, or
the Annona, is finely represented as a sedate lady, with a
filled cornucopia? in her left hand, which she holds upright,
to indicate that she does not, however, mean to scatter it,
as Abundance has a title to do, but to give it to Equity to
deal out. This last particular is shown by her holding a
little image of Equity, who is known by her scales, and
hasta pura, or pointless spear, in her right hand, over a
basket filled with wheat. Behind the Annona is the prow
of a ship decked with flowers, to imply that the corn was
brought by sea (from Africa), and that the ships had had
a prosperous voyage. The best poet in the world could
scarcely have given us a finer train of imagery ; and the
best painter might have been puzzled to express so much
matter in so small a compass.
Security stands leaning upon a pillar, indicative of her
being free from all designs and pursuits ; and the posture
itself corresponds to her name. Horace, in describing the
wise man, mentions his being teres atque rotundas, round
and polished, against all the rules of chance ; an idea seem¬
ingly derived from the column upon which this ideal lady
reclines. The emblems of Piety, Modesty, and the like,
are equally apposite and poetical.
The happiness of the state is pictured by a ship sailing
before a prosperous breeze ; an image than which the ex¬
quisite genius of Gray could find none more appropriate,
and he has accordingly used it in his principal production,
The Bard, with due success.
The different countries of the then known world are
also delineated with great poetical imagery. It affords
patriotic satisfaction, in particular, to a Briton, to see his
native island often represented upon the earliest imperial
coins, sitting on a globe, with a symbol of military power,
the labarum, in her hand, and the ocean rolling under her
feet; an emblem almost prophetic of the vast power which
she was destined afterwards to obtain by establishing her
dominion over the sea.
Coins also present us with Achaia, Africa, Alamannia,
Alexandria, Arabia, Armenia, Asia, Eithynia, Cappado¬
cia, Dacia, Dardania, Egypt, Gallia, Hispania, Italia, Ju-
da?a, Macedon, Mauritania, Pannonia, Parthia, Phrygia,
Sarmatia, Sicily, Scythia, Syria, and the rivers Danube,
Nile, Rhine, Tiber. This personification of provinces
seems to have arisen from the figures of provinces carried
in triumphs ; as the personification of our old poets sprung
from the ideal persons actually represented in the myste-
rial plays. There is one colonial medal, rudely executed,
of Augustus and Agrippa, which has a high claim to merit
in displaying the ancient poetical imagery. It is inscribed
Imp. and Divi. f. ; and on the reverse the conquest of
Egypt is represented by the metaphor of a crocodile, an
animal almost peculiar to that country, and at that period
esteemed altogether so, which is chained to a palm tree,
at once a native of the country and a symbol of victory.
As the reverses are so useful for knowledge of personi-
medals.
Medals, fication, symbols of countries and actions, and the like, so
the portraits to be seen on old coins are no less important
to a painter, the high merit of a great number of them,
in every character, justly entitling them to be regarded as
the best studies in the world ; not to mention that, to an
historical painter, the science of ancient medals is abso¬
lutely necessary, that he may delineate his personages with
the features which they really bore whilst inexistence. This
can only be attained in the way here mentioned, or from
statues and busts, any one of which will cost as much as
hundreds of medals ; and indeed a collection of such is
only attainable by princes.
The same circumstances which render the study of me¬
dals important to a painter, do still more so to a sculptor;
and, in this particular, the study of the Greek coins is re¬
markably useful. The skill of the Greeks in the art of
sculpture has always been admired throughout the world;
and on their coins the heads of several deities are represent¬
ed in the most exquisite alto relievo. Pinkerton, therefore,
thinks it strange that the Grecian coins should have hither¬
to been so little attended to by men of learning and taste.
They may have been looked upon, he supposes, as belong¬
ing only to the province of the antiquary; but he assures
us that the Greek medals will afford satisfaction to the
persons who value them only as pieces of workmanship.
In most respects they greatly excel those of Home, even
in its best times, which is usually supposed to, have been
from the days of Augustus to Hadrian. In the days of
Hadrian, in particular, the Roman mint seems to have
been the very seat of art and genius; witness the vast
number of exquisite personifications, engraved with equal
workmanship, which swarm on the medals of that prince.
Yet from his time down to Posthumus, coins of admirable
workmanship are to be found. Those of the Faustinas
and Lucilla deserve particular mention. There is one, and
not an uncommon one, of the latter, in great brass, which
yields to nothing of the kind. The reverse is a Venus,
with the name around her. The portrait of the obverse
seems to spring from the field of the coin; it looks and
breathes, nay talks, if you trust your eyes. The coins of
Tarsus are, as Froelich observes, extremely remarkable for
a kind of perspective in the figures. On others are found
triumphal arches, temples, fountains, aqueducts, amphi¬
theatres, circuses, hippodromes, palaces, basilicas, columns
and obelisks, baths, sea-ports, pharoses, and the like. These
furnish much pleasure and instruction to the architect, and
serve to form his taste to the ancient manner; that man¬
ner which unites perfect simplicity with sublimity and
grace, and which every age admires, in proportion as it has
genius to imitate.
465
II—Entertainment arising from the Study of Medals.
Besides the purposes which the study of medals answers
in the useful arts, a great variety of sources of entertain¬
ment are to be found in it. Mr Pinkerton observes, that
the most barbarous nations are more pleased with the
rudest efforts of art than with the most admirable works
of nature ; and that in proportion as the powers of the
mind are large and various, such are also the pleasures
which it receives from those superlative productions of art,
which can only be the offspring of great genius. Hence
works of art are agreeable both to the enlightened and to
the ignorant. The chief amusement, therefore, which at¬
tends the study of medals, originates from the strength and
spirit, the finish and beauty, which the engraver has dis¬
played in the execution of them. It besides gives a kind
of personal acquaintance with the individuals of whom they
are the representations. Portraits have always been high¬
ly entertaining to mankind; and Pinkerton is of opinion
that the love of them gave rise both to painting and sculp-
VOL. XIV. -or
ture. They are nowhere to be found so ancient, so nu- Medals,
merous, and so well preserved, as in medals. Amusement^ '' v""""'
is also derived even from the representations of ideal heads
and persons; nay, even from the minutest symbols. Thus
the Greek coins of cities present us with heads of deities
of exquisite workmanship, apparently copied from statues
or paintings; so that we may even guess at the works of
Apelles and Praxiteles from some of the Greek medals.
Their reverses exhibit still greater variety, there being
scarcely an object either in art or nature which is not repre¬
sented upon some of them ; and to the satisfaction arising
from a view of these we may likewise add that of behold¬
ing, in a lively manner, the dresses, manners and customs,
religious and civil ceremonies, of the ancients; so that
from medals we may obtain an interesting history of man¬
ners, which, though but lately cultivated, may perhaps
become the most useful and entertaining of all the provinces
of history.
There is a very considerable difference between the
study of medals and that of a mere antiquary. The latter
seems frequently to take delight in coins merely in pro¬
portion to their rust and deformity ; so that it is often a
recommendation of some of their pieces that neither por¬
trait, reverse, nor legend can be discovered, at least in
such a manner as may be intelligibly explained. “ The
delight of the antiquarist,” says’Mr Pinkerton, “ may be
called a depraved appetite of the mind, which feeds on
trash, and fills itself with emptiness. It is perhaps a mere
childish curiosity mingled with caprice and hypochondri-
cism. Against this character the ridicule of Severus is
particularly shot, but with little effect; for our antiquists
exceed in visions and nonsense. I say antiquists, for the
name of antiquary is sacred. By antiquary, in foreign
countries, is implied a man who illustrates their ancient
laws, manners, poetry, but especially their ancient his¬
tory. . There, men of the most elevated minds are an¬
tiquaries ; as Muratori, Leibnitz, Montesquieu, Dubos.
Here, men of talents will not stoop, forsooth, to studies
the most important to their country, but leave its anti¬
quities to chance. Every thing is important but our his¬
tory ; and we are profound in every ancient matter that
is superficial, and superficial in what is profound. Even
England cannot boast of one general historian, but trusts
to the inaccuracy of Rapin and the ignorant neatness
of Hume. It is therefore no wonder that the study of
antiquity is here ridiculous, though most important in
other countries; none requiring greater talents, learning-,
or industry. But the historic antiquary has the pleasure
of benefiting society, and enlightening whole nations, while
the medallic has only an innocent amusement. This amuse¬
ment, considered merely as arising from antiquarian ob¬
jects, has not been explained, though felt by most people,
and more by the learned. It seems analogical with that
which we derive from an extensive prospect; for as the
mind delights to expand itself into distant places, so al«o
into distant times. We connect ourselves with these
times, and feel as it were a double existence. The pas¬
sions are singularly affected by minute circumstances
though mute to generalities; and the relics of antiquity
impress us more than its general history.” ^ ^
III.— History of Medals.
The study of medals is not of very ancient date. None
of the classical writers gives any account of collections of
them, though indeed many little particulars are passed
without notice by them. In the times of the Greeks, a
collection of such coins as then existed must have been
but little regarded, as consisting only of those struck by
the numerous little states which at that time used the
Gieek characters and language. Hence they would have
3 N
466
MEDALS.
MedaIa- had an air of domestic coinage, and no attention would
^ ' have been paid to them, however exquisite their work¬
manship might have been. The little intercourse at that
time carried on between the different provinces, also, great¬
ly impeded any communication of knowledge to those who
wrote histories; so that it is no wonder to find any small
collections which might then have existed altogether unno¬
ticed by them.
Almost as soon as any communication was opened be¬
tween the Greeks and Romans, the latter treated the arts
of the Greeks with all due respect and applause. Their
coins were imitated by the Romans, and preserved in ca¬
binets by the senators amongst their choicest treasures.
Suetonius informs us, that on solemn occasions Augustus
was accustomed to present his friends with medals of fo¬
reign states and princes, along with other valuable testi¬
monies of his friendship. In a more advanced period of
the Roman empire, however, individuals would undoubt¬
edly form collections of coins peculiar to their own state ;
for Dr Stukeley, in his Medallic History of Carausius, in¬
forms us that a complete series of silver coins was late¬
ly found in Britain, containing all the emperors down to
Carausius inclusively. From Banduri we also learn that
certain Greek coins were specially preserved by the Ro¬
mans ; and it appears from their code, that ancient gold
and silver coins were made use of instead of gems, to
which distinction those of Sicily were particularly entitled.
From the decline of the Roman empire until towards the
end of the fifth century, almost all branches of literature
were involved in darkness, and the science of medals
amongst the rest. Whilst the Christian dominion of Con¬
stantinople lasted, indeed, almost all the arts and sciences
may be said to have been confined within its boundaries,
though the Arabs and eastern nations had some arts and
sciences of their own ; but after the destruction of the im¬
perial city by the 1 urks, the Greeks were once more com¬
pelled to become the fathers of European science. Even
before this time, indeed, some vestiges of a revival of li¬
terature had appeared in Italy ; and so intimate and neces¬
sary a connection has now the study of medals with that
or ancient erudition, that on the earliest appearance of a
revival of the latter, the former was also cultivated.
I he first amongst the moderns who began to study the
science of medals was Petrarch. Being desired by the
emperor Charles IV. to compose a book containing the
lives of eminent men, and to place him in the list, he re¬
plied that he would do so whenever the emperor’s life and
conduct deserved it. In consequence of this conversation,
he afterwards sent the emperor a collection of gold and
silver coins bearing the representations of eminent men,
with an address suitable to his former declaration. A
collection of coins was made in the next age by Alphon-
so king of Aragon; but though this monarch collected all
tnat could be found throughout Italy, we know that there
could not have been very many, as the whole were con¬
tained in an ivory cabinet, and carried always about
with him. A very considerable collection was made by
Anthony Cardinal St Mark, nephew to Eugene IV. who
ascended the pontifical chair in 1431; and soon afterwards
the giand museum at Florence was begun by Cosmo de’
Medici, where a collection of ancient coinsand medals had
a place amongst other curiosities. Corvinus king of Hun-
garj about the same time formed a noble collection of
coins, along with ancient manuscripts and other valuable
relics of antiquity.
Mi linkeiton considers Agnolo Poliziano, more com¬
monly known by the name of Angelas Politicmus, as the first
vvutei who piouuced medals as vouchers of ancient ortho¬
graphy and customs. He cites different coins of the Me-
dicean collection in his JSIiscellanea> written about the year
1490. By means of a cabinet of medals which had been
formed by Maximilian I. emperor of Germany, Joannes Hut-
tichius was enabled to publish a book of the fives of the em-'
perors, enriched with their portraits delineated from ancient
coins. It is generally supposed that this book, which ap¬
peared in 1525, was the first work of this kind ; but Labbe,
in his Bibliotheca Nummaria, mentions another named II-
lustrium Imagines, by one Andreas Fulvius, printed in 1517,
in which most of the portraits seem to be from medals!
About the year lol2, also, Guillaume Bude, a French au¬
thor, had written his treatise Be Asse, though it was not
printed till many years afterwards. M. Grolher, treasurer
of the French armies in Italy, during part of the sixteenth
centuiy, had a great collection of coins of different kinds
of metals. After his death his brass medals were sent to
Provence, and were about to be conveyed to Italy, when the
king of trance, having got information of the transaction,
gave orders to stop them, and purchased the whole at a
very high price, for his own cabinet of antiquities. M,
Grollier had an assortment of gold and silver as well as of
biass medals, but the cabinet m which they were contained
fell, two centuries afterwards, into the hands of M. 1’Abbe
de Bothelin, and was known to have been that of Grollier,
from some slips of paper, on which was his usual inscrip¬
tion for his books, Joannis Grollierii et amicorum. There
ai e few countries, Italy excepted, in which a greater num¬
ber of coins have been found than in Britain ; though we
are by no means well acquainted with the time when the
study of them commenced. Mr Pinkerton suspects that
Camden was one of the first, if not the very first British
author, who produced medals in his works, and who must
have had a small collection. Speed’s Chronicle, published
in the seventeenth century, was illustrated by means of
coins from Sir Robert Cotton’s cabinet.
IV.—Materials of which Medals are constructed.
Medals are formed of gold, silver, and the various modi¬
fications of copper. The gold usually made use of in coin¬
age is about the fineness of twenty-two carats ; and as the
art of purifying this metal was very imperfectly known in
foimer times, the most ancient medals are for this reason
much more impure than the modern coins. Gold is never
found in its native state above twenty-two carats fine ; and
the very ancient medals are much under that standard.
Many of them are composed of a mixture of gold and sil¬
ver, called by the ancients electrum. The gold medals
were made of much finer metal after Philip of Macedonia
became possessed of the gold mines of Philippi in Thrace ;
and the medals of his son Alexander the Great are equal¬
ly fine, as well as those of some other princes of that age.
Those of the Egyptian Ptolemies are of the fineness of
twenty-three carats three grains, with only one grain of
alloy. The Roman coins are very pure even from the
eaibest times 5 the art of refining gold having been well
known before any was coined-at Rome. Some authors are
of opinion that the Roman coins begin to fall short of their
purity after the time of Titus; but Mr Pinkerton denies
tnat any thing of this kind took place till the time of the
emperor Severus, and even then only in a very few in¬
stances. Most of the Roman gold was brought from Dal¬
matia and Dacia, where that metal is still to be met with.
Pliny informs us, and indeed it is generally known, that
gold and silver are found mixed together in the earth.
Where the silver amounted to one fifth part of the gold, the
metal was called electrum; but sometimes the proportion
of silver was added artificially. The gold was in those
days, as well as at present, refined by means of mercury;
and the ancient artists had certainly attained to great per¬
fection in this branch of metallurgy, as Bodin tells us
that the goldsmiths of Paris, upon melting one of Vespa¬
sian’s gold coins, found only y-^th part of alloy.
Medals.
MEDALS.
Medala. Most of the ancient silver, particularly that of Greece,
less pure than that of succeeding times ; even the Ro¬
man silver is rather inferior to the present standard, and
that from the very beginning; but in the time of Severus
the silver appears to have been very bad, and it continued
so until the time of Diocletian. Many writers upon this
subject have mistaken the denarii cerei, coins of brass wash¬
ed with silver, for silver currency. Silver coins are extreme¬
ly scarce from the time of Claudius Gothicus to that of Dio¬
cletian, or from the year 270 to 284, in which short space
not fewer than eight emperors reigned. Silver at that time
was found mostly in Spain, and the commerce with that
country was disturbed by the usurpers who arose in Gaul;
and such were the troubles of the times, that not only the
silver, but also the gold coins, of those emperors, are ex¬
tremely scarce. There is still, however, some silver ex¬
tant of those eight emperors ; and it is certain that cop¬
per washed was never used as silver currency, but was en¬
tirely a distinct coinage. Occasional depravations of sil¬
ver had taken place long before, as Pliny tells us that
Mark Antony mixed iron with his silver denarii; and Mr
Pinkerton informs us that he had seen a denarius of An¬
tony which was attracted by a magnet.
ihe ancient brass coins consist of two kinds ; the red or
Cyprian, which indeed is no other than copper; and the
common yellow brass. Our author observes that, in the
Roman coinage, brass was of double the value of copper,
and he is of opinion that it was the same amongst the
Greeks; but the latter is the metal most commonly made
use of in the Greek coinage. The Roman sertertii were
always of brass, the middling-sized kind are partly cop¬
per and partly brass; the former being double the value
of the latter, which are the asses.
Mr Pinkerton next proceeds to give an account of the
mixed metals used amongst the Romans. In Britain, all
kinds of coins made of mixed metal are without hesitation
alleged to be forgeries; although it is certain that the va¬
riety of mixed metals used in coinage was very considera¬
ble. The most valuable mixture was that of gold and sil¬
ver, already mentioned under the name of electrum ; the
silver commonly amounting to one fifth part of the gold
made use of, or perhaps more. Of this mixture are many
of the early coins of Lydia, and some other Asiatic states ;
also those of the kings of the Bosphorus Cimmerius during
the imperial ages of Rome. Next to the electrum were
the coins of Corinthian brass ; but Mr Pinkerton informs us
that not a single coin was ever struck of this metal by the
ancients, it having been constantly employed only in the
fabrication of vases or toys. It was in use, at any rate,
only for a very short time, being altogether unknown in
the days of Pliny the Elder. This author therefore ridi¬
cules those who pretend not only to find out imperial coins
of this metal, but to discover three kinds of it, viz. one in
which the gold predominates, another in which the silver
prevails, and a third where the brass is most conspicuous.
He gives TEneas Vico, one of the most ancient writers on
medals, as the author of this idea, but whose opinions were
confuted by one Savot, a writer in the seventeenth cen¬
tury. Vico mentions a coin of this kind struck under
Augustus, another of Livia, and a third of Claudius. The
mistake, he is of opinion, arose from the circumstance of
the first propagator not being able to account for the va¬
rious mixtures and modifications of brass observable in
ancient coins of the large size, and which in so common a
metal appear very odd to the moderns. Besides the au-
thoiity of Pliny and other antiquaries of a more modern
date, who all declare that they never saw a single medal
of Corinthian brass, or of that metal mixed with silver and
gold, Pinkerton produces another evidence, which he looks
upon as superior to either, viz. that those who have given
in to this supposition imagine that the large pieces call-
ed setter,n, and others called dupondiarii, worth about two-
pence or a penny, are said to have been composed of this
precious metal. But it is unreasonable to think that any
K Thg° °r S'Ter f0uld have been made use of in
these. Ihe coins said to have been struck upon Corinthian
brass are only done upon a modification of common brass
m regard to which we know, that in proportion to the
quantity of zinc made use of in conjunction with the cop-
per, the metal assumes a variety of hues. On the authority
of I liny, he informs us that the coins mistaken for Co¬
rinthian brass were no other than prince’s metal.
The Egyptian silver coins struck under the Roman empe¬
rors are at first of tolerably pure silver, but afterwards dege¬
nerate into a mixture of copper and tin with a little silver,
i hey are very thick, but many of them are elegantly struck
with uncommon reverses. There are likewise three sets
o brass coins belonging to this country from the earliest
times of the Roman emperors. Some of these are of bell-
metal or pot-metal; but after the time of Gallienus and
Valerian, the coinage of brass with a small addition of silver
became authorized by the state, the coins struck upon it
being called denarii cerei. Those of lead or copper plated
with silver have been fabricated by Roman forgers. Some
coins of lead however, have been met with of undoubted an¬
tiquity ; and an ancient writer informs us that tin money
was coined by Dionysius; but none has been found. The
ead corns of i igranes, king of Armenia, mentioned as ge-
mnne by Jobert, are accounted forgeries by Mr Pinkerton
and other modern medallists. Plautus, however, makes men¬
tion of eaden coins, and several of them have been found •
but i inkerton looks upon them as having been chiefly essay
pieces, struck in order to let the artist judge of the progress
of the die. Others are the plated kind already mentioned,
fabricated by ancient forgers, but having the plating worn
o . A great number of leaden coins are mentioned by
rncorim, in a work entitled Piombi Antichi, in which he
supposes them to have served as tickets for guests; and
coins of the same kind are also mentioned by Passeri. In
tne work entitled Notitia Imperii Romani, there is men¬
tion made of coins of leather; but none of them has ever
been found.
V.— Of Ancient Money.
In considering the different sizes, values, &c. of the
Greek and Roman coins, Mr Pinkerton treats of the me-
da s as money ; a knowledge of which, he says, is essen-
tially necessary to every reader of the classics, insomuch
that it may almost dispute the preference with the studies
of ancient geography and chronology. Notwithstanding all
that has been written upon the subject, however, the same
writer is of opinion that the science is still in its infancy,
rpf *a.r,as lt relates t0 the real money of the ancients.
I he ideal,” says he, “ which is indeed the most impor¬
tant province of discussion, has been pretty clearly ascer¬
tained ; and we are almost as wTell acquainted with the At¬
tic mna or mina, and the perplexing progress of the Ro¬
man seslertia, as with our own pounds. But with the ac¬
tual coin of the ancients the case is different; and the ig¬
norance of the learned even in this point is wonderful.” °
He then proceeds, with very great asperity oflanguage, to
pai ticulai ize the ignorant manner in which modern authors
have treated the subject of medals. “ Arbuthnot and
L aike, says he, “ are, if possible, more ignorant of me¬
dals than Budaeus, the very first. The latter professes his
love of medals, but quotes a consular coin with the head of
Cicero; and looks upon one of the thirty pieces of silver,
the reward ol the treachery of Judas, and which was said
to be preserved among some relics at Paris, to be worthy
of i efeience and commemoration, Arbuthnot, if we may
judge from his book, had never seen any ancient coins j
468 MED
Medals, and Clarke, it is well known, was quite ignorant of them.
” ^ ~ll_ JI he latter, with all his labour, seems even to have known
nothing of the theoretic part of the real ancient money. In¬
deed, Dr Mead’s catalogue seems to have been almost the
only book on medals which had undergone his perusal.
On the other hand, the ignorance of medallists on this
score is no less profound. To this day they look upon the
didrachms of iEgina, so celebrated in antiquity, as tri¬
drachms of iEgium ; and upon the early obolus as a brass
coin. In the Roman class the large brass is esteemed the
as, while it shall be proved that it is the sestertius, and
worth four asses. The denarius is reckoned at ten asses,
even in the imperial times, whereas it only went at that
rate for the first ninety years after the coinage of silver at
Rome. The denarius sereus is taken for silver currency;
with other mistakes, which evince that medallists are as
ignorant of the theory as the others are of the practice.”
In his account of the ancient Greek money, Mr Pinker¬
ton observes, that the light of science, like that of the sun,
has proceeded from the east to the west. “ It is most pro¬
bable,” says he, “ that the first invention of money arose
like the other arts and sciences, and spread from thence
into the western parts of the world. In its first shape it
appeared as mere pieces of metal, without any stated form
or impression, in lieu of which it was regulated by weight.
Even down to the Saxon government in England, large
sums were regulated by weight; and in our own times
every single piece is weighed in gold; though with re¬
gard to silver this nicety is not minded, nor indeed does
it seem practicable. Amongst the ancients, whose com¬
mercial transactions were less important and extensive than
those of the moderns, silver was weighed as well as gold ;
nay even brass in some cases.”
In Greece, small sums were determined by mnce or mi¬
nce, and large sums by talents. In every country the mina
is supposed to have contained a hundred drachmae or small
silver coins of that country, and the talent sixty minae.
The mina is supposed to be a pound weight of the country
to which it belonged. The Attic pound, according to Dr
Arbuthnot, contained sixteen ounces, equal to our avoir¬
dupois pound; but Mr Pinkerton looks upon this as a very
absurd opinion, and accuses the doctor of having adopted
it merely that he might explain a passage in Livy. He is
of opinion that the Attic pound is very nearly the same
with the pound Troy. The mina of Athens had at first
only seventy-three drachms; but by Solon it was fixed at a
hundred. The ancient drachm weighed the same which it
does at present in medical weight, viz. the eighth part of
an ounce. The mina or pound of twelve ounces had con¬
sequently ninety-six of these drachms ; but four of them
were given to the round sum to supply defects in the alloy,
in consequence of a practice common in all ages and in
all countries, of giving some addition to a large weight.
Thus the pound in weight had but ninety-six drachmae
in fact, whilst the pound in tale had a hundred; as the
Roman libra in weight had but eighty-four denarii, in
tale a hundred and eight; and as our pound in tale, by an
inverse progress, is not a third of our pound in common
weight.
Notwithstanding the severe criticism on Dr Arbuthnot
just mentioned, however, we find Pinkerton adopting his
account of the talents used in coinage in several countries.
Thus, according to the doctor,
The Syrian talent contained 15 Attic minm.
Ptolemaic 20
Antiochian 60
Eubcean 60
Babylonian 70
Larger Attic 80
Tyrian 80
Egyptian 80
A L S.
The iEginean 100 Attic minae. Medals
Rhodian 100 y--,
Notwithstanding the concession made here by Mr Pin¬
kerton to the doctor, he tells us that he very much ques¬
tions this list of talents, and that many ancient writers are
little to be relied upon. Writers on this subject confess
that the numbers in all ancient manuscripts are the parts
most subject to error, as being almost always contracted.
They ought to allow that the authors themselves must
often be liable to wrong information.
“ Herodotus mentions that King Darius ordered gold
to be paid into his treasury by the Euboic talent, and sil¬
ver by the Babylonian. The Euboic is esteemed the same
with that called afterwards the Attic; and as we estimate
gold by carats, so it is natural to suppose that the most
precious metal would be regulated by the most minute
weight. But I confess I take the Babylonic talent to be
the same with that of iEgina. Mr Raper has proved the
first coins of Macedon to be upon the standard of iEgina.
Now the early Persian coins are upon that very scale, the
largest tetradrachms weighing from 430 to 440 grains.
Hence it follows that the Persian silver coins were of the
.Eginean standard, and the payment was certainly to be
made according to the standard of the money. The larger
Attic talent was of 80 lesser minse, because the larger Attic
mina was of 16 ounces. The Alexandrian talent, accord¬
ing to Festus, consisted of 12,000 denarii, being the same
with that used by the Egyptian kings in their coins ; and it
is shown by Mr Raper to have been the same with the talent
of iEgina. Perhaps the whole of the ancient coins of Asia,
Africa, Greece, Magna Greecia, and Sicily, are reducible to
three talents or standards: 1. That of fEgina, used in most
of the more ancient silver coinages, as would seem in even
the later of Egypt, Carthage, Cyrene, &c.; 2. the Attic
(being the Asiatic gold standard, afterwards used by Phi-
don king of Argos in estimating gold, and called Euboic
from Euboea, one of the quarters of the city of Argos),
used in Athens and the greater part of the world as the
standard both of gold and silver; 3. the Doric or Sici¬
lian talent of twenty-four nummi, each worth an obolus and
a half, whence the talent is estimated at six Attic drachms,
or three darics. These weights continued to be the standard
of money after it began to be distinguished by impression;
nay, until the fall of Greece and prevalence of the Roman
empire.” Thus far Mr Pinkerton.
Coinage, according to Herodotus, wras first invented by
the Lydians, from whom the Greeks quickly received it.
The former could not have received it from the Persians,
whose empire did not begin till 570 b. c., though our au¬
thor supposes that it might have proceeded from the Sy¬
rians, who carried on commerce in very ancient times. The
most ancient Greek coins of silver have an indented mark
upon one side, and a tortoise upon the other; and those of
the greatest antiquity have no letters upon them. Those
of later date have AHT marked upon them, which medal¬
lists interpret of iEgium in Achaia; being led into that
supposition by the tortoise, which they look upon as a
sure mark of the Peloponnesus. But though Pinkerton
agrees that the tortoise was so, he thinks that they are
otherwise very far wrong in their conclusions. iEgium
in Achaia was a place of no consequence till the times of
Aratus and the Achaean league; but there are eleven of
these coins in Dr Hunter’s cabinet which show that they
must have been struck in times of the most remote anti¬
quity, and that the place where they were struck was
rich and flourishing at the time. The coins we speak of
are not common ; but those which have the name AITEIflN
at full length, and which may perhaps belong to ASgium
in Achaia, are extremely scarce; insomuch that in all Dr
Hunter’s vast collection there are not above one or two.
They are likewise constructed upon a scale quite different
MEDALS
Medals, from all other Grecian money, being of 8,13, 15f, 90, and
'about 186 grains. The Grecian drachma at an average is
66 grains; and Mr Pinkerton thinks it would have been
strange if pieces had been struck of eight tenths of an
obolus, of an obolus and a half, or of a drachma and a half.
iEgium being originally an obscure village, could not be
the first which coined money; so that Mr Pinkerton sup¬
poses the name Ain to have stood for iEgialus, the an¬
cient name of Sicyon, a wealthy and powerful city ; or
rather yEgina, the mint of which was much celebrated
and perhaps the most ancient in Greece.
Other arguments in favour of these coins being derived
from iEgina, are drawn from their weight as well as their
469
ral have been occasionally met with at Tarentum. It Medals,
would appear, however, that there were some still smaller,
and of value only three fourths of a farthing. None of
these have been met with ; and the smallness of the size
lenders it improbable that any will ever be met with, as
the peasants, who commonly discover coins, would proba¬
bly either not observe them at all, or, if they did, would
neglect them as things of no value.
Many different names have been imposed on the coins
belonging to the different states of Greece. Thus xoptj
the maiden, was a name often applied to the tetradrachm!
and which would seem to apply to those ofAthens ; though
the name of yEgium at fu length. 1 he coinage of Angina cable in our author’s opinion. XsXwra, X shell was^he
Hence the dtachntas „°f 4'na” aid b/S Gt/ekJ 'caded'^ S^td
vaxsiui, or thick ; a name very applicable to "the coins in
question. From these observations, Pinkerton is of opi¬
nion that we may even distinguish the precise weight of
the ancient coins of digina. According to the exact pro-
poition, the drachma of this place should weigh exactly
a hundred grains; and one of them very much rubbed
weighed above ninety. The others of larger size, which
seem to be didrachms of iEgina, weigh from a hundred
and eighty-one to a hundred and ninety-four grains ; but
the latter being the only one he could meet with in good
preservation, it was impossible to form any just medium.
Even in those which are best preserved, he thinks that ten
Pallas on one side and a trident on the reverse. The he-
miobolion was the veXaMg of Lacedaemon ; and the xoWvQog
is supposed to have been equal to the Roman sestertius or
quarter drachma. The cystophori were coins with the
mystic chest or hamper of Bacchus upon them, out of
which a serpent rises ; they were much celebrated in anti¬
quity. We are told by Livy, that Marcus Acilius, in his tri¬
umph over Antiochus and the Aitolians, carried off 248,000
of them ; that Cneius Manlius Vulso, in that over Gallo-
Gisecia, had 250,000 ; and that Lucius Emilius Regillus, in
his naval triumph over the fleets of Antiochus, had 131,300.
Cicero likewise mentions his being possessed of a vast
. in t 1   3 ten JiKUW
grains may be allowed for a waste of the metal in so long a sum in them The mn<n nrnhnM*
.^e as 2400 years, which would bring the drachn^of see“e i
Angina near its proper standard. The obolus of AiMna was belonged to the ritie« nf A ^tractiaciims, such as
in proportion to its drachma of six oboli. It is theUJof Perga°mus in Mv,ia wff. f,f T L,f d,?eaIm
hftecn and a half grains,and thirteen when very „Jh “b°- Eplfesustbut ifcSe to^ascS'r ?oS’ Mr
it falls shorlo7“his weighh C'S ’ WheB ruM,ed ab8U,rd “ that ^ a'small
The general denomination of the Greek money is the Cicero memfons ht belnVto pTesiroftnlmm
retat^’indfe med^f h”, OU"ce>rwhi<:h t0 this ^ i3 treasure in them at the time when he was governortfTsia
retained in the medical weights ; the Grecian coins receiv- Minor. “ It is most likelv ” savs Mr Pinkerton uiL fu-
mg the names the, bore from their weights, though in wealth should be in the cin /t the country to wMch he
some instances the weights received their appellations from belonged. What had these triumnhs of Cirem’« o-,,
the coins. The stiver drachma, according to Mr Pinker- ment^do with faZl «,fS
themselves, as above noticed, establish the fact.”
Another set of coins famous in antiquity were those of
Cyzicus m Mysia, which were of gold ; but they have now
almost entirely vanished, by being recoined in other forms.
I lie APiavootov vo/wc^a, or money of Aryandes, who was
the coins.
ton, was about ninepeoce sterling ; and he’finds fault vvFth
those who make the drachma and denarius both equal to
one another, the latter being no more than eightpence.
The didrachm of silver, according to the same calculation*
ssjtf-.sriaaBjSSSt SESiSiHSisHs?
nhnnt thiriir fUro • con|es next m vaiue) weig]ung mentions some inscriptions of BA2IAI22A2 <E>I\l2TrAnv
about h.rty-three grains and worth fourpence halfpenny, on the gradini of the theatre at Syracuse hni wh^f
Ihe silver diobohon, or third of the drachma, weighs about pear not older than the Roman times Somp o * P'
twemy-two grams and .s worth threepence. The obolus of opinion that she refgnedTn CoTsara or Malta anTth'6
of silver weighs about eleven grains, and is worth only is considered as much more improbable M ’ d h‘S
three halfpence. There ts likewise a hemiobolion in I The most particular aUemioTwith regard to the names
ver, or half the obolus, of five grains and a half, value three
farthings; and another called tetraobolion dichalcos, or
quarter obolus, which is the most minute coin yet met
with, and, by, reason of its extreme smallness, weighino-
1 ‘ tu tuc: names
and standard of coins is due to those of Athens, and it is
lemarkable that most of them which have reached us are
of a very late period, with the names of magistrates in¬
scribed upon them. Some of these bear the name of
only two grains and a quarter, is now very scarce. There Mithridates, and few arroldei^thanTbP PrTrf it, T™ °f
is one of these in the rahinpf nf Lir i . . . ’. cw die omer tnan tne era of that prince,
mure were brought from Athens by Mr Smart. W wi'th the EoLans"°™i luspect"^^ Pinkerton!’“ that
470 MED
Medals, no Athenian coins of silver are posterior to Sylla’s infamous
' destruction of that city ; an event the more remarkable,
as Sallust tell us that Sylla was learned in Greek.” In¬
deed Caligula, Nero, and most of the pests of society, were
learned men, in spite of a well-known axiom of Ovid. It
is still more remarkable that the fabric of Athenian coins
is almost universally very rude ; a singular circumstance,
if we reflect how much the arts flourished there. It can
only be accounted for from the excellence of their artists
being such as to occasion all the good ones to be called in¬
to other countries, and none but the bad left at home. In
like manner, the coins struck at Rome in the imperial
times are excellent, as being done by the best Greek ar¬
tists ; whilst those of Greece, though famous at that time
for producing unrivalled artists, are during that period
commonly of very mean execution. The opulence of
Athens in her days of glory was very great, owing in an
eminent degree to her rich commerce with the kingdoms
on the Euxine Sea, carried on chiefly from Delos, which
belonged to Athens, and was the grand centre of that
trade. Hence it has become matter of surprise to Neu¬
mann, that when there are so many coins of Mycene, an
island even proverbially poor, there should be none of De¬
los. But Mr Pinkerton accounts for this from Mycene
being a free state, and Delos subject to Athens. “ It may
be well supposed,” says he, “ that Athens had a mint at
Delos ; and such Athenian coins as have symbols of Apol¬
lo, Diana, or Latona, were struck in this island.”
The copper money of the Greeks is next in antiquity to
the silver. Mr Pinkerton is of opinion that it was not used
at Athens till the 26th year of the Peloponnesian war;
about 404 years before Christ, and 300 after silver was
first coined there. The first copper coins were those of
Gelo of Syracuse, about 490 b. c. The chalcos of brass,
of which eight went to the silver obolus, seems to have
been the first kind of Greek coin. At first it was looked
upon as of so little consequence, that it became proverbial;
and to say that a thing was not worth a chalcos, was equi¬
valent to saying that it was worth nothing. As the Greeks
became pool', however, even this diminutive coin was sub¬
divided into two, four, nay eight Xstrra or small coins; but
1 inkerton censures very severely those who have given an
account of those divisions. “ Pollux, and Suidas copying
from him,” says he, “ tell us that there were seven lepta
to one chalcos ; a number the most unlikely that can be,
from its indivisibility and incapacity of proportion. Pollux
lived in the time of Commodus, so wyas too late to be of
the smallest authority; Suidas is four or five centuries later,
and out of the question. Pliny tells us that there were
ten chalci to the obolus, Diodorus and Cleopatra that
there were six, Isidorus says there were four; and if such
writers differ about the larger denomination, we may well
imagine that the smaller equally varied in different states ;
an idea supported by these undeniable witnesses, the coins
which remain. Most of the Greek copper coin which has
reached our times consists of chalci, the lepta being so
small as to be much more liable to be lost.” In Dr Hun¬
ter s cabinet, however, there are several of the dilepta of
Athens, and, from being stamped with the representation
of two owls, seem to be the same with the silver diobolus;
“ a circumstance,” says Mr Pinkerton, “ of itself sufficient
to confute 1 ollux ; for a dilepton can form no part of seven,
a numbei indeed which never appeared in any coinage of
the same metals, and is contradictory to common sense. It
may be observed, that the whole brass coins of Athens pub¬
lished by Di Combe are reducible to four sizes, which may
be the lepton, dilepton, tetralepton or hemichalcos, and chal-
cos. The first is not above the size of one of King James
I. s fat thing tokens, the last about that of our common far¬
thing. I he lepta was also called as being change
f or the poor. I he xtbatpog, perhaps so called from the figure
A L S.
of a wolf upon it, was the coin of a particular state, and, if Medal?,
of brass, must have weighed three chalci. The other names -v-^
of the copper coins of Greece are but little known. Lycur-
gus ordered iron money to be coined at Sparta; but so
perishable is this metal that none of that kind of money
has reached our times.
After the conquest of Greece by the Romans, most of
the coins of that country diminished very much in their
value, the gold coinage being totally discontinued, though
some of the barbarous kings who used the Greek charac¬
ter were permitted to coin gold ; but they used the Roman
model; and the standard used by the few cities in Asia
who spoke the Greek language in the times of the empe¬
rors is entirely unknown. Copper seems to have been the
only metal coined at that time by the Greeks themselves;
and that was done upon the Roman standard, then universal
through the empire, that there might be no impediment to
the circulation of currency. They retained, however, some
of their own terms, using them along with those of the Ro¬
mans. The assarion or assariurn of Rome, the name of
the diminished as, being sixteen to the drachma or dena¬
rius, the obolus was so much diminished in value as to be
struck in brass not much larger than the old chalcos, and
valued at between two and three assaria, which was indeed
its a/icient rate as to the drachma. This appears from the
copper coins of Chios, which have their names marked up¬
on them. The brass obohis, at first equal in size to the
Roman sestertius or large brass, lessens by degrees to about
the size of a silver drachma. From the badness of the im¬
perial coinage in Greece, also, it appears that brass was
very scarce in that country, as well as in all the cities using
the Greek characters, being found mostly in the western
countries of the Roman empire. The time of this declen¬
sion in size of the Greek coins is by Mr Pinkerton supposed
to have been from Augustus down to Gallienus. He is of
opinion, however, that the copper obolus, at first above the
size of large brass, was used in Greece about the time of
its first subjection to Rome; and that the lepta ceasing, the
chalci came in their stead, with the dichalcus and the he-
miobolion of brass.
With respect to the gold coins of the Greeks, Mr Pin¬
kerton is of opinion that none of that metal were coined be¬
fore the time of Philip of Macedon, as none have reached
our times prior to the reign of that monarch. From a pas-
sage in Thucydides, our author concludes that, in the be¬
ginning of the Peloponnesian war, the Athenians had no
gold coin. Speaking of the treasure in the Acropolis or
citadel of Athens, at the commencement of that war, the
historian mentions silver coin, and gold and silver in bul¬
lion ; and had any of the gold been in coin, he would cer¬
tainly have mentioned it. Philip began his reign about
sixty-eight years after the beginning of the Peloponnesian
war; and we can scarcely suppose that any city would have
preceded the elegant and wealthy Athens in coining gold.
Notwithstanding, however, this deficiency of gold coin
amongst the Greeks, it is certain that the coinage of gold
had taken place in Sicily long before; as we have gold
coins of Gelo about 491 b. c., of Hiero I. 478, and of Dio¬
nysius I. in 404, all using the Greek characters, though
not to be ranked amongst the gold coins of Greece, as
Philip caused his to be. Gold coins of Syracuse even ap¬
pear of the third class of antiquity, or with an indented
square, and a small figure in one of its segments. Gold
coins were used in the cities of Brettium, Tarentum, and
throughout Magna Graecia; also in Panticapaea in Thrace,
and likewise Cosa in that country; but not in Tuscany, as
is commonly believed, though Neumann proves that they
were struck by Brutus, and are unquestionably as ancient
as the Greek coins. The Thebans and Athenians proba¬
bly coined the first gold after Philip had set them the ex¬
ample, and when they were attempting to resist the pro-
medals.
Medals, jects of that enterprising monarch. The iEtolians proba- ver and sold that ramp In • , ,
 bly coined their gold during the time of their greatest same standard n in their way was regulated by the
power, about a century after Philip, and when thfy were weights made use ofwel-8 H°ra tle St°7 °f Brennus- The
combating the power of Aratus and thn AnW™ i:!.8 . ™£?de1use °Lwere same with those which con
combating the power of Aratus and the Achman league.
There is only one of Thebes, much worn, irf Dr
Hunter’s cabinet, and weighing fifty-nine grains; and per-
naps not above two or three ypuffoi or gold didraehms nf tn fPo ^ i
— .1^ —m ^ aiu,racnms ot to the ounce, or to have contained in all 5040 grains
tinue to this day The pound consisted of twelve oimces"
of 458 grains each ; but the pound by which the money
was weighed appears to have consisted only of 420 grains
to the ounce, or tn havn f o i /-wl r _ •
rp, . ,  ^ ^uictmeu in an grains.
rins became the standard of copper; and when silver came
to be coined, seven denarii went to the ounce, as eight
drachms did in Greece. Gold was regulated by the scrip.
Athens in the world, one of which is also in the collec¬
tion of Dr Hunter, and weighs 132-5- grains. It appears to
be more modern than the reign of Philip. That monarch
having got possession of the mines of Philippi in Thrace or e,™ 1 .T oy me scrip.
improved them so much that they produced him annually the larger weiHusTust mention?^1 Th denaiiUS’ and ^
above a thousand talents of gold, or L.2,880,000 of our at first used hv •11Vmber ten was
money. From this gold were struck the ’firet coins, name” findin' afterward,6“ n °Unti%; their m0n^; but
from the monarch, Philippi. They were marked with his venient tl, r , ‘I1, smaller number was more con-
portrait, and for many ages afterwards were so numerous of ten is two^nd'aMf theyfiTthis 1 “nd h qU?rter
that they were common in the Roman empire- whence on it tho no™ r alb.they for tb's ieason bestowed up-
- gold, si.- that it wasro^rr^hL:
yer, and at last even to brass coins of their size. In the
time of Philip, gold was very scarce in Greece; but after
the Phocians had plundered the temple of Delphi, this
piecious metal, which had been valued as gems, and con¬
secrated only to the decoration of the temples of the gods,
began to be known amongst the Greeks. The comparative
value of gold and silver, however, seems to have been at
that time very different from what it is now. Herodo¬
tus values gold at thirteen times its weight in silver; Plato,
in his Hipparchus, at twelve; and even the low value of ten
to one seems to have been the stated estimation in Greece,
though in Rome the plenty of silver from the Spanish mines
made the value of gold to be much higher; and there is no
reason to think that it was ever valued in that city at less
than twelve times its weight in silver. The Philippus,
X*v<rog, gold piece, or stater, is a didrachm, and is the most
common of all the ancient coins. Mr Pinkerton is of opi¬
nion that it went for twenty silver drachms on its first ap¬
pearance, but in later times for twenty-five Greek drachnife
or Roman denarii. There are proofs of the Philippi being
didrachms, both from the writings of ancient authors and
from numbers of the coins themselves, which remain to
this day; and that the xguffag, or principal gold coin of
Greece, was of the same weight, is also evident from an¬
cient writings. It w-as anciently worth about 15s.; but,
valuing gold now at the medium price of L.4 per ounce, it
is worth about 20s. The or half the former coin,
scarcely occurs of the coinage of Philip and Alexander,
though it does of Hiero I. of Syracuse and of King Pyr¬
rhus. It passed for ten silver drachmas, and was valued
only at 7s. fid. though now worth 10s. Another division of
this kind might be worth about 5s. There were besides
some lesser divisions of gold coins, which could not be
worth above two drachmas. These were coined in Gy¬
rene ; and there were besides several old gold coins of
Asia Minor, the value of which is now unknown. Mr Pin¬
kerton supposes that they were coined not with relation to
their weight as parts of the drachma, but merely to make
• , , . ^ ? mv-ciouita, utc. cinu nair a
third; whence the sestertius came at last to be the grand
estimate of Roman money. The a* being at first the lar¬
gest, and indeed the only Roman coin, the word sester¬
tius means sestertius as, or “ two asses and a half.” On the
. ls^ C01ning °f silver, the denarius of ten asses was struck
in tne most common and convenient denary division of
money, or that by tens, the sestertius being of course two
asses and a half. But the denarius being afterwards esti¬
mated at sixteen asses, the name sestertius was still applied
o a quarter of the denarius, though it now contained four
asses. The term sestertius was applied to all sums not ex¬
ceeding 1000 sestertii, or L.8. 6s. 8d.; but for greater sums
the mode of the sestertius was likewise altered, though
not to exclude the former. Very large sums of money
were estimated by the hundredweight of brass; for the
Homans were at first unacquainted with the talent. The
hundredweight, by way of eminence, was distinguished
by the name of pondus, and sestertium pondus became a
phrase for two hundredweight and a half. Mr Pinkerton
is of opinion that we may value the as libralis of ancient
Rome at about eightpence English. Estimating the as,
t lerefore, at a pound weight, the sestertium pondus was
equal to one thousand sestertii, or L.8. 6s. 8d.; and by a
coincidence, which our author supposes to have been the
eitect of design, as soon as the silver coinage appeared the
sestertium centum denariorum was always equal to L.8. 6s.
8d. also. The word sestertium itself, however, seems to*
have been unknown prior to the coinage of silver money
at Home; the pondera gravis ccris being sufficient before
that time for all the purposes of a state in which money
was so scarce. But, however this may be, the pondus or
hundredweight of brass was precisely worth a hundred de¬
narii, or a pound of silver. As the great sestertium was
always valued at a thousand of the smaller, or L.8. 6s. 8d.
we never find one sestertium mentioned in authors but
LW83,333e6s0‘8d0re! ‘en th°USand of tl,em beinS equal to
The states flora which the Romans may be sunnosed
them con-espond with as many silver pieces a/were ne- first to Imve delfledX coina” SfluscTslI
cossary. Ihere are also larger corns than the *** the Greek colonies in Magna Grmcia and S,T ly Josenh
g of Alexander and Lysimachus beimr double its  Joseph
the dix^ffog of Alexander and Lysimachus being double its
value. Some others are met with of Lysimachus, Antio-
chus III. and some of the Egyptian monarchs, weighing-
four times the x^og, and now worth about L.4 sterling
Some weigh even more; but this is supposed to be owim*
to a difference in the purity of the gold.
In Rome, as well as in Greece, the money was at first
Scahger, Gronovius, and others, contend that it was from
the Sicilians that the Romans first derived their know-
edge of money ; but Mr Pinkerton argues that it was from
the Etruscans. In confirmation of his opinion, he appeals
to the state of the Roman territories in the time of Ser-
vius lullius, who is looked upon as having been the first
who coined money at Rome. At that time the whole Ro-
estimated by weight; and the first metal coined by that man dominion did not extend beyLd ten miffis T1'016] B°’
people was copper, silver being long unknown in Rome; city, and was entirely surrounefed bv the Ftr,^ d ^
nor is it certainly known that any silver has ever been Latin states - Cumre "the r / ' i Btru®c.an am*
found in the ItaliL mine,. In Jme the first valuation of any ^,00"^ sSatedln the neiltT', ""l
of money was by the hbra gravis ceris, or pound of heavy of Naples, at about the distance of 150 miles^ ^H p0'
brass; and ,n the progress of their conquests, the little si kerj asks if it is reasoTabTeTthLk tt, ,ke
472
MEDALS.
Medals, received the use of money from the Etruscans and La-
tins, who were their neighbours, or from the Greeks, who
were at a distance, and at that time, as far as appears from
their history, absolutely unknown to them. “ If this ar
gument, “ adds he,” is strong with regard to the nearest
Grecian colonies, what must it be with respect to Sicily,
an island 300 miles distant from Rome, where it was not
known, at that time, if a boat went by land or water ?”
Arguments, however, for this opinion have been derived
from the similarity between the Sicilian and Roman coins,
which Mr Pinkerton next proceeds to examine. The
Greek pound in Sicily was called A/rga, and consisted, like
the Roman, of twelve bvyxiai or ounces ; and Mr Pinker¬
ton grants that the Roman libra was derived from the Greek
Afrga, but denies that the as, or libra, a coin, was from a Si¬
cilian model. The Sicilians had indeed a coin named A/rga,
but it w^as of silver, and of equal value to the iEginean
standard, ten of which went to the Sicilian di?ia\/rgx. He
differs from Gronovius, that the standard of iEgina was
used at Corinth, and of course at Syracuse ; and it appears
from Aristotle, that the Sicilians had a talent or standard
of their own. The Sicilian obolus or A/rga contained also
twelve ounces or chalci, so named at first because they
weighed an ounce weight; but the bvyxiai of Pliero weighed
more than a troy ounce ; and the brass coins of Agrigen-
tum are marked with ciphers as far as six, the largest
weighing only 186 grains, or about one third of the pri¬
mitive ounce. Pinkerton denies that even the Roman
denarfUs took its rise from the Sicilian dixaX/r^ov, as many
authors assert. Were this the case, it would have weighed
180 grains ; whereas the Roman denarii are not above the
third part of the quantity.
From all these considerations, Mr Pinkerton is of opinion
that the Sicilians borrowed the division of their Xirga from
the Etruscans, or possibly from the Romans themselves;
which, he seems to think, is more probable than that the
Romans had it from Sicily. The strongest argument, how¬
ever, against the Roman coinage being borrowed from the
Sicilian is, that though great numbers of Sicilian coins are
to be found in the cabinets of medallists, yet none of them
resembles in any degree the as libralis of the Romans. In
most cabinets also there are Etruscan coins upon the ex¬
act scale of the os libralis, and several of its divisions;
whence Mr Pinkerton has concluded, that “ these, and these
alone, must have afforded a pattern to the primitive Ro¬
man coinage.” The Etruscans w'ere a colony from Lydia,
to which country Herodotus ascribes the first invention of
coinage. “ Those colonists,” says Mr Pinkerton, “ upon
looking round their settlements, and finding that no silver
was to be had, and much less gold,” supplied the mercan¬
tile medium with copper; to which the case of Sweden is
very similar, which, as late as the last century, had copper
coins of such magnitude that wheelbarrows were used to
carry off a sum not very considerable.”
Some coins are found which exceed the as libralis in
weight, and these are supposed to be prior to the time of
Servius Tullius. Some of them are met with of thirty-
four and fifty-three Roman ounces, having upon one side
the figure of a bull rudely impressed, and upon the other
the bones of a fish. They are most commonly found at
1 udder, or Tudertum, in Umbria; but they appear always
broken at one end, and hence Mr Pinkerton is of opinion
that perhaps some might have been struck of the decus-
sis form, or weighing ten pounds. These pieces would
seem to make it evident, that the Romans derived their
large brass coins from the Etruscans and neighbouring
states; they are all cast in moulds, and the greater part
of them appear much more ancient than the Roman asses,
even such as are of the greatest antiquity.
Mr Pinkerton agrees with Sir Isaac Newton as to the
time that Servius I ullius reigned in Rome, which he sup¬
poses to be about 460 before Christ. His coinage seems
to have been confined to the as, or piece of brass having
the impression of Janus on the one side and the prow of
a ship on the other, because Janus arrived in Italy by sea.
Yarro, however, informs us, that the very first coins of
Tullius had the figure of a bull or other cattle upon them,
like the Etruscan coins, of which they were imitations.
Those with the figure of Janus and the prow of a ship up¬
on them may be supposed to have first appeared about 400
before Christ; but in a short time various subdivisions of
the as were coined* The semis, or half, is commonly
stamped with the head of Jupiter laureated; the triens, or
third, havingfour ciphers, as being originally of four ounces
weight, has the head of Minerva ; the quadrans, or quarter,
marked with three ciphers, has the head of Hercules
wrapt in the lion’s skin ; the sextans, or sixth, having only
two ciphers, is marked with the head of Mercury, with a
cap and wings; whilst the uncia, having only one cipher,
is marked with the head of Rome. All these coins ap¬
pear to have been cast in moulds, by a considerable num¬
ber at a time; and in the British Museum there are
four of them all united together as taken out of the
mould, in which perhaps dozens were cast together. In
process of time, however, the smaller divisions were struck
instead of being cast; but the larger still continued to be
cast until the as fell to two ounces. Even after this time
it was still called libra, and accounted a pound of copper,
though there were now larger denominations of it coined,
such as the bissas or double as ; tressis and quadrussis, of
three and four asses ; nay, as far as decussis or ten asses,
marked X. Olivieri mentions one in his own cabinet weigh¬
ing upwards of twenty-five ounces, and cast when the as
was about three ounces weight. There is likewise in the
Museum Etruscum a decussis of forty Roman ounces, cast
when the as was at four ounces. There was likewise a
curious decussis in the Jesuits’ Library at Rome, for which
an English medallist offered L.20, but it was seized by the
Pope, along with every other thing belonging to the society.
Mr Pinkerton contests the opinion of Pliny, that the as
continued of a pound weight till the end of the first Punic
war. This opinion, he says, is confuted by the coins which
still remain, and it appears probable to him that the as
decreased gradually in weight; and from one or two of
the pieces which still exist, he seems to think that the de¬
crease was slow, as from a pound to eleven ounces, then
to ten, nine, &c.; but neither the as nor its parts were
ever correctly sized. During the time of the second Punic
war, when the Romans were sorely pressed by Hannibal,
the as w as reduced to a single ounce. This is said to have
taken place in the 2I5th year before our era, being about
thirty-six years after the former change. The as libralis,
wdth the faces of Janus upon it, is the form most commonly
met with previously to its being reduced to two ounces.
Mr Pinkerton supposes that the as libralis continued for
at least a century and a half after this coinage of Tullius,
down to 300 before Christ, about the year of Rome 452,
between which and the 502d year of Rome a gradual di¬
minution of the as to two ounces must have taken place.
The following table of the dates of the Roman coinage is
given by Mr Pinkerton. The as libralis, coined by Tul¬
lius, with the figures of oxen, &c. about 167 years after
the building of Rome, according to Sir Isaac Newrton, or
about the year before Christ 460
As libralis with Janus and the prow of a ship 400
As of ten ounces   300
Eight 290
Six   280
Four 270
Three 260
Two, according to Pliny 250
One, according to the same author 214
Medals
»
MEDALS.
Medals. About 175 before Christ, also, we are informed by Pliny
-v "that the as was, by the Papyrian law, reduced to half an
ounce, at which it continued till the time of Pliny himseli;
and long after.
After the Romans began to maintain an intercourse with
Greece, a variety of elegant figures appear upon the parts
of the as, though not on the as itself till after the time of
Sylla- Towards the latter end of the republic, also, du-
pondii, or double asses, were coined, together with the ses¬
tertii (erei, which came in place of the quadrusscs, when
the denarius began to be reckoned at sixteen asses, proba¬
bly at the time the latter was reduced to half an ounce. In
some instances, it is to be observed that the Romans ac¬
commodated their coins to the country where their army
was stationed; whence we have many coins marked as
Roman, which had been coined in Magna Greecia and Si¬
cily, and are evidently upon the Greek and not the Roman
scale. In the latter part of the republican times, also, the
types begin to vary ; so that we have a brass coin suppos¬
ed to be struck by Sextus Pompeius in Sicily, having upon
it a double head of that warrior, representing a Janus. Mr
Pinkerton supposes it to have been a dupondius, which in¬
deed appears to be the case, from the double head. This
coin is of copper, and still weighs an ounce, notwithstand¬
ing its antiquity.
The largest imperial copper coin was the sestertius, a
piece worth about twopence of our money. Mr Pinkerton
censures severely the opinion of other medallists, all of
whom allege that the sestertius was of silver. “ In fact,” says
he, “ it would be as rational in any antiquary, a thousand
years hence, to contend that the halfpenny and farthing are
of silver, because they were so in the reign of Henry VIII.”
In confirmation of his own opinion, he quotes the following
passage from Pliny: “ The greatest glory of brass is now
due to the Marian, called also that of Cordova. This, after
the Livian, most absorbs the lapis calaminaris, and imi¬
tates the goodness of native orichalcum in our sestertii and
dupondiarii, the asses being contented with their own cop¬
per. Gronovius confessed that he did not know what to
make of this passage, and that it caused him to hesitate in
his opinion. The Livian mine here mentioned by Pliny
is supposed to have got its name from Livia, the wife of
Augustus; and it is probable that the pieces marked with
her portraits, entitled Justitia, Salus, Virtus, were dupondii
from this very mine, the metal being exceedingly fine, and
of the kind named Corinthian brass by the ancient medal¬
lists. Perhaps the mine received its name from the cir¬
cumstance of her coins being struck in the metal obtained
from it.
No change took place in the Roman coinage, from the
time that the as fell to half an ounce, to the days of Pliny ;
but Mr Pinkerton observes, that before the time of Julius
Caesar, yellow brass began to be used, and was always looked
upon as being double the value of Cyprian or red copper.
There are but few coins in large brass immediately before
Julius Caesar, or even belonging to that emperor; but from
the time of Augustus downward, the large coins are all
found of brass, and not one of them of copper. The largest
of what are called the middle size are all of yellow brass;
and the next size, which is the as, and weighs half an ounce,
is universally copper. What the ancients named orichalcum,
or what we call brass, was always looked upon as greatly
superior in value to the ces Cyprium. Procopius, speaking
of a statue of Justinian, tells us that brass inferior in colour
to gold is almost equal in value to silver. The mines of
native brass were very few in number, and were owing en¬
tirely to the singular combination of copper and lapis cala¬
minaris in the bowels of the earth, which very seldom oc¬
curs ; and the ancients were very far from being well ac¬
quainted with the method of combining these two bodies
artificially, so that yellow brass was always esteemed at
VOL. XIV.
473
double the value of copper; and hence, in the ancient Medals,
coinages, the brass and copper pieces were kept as distinct
as those of gold and silver. "
Mr Pinkerton lays claim to the discovery that the impe¬
rial sestertius was of brass, and is at considerable pains to
bring proofs of it. Besides the testimony of Pliny, which
of itself would be decisive, this is supported by the strong¬
est collateral evidence of other authors. From a passage
in Julius Africanus, who wrote the ’lurg/xa, or Treatise 'on
Medicine, it appears that the nummus, or sestertius, weighed
an ounce, and of consequence that it could not be stiver,
but brass; and all the large imperial Roman coins weigh
an ounce. We know not the age in which Julius Africa¬
nus lived ; and as he makes the denarius to contain sixteen
asses, he must have been before the age of Gallienus, when
it had sixty. Gronovius supposes him to have been the
same mentioned by Eusebius. This author speaks of a
Julius Africanus who lived in the time of Heliogabalus,
and whom Mr Pinkerton supposes to have been the same
with the person above mentioned.
The sestertius underwent no change till the time of
Alexander Severus, when it was diminished by one third
of its weight. . Trajanus Decius was the first who coined
double sestertii, or quinarii, of brass; but from the time
of Iiebonianus Gallus to that of Gallienus, when the first
brass ceases, the sestertius does not weigh above the third
part of an ounce. I he larger coins are accounted double
sestertii; and after the time of Gallienus it totally vanishes.
In the times of Valerian and Gallienus we find a new kind
of coinage, mentioned by the name of denarii ceris, or Phi¬
lippi (Brel Two sizes of denarii began to be used in the
time of Caracalla; the larger of six sestertii, or twenty-
four assaria; the smaller of four sestertii, or sixteen assaria,
as usual. In the time of Pupienus, the latter was reduced
to such a small size as not to weigh more than thirty-six
grains, though in Caracalla’s time it weighed fifty-six.
After the time of Gordian III. the smaller coin fell into
disuse, as breeding confusion. The larger denarius, of six
sestertii, though diminished at last to the size of the early
denarius, still retained its value of six sestertii, or twenty-
four assaria. The Philippus cereus came at length in
place of the sestertius. It was also called denarius, from
which we may learn not only their size, but that they were
in value ten assaria, as the first denarius. In the reign of
Diocletian, the place of the sestertius was supplied by the
follis, that emperor having restored the silver coin to its
purity, and likewise given this form to the copper; but it
would seem that this restoration of the coinage only took
place towards the end of his reign ; for which reason we
have but few of his silver coins, and still fewer of the follis,
though the denarii cerei continue quite common down to the
time of Constantine. The follis of Diocletian seems to have
weighed above half an ounce; and Mr Pinkerton is of opi¬
nion that Diocletian designed this coin to supply the place
of the denarius asreus, which of course was worth ten as¬
saria, and six of them went to the silver denarius. From
this time the assarium diminishes to the size of thirty
grains; and soon after the follis appeared, the denarius
sereus was entirely dropped, the former having gradually
supplied its place. Some mints appear to have retained
the use of the denarius longer than others; and in several
the change was preceded, and gradually brought in, by
washing the follis with silver or tin, as the denarius had
formerly been. Pieces of this kind occur in the times of
Diocletian, Maximian I. and II. and Constantins I.; that
is, for about ten years after the follis made its appearance.
Some countries, however, retained the denarius asreus,
others the follis, and some had a medium between the two,
or the follis washed in imitation of the denarius.
lowards the end of the reign of Constantine I. a new
coinage was introduced throughout the whole empire. The
3 o
474
Medals.
MEDALS.
follis coined by this prince was of half an ounce weight;
twenty-four of thejn going to the milliarensis, or larger sil¬
ver coin. The word follis signifies also a purse, in which
sense we sometimes find it mentioned in the Byzantine
history. The common follis of silver, when it occurs by
itself, means a purse of 250 milliarensis, as the sestertium
was 250 denarii; and by a law of Constantine I. every man
paid to the state a follis or purse according to his income.
The method of counting by purses continues in Turkey to
this day.
The dupondius was only half the value of the sestertius,
or about one penny sterling; and before the yellow brass
appeared it seems to have been struck upon copper, and
double the size of the as. There are some of this coin,
struck in the time of Julius Caesar, in yellow brass, weigh¬
ing half an ounce, with a head of Venus Victrix upon one
side; on the reverse, a female figure, with serpents at her
feet; whilst others have a Victory on the reverse, with Q.
Oppius Pr. After the time of Augustus, the dupondius
was struck in yellow brass ; which Pliny tells us was also
the case in his time. The word dupondiarius seems to
have been used by Pliny, and adopted, not to express that
the coin was dupondius, but that it was of dupondiary value.
Neither was the former word confined to signify double
weight, but was used also for double length or measure,
as in the instance of dupondius pes, or two feet, &c. In
the imperial times, therefore, dupondius was used, not to
signify a coin of double the weight of the as, but of double
the value. It was one of the most ordinary of the Roman
coins, and seems to have been very common even in Con¬
stantinople. In the time of Justinian, it appears there was
a custom of nicknaming young students of the law dupon-
dii, against which the emperor made a law; but it is not
known what gave rise to the name. The dupondius, though
of the same size with the as, is commonly of finer work¬
manship, the metal being greatly superior in value. It
continues to be of yellow brass, as well as the sestertius,
till the time of Gallienus ; but the as is always in copper.
The imperial as, or assarium, was worth only a half¬
penny. At first it weighed half an ounce, and was always
of copper till the time of Gallienus, when it was made of
brass, and weighed only the eighth part of an ounce.
From the time of Gallienus to that of Diocletian, it con¬
tinued to diminish still more, the size being then twenty
to an ounce. This was the same with the lepta, or small¬
est coins except the vovp.ia, which weighed only ten grains.
The parts of the as occur but seldom, which may in¬
deed be expected, considering the low value of it; though
there still occur some of those called semis, triens, quad-
rans, sextans, and uncia, coined in the times of Nero and
Domitian. There is no small brass from the time of Per-
tinax to that of Gallienus, excepting that of Trajan us De-
cius; but in the time of Gallienus it becomes extremely
common, and the coins of small brass, as well as the larger,
are always marked S. C., such as want it being universally
accounted forgeries ; they were plated with silver, though
the plating be now worn off. The small pieces struck for
slaves during the time of the saturnalia, must also be dis¬
tinguished from the parts of the as. The S. C. upon
these most probably signifies Saturni Consulto, and were
struck in ridicule of the true coins, as the slaves on that
occasion had every privilege of irony.
T-he sestertius diminishes from Pertinax to Gallienus so
fast that no paits of the as are struck, itself being so small.
Trajanus Decius, indeed, coined some small pieces, which
went for the semis of the time. I he small brass coins un-
der Gallienus were called assaria, sixty of which went to the
silver denaiius. I hey are about the size of the denarius,
and some of them occur of the coinage of Gallus and his
family, of half that size, which appear to have been struck
duiing the latter part of his reign, when the assarium was
diminished to a still smaller size. It is probable, however? Medals
that some of these very small coins had been struck in allv>—v-*
ages of the empire, in order to scatter amongst the people
on solemn occasions. Mr Pinkerton is of opinion that they
are the missilia, though most other medallists think that
they are medallions. “ But if so,” says he, “they were
certainly called missilia a non mittendo ; for it would be
odd if fine medallions were scattered among the mob. It
is a common custom just now to strike counters to scatter
among the populace on such occasions, while medals are
given to peers of the kingdom ; and we may very justly
reason from analogy on this occasion.”
I he assarion or lepton of the Constantinopolitan empire
was, as we have already observed, one of the smallest coins
known in antiquity, weighing no more than twenty grains;
and the noumia were the very smallest which have reached
our times, being only one half of the former. By reason
of their extreme smallness, they are very scarce ; but Mr
Pinkerton had in his possession a fine one of Theodosius
II. which had on it the emperor’s head in profile : Theo¬
dosius P. F. AV. ; on the reverse a wreath, having in
the centre vox. xx.: mult. xxx.
1 he principal coin of the lower empire was the follis,
which was divided into an half and quarter, named
foAsosand rsragroi/; the latter of which is shown by Du Cange
to have been a small brass coin, as the other is supposed
to have been by Mr Pinkerton. Besides these, the follis
was divided into eight oboli, sixteen assaria or lepta, and
thirty-two noumia, though in common computation it con¬
tained forty of these last. This coin, notwithstanding so
many divisions, was of no more value than a halfpenny.
Mr Pinkerton controverts an opinion, common amongst
medallists, that the largest brass coin or follis of the lower
empire had forty small coins, expressed by the letter M
upon it; that the next had thirty, expressed by the let¬
ter A ; that the half was marked by the letter K, and the
quarter by I, which contained only ten. Mr Pinkerton
informs us that he had three coins of Anastasius, all mark¬
ed M in large ; one of them weighed more than half an
ounce ; the second forty grains less; and the third of 160
grains, or one third of an ounce; but the size was so very
unequal, that the last, which was very thick, did not ap¬
pear above half the size of the first. There are pieces of
Justinian which weigh a whole ounce ; but the size of cop¬
per was increased as the silver became scarcer, and the
value of the coinage cannot be deduced from the weight
of the coins, as it is plain that our own coinage is not of
half the value with regard to the metal. A great number
of medallions were struck by Constantins II.; but there is
no other copper larger than the half ounce, excepting that
of Anastasius, when the follis began to be struck larger.
All medallists allow the others to be medallions.
The metal employed in these very small coins, though
at first of brass, was always of a base and refuse kind ; but
copper is generally made use of in the parts of the as from
the earliest times to the latest; and if brass be sometimes
employed, it is never such as appears in the sestertii and
dupondiarii, which is very fine and beautiful, but only the
refuse. “ Yellow brass of the right sort,” says Pinkerton,
“ seems totally to have ceased in the Roman coinage with
the sestertius, under Gallienus, though a few small coins
of very bad metal appear under that hue as late as Ju¬
lian II.”
Silver was coined in Rome only as late as the 485th year
of the city, or 266 before Christ. Varro indeed speaks of
silver having been coined by Servius Tullius, and of the li-
bella having been once in silver; but Pliny’s authority
must be accounted of more weight than that of this au¬
thor, as he mistakes the A/rga of Sicily for Roman coins,
having been current at Rome during the time of the first
Punic war. Even Pliny, according to our author, very
MEDALS.
Medals, frequently mistakes with regard to matters much antece-
—-v——'dent to his own time; and amongst the moderns he criti¬
cises severely Erasmus and Hume. “ Erasmus,” says he,
“ who had been in England for some time, talks of leaden
money being used here.” Not even a leaden token was
struck in the reign of Henry VIII.; yet his authority has
been followed with due deference to so great a name ; fort
how could Erasmus, who must have seen the matter with
his own eyes, assert a direct falsehood ? To give a later in¬
stance in a writer of reputation, Mr Hume, in the sixth
volume of his history, has these words, in treating of the
reign of James I. “ It appears that copper halfpence and
farthings began to be coined in this reign. Tradesmen had
commonly carried on their retail business by leaden tokens.
The small silver penny was soon lost, and at this time was
nowhere to be found.” Copper halfpence and farthings
were not struck till Charles II., 1672. There were small
tokens for farthings struck in copper by James I., but not
one for the halfpenny. The silver farthings had ceased
with Edward VI., but the silver halfpence continued the
sole coins till Edward II. It was by copper tokens that
small business was carried on. “ The silver penny was
much used till the end of the reign of George I.; and, so
far from being nowhere to be found, was superabundant in
every reign since that period, not excepting even the reign
of George III. From these instances the reader may judge
how strangely writers of all ages blunder when treating of
a subject of which they are entirely ignorant.”
The first silver denarii coined at Rome are supposed by
Pinkerton to have been those which are impressed with
the Roma ; and he inclines to account those the most an¬
cient that have a double female head on the one side, and
on the reverse Jupiter in a car, with Victory holding the
reins, and the word Roma indented in a rude and singu¬
lar manner. The double female head seems to denote
Rome, in imitation of that of Janus upon the as. There
are fifteen of these in the cabinet of Dr Hunter; one of
the largest weighs ninety-eight grains and a quarter, and
the rest, which seem to be of the greatest antiquity, are of
various weights between that and eighty-four ; the smaller
and more modern weigh fifty-eight or fifty-nine grains ;
but Mr Pinkerton is of opinion that the large ones were of
the very first Roman coinage, and struck during that in¬
terval of time between the coinage of the first silver dena¬
rius and the as of two ounces. He takes the indentation
of the word Roma to be a mark of great antiquity; such
a mode being scarcely known anywhere else, excepting in
Caulonia, Crotona, and other towns of Italy. All of them
are allowed to have been struck at least 400 b. c. As these
coins are not double denarii, they must have been struck
pi ior to the small ones ; and Neumann has given an account
of one of them recoined by Irajan, in which the indentation
of Roma is carefully preserved. 1 he first denarius was in
value ten asses when the as weighed three ounces; and, al¬
lowing ninety grains at a medium for one of these large
denarii, the proportion of copper to silver must have been
as one to a hundred and sixty; but when the as fell to one
ounce, the proportion was as one to eighty; when it fell to
half an ounce, so that sixteen asses went to the denarius,
the proportion was as one to sixty-four, at which it remained!
Copper with us, in coinage, is to silver as one to forty, but
in actual value as one to seventy-two.
At Rome the denarius was worth 8d.; the quinarius 4d.;
and the sestertius, whether silver or brass, 2d. The dena¬
rius is the coin from which our penny is derived, and was
the chief silver coin in Rome for 600 years. According to
Celsus, seven denarii went to the Roman ounce, which in
metals did not exceed 430 grains; but as all the denarii
hitherto met with weigh at a medium only sixty grains,
this would seem to make the Roman ounce only 420 grains;
though perhaps this deficiency may be accounted for from
475
the unavoidable waste of metal, even in the best preserved Medals,
ot these coins. According to this proportion, the Roman ’
pound contained eighty-four denarii; but in tale there was
a very considerable excess, for no fewer than 100 denarii
went to the Roman pound. rIhe Greek ounce appears to
have been considerably larger than that of Rome, contain¬
ing about 528 grains; yet notwithstanding this apparently
gi eat^ odds, the difference in the coins was so small that
the Greek money went current in Rome, and the Roman
in Greece, ihe denarius at first went for ten asses, and
was marked X; it was afterwards raised to sixteen, which
Mr Pinkerton supposes to have been about 175 years before
Christ. Some are met with bearing the number XVI., nay,
with every number up to CCCCLXXVI. These large
numbers are supposed to have been mint-marks of some
kind or other. After being raised to sixteen asses, it con¬
tinued at the same value till the time of Gallienus; so that
till that time we are to look upon its constituent parts to
be sixteen asses or assaria, eight dupondii, four brass sester¬
tii, and two silver quinarii. Under the Emperor Severus,
however, or his successor Caracalla, denarii were struck of
two sizes, one ot them a third heavier than the common,
and which we must of consequence suppose to have borne a
third more value. This large piece obtained the name of
argentus, and argenteus Philippus, or the “ silver Philip;”
the name of Philip having become common to almost every
coin. Ihe common denarii now began to be termed mi-
nuti and urgenii Philippi minutuli, &c. to express their
being smaller than the rest. Some have imagined that the
large denarii were of the same, value with the small, and only
of woise metal; but Mr Pinkerton observes, that amongst
the few which have any difference of metal, the smallest
are always the worst. The first mention of the minuti is
in the time of Alexander Severus, who reduced the price
of pork from eight minuti at Rome to two and to one. The
minutus argenteus of that age was about 40 grains ; and,
from the badness of the metal, was not worth above 4d. of
our money. Ihus, the price of meat was by this prince
reduced first to 8d. and then to 4d.
According to Zozimus and other writers, the purity of
the Roman coin was restored by Aurelian ; but Mr Pinker¬
ton controverts this opinion, thinking it more probable that
he only made the attempt without success, or that this re¬
formation might be entirely confined to gold, on which
there is an evident change after the time of this emperor.
His successor lacitus is said to have allowed no brass to
be upon any account mixed with silver; yet the few coins
of this emperor are very much alloyed. We are certain,
however, that the emperor Diocletian restored the silver
to its ancient purity; the denarii struck in his reign being
very small indeed, but of as fine silver as the most ancient
coins of the empire. After Gordian III. the small dena¬
rius entirely vanished, whilst the large one was so diminish¬
ed that it resembled the minutus, or small one of Caracal-
la, in size. Gallienus introduced the denarii cerei instead
of the sestertii. The argenteus, though reduced more than
one third in size, contained six denarii asrei, the old stand¬
ard of sestertii. According to the writers of this period,
and some time afterwards, the denarius or argenteus con¬
tained sixty assaria; whence it follows that each denarius
aueus had ten, and from this it probably had its name. The
assaria are of the size of the argentei already mentioned, and
show the copper to have retained nearly its old proportion
of value to the silver, that is, one to sixty.
A larger silver coin was introduced by Constantine I.
who accommodated the new money to the pound of gold,
in such a manner that a thousand of the former in tale
wei e equal to the latter in value; so that this newT piece
iom thence obtained the name of the milliarensis or
“ thousander.” Its weight at a medium was seventy grains,
or seventy to the pound of silver; but Mr Pinkerton is of
476 MEDALS.
Medals, opinion that it might have contained seventy-two grains, of brass can appear till Augustus, under whom they were in Meda
which two have now perished by the softness of the silver; fact quite common. We have indeed seen no coin which
that the pound contained seventy-two; or that two of the could be a consular brass sestertius; and though we have
number might be allowed for coinage, whilst the alloy alone certainly brass dupondii of Caesar, yet it is reasonable to
would pay for coining gold. The code says that sixty went infer that the brass sestertius was first coined by Au«ms-
to the pound, but the numbers of this are quite corrupt, tus. Not one silver sestertius appears during the whole
The milliarensis was worth about a shilling sterling. The imperial period; yet we know that the sestertius was the
argentei or denarii, however, were still the most common most common of all silver coins. The consular sestertii of
currency; and having been originally rated at a hundred silver, marked H. S. are not uncommon, nor the quinarii;
to the pound of silver in tale, they thence began to be de- but the latter are very scarce of all the emperors, if we ex-
nominated centenionales, or “ hundreders.” Those of Con- cept one instance, the Asia recepta of Augustus,
stantine I. and II., Constans, and Constantius, weigh from The Roman gold coinage was still later than that of sil-
fifty grains down to forty; tho'se of Julian and Jovian from ver. Pliny tells us, that “ gold was coined sixty-two years
forty to thirty ; and those of the succeeding emperors from after silver ; and the scruple went for sixty sesterces. It
that time to Justinian, from thirty to twenty. Under Hera- was afterwards thought proper to coin forty pieces out of
clius they ceased entirely ; and, from Justinian to their total the pound of gold. And our princes have by degrees di¬
abolition, had been brought down from fifteen to ten grains. minished their weight to forty-five in the pound.” This
A similar decrease of weight took place in the milliarensis, account is confirmed by the pieces which still remain ; for
those of Constantine and Constans being above seventy we have that very coin weighing a scruple which went for
grains in weight, those of Arcadius not above sixty, and twenty sesterces. On one side is the head of Mars, and
the milliarensis of Justinian not above thirty grains ; but, on the other an eagle ; and it is marked xx. We have an-
from the weight of those in Dr Hunter’s cabinet, Mr Pin- other coin of the same kind, but double, marked xxxx; and
kerton deduces the medium to have been exactly seventy its triple, marked or 60; the 4 being the old numeral
grains and eight seventeenths. These coins were also call- character for 50. Mr Pinkerton, the discoverer of this,
ed majorince. treats other medallists, as usual, with great asperity. Savot
The smaller silver coins of Rome were, 1. The quinarius, and Hardouin are mentioned by name ; the latter, he says, is
at first called victoriatus, from the image of Victory on its “ ignorant of common sense;” and neither he nor Savot
reverse, which it continued to bear from first to last. Its could explain it but by reading backwards, putting the ^
original value was five asses, but it was afterwards raised for the Roman V, and thus making it xv. Other readings
to eight, when the value of the denarius increased to six- have been given by various medallists, but none have hit
teen. According to Pliny, it was first coined in conse- upon the true one excepting our author, though the coin
quence of the tex Clodia, about the 525th year of Rome, itself led to it, being just three times the weight of that
Some are of opinion that it was called ’cigur/cv under the marked xx. We have likewise half the largest coin, which
Constantinopolitan empire, because it was worth a xegar/ov is marked xxx, and which weighs twenty-six grains; the
of gold, 144 of which went to the ounce ; but this is de- smallest is only seventeen and a half, and the xxxx weighs
nied by Mr Pinkerton, because at the time that the word thirty-four, and the lx or drachma fifty-three. There is
xseccnov first appears in history, the denarius did not weigh also the didrachm of this coinage, of a hundred and six
above thirty grains ; and, consequently, as twenty-five must grains.
have gone to the gold solidus, of which there were six The awm, or Roman gold coins, were at first forty-eight
in the ounce, 130 denarii must have gone to the ounce of in the pound ; but they were afterwards diminished in num-
gold. He is therefore of opinion that the word xigunov ber to forty, owdng to an augmentation in the weight of
was only another name for the denarius when much re- each coin. In the time of Sylla, the aureus weighed no less
duced in size, probably owing to the great scarcity of than from a hundred and sixty-four to a hundred and
silver in Constantinople; though in the same city there sixty-eight grains, and there were only thirty in the pound;
was plenty of gold, and consequently the gold solidus was but such confusion in the coinage was introduced by that
never diminished ; for Montesquieu has well observed, conqueror, that no person could know exactly what he
that gold must be common where silver is rare. Hence was worth. Till this time the aureus seems to have con-
gold was the common regulation of accounts in the east- tinued of the value of thirty silver denarii, about one pound
ern empire. Hie dixiganov met with in ancient authors sterling ; for about that time it was enlarged a whole third,
was, according to Mr Pinkerton, merely an improper name that it might still be equivalent to the full number of de¬
fer the milliarensis, when, on account of the scarcity of narii. But after Sylla had taken Athens, and the arts and
silver, the denarius was reduced, and no milliarenses coin- manners of Greece became objects of imitation to the Ro-
ed ; so that the current milliarensis of former reigns hap- mans, the aureus fell to forty in the pound, probably when
pened to be double to the denarius or centenionalis. The Sylla had abdicated his dictatorship. Thus, being reduced
quinarius diminishes in size along with the other coins; near to the scale of the Greek %ev<rog, it passed for twrenty
those of Augustus weighing thirty grains, those of Severus denarii, as the latter did for as many drachmas, being in
„ twenty-five, those of Constantine I. twenty, those of Justi- currency 13s. 4d. sterling. “ This,” says Pinkerton, “ is
man twelve, and those of Heraclius only five. A new sil- the more probable, because we know from Suetonius, that
vei coinage seems to have taken place after the days of this the great Caesar brought from Gaul so much gold that it
ernperoi, as the little we then meet with, which in the best sold for nine times its weight of silver; but the Gallic gold
cabinets scarcely exceeds a dozen of coins, consists entirely was of a very base sort.”
o aige unshapely pieces of coarse metal. In the time of Claudius, the aureus was valued at a hun-
ie consular denarius had also four silver sestertii, till dred sesterii, or twenty-five silver denarii, at which it con-
t le as e to la f an ounce, when it was thought proper to tinued till the time of Heliogabalus, when it fell to about
coin the sestertius in brass, as it continued to be ever after- ninety-two grains at a medium, or rose in number to fifty-
wan s. le very last silver sestertius which appears is five in the pound. In the reign of Philip, during which
one with a head of Mercury, and H. S.; on the reverse a the city completed its thousandth year, the aureus was
ca uceus p. sepvllivs, who appears to be the p. sepvllivs coined of two or three sizes. These are impressed w ith a
macer of the denarii of Julius Caesar. If so, as is most head of Rome on one side, and various figures on the other ;
probable, the sestertius was coined in silver down to Au- but the workmanship is so rude that they are supposed to
gustus; and it is of course not to be expected that any of have been struck in some of the more uncivilized provin-
MEDALS.
Medals, ces of the empire. The practice of having different gold
coins, however, continued under Valerian, Gallienus, and
his successors. In the time of Gallienus, they were of
thirty, sixty-five, and from eighty-six to ninety-three grains,
the double aurei being from 172 to 183£ grains; but the
areus properly so called was from eighty-six to ninety-
three, those of thirty and thirty two being the trientes aurei
of thejlistorice Augusta Scriptores ; whilst the larger, from
sixty-two to sixty-five, are to be accounted double trientes,
and were perhaps called minuti aurei. The value of these
different sizes of aurei is not known.
That Aurelian made some alteration in the coin is cer¬
tain ; but Pinkerton supposes it to have been only in the
gold, because under him and his successor Probus the
common aureus was of a hundred grains, a size confined to
those emperors. There are likewise halves of about fifty
grains, and double aurei, commonly of very fine workman¬
ship, and upwards of two hundred grains. In the time of
Gallienus, the precious metal was so common that this
emperor vied in magnificence with Nero and Heliogaba-
lus. Aurelian, who plundered the rich city of Palmyra,
and thus became master of the treasures of the East, obtain¬
ed such a profusion of gold, that he looked upon it as being
produced by nature in greater plenty than silver. It is
remarkable, that during this emperor’s reign, there was a
rebellion amongst the money coiners, that could not be
quelled but by the destruction of several thousands ; which
Mr Pinkerton ascribes to his having ordered the gold to
be restored to its former size, but to go for no more silver
than it formerly did. “ So very little silver,” says he, “ oc¬
curs of this period, that it is plain no alteration in the sil¬
ver produced the war w'ith the moneyers; and in the brass
he made no change ; or if he had, it were strange that such
commotions should arise about so trifling a metal. But
if, as appears from the coins, he ordered the aureus, which
had fallen to eighty grains, to be raised to about a hun¬
dred, it is no wonder that the contractors should be in an
uproar ; for a whole quarter of their coinage, amounting,
as would seem, to all their profits, was lost. Aurelian
judged, that when he found gold so common in the East,
it was equally so in the west, and that the moneyers must
have made a most exorbitant profit; but his ideas on this
subject were partial and unjust: and after his short reign,
which did not exceed five months after the alteration, the
gold returned to its former course, though a few pieces
occur of Aurelian’s standard, struck, as would seem, in
the commencement of the reign of Probus his successor.
From this time to that of Constantine I. the aureus
weighed between seventy and eighty grains; but in his
reign it was changed for the solidus, of which six went to
the ounce of gold, which passed for fourteen milliarenses,
and twenty-five denarii, as before ; the value of silver being
now to gold as fourteen to one. This new coin continued
of the same value till the final downfall of the Constantino-
politan empire, gold being always very plentiful in that
city, though silver became more and more scarce. The
solidus was worth 12s. sterling. Here again Mr Pinker¬
ton severely criticises Mr Clarke and Mr Raper. The for¬
mer, he says, with respect to the value of gold in the time
of Constantine “ has left all his senses behind him. In
page 267, he absurdly asserts that twenty denarii went
to the solidus in the time of Iheodosius I., and proceeds
with this deplorable error to the end of his work. He
then tells us that only fourteen denarii went to the soli¬
dus under Constantine I.” fo Mr Raper, however, he
is a little more merciful, owning that, “ though he has
strangely confounded the milliarensis with the denarius,
he has yet kept common sense for his guide.” Mr Pin¬
kerton, indeed, argues with great probability, “ that had
any change in the coinage taken place between the time
of Constantine and Theodosius I. that is, in less than
477
fifty years, the laws of that period, which are all in the Medals.
1 heodosian code, must have noticed it.” To this and
other arguments upon the subject Mr Pinkerton adds the
following observation upon the value of gold and silver:
As a state advances to its height, gold increases in va¬
lue ; and as a state declines, it decreases, providing the
metals aie kept on a par as to purity. Hence we may ar¬
gue, that gold decreased in its relation to silver perhaps
foui oi fi\e centui ics, furnished most European kingdoms
with gold in coin, which otherwise would, from their want
of arts and of intercourse with the East, then the grand se¬
minary of that metal, have been almost altogether igno¬
rant of gold. These gold cbins were called Bezants in Eu¬
rope, because sent from Byzantium or Constantinople, and
w ere solidi of the old scale, six to the ounce. In the Byzan¬
tine writers, the solidus is also called nomisma, or the coin ;
crysinos, because of gold ; and hyperperos, from its being re¬
fined with fire, or from its being of bright gold flaming like
fire. Hie solidi also, as the aurei formerly, received names
from the princes whose portraits they bore; as Michelati,
Manuelati. Solidus is a term likewise used for the aureus
by Apuleius, who lived in the time of Antoninus the Philo¬
sopher ; nay, as early as the praetorian edicts of the time of
I rajan. It was then a distinction from the semissis or
half. In the time of Valerian, when aurei of different sizes
had been introduced, it became necessary to distinguish
the particular aurei meant. Hence, in the imperial rescripts
published by the Historice Augusta Scriptores, Valerian
uses the term Philippi nostri vultus for the common
aurei. Aurelian uses the same term aurei Philippei for
the aurei, which he had restored to their size in some de¬
gree. Gallienus uses aurei Valeriani for his father’s coins.
Aurei Antoniniani are likewise put by Valerian for coins of
the early Antonini, of superior standard to any then used.
In the first gold coinage at Rome the aureus was divid¬
ed into four parts : the semissis of sixty sestertii; the tre-
missis or third, of forty ; the fourth, the name of which is
not mentioned, of thirty; and the scrupulum of twenty.
But in a short time all of these fell into disuse, except the
semissis or half, which is extremely scarce; so that it is
probable that few have been struck. It is an erroneous
opinion (according to Mr Pinkerton) that the semissis was
called a denarius aureus. The aureus itself indeed had
this name ; but the name of quinarius is applied to the se¬
missis with greater propriety than the former. Trientes
or tremisses of gold are found of Valerian and his son Gal¬
lienus, and weigh about thirty grains. Those of Salonina,
the wife of Gallienus, weigh thirty-three grains. Under
the Constantinopolitan empire, tremisses again made their
appearance ; and from the time of Valentinian downwards,
the thirds are the most common kinds of gold, being worth
about 4s. sterling. The semissis is likewise mentioned,
but none occurs earlier than the time of Basiliscus. The
gold tremissis was the pattern of the French and Spanish
gold coins; as the silver denarius, in its diminished state,
was of the Gothic and Saxon penny.
We shall close this account of the Roman money with
some remarks concerning the mint and method of coinage.
This at first seems to have been under the direction of the
quaestor. About the time that silver was first coined in Rome,
viz. about 266 b. c. the triumviri monetales were created.
They were at first of senatorial rank, but were by Augus¬
tus chosen from amongst the equestrian order; and the
title of triumviri was continued till after the time of Cara-
calla ; but under Aurelian there was probably but one mas¬
ter ot the mint, called rationalis ; and Pinkerton is of opi¬
nion that the change took place under Gallienus. He
seems also to have permitted the provincial cities to coin
gold and silver, as well as to have altered the form of the
mints in the capital, and to have ordered them all to strike
money with Latin legends, and of the same forms; as in
478
MEDALS.
Medals, his time we first meet with coins with mint marks of cities
'■'""'yJ and offices. The violent insurrection which took place in
his reign has already been mentioned, as well as its proba¬
ble cause; and Mr Gibbon has shown, that the concealed
enemies of Aurelian took such advantage of this insurrec¬
tion, that it cost 7000 of his best troops before it could be
quelled. About this time the procurator monetae seems to
have succeeded the rationalis as director of the mint. In
the colonies, the direction of the mint seems to have been
given to the decemviri, whose names frequently occur in co¬
lonial coins, which, though generally of rude invention and
ruder execution, are yet often interesting and important.
The engraving of the ancient dies used in coinage was
a work of much genius and labour, and at Rome Greek
artists were generally employed in it; but it has been
thought a matter of great surprise that scarce any two an¬
cient coins are to be found exactly the same. Hence some
antiquaries have imagined that only a single coin was
thrown off from each die. Beauvais informs us that the
only two Roman imperial coins of the first times which he
had seen perfectly alike were those of the Emperor Galba.
It is, however, the opinion of the best judges, that a per¬
fect similarity between two medals is a very great reason
for supposing one of them to be forged. “ It must also be ob¬
served,” says Mr Pinkerton, “ that the differences in coins
apparently from the same die are often so minute as to
escape an eye not used to microscopic observations of this
sort. But it would be surprising if any two ancient coins
were now found struck with the same die ; for, out of each
million issued, not above one has reached us. Dies soon
gave way by the violence of the work, and the ancients
had no puncheons or matrices, but were forced to engrave
many dies for the same coin. Even in our mint, upon
sending for a shilling’s worth of new halfpence, it will ap¬
pear that three or four dies have been used. Sometimes
the obverse of the die gives way, sometimes the reverse;
but among us it is renew ed by puncheons, though with va¬
riations in the lettering or other minute strokes ; while the
ancients were forced to recur to another die differently en¬
graven. The engravers of the die were called ccelatores ;
other officers employed in the mint were the spectatores,
expectatores, or nummularii. The melters were styled fu-
sarii, flatuarii, and jlaturarii; those who adjusted the
weight were called aequatores monetarum ; those who put
the pieces into the die, supposilores ; and those who struck
them, malleatores. At the head of each office was an offi¬
cer named primicerius, and the foreman was named optio
et exactor?
In order to assist the high relief on the coins, the metal,
after being melted aud refined, wTas cast into bullets, as
appears from the ancient coins not being cut or filed on
the edges, but often cracked, and always rough and une¬
qual. Ihese bullets were then put into the die, and re¬
ceived the impression by repeated strokes of the hammer,
though sometimes a machine appears to have been used
for this purpose; for Boiterue informs us, that there was a
picture of the Roman mintage in a grotto near Baiae, where
a machine was represented holding up a large stone, as
if to let it fall suddenly, and strike the coin at once. None
of the ancient money was cast in moulds, excepting the
most ancient and very large Roman brass, commonly call¬
ed weights, and other Italian pieces of that sort; all the
rest being mere forgeries of ancient and modern times.
Some Roman moulds which have been found are a proof of
this, and from these certain medallists have erroneously
imagined that the ancients first cast their money in moulds,
and then stamped it in order to make the impression more
clear and sharp.
I he ancients had some knowledge of the method of cre-
nating the edges of their coins, which they did by cutting
out regular notches upon them ; and of this kind we find
some of the Syrian and ancient consular coins, with a Medals,
few others. The former were cast in this shape, and thenv'—v—
struck ; but the latter were crenated by incision, to pre¬
vent forgery, by showing the inside of the metal. But the
ancient forgers also found out a method of imitating this;
for Pinkerton informs us that he had a Roman consular
coin, of which the incisions, like the rest, were plated with
silver over the copper.
VI—Of the Preservation of Medals.
We now come to consider what it is that distinguishes
one medal from another, and why some are so highly prized
in comparison of others. This, in general, besides its
genuineness, consists in the high degree of preservation
in w hich it exists. This is called by Pinkerton the conser¬
vation of medals, and is by him regarded as good and as
perfect. In this he says that a true judge is so nice, that
he will reject even the rarest coins if in the least defaced
either in the figures or legend. Some, however, are oblig¬
ed to content themselves with those which are a little
rubbed, whilst those of superior taste and abilities have
in their cabinets only such as are in the very state in
which they came from the mint; and such, he says, are
the cabinets of Sir Robert Austin, and Horace Walpole,
of Roman silver, at Strawberryhill. It is absolutely ne¬
cessary, however, that a coin be in what is called good
preservation ; which in the Greek or Roman emperors,
and the colonial coins, is supposed to be when the legends
can be read with some difficulty ; but when the conserva¬
tion is perfect, and the coin just as it came from the mint,
even the most common coins are valuable.
^ The fine rust, like varnish, which covers the surface
of brass and copper coins, is found to be the best preser¬
ver of them, and is brought on by lying in a certain kind
of soil. Gold cannot be contaminated but by iron mould,
which happens when the coin lies in a soil impregnated
with iron ; but silver is susceptible of various kinds of rust,
principally green and red, both of which yield to vinegar.
In gold and silver coins the rust must be removed, as be¬
ing prejudicial ; but in brass and copper it is preservative
and ornamental, a circumstance taken notice of by the
ancients. “ This fine rust,” says Mr Pinkerton, “ which is
indeed a natural varnish not imitable by the art of man,
is sometimes of a delicate blue, like that of a turquoise ;
sometimes of a bronze brown, equal to that observable in
ancient statues of bronze, and so highly prized; and some¬
times of an exquisite green, a little on the azure hue,
which last is the most beautiful of all. It is also found of
a fine purple, of olive, and of a cream colour or pale yel¬
low ; which last is exquisite, and shows the impression to
as much advantage as paper of cream colour, used in all
great foreign presses, does copperplates and printing. The
Neapolitan patina (the rust in question) is of a light green ;
and, when free from excrescence or blemish, is very beau¬
tiful. Sometimes the purple patina gleams through an
upper coat of another colour, with as fine effect as a varie¬
gated silk or gem. In a few instances a rust of a deeper
green is found ; and it is sometimes spotted with the red
or bronze shade, which gives it quite the appearance of
the East Indian stone called the bloodstone. These rusts
are all, when the real product of time, as hard as the metal
itself, and preserve it much better than any artificial var¬
nish could have done; concealing at the same time not the
most minute particle of the impression of the coin.”
ihe value of medals is lowered when any of the letters
of the legend are misplaced; as a suspicion of forgery is
thus induced. Such is the case with many of those of
Claudius Gothicus. The same, or even greater, diminu¬
tion in value takes place in such coins as have not been
well fixed in the die, which has occasioned their slipping
Medals, under the strokes of the hammer, and thus made a double
or triple image. Many coins of this kind are found, in
which the one side is perfectly well formed, but the other
blundered in the manner just mentioned. Another ble¬
mish, but of smaller moment, and which to some may be
rather a recommendation, is when the workmen through
inattention have put another coin into the die without
taking out the former. Thus the coin is convex on one
side, and concave on the other, having the same figure
upon both its sides. &
l he medals said by the judges in this science to be
countermarked are very rare, and highly valued^ They
have a small stamp impressed upon them ; in some a head,
m others a few letters, such as Aug : n. probus, &c ;
which marks are supposed to imply an alteration in the
value ot the coin, as was the case with the countermarked
coins ot Henry VIIL and Queen Mary of Scotland. Some
have a small hole through them; sometimes with a little
ring fastened in it, having been used as ornaments; but
tins makes no alteration in their value. Neither is it any
diminution m the value of a coin that it is split at the
edges ; for coins of undoubted antiquity have often been
found m this state, the cause of which has been already
explained. On the contrary, this cracking is generally
considered as a great merit; but Mr Pinkerton suspects
t lat one of these cracked coins has given rise to an error
with respect to the wife of Carausius, who reigned for some
time in Britain. The inscription is read ohiuna Aug ;
and there is a crack in the medal just before the O of ori-
una. Without this crack Mr Pinkerton supposes that it
would have been read Fortuna Aug.
Some particular soils have the property of giving silver
a yellow colour, as if it had been gilt. It naturally ac¬
quires a black colour through time, Vhich any sulphureous
vapour will bring on in a few minutes. From its being so
susceptible of injuries, it was always mixed by the ancients
with much alloy, in order to harden it. Hence the im¬
pressions of the ancient silver coins remain perfect to this
day, whilst those of modern coins are obliterated in a few
yeais. On this account Pinkerton expresses a wish that
modern states would allow a much greater proportion of
alloy in their silver coin than they usually do. As gold
admits of no rust except that from iron above mentioned,
the coins of this metal are generally in perfect conserva¬
tion, and fresh as from the mint. .
To c*eanse gold coins from this rust, it is best to steep
t lem in aquafortis, which, though a very powerful solvent
of other metals, has no effect upon gold. Silver may be
ceansed by steeping for a day or two in vinegar, but more
effectually by boiling in water with three parts of tartar
and one of sea-salt; on both these metals, however, the
rust is always in spots, and never forms an entire incrus¬
tation, as on brass or copper. The coins of these two
metals must never be cleansed, as they would thus be
rendered full of small holes eaten by the rust. Some¬
times, however, they are found so totally obscured with
rust, that nothing can be discovered upon them ; in which
case it is best to clear them with a graver ; but it may also
be done by boiling them for twenty-four hours in water
with three parts of tartar and one of alum ; not sea-salt, as
in silver coins.
I he high state of preservation in which ancient coins
are usually found is thus accounted for by Mr Hancarville.
He observes, that the chief reason is the custom of the
ancients always to bury one or more coins with their dead
in order to pay for their passage over the river Styx!
From Phidon of Argos,” says he, “ to Constantine I. are
thirty-six generations ; and from Magna Graecia to the Eu¬
phrates, from Cyrene to the Euxine Sea, Grecian arts pre-
vailed, and the inhabitants amounted to above 30,000,000.
-there died, therefore, in that time and region, not less
MEDALS.
479
ofme "ortormh^’h 01?S f Pe.°P'e’ 3,1 of M coins Medals
or one sort or other buried with them. The tombs were1^ —
sacred and untouched; and afterwards neglected, till mo-
urnHo^Fr1-7 vriChanCe t0 discl°Se them‘ The
urn of Fiavia Valentina, in Mr Towley’s capital collec¬
tion, contained seven brass coins of Antoninus Pius and
Hehogabalus. Such are generally black, from beino-
burnt with the dead. The best and freshest coins were
used on these occasions from respect to the dead • and
hence their fine conservation. At Syracuse a ske’leton
was found in a tomb, with a beautiful gold coin in its
mouth ; and innumerable other instances might be o-iven
for hardly is a funeral urn found without coins. Other
incidents also conspire to furnish us with numbers of an-
cient coins, though the above-recited circumstance be the
chief cause of perfect conservation. In Sicily, the silver
coins with the head of Proserpine were found in such
numbers as to weigh 600 French livres or pounds. In the
sixteenth century, 60,000 Roman coins were found at Mo-
dena, thought to be a military chest hid after the battle
of Bednacum, when Otho was defeated by Vitellius. Near
. st, in the year 1760, between 20,000 and 30,000 Roman
coins were found. A treasure of gold coins of Lysima-
chus was found at Deva on the Marus; and Strabo (lib.
vn.) and Pausamas (in Attic.) tell that he was defeated by
tie Getae, at which time this treasure seems to have fal¬
len into their hands.
Thus far Mr Pinkerton, proceeding on the authority of
Mr Hancarville and others. But considering these vast
numbers of coins found in various places, it seems surpris¬
ing how so few should now remain in the cabinets of the
fiU110r^ 38 116 Same author inarms us that the whole of
the o'Jerent ancient coins known to us amount only to
about 80,000, though he owns that the calculation cannot
be esteemed accurate.
VII—How to distinguish true Medals from Counterfeits.
The most difficult and the most important thing in the
whole science of medals is the method of distinguishing
the true from the counterfeit. The value put upon an¬
cient coins made the forgery of them almost coeval with
the science itself; and as no laws inflict a punishment
upon such forgers, men of great genius and abilities have
undertaken the trade : but whether to the real detriment
of the science or not, is a matter of some doubt; for if
only exact copies of genuine medals are sold for the ori¬
ginals, the imposition may be deemed trifling. But the
case must be accounted very different, if people take it
upon them to forge medals which never existed. At first
the forgeries were extremely gross; and medals were
foiged of Priam, of Aristotle, Artemisia, Hannibal, and
most of the other illustrious personages of antiquity. Most
of these were done in such a manner, that the fraud could
easily be discovered; but others have imposed even upon
very learned men. Pinkerton mentions a remarkable medal
of the Emperor Heraclius, representing him in a chariot
on the reverse, with Greek and Latin inscriptions, which
Joseph fccahger and Lipsius imagined to have been struck
in his own time, but which was certainly issued in Italy
in the fifteenth century. “ Other learned men;” says he,
have been strangely misled, when speaking of coins • for
to be learned in one subject excludes not gross ignorance
in others. Budaeus (deAsse) quotes a denarius of Cicero,
m. TULL. Erasmus, in one of his Epistles, tells us with
great gravity, that the gold coin ofBrutus struck in Thrace
KOSHN, bears the patriarch Noah coming out of the ark
with his two sons, and takes the Roman eagle for the dove
with the olive branch. Winkelman, in his letters, informs
us that the small brass piece with Virgil’s head, reverse
epo, is undoubtedly ancient Roman; and adds, that no
480
MEDALS.
Medals, knowledge of coins can be had out of Rome; but Win-
—' kelman, so conversant in statues, knew nothing of coins.
It is from other artists and other productions that any
danger of deceit arises. And there is no wonder that
even the skilful are misled by such artists as have used
this trade ; for among them appear the names of Vic¬
tor Gambello, Giovani del Cavino, called the Paduan,
and his son Alessandro Bassiano, likewise of Padua, Ben¬
venuto Cellini, Alessandro Greco, Leo Aretino, Jacobo
da Frezzo, Federigo Bonzagna, and Giovani Jacopo, his
brother; Sebastiano Plumbo, Valerio de Vizenza, Gor-
laeus, a German, Carteron of Holland, and others, all or
most of them of the 16th century ; and Cavino the Paduan,
who is the most famous, lived in the middle of that cen¬
tury. The forgeries of Cavino are held in no little esteem,
being of wonderful execution. His and those of Carteron
are the most numerous, manyr of the other artists here
mentioned not having forged above two or three coins.
Later forgers were Dervieu of Florence, who confined
himself to medallions, and Cogornier, w'ho gave coins of
the thirty tyrants in small brass. The chief part of the for¬
geries of Greek medals which have come to my knowledge
are of the first mentioned, and a very gross kind, repre¬
senting persons who could never appear upon coin, such as
Priam, /Eneas, Plato, Alcibiades, Artemisia, and others.
The real Greek coins were very little known or valued till
the works of Goltzius appeared, which were happily pos¬
terior to the era of the grand forgers. Why later forgers
have seldom thought of counterfeiting them cannot be
easily accounted for, if it is not owing to the masterly
workmanship of the originals, which set all imitation at
defiance. Forgeries, however, of most ancient coins may
be met with, and of the Greek among the rest.”
The forgeries are more conspicuous among the Roman
medals than any other kind of coins ; but we are not to
look upon all these as the work of modern artists. On the
contrary, we are assured that many of them were fabri¬
cated in the times of the Romans themselves, some of
them being even held in more estimation than the genuine
coins themselves, on account of their being plated, and
otherwise executed in a manner to which modern forgers
could never attain. Even the ancients held some of these
counterfeits in such estimation, that Pliny informs us
there were frequently many true denarii given for one
false one. Caracalla is said to have coined money of cop¬
per and lead plated with silver ; and plated coins, the work
of ancient forgers, occur of many Greek cities and princes ;
nay, there are even forgeries of barbaric coins. “ Some
Roman coins,” says Mr Pinkerton, “ are found of iron or
lead plated with brass, perhaps trials of the skill of the
forger. Iron is the most common ; but one decursio of
Nero is known of lead plated with copper. Neumann just¬
ly observes, that no historic faith can be put in plated
coins, and that most faulty reverses, &c. arise from plated
coins not being noticed as such. Even of the Roman con¬
sular coins not very many have ever been forged. The
celebrated silver denarius of Brutus, with the cap of li¬
berty and two daggers, is the chief instance of a consular
coin of which a counterfeit is known. But it is easily re¬
jected by this mark : in the true coin the cap of liberty
is below the guard or hilt of the daggers; in the false, the
top of it rises above that hilt.
The imperial series of medals is the grand object of mo¬
dern medallic forgeries ; and the deception was at first ex¬
tended to the most eminent writers upon the subject. The
counterfeits are by Mr Pinkerton divided into six classes.
I. Such as are known to be imitations, but valued on
account of the artists by whom they are executed. In
this class the medals of the Paduan rank highest; the
others being so numerous that a complete series of impe¬
rial medals of almost every kind, nay, almost of every me¬
dallion, may be formed from among them. In France,
particularly, by far the greater part of the cabinets are
filled with counterfeits of this kind. They are distin¬
guished from such as are genuine by the following marks :
1. The counterfeits are almost universally thinner. 2. They
are never worn or damaged. 3. The letters are modern. 4.
They are either destitute of varnish entirely, or have a false
one, which is easily known by its being black, shining, and
greasy, and very easily hurt by the touch of a needle,
while the varnish of ancient medals is as hard as the me¬
tal itself. Instead of the greasy black varnish above men¬
tioned, indeed, they have sometimes a light green one,
spotted with a kind of iron marks, and composed of sul¬
phur, verdigris, and vinegar. It may frequently be dis¬
tinguished by the hairstrokes of the pencil with which
it was laid on being visible upon it. 5. The sides are either
filed or too much smoothed by art, or bear the marks of
a small hammer. 6. The counterfeits are always exactly
circular, which is not the case with ancient medals, espe¬
cially af ter the time of Trajan.
The Paduan forgeries may be distinguished from those
of inferior artists by the following marks : 1. The former
are seldom thinner than the ancient: 2. They very seldom
appear as worn or damaged, but the others very frequent¬
ly, especially in the reverse, and legend of the reverse,
which sometimes, as in forged Othos, appear as half con¬
sumed by time : 3. The letters in moulds taken from the
antique coins have the rudeness of antiquity : 4. False var¬
nish is commonly light green or black, and shines too much
or too little : 5. The sides of forged coins are frequently
quite smooth, and undistinguishable from the ancient,
though to accomplish this requires but little art: 6. Coun¬
terfeit medals are frequently as irregular in their form as
the genuine ; but the Paduan are generally circular, though
false coins have often little pieces cut off', in perfect imitation
of the genuine : 7. In cast coins, the letters do not go sharp
down into the medal, and have no fixed outline ; their mi¬
nute angles, as well as those of the drapery, are common¬
ly filled up, and have not the sharpness of the genuine
kind. Where the letters or figures are faint, the coin is
greatly to be suspected.
The letters form the great criterion of medals, the an¬
cient being very rude, but the modern otherwise ; the rea¬
son of which, according to Cellini, is, that the ancients en¬
graved all their matrices with the graver or burin, while
the modern forgers strike theirs with a punch.
According to Vico, the false patina is green, black,
russet, brown, gray, and iron colour. The green is made
from verdigris, the black is the smoke of sulphur, the
gray is made of chalk steeped in urine, the coin being left
for some days in the mixture. The russet is next to the
natural, by reason of its being a kind of froth which the
fire forces from ancient coins ; but when false, it shines too
much. To make it, they frequently took the large brass
coins of the Ptolemies, which were often corroded, and
made them red hot in the fire, put the coins upon them,
and a fine patina adhered. Sometimes they took an old de¬
faced coin, covered with real patina, and stamped it anew ;
but the patina is then too bright in the cavities, and too
dull in the protuberances. The trial of brass coins with the
tongue is not to be despised; for, if modern, the patina tastes
bitter or pungent, while, if ancient, it is quite tasteless.
Mr Pinkerton informs us, that all medallions from Ju¬
lius Caesar to Adrian are much to be suspected of forgery ;
the true medals of the first fourteen emperors being ex¬
ceedingly valuable, and to be found only in the cabinets
of princes.
II. The second class of counterfeit medals contains those
cast from moulds taken from the Paduan forgeries, and
Medals.
*
♦
MED
Medals, others done by eminent masters. These are sometimes
—v^-^more difficult to be discovered than the former, because
in casting them they can give any degree of thickness
they please ; and, filling the small sandholes with mastic,
they retouch the letters with a graver, and cover the whole
with varnish. The instructions already given for the for¬
mer class, however, are also useful for those of the second ;
with this addition, that medals of this class are generally
lighter than the genuine, because fire rarefies the metal in
some degree, whilst that which is struck is rather con¬
densed by the strokes. In gold and silver medals there
cannot be any deception of this kind, because these me¬
tals admit not of patina, and consequently the varnish be¬
trays the imposition. The marks of the file on the mar¬
gin of those of the second class are a certain sign of for¬
gery, though these do not always indicate the forgery to
be of modern date, because the Romans often filed the
edges of coins to accommodate them to the purposes of
ornament, as quarter guineas are sometimes put into the
bottoms of punch ladles. It is common to imitate the holes
of medals made by time, by means of aquafortis ; but this
destroys the sides of a coin more effectually than if it had
been naturally corroded. The fraud, however, is not easi¬
ly distinguished.
III. Medals cast in moulds from the antique*—In this
mode some forgers, as Beauvais informs us, have been so
very careful, that they would melt a common medal of
the emperor whom they meant to counterfeit, lest the qua¬
lity of the metal should betray them. “ This,” says Pin¬
kerton, “ has been done in the silver Septimius Severus,
with the reverse of a triumphal arch, for which a com¬
mon coin of the same prince has been melted; and in
other instances.” Putting medals in the fire or upon hot
iron to cleanse them, gives them an appearance of being
cast; for some spots of the metal, being softer than the
rest, will run, which makes this one of the worst methods
of cleaning medals. The directions given for discovering
the two former deceptions hold good also in this.
IV. Ancient medals retouched and altered.—This is a class
of counterfeits more difficult to he discovered than any
other. “ The art, says Pinkerton, “exerted in this class
is astonishing; and a connoisseur is the less apt to suspect
it, because the coins themselves are in fact ancient. The
acute minds of the Italian artists exerted themselves in
this way when the other forgeries became common and
known. With graving tools they alter the portraits, the
reverses, and the inscriptions themselves, in a surprising
manner. Of a Claudius struck at Antioch they make an
Otho ; of a Faustina, a Titiana ; of a Julia Severa, a Didia
Clara ; of a Macrinus, a Pescennius, &c. Give them a
Marcus Aurelius, he starts up a Pertinax, by thickening
the beard a little, and enlarging the nose. In short, wher¬
ever there is the least resemblance in persons, reverses,
or legends, an artist may from a trivial medal generate a
most scarce and valuable one. This fraud is distinguish¬
able by the false varnish which sometimes masks it; but,
above all, by the letters of the legend, which are always
altered. Though this be sometimes done with an artifice
almost miraculous, yet most commonly the characters
straggle, are disunited, and not in a line.”
In counterfeits of this kind, sometimes the obverse is
not touched, but the reverse made hollow, and filled with
mastic coloured like the coin, and engraved with such de¬
vice and legend as is most likely to bring a great price;
others are only retouched in some minute parts, by which,
however, the value of the coin is much diminished. Against
all these arts severe scrutiny must be made by the pur¬
chaser, upon the medal itself; and the investigation and
opinion of eminent antiquaries must be obtained as to its
being altered, or genuine when issued from the mint.
V. Medals impressed with new devices, or soldered.—In
VOL. XIV.
A L S. 48i
the first article of this class the reverses have been totally Medals.
filed off, and new ones impressed with a die and hammer.' v—^
I his is done by putting the face or obverse, whichever is
not touched, upon different folds of pasteboard, and then
applying the die and striking it with a hammer. The for-
gery in this class is very easily discovered, because the
devices and inscriptions on the counterfeits are known not
to exist on tiue medals ; as the Pons Allius on the reverse
of Hadrian, the Fxpeditio Judaica of the same emperor,
&c. The difference of fabrication in the face or reverse
will be discovered at the first glance by any person of
skill.
The soldered medals consist of two halves belonging
to different medals, sawed through the middle, and then
joined with solder. This mode of counterfeiting is com¬
mon in silver and in brass coins. “ They will take an An¬
toninus, for example, and saw off the reverse, then solder
to the obverse, which they have treated in the same man¬
ner. This makes a medal which, from an unknowing pur¬
chaser, will bring a hundred times the price of the two
coins which compose it. When the deceit is used in brass
coins, they take care that the metals be of one hue, though
indeed some pretenders in this way sometimes solder cop¬
per and brass together, which at once reveals the deceit.
Medals which hav6 a portrait on each side, and which are
generally valuable, are the most liable to a suspicion of
this fraud. _ To a very nice eye the minute ring of solder
is always visible ; and upon inserting a graver, the fabri¬
cation falls into halves.” & & >
In the same manner reverses are sometimes soldered to
faces not originally belonging to them; as one mentioned
by Pc re Jobert, of Domitian with an amphitheatre, with
a reverse of Titus joined to it. Another art is sometimes
made use of in this kind of counterfeits, of which there is an
instance in the temple of Janus upon Nero’s medals, where
the middle brass is taken off, and inserted in a cavity made
in the middle of a large coin of that prince. In the coins
of the lower empire, however, the reverses of medals are
sometimes so connected with their obverses, that a suspi¬
cion of forgery sometimes occurs without any foundation.
They are met with most commonly after the time of Gal-
lienus, when such a number of usurpers arose that it
was difficult to obtain an exact portrait of their features;
the coiners, therefore, had not time to strike a medal for
tnese as they could have done for other emperors who
reigned longer. Hence, on the reverse of a medal of
Marius, who reigned only three days, there is pacator
orris, which shows that at that time they had reverses
ready fabricated, to be applied as occasion might require.
VI. Plated medals, or those which have clefts. It has
been already remarked, that many true medals are crack¬
ed in the edges, owing to the repeated strokes of the ham¬
mer, and the little degree of ductility which the metal
possesses. This the forgers attempt to imitate by a file ;
but it is easy to distinguish between the natural and artifi¬
cial cleft, by means of a small needle. The natural cleft
is wide at the extremity, and appears to have a kind of
almost imperceptible filaments ; the edges of the crack
corresponding with each other in a manner which no art
can imitate. *
J. lie plated medals winch have heen forged in ancient
times were long supposed to be capable of resisting every
effort of modern imitation ; but latterly some ingenious
rogues thought of piercing false medals of silver with a red-
hot needle, which gave a blackness to the inside of the
coin, and made it appear plated to an injudicious eve.
This baud, however, is easily distinguished by scraping the
inside of the metal. But it is nevertheless very difficult
to distinguish the forgeries of rude money when not cast;
and Mr Pinkerton gives no other direction than to consult
a skilful medallist. Indeed, notwithstanding all the direo
3 p
482 MEDALS*
Medals, tions already given, this seems to be a resource which can-
v''-'-'' not by any means with safety be neglected. A real and
practical knowledge of coins is only to be acquired by see¬
ing a great number, and comparing the forged with the ge¬
nuine. It cannot, therefore, be too much recommended to
the young connoisseur, who wishes to acquire knowledge in
this way, to visit all the sales and cabinets he can, and to
look upon all ancient medals with a very microscopic eye.
By these means only is to be acquired that ready know¬
ledge which enables one at the first glance to pronounce
upon a forgery, however ingenious. Nor let it be concluded
from this that the science of medals is uncertain ; for no
knowledge is more certain and immediate, when it is pro¬
perly studied by examination of the real objects. A man
who buys coins, trusting merely to his theoretic perusal of
medallic books, will find himself wofully mistaken. He
ought first to study coins, where they can only be studied,
in themselves. Nor need it be matter of wonder, or held
to imply caprice, that a medallist of skill should at one per¬
ception pronounce upon the genuineness or spuriousness
of a medal; for the powers of the human eye, employed in
certain lines of science, are amazing. Hence a student
can distinguish a book amongst a thousand similar and
quite alike to every other eye; and, in the same way, the
medallist can say in an instant, “ This is a true coin, and
this is a false,” though to other people no distinction be
perceptible.
Forgeries of modern coins and medals, Mr Pinkerton
observes, are almost as numerous as of the ancient. The
satirical coin of Louis XII. Perdam Babylonis nomen, is
a remarkable instance ; the false coin is larger than the
true one, and bears the date 1512. The rude coins of the
middle ages are very easily forged, and forgeries have ac¬
cordingly become common. Forged coins of Alfred and
other early princes of England have appeared, some of
which have been done with great.art. The two noted
English pennies of Richard I. are of this stamp, and yet
have imposed upon Folkes and Snelling, who have pub¬
lished them as genuine in the two best books upon Eng¬
lish coins. But they were fabricated by a Mr White of
Newgate Street, a noted collector, who contaminated an
otherwise fair character by such practices. Such forge¬
ries, though easy, require a skill in the history and coin¬
age of the times, which luckily can hardly fall to the lot
of a common Jew or mechanical forger. But the practice
is detestable, were no gain proposed ; and they who stoop
to it must suppose, that to embarrass the path of any
science with forgery and futility, implies no infamy. In
forgeries of ancient coin, the fiction is perhaps sufficientlv
atoned for by the vast skill required ; and the artist may
plausibly allege that his intention was not to deceive, but
to excite his utmost powers, by an attempt to rival the
ancient masters. But no possible apology can be made
for forging the rude money of more modern times. The
crime is certainly greater than that which leads the com¬
mon coiner to the gallows; inasmuch as it is committed
with more ease, and the profit is incomparably larger.
• VIII—Of the Value of Medals.
All ancient coins and medals, though equally genuine, are
not equally valuable. In medals, as well as in everything
else, the scarcity of a coin stamps a value upon it which
cannot otherwise be derived from its intrinsic worth. There
are usually reckoned four or five degrees of rarity,|the
highest of which is called unique. The cause is generally
ascribed to the fewness of the number thrown off originally,
or to their having been called in, and recoined in another
form. To the former cause Mr Pinkerton ascribes the
scarcity of the copper of Othoand the gold of Fescennius
Niger; to the latter that of the coinage of Caligula, though
this last is not of singular rarity; which shows that even Medals
the power of the Roman senate could not annihilate an es-^—v~• **
tablished money, and that the first cause of rarity, arising
from the small quantity originally struck, ought to be re¬
garded as the principal.
In the ancient cities Mr Pinkerton ascribes the scarcity
of coin to the poverty or the smallness of the state; but the
seal city of ancient regal and imperial coins arises princi-
pally fiom the shortness of the reign, and sometimes from
the supeiabundance of money before, which rendered it
almost unnecessary to coin any money during the reign of
the piince. An example of this we have in the scarcity
of the shillings of George III. which shows that shortness
of reign does not always occasion a scarcity of coin ; and
thus the coins of Harold II. who did not reign a year, are
veiy numerous, whilst those of Richard I. who reigned ten,
are almost unique.
Sometimes the rarest coins lose their value, and become
common. 1 his our author ascribes to the high price ^iven
for them, which tempts the possessors to bring them to
maiket; but chiefly to the discovering of hoards of them.
The former cause operated in regard to Queen Anne’s far¬
things, some of which formerly sold at five guineas; nay,
if we could believe the newspapers, one of them was some
years ago sold for L.960 ; the latter operated in respect to
the coins of Lnnute the Danish king of England, which were
very rare till a hoard of them was discovered in the Ork-
neys. As discoveries of this kind, however, produce a tem¬
po! ary plenty, so, when they are dispersed, the former scar¬
city i eturns; whilst, on the other hand, some of the com¬
mon coins become rare through the mere circumstance of
neglect.
As double the number of copper coins of Greek cities
are to be met with that there are of silver, the latter are
of consequence much more esteemed; but the reverse is
the case with those of the Greek princes. All the Greek
civic coins of silver are very rare, excepting those of Athens,
Corinth, Messana, Dyrrhachium, Massilia, Syracuse, and
some others. Of the Greek monarchic coins, the most rare
are the tetradrachms of the kings of Syria, the Ptolemies,
the sovereigns of Macedonia and Bithynia, excepting those
of Alexander the Gieat and Lysimachus. Those of the kings
of Cappadocia are of a small size, and scarcely to be met
with. Of those of Numidia and Mauritania, the coins of
Juba the father are common ; but those of the son, and
nephew Ptolemy, are scarce. Coins of the kings of Sicily,
Parthia, and Judaea, are rare ; the last very much so. We
meet with no coins of the kings of Arabia and Comagene
excepting in brass ; those of the kings of Bosphorus are in
electrum, and a few in brass, but all of them rare; as are
likewise those oi Philetenis king of Pergamus, and of the
kings of Pontus. In the year 1777, a coin of Mithridates
sold foi L.26. 5s. Didrachms of all kings and cities are
sealce, excepting those of Corinth and her colonies; but
the gold coins of Philip of Macedonia, Alexander the Great,
and Lysimachus, as has already been observed, are com¬
mon. The silver tetradrachms of all kings bear a very high
price. The didrachm of Alexander the Great is one of
tbe scarcest of the smaller Greek silver coins ; some of the
other princes are not uncommon.
. most cases the copper money of the Greek monarchs
is scarce ; but that of Hiero I. of Syracuse is uncommonly
plentiful, as well as that of several of the Ptolemies.
I he most rare of the consular Roman coins are those
restored by Irajan; of the others, the gold consular coins
aie the most rare, and the silver the most common; ex¬
cepting the coin of Brutus with the cap of liberty, already
mentioned, and some others. Some of the Roman impe¬
rial coins are very scarce, particularly those of Otho in
brass, nor indeed does he occur at all on any coin struck
at Rome ; but the reason of this may with great probabi-
Medals
Hty be supposed to have been the shortness of his reign.
His portrait upon the brass coins of Egypt and Antioch is
very bad, as well as almost all the other imperial coins of
Greek cities. The best likeness is on his gold and silver
coins ; the latter of which are very common. The Greek
and Egyptian coins are all of small and middling sizes, and
have reverses of various kinds; those of Antioch have La¬
tin legends, as well as most of the other imperial coins of
Antioch. They have no other reverse but the SC in a
wreath, exceptmg in one instance or two of the large and
middle brass, where the inscriptions are in Greek. Latin
coins of Otho in brass, with figures on the reverse, are
certainly false, though in the cabinet of D’Ennery at Paris
there was an Otho in middle brass restored by Titus, which
was esteemed genuine by connoisseurs.
I he leaden coins at Rome are very scarce. Most of
them are pieces struck or cast upon occasion of the saturna¬
lia ; others are tickets for festivals and exhibitions, both
public and private. The common tickets for theatres were
made of lead, as were the contorniati, perpetual tickets,
like the English silver tickets for the opera. Leaden me¬
dallions are also found below the foundations of pillars and
other public buildings, where they had been placed to per¬
petuate the memory of the founders. From the time of
ugustus also we find that leaden seals were used. The
work of Ticorini upon this subject, entitled Piombi An-
tiochi, is much recommended by Mr Pinkerton.
Hie Roman coins, which have been blundered in the
manner formerly mentioned, are very rare, and undeser¬
vedly valued by the connoisseurs. The blunders in the
legends of these coins, which in all probability are the
meie effects of accident, have been so far mistaken by
some medallists, that they have given rise to imaginary
emperors who never existed. A coin of Faustina, which
has on the reverse sousti. s. c. puzzled all the German
antiquaries, till at last Klotz gave it the following facetious
interpretation : Sine omni utilitate sectamini tantas ineptias.
he heptarchic coins of England are generally rare, ex¬
cept those called stycas, which are very common, as well
as those of Rurgred king of Mercia. The coins of Alfred
which bear his bust are scarce, and his other money much
more so. Those of Hardyknute are so rare that it was
even denied that they had an existence; but Mr Pinker¬
ton informs us that there are three in the British Museum,
upon all of which the name FIarthcanut is quite legible!
Ivio English coins of King John are to be met with, though
there are some Irish ones; and only French coins of
Richard I. are met with. “ Leake,” says Pinkerton,
made a strange blunder, in ascribing coins of different
kings with^two faces, and otherwise spoiled in the stamp¬
ing, to this prince, in which, as usual, he has been followed
by a misled number.”
Coins of Alexander II. of Scotland are rather scarce,
but t.iose of Alexander III. are more plentiful. Those of
John Baliol are rare, and none of Edward Baliol are now
to be found.
medals.
483
IX. Arrangement of Medals, with the Instruction to be de¬
rived from them.
Having thus given a full account of every thing gene¬
rally relating to medals, we now proceed to give some par¬
ticulars respecting their arrangement, and the entertain¬
ment which a medallist may expect from the trouble and
expense he incurs in making a collection.
It has already been observed, that one of the principal
uses of medals is the elucidation of ancient history. Hence
the arrangement of his medals is the first thing that must
occui i n the formation of a cabinet. The most ancient me-
dals with which we are acquainted are those of Alexander
1. of Macedonia, who began to reign about 501 years be-
fore Christ. The series ought consequently to commence Medals.
with hma, and to be succeeded by the medals of Sicily, Caria,' —
Cyprus, Heracha, and Pontus. Then follow Egypt, Syria
the Cimmerian Bosphorus, Thrace, Bithynia, Parthia, Ar-
mema Damascus, Cappadocia, Paphlagonia, Pergamus, Ga-
atia, Cihca, Sparta, Pmonia, Epirus, Illyricum, Gaul, and
the Alps, including the space of time from Alexander the
Great to the birth of Christ, and which is to be accounted
the third medalhc senes of ancient monarchs. The last
series comes down to the fourth century, including some
of the monarchs of Thrace, Bosphorus, and Parthia, with
those of Comagene, Edessa or Osrhoene, Mauritania, and
Judaea. A most distinct series is formed by the Roman
emperors from Julius Caesar to the destruction of Rome
by the Goths; nay, for a much longer period, were it not
that towards the latter part of it the coins become so bar¬
barous as to destroy the beauty of the collection. Many
series may be formed of modern potentates.
By means of medals we can with great certainty deter¬
mine the various ornaments worn by ancient princes as
badges of distinction. Ihe Grecian kings have generally
the diadem, without any other ornament; and though in
general the side of the face is presented to view, yet in
some very ancient Greek and Roman consular coins, full
faces of excellent workmanship are met with. On several
coins also two or three faces are to be seen, and these are
always accounted very valuable.
Ihe diadem, which was no more than a ribbon tied
round the head with a floating knot behind, adorns all the
Grecian princes from first to last, and is almost an infalli¬
ble mark of sovereign power. In the Roman consular
coins it is seen m conjunction with Numa and Ancus, but
never afterwards till the time of Licinius, the colleague of
Constantine. Diocletian, indeed, according to Mr Gib¬
bon, first wore the diadem ; but his portrait upon coins is
never ac.orned with it. So great an aversion had the Ro¬
mans to kingly power, that they rather allowed their em¬
perors to assume the radiated crown, the symbol of divi¬
nity, than to wear a diadem ; but after the time of Con¬
stantine it becomes common. The radiated crown ap-
^a,js ,5rst .ori ^le posthumous coins of Augustus as a mark
of deification, but in somewhat more than a century it
became common. J
Ihe laurel crown, at first a badge of conquest, was af¬
ter >vauls permitted by the senate to be worn by Julius
Caesar, in order to hide the baldness of his head. From
him all the emperors appear with it on their medals, even
to our own times. In the lower empire the crown is some¬
times held by a hand above the head, as a mark of piety.
Besides these, the naval, mural, and civic crowns appear
on. the medals both of emperors and of other eminent men,
being intended to denote their great actions. The laurel
crown is also sometimes worn by the Greek princes. The
Arsacidae of Parthia wear a kind of sash round the head, with
theii hair in rows of curls like a wig. The Armenian kings
have the tiara, a kind of cap which was esteemed as the
badge of imperial power in the East. Conical caps are seen
upon the medals of Xerxes, a petty prince of Armenia,
and those of Juba the father, the former having a diadem
around it.
.The impious vanity of Alexander and his successors, in
assuming divine honours, is manifest on their medals, where
various symbols of divinity are met with. Some of them
have the horn behind their ear, either to denote their
strength, or that they were the successors of Alexander,
to whom this badge might be applied as the son of Jupi-
tei Ammon. Ibis, however, Mr Pinkerton observes, is
t ic on y one of those symbols which certainly denote an
eartldy sovereign, it being doubtful whether the rest are not
all figures of gods. According to Eckhet, even the horn
and diadem belong to Bacchus, who invented the latter to
484 MEDALS.
Medals, cure his headachs ; and, according to the same author, the
    only monarch who appears on coins with the horn is Lysi-
machus. We are informed, however, by Plutarch, that
Pyrrhus had a crest of goats’ horns to his helmet; and the
goat, we know, was a symbol of Macedonia. Perhaps the
successors of Alexander wore this badge of the horn in con¬
sequence. The helmet likewise frequently appears on the
heads of sovereigns, and Constantine I. has helmets of va¬
rious forms curiously ornamented.
The diadem is worn by most of the Greek queens, as by
Orodaltis, daughter of Lycomedes, king of Bithynia ; and
although the Roman empresses never appear with it, yet
this is more than compensated by the variety of their head¬
dresses. Sometimes the bust of an empress is supported
by a crescent, to imply that she was the moon, as her hus¬
band was the sun of the state. The toga or veil drawn over
the face, at first implied that the person was invested with
the pontifical office ; and accordingly we find it on the busts
of Julius Caesar, while pontifex maximus. It likewise im¬
plies the augurship, the augurs having a particular kind of
gown called lana, with which they covered their heads
when observing an omen. In latter times this implies only
consecration, and is common in coins of empresses. It is
first met with on the coins of Claudius Gothicus as the mark
of the consecration of an emperor. The nimbus or glory,
now appropriated to saints, has been already mentioned. It
is as ancient as Augustus, but is not to be met with upon
many of the imperial medals, even after it began to be ap¬
propriated to them. There is a curious coin, which has upon
the reverse of the common piece, with the head of Rome,
Urbs Roma, in large brass ; Constantine £ sitting amidst
Victories and Genii, with a triple crown upon his head for
Europe, Asia, and Africa, with the legend Securitas Romje.
In general only the bust is given upon medals, though
sometimes half the body or more, in which latter case the
hands often appear with ensigns of majesty in them, such
as the globe, said to have been introduced by Augustus as
a symbol of universal dominion; the sceptre, sometimes
confounded with the consular staff; a roll of parchment,
the symbol of legislative power ; and an handkerchief, ex¬
pressive of the power over the public games, where the
emperor gave the signal. Some princes hold a thunder¬
bolt, showing that their power on earth was equal to that
of Jupiter in heaven, while others hold an image of Victory.
Medals likewise afford a good number of portraits of il¬
lustrious men; but they cannot easily be arranged in chro¬
nological order, so that a series of them is not to be ex¬
pected. It is likewise vain to attempt the formation of a
series of gods and goddesses as found upon ancient coins.
Mr Pinkerton thinks it much better to arrange them un¬
der the several cities or kings whose names they bear. A
collection of the portraits of illustrious men may likewise
be formed from medals of modern date.
I he reverses of ancient Greek and Roman coins afford
an infinite variety of instruction and amusement. They
contain figures of deities at full length, with their attri¬
butes and symbols, public symbols and diversions, plants,
animals, &c.; and in short almost every object of nature
or art. Some have the portrait of the queen, son, or
daughter of the prince whose image appears on the face
obverse ; and these are esteemed highly by antiquaries, not
only because every coin stamped with portraits on both
sides is accounted valuable, but because they render it
certain that the person represented on the reverse was the ,
wife, son, or daughter of him who appears on the obverse ;
by which means they assist greatly in the adjustment of a
series. Some, however, with two portraits are common, as
Augustus, the reverse of Caligula ; and Marcus Aurelius,
the reverse of Antoninus Pius.
W e find more art and more design in the reverses of the
Roman medals than in those of the Greek; but, on the other
hand, the latter exhibit more exquisite relief and workman- Medals,
ship. The very ancient coins have no reverses, excepting
a rude mark struck into the metal, resembling that of an
instrument with four blunt points upon which the coin was
struck, and this was owing to its having been fixed by such
an instrument on that side to 1’eceive the impression upon
the other. To this succeeds the image of a dolphin, or some
small animal, in one of the departments of the rude mark,
or in a hollow square; and this again is succeeded by a
more perfect image, without any mark of the hollow square.
Some of the Greek coins are hollow in the reverse, as those
of Caulonia, Crotona, Metapontum, and some other ancient
cities of Magna Grtecia. About 500 before Christ perfect
reverses appear on the Greek coins, of exquisite relief and
workmanship. “ The very muscles of men and animals,”
says Pinkerton, “ are seen, and will bear inspection with
the largest magnifier as ancient gems. The ancients cer¬
tainly had not eyes different from ours, and it is clear that
they must have magnified objects. A drop of water forms
a microscope, and it is probable this was the only one of
the ancients. To Greek artists we are indebted for the
beauty of the Roman imperial coins, and these are so highly
finished, that on some reverses, as on that of Nero’s de-
cursion, the adventus and progressio of various emperors,
the fundator pads of Severus, the features of the emperor,
riding or walking, are as exact as upon the obverse. But
though the best Greek artists were called to Rome, yet the
Greek coins under the Roman emperors are sometimes
well executed, and always full of variety and curiosity. No
Roman or Etruscan coins have been found of the globular
form, or indented on the reverse like the early Greek. The
first Greek are small pieces of silver, whilst the Roman are
large masses of copper. The former are struck, the latter
cast in moulds. The reverses of the Roman coins are very
uniform, the prow of a ship, a car, or the like, till about the
year 100 before Christ, when various reverses appear on
their consular coins in all metals. The variety and beauty
of the Roman imperial reverses are well known. The me¬
dallist values much those which have a number of figures,
as the Puellce Faustinianos of Faustina, a gold coin no
larger than a sixpence, which has twelve figures; that of
Trajan, regna assignata, has four; the congiarium of Nerva
five ; the allocution of Trajan seven ; that of Hadrian ten ;
and that of Probus twelve. Some Roman medals have small
figures on both sides, as the Apollini sancto of Julian II.
But these have not received any peculiar name amongst
the medallists. Others have only a reverse, as the noted
spinlriati, Avhich have numerals I., II., &c. on the obverse.
The names of the deities represented on the reverses of
Greek coins are never expressed ; perhaps, as Mr Pinker¬
ton supposes, out of piety, a symbolical representation of
their attributes being all that they thought proper to deli¬
neate ; but the Roman coins always express the name, fre¬
quently with an adjunct, as Yeneri Victrici. In others,
the name of the emperor or empress is added; as Pudici-
tije Augusts, round an image of modesty, and Virtus
Augusti, a legend for an image of virtue. The principal
symbols of the divine attributes to be met with upon the
Greek medals are as follow:
1. Jupiter is known on the coins of Alexander the Great
by his eagle and thunderbolts ; but when the figure occurs
only on the obverses of coins, he is distinguished by a lau¬
rel crown, and placid bearded countenance. Jupiter Am¬
mon is known by the ram’s horn twisting round his ear; a
symbol of power and strength assumed by some of the suc¬
cessors of Alexander the Great, particularly by Lysimachus.
2. Neptune is known by his trident, his dolphin, or his
being drawn by sea-horses; but he is seldom met with on
the Grecian coins. 3. Apollo is distinguished by a harp, a
branch of laurel, or a tripod, and sometimes by a bow and
arrows. In the character of the sun his head is surround-
Medals.
MEDALS.
^ ed with rays; but when the bust only occurs, he has a fair neck. 5. Cupid is sometimes met with on the Svrian coins
young ace, and is crowned with laurel. He is frequently and is known by his infancy and wings. 6. Cvbele is known '
found on the coins of the Syrian princes. 4. Mars is distin- by a turreted crown and lion, or is seen in acharim rh-iw
gmshed by his armour, and sometimes by a trophy on his by lions. 7. Ceres is known by her garland of wheat and
shoulders. His head is armed with a helmet, and he has a fe- is common on the Sicilian coinl, tLffs^
rociou countenance. 5. Mercury is represented as ayouth, able for its fertility. Sometimes she has two screents hv
wi a sma cap on his head, and wings behind his ears and her, and sometimes she is drawn by them in a charfot She
on ns ee . e is known by the cap, which resembles a small carries in her hands the torches with which she is fabled
hat, and the wings. He appears also with the caduceus, to have gone in search of her daughte Pro ernine 8
whTchieTTd mt£Se,rpT’ fdJhe ^arsupium or purse, Proserpine herself is sometimes met with upon cE with
which he holds in Ins hand. 6. ^sculapius is known by the name of or the girl. 9. The Egvptbn Isis hTs a
his bushy beard, and his leaning on a club with a serpent bud or flower on her head, a symbol of thfpCetuS bloom
twisted round it He sometimes occurs with his wifeHygeia of the inhabitants of heaven. She carries also as vs rum
or ealth, andflieir son Telesphorus or Convalescence be- in her hand. 10. The Sidonian Astarte appears on a globe
drawn by two
tween them. 7. Bacchus is known by his crown of ivy or supported on a chariot with two wheel
vine, his diadem and horn, with a tiger and satyrs around horses.
inm b. ihe figure of Hercules is common on the coins These are the deities most commonly represented on the
f aSHreqUently been mi8take" Grefk COinS- The m°re areSaturnwiA t
V , e p”nce Jlir?self* He appears sometimes as a scythe, or with a hook on the Heraclian coins • and Vulcan
youth and s„met,meS with a beard. He is k„o*n by the with ids tongs, on the reverse of a crin of Th v’atira rente
c Lib, the lion s skin, and remarkable apparent strength; sented at work in the presence of Minerva. ^ Ad ran us a
sometimes he has a cup in his hand ; and a poplar tree, as a Sicilian god, is sometimes represented on coins with a dno-
S F„ ,V,g°« r’ '• S0TtimeS “dcled ,0 the 9- Anubis, an Egyptian deity.Z a d„ShearAtu L known
ihe Egyptian Serapis is known by his bushy beard, and a by his Phrygian bonnet • Castor and Pollnv hv i cm
measure upon his head. 10. Apis is delineated in the form the head o^achTZ ^Z fat Svelled hdS
of a bull, with a flower of the lotus, the water-lily of the beard, and a hook ; Ara bTht tZ of flolZS
1 P"®t-d by IVlaorobtus to be a symbol of creation; mesis by her wheel; and Pan by his horns and ear’s be-
. Jambhchus tells us, that Osins was thought to have his longing to some kind of beast.
tThi^ger tKX^Sr^Z sy^SXr^StZSl^S6"1
“ ..-i 6 ^r^tZtntteZytrdet *eapEpea?s “ Sha" 81,6 to ,he ^ th» -Ration
deities.
the shape of a human head placed on a kind of pitcher
Ibis deified pitcher, ’ says Mr Pinkerton, “ seems to re¬
fer to an anecdote of ancient superstition, which, I believe,
is recorded by Plutarch. It seems some Persian and
Egyptian priests had a contest which of their deities had
the superiority. The Egyptian said, that a single vase,
sacred to Serapis, would extinguish the whole power of
the 1 ersian deity of fire. The experiment was tried ; and
the wily Egyptian, boring holes in the vase and stopping
them with wax, afterwards filled the vase with water,
which, gushing through the holes as the wax melted, ex-
tmguished the Persian deity. Hence the vase was dei¬
fied.” 13. The Ho/// Senate and Holy People appear fre¬
quently on the Greek imperial coins, sometimes represent¬
ed as old men with beards, at others as youths.
The goddesses represented on medals are the following.
. Juno, represented by a beautiful young woman, some¬
times with a diadem, sometimes without any badge, which is
reckoned a sufficient distinction, as the other goddesses all
wear badges. Sometimes she appears as the goddess of
marriage, and is then veiled to the middle, and sometimes
to the toes. She is known by the peacock, a bird sacred to
her, from the fable of Argus. 2. Minerva is very common
upon the coins of Alexander the Great, and her bust has
been mistaken by the celebrated painter Le Brun for the
hero himself. She is very easily distinguished by the
helmet. Her symbols are, her armour; the spear in her
ught hand, the aegis, with a Medusa’s head, in her left,
and an owl commonly standing by her.
Symbols. Significations.
I. Vases with sprigs  Soiemn games.
J. Small chest or hamper, with a ser-/ Mystic rites of
pent leaping out  ^ Bacchus.
/ Coin struck at
3. Anchor on Seleucian medals J Antioch, where
j an anchor was
V dug up.
4. Apollo on Syrian coins, on an in-) „
verted hamper J Covered tripod.
5. Bee / Aristeus the son
a x ,  \ of Apollo.
6* laurel  Ap0n0>
L Jleed  A river.
8. Ivy and grapes  Bacchus.
/ Ceres and
9. Poppy  >t J Ceres and Pro-
in n   I serpine.
Lor".....  Ceres.
if. Owl and olive  Minerva.
12‘ Dove .’ Venus. *
13. Torch  [Diana, Ceres, or
  1 Proserpine.
14. Mudnis, or conic stone i ^ie sun> Eelus,
" l or Venus.
15.
16.
Symbols of Countries, S/c.
Pomegranate flowers  Rhodes.
  Athens.
tv , ^ ^  o "j 3. Diana of 17. Pegasus 
Ephesus is commonly represented on the Greek imperial 18. Wolf’s head    Ar 1
coins, and appears with a great number of breasts, supposed 19. Bull’s head....   t> g°.S‘
to denote universal nature. She is supported by two deer, 20. Minotaur’s head andiabvrinth 
thU^dTaPrmer0Kffr?,t'‘p0nherhead- The bust of 21. Horse’shead Z  
this goddess is known by the crescent upon her brow, and T '   Pharsalia.
sometimes by the bow and quiver at her side. 4. Venus
is known by an apple, the prize of beauty, in her hand.
sometimes she is distinguished only by her total want of
dress; but she is always to be known by her extraordinary
beauty, and is sometimes adorned with pearls about the
T .   Jrnarsana.
L,10”*”  Marseilles.
Peloponnesus.
22.
23. Tortoise
24. Sphinx ......L.’ Seim
25. Ihree legs joined, as in the Isle of) 0.
Man money  r 8iciJy,
26. Plorse. ^ —
485
Medals.
Thessaly.
486
MEDALS.
Medals.
34.
35.
36.
Symbols. Significations.
'27. The crescent      Byzantium.1
28 Bull. / Supposed to be a
( river.
( A colony drawn
29. Ensign, with the letters Col from one le-
( gion-
30. Bull  i APis’ strength or
( security.
31. Caduceus  (Peace and con-
[ cord.
32. Cornucopias  Abundance.
33. Pontifical hat  Priesthood.
Parazonium f Batoon of com-
( mand.
T The world pre-
| served by the
Globe on an altar with three stars gods for the
three sons of
Constant I.
Fort and gate  Security.
37. Tribuli, a kind of chevaux de frize Unknown.
38. Altar or tripod   Piety.
39. Dolphin  Apollo.
40. Lectisternia  Festivals.
41. Lituus, or twisted wand  Augurship.
42. Apex, or cap with strings  Pontificate.
43. Thensa, or chariot employed to J Consecration of
carry images \ an empress.
44. Peacock  Ditto.
45. Ea"le  f Consecration of
°   ) an emperor.
The legends impressed upon medals are designed as ex¬
planations of them; but as the compass of even the largest
coins does not admit of any great length of inscription, ithas
always been found necessary to use abbreviations; and in
readily deciphering these consists a considerable part of the
difficulty of the science. This, however, is greater in the
Roman than in the Greek medals ; for the Greeks com¬
monly insert as much of the word as is sufficient to enable
us easily to understand its meaning ; but it is common for
those who attempt to explain letters which do not often
occur, to fall into very ridiculous errors. Of this Mr Pinker¬
ton gives a most remarkable instance in Fortunius Licetus,
a learned man, who finding upon a coin of Hadrian the let¬
ters A. IA, signifying the 14th year of that emperor’s reign,
imagined that they signified Lucernns invenit Delta;
“ Delta invented lanthorns;” and thence ascribed the
origin of lanthorns to the Egyptians. Tables explaining
the meaning of the abbreviations found upon medals have
been published by Patin, Ursatus, and others.
X.—Of Medallions, 8$c.
Besides the ordinary coins of the ancients, which passed
in common circulation through the country, there were
others of a larger size, which are now termed medallions.
These were struck on the commencement of the reign of
a new emperor, and on other solemn occasions; and fre¬
quently also, by the Greeks in particular, as monuments of
gratitude or of flattery. Sometimes they were mere trial or
pattern pieces; and, after the time of Maximian, these
abound, with the words TresMonetce on the reverse. The
common opinion is, that all the Roman pieces of gold ex¬
ceeding the denarius aureus, all in silver exceeding the
denarius, and all in brass exceeding the sestertius, went Medals,
under the denomination of medallions ; but Mr Pinkerton -y
thinks that many of these large pieces passed in circulation,
though not very commonly, as our five and two guinea-
pieces, silver crowns, &c. do or did in this country. The
finest medallions were presented by the mint-masters to the
emperor, and by the emperor to his friends, as specimens
of elegant workmanship. The best we have at present are
of brass, and many of them composed of two sorts of metal,
the centre being copper, with a ring of brass around it, or
the contrary; and the inscription is sometimes confined
to one of the metals, sometimes not. There is a remark¬
able difference between the Greek and Roman medallions
in point of thickness; the latter being frequently three or
four lines thick, whilst the former seldom exceed one.
Very few medallions, however, were struck by the Greeks
before the time of the Roman emperors; but the Greek
medallions of the emperors are more numerous than those
of the Romans themselves. All these pieces, however, are
of such high price that very few private individuals are
able to purchase them. In the last century Christina
queen of Sweden procured about 300. In the king of
France’s collection there are 1200, a number formerly
supposed not to exist; and Dr Hunter’s collection contains
about 400, exclusive of the Egyptian. Besides these large
pieces, there are smaller ones, of a size somewhat larger
than our half-crowns; which by Italian medallists are called
medaglioncini, or small medallions. They are still scarcer
than the large kind.
There is still a third kind, which have almost escaped
the notice of medallists, viz. the small coins or missilia
scattered amongst the people on solemn occasions; such as
those struck for the slaves on account of the saturnalia,
counters for gaming, tickets for baths and feasts, and to¬
kens in copper and in lead. These are distinguished by Mr
Pinkerton by the name of medalets. Many, or perhaps
almost all, of those struck for the saturnalia were satirical,
as the slaves had then a license to ridicule not only their
masters, but any person whatsoever. Mr Pinkerton men¬
tions one of the most common pieces of this kind, which has
on the obverse the head of an old woman veiled, with a lau¬
rel crown ; the 'reverse contains only SC within a wreath.
Baudelot is of opinion that it is the head of Acca Lauren-
tia, the nurse of Romulus, to whom a festival was ordained.
“ Perhaps,” says Pinkerton, “it was struck in ridicule of
Julius Csesar ; for the manner of the laurel crown, and its
high appearance over the head, perfectly resemble that of
Julius on his coins.” Some have a ship upon one side; on
the reverse, T, or a cross, which was the image of Priapus,
and occasioned many false invectives against the first Chris¬
tians, who paid profound respect to the cross. Some pieces
have the heads of the emperors upon one side; on the re¬
verse only numerals, III. IV. V. &c.,and the noted spintriati
of Tacitus. Both these kinds appear to have been tickets
for the baths, as the number seems to denote the particular
bath. Some have the head of a girl with a vessel used at
the baths in her hand. The spintriati are so immodest that
few of them will bear mention. But some are merely ludi¬
crous ; as one which has an ass with a bell about his neck,
and a soldier riding him; and another with two figures hoist¬
ing a woman in a basket into the air. Of those that will
just bear mention, is a man with titles around him, as chief
of the games, and a woman in ridicule of the modest
bath-girl above mentioned. There is also one marked
xix, on which appears an imperator triumphing in a car,
aPPfar.s thet)ela.py coins °f Byzantium, with the legend BTZANTIN. 2nx. “ the preserver of Byzantium.” The reason
j J1 "a!’a " ieP. . 111P Macedonia besieged the city, and was about to storm it in a cloudy night, the moon shone out on a
u Iden and discovered him ; by which means the inhabitants had time to collect their forces and repulse him. The Turks, on enter-
ng eonstantmople, tound this badge in many places ; and suspecting some magical power in it, assumed the symbol and its power
to themselves, so that the crescent is now the chief Turkish ensign. & r > . i
MEDALS.
Medals, which is placed on the back of a camel; and behind the
—-v-*-'imperator is a monkey mimicking him.
A fourth class of medals are called contorniati, from the
Italian contorniato, encircled; because of the hollow circle
which commonly runs around them. They are distin¬
guished from medallions by their thinness, faint relief, re¬
verses sometimes in relief, sometimes hollow, and in ge¬
neral by the inferiority in their workmanship. The opi¬
nions of medallists concerning these pieces are very va¬
rious. Some suppose them to have been struck by Gal-
lienus, to the memory of illustrious men and celebrated
athlete, at the time when he caused all the consecration
coins of his predecessors to be restored ; and others ascribe
their invention to Greece, &c.; but Mr Pinkerton is of
opinion that they were only tickets for places at public
games. Many of them, notwithstanding their inferior
workmanship, are very valuable on account of their pre¬
serving the portraits of some illustrious authors of an¬
tiquity, which are nowhere else to be found. Much de¬
pendence, however, cannot be put on the portraits of Greek
authors and eminent men found upon some of them; for
although we know that the busts of Sallust, Horace, &c.
must have been struck when their persons were fresh in
the memory of the artists, yet it was otherwise with Homer,
Solon, Pythagoras, &c. who are to be' found upon some of
them. Even these, however, are valuable, as being ancient
and perhaps traditional portraits of these great men. The
last whose portraits are supposed to have been delineated
in this way are Apollonius Tyaneus who flourished in the
time of Domitian, and Apuleius in that of Marcus Anto¬
ninus. Mr Pinkerton thinks it a confirmation of his opi¬
nion concerning these medals, that the reverses always
contain some device alluding to public games, as that of a
charioteer driving a chariot, &c.
XL—Directions for forming Cabinets.
We must now proceed to the last part of our subject,
viz. that of giving directions for the formation of cabinets.
As we have already seen that the formation of any one
must be attended with very considerable expense, it is ne¬
cessary for every one who attempts this to proportion the
cabinet to his own circumstances. There are, properly
speaking, three kinds of cabinets. 1. Those meant to con¬
tain a coin of every sort that has been issued from the mint
in every age and country; but this, which may be called
the large and complete cabinet, is not to be purchased by
private persons. That of Dr Hunter, now in the posses¬
sion of the university of Glasgow", is perhaps one of the
best private cabinets ever known. 2. The smaller cabinet
may be supposed to consist only of middle and small Ho¬
man brass, English pennies, groats, &c., with a few medals
of the more valuable kind. 3. The smallest kind is called
a casket of medals, and does not consist of above 1000 at
most of various kinds; and consequently the expense must
depend upon the pleasure of the proprietor.
In the formation of the grand cabinet, it must be ob-
sei ved that the Greek medals of every denomination do
not admit of any arrangement by the metals like the Ro¬
man ; no regular series of this description being met with
even in the most opulent cabinets. Hence in all collec¬
tions the civic coins are ranged according to an alphabeti¬
cal, and the monarchic in a chronological order. The same
rule is to be observed in the Roman consular medals; they
are ranged, like the coins of the Greek cities, in an alpha¬
betical series of the families. The Roman imperial coins
ai e those only w'hich are capable of being arranged accord¬
ing to sizes and metals. Even from this must be excepted
the minimi, or the very smallest coins, which are so scarce
that the only regular series of them in the world is that be¬
longing to the king of Spain, which was formed by a most
skilful French medallist, and consists of all the metals-
I he arrangement of a grand cabinet, according to Mr Pin¬
kerton, is as follows. 1. The coins of cities and of free
states in alphabetical order, whether using Greek, Roman,
Punic, Etruscan, or Spanish characters. 2. Kings in chro¬
nological seiies, both as to foundation of empire and seni¬
ority of reign. 3. Heroes, heroines, founders of empires,
and cities. 4. Other illustrious persons. 5. Roman asses,
b. Goins of families, commonly called consular. 7. Impe¬
rial medallions. 8. Imperial gold. 9. Imperial minimi of
all metals. 10. Imperial silver. 11. Imperial first brass.
12. Second brass. 13. Third brass. 14. Colonial coins,
which are all of brass. 15. Greek cities under the empe¬
rors, of all metals and sizes. In a smaller cabinet they may
be put with the Roman, according to their metal and size.
1 hose without the emperor’s head go to class 1, though
struck in Roman times. 16. Egyptian coins struck under
the Roman emperors, of all metals and sizes. They are
mostly of a base metal called by the French patin ; it is a
kind of pot-metal or brittle brass. 17. Contorniati, or
ticket medals. 18. Coins of Gothic princes, &c. inscribed
with Roman characters. 19. Coins of southern nations
using uncommon alphabets ; as the Persian, Punic, Etrus¬
can, and Spanish. 20. Coins of northern nations using
uncommon characters ; as the Runic and German.
In the modern part no series can be formed of copper
that will reach backwards above two centuries; but se¬
quences (chronological series) of gold and silver may be
arranged of all the different empires, kingdoms, and states,
as far as their several coinages will allow. Those of Eng¬
land and France will be the most perfect. Modern silver
is commonly arranged in three sequences; the dollar, the
groat, and the penny sizes. The medals of each modern
country ought of course to be separated; though it is best
to arrange each set in chronological order, let their size of
metal be what it may. It may be remarked here, that
our modern medals of the size of a tea-saucer are only so
many monuments of barbarism. The ancient medallions
are almost universally but little larger than our crown-
piece, though three or four of them may extend to about
two inches diameter, but very many modern medals to
our inches and more. A large medal always indicates an
ignorant prince or an ignorant artist. Into the size of a
ci own-piece the ancients threw more miracles in this wav
than will ever be found in such monstrous productions. ^
These directions will likewise apply to the formation of
a cabinet of the second kind ; but if the collector means
to form a series of large Roman brass, he will find the coins
of four or five emperors so scarce as not to be attainable
in tliat senes, at any price. He must therefore supply their
places with middle brass, as is allowed with regard to
Otho, even in the best cabinets ; there not being above
three coins of that emperor in large brass known in the
world, whereas of the middle brass two or three hundred
are still extant. For this reason Mr Pinkerton concludes
that in cabinets of the second class, the collector may
mingle the large and second^ brass together as he thinks
proper, in order to save expense; though it would not do
so well to unite such disproportionate sizes as the lar^e
and small. “ In the small sequence, however,” says lie
“ there can be no harm in his mixing gold, silver, and brass!
as chance or curiosity may lead him to purchase any of
these metals. And though your starched bigoted medal¬
lists may sneer because such a sequence would controvert
his formal and narrow way of thinking, common sense will
authorize us to laugh at the pedant in our turn, and to pro-
nounce such a series more various, rich, and interesting,
than if the collector had arranged only one metal, and re¬
jected a curious article because he did not collect gold, or
silver. In like manner, if, in the modern part of the
smaller cabinet, any coin of a series is of high price, or of
487
Medals.
488 MED MED
Medallion bad impression, there can be no impropriety in putting an- larger size. In short, the collector has no rules but in the Media
Medea. 0t,ler of the same reiP’ which is cheaper or better exe- Greek cities and Roman families, and to observe alphabe-"—
v ^ ^ > cuted, though of a different denomination or of a little tical order and chronology in every thing else.
MEDALLION, or Medalion, a medal of an extraor- the sword which Theseus wore by his side convinced ^geus
dinary size, supposed to be anciently struck by the empe- that the stranger against whose life he had so basely con-
rors for their friends, and for foreign princes and ambassa- spired was his own son. The father and the son were re-
dors. But, that the smallness of their number might not conciled; and Medea, to avoid the punishment which her
endanger the loss of the devices they bore, the Romans wickedness deserved, mounted her fiery chariot and disap-
generally took care to stamp the subject of them upon their peared through the air. Her aerial voyage terminated at
ordinary coins. Medallions, in respect of the other coins, Colchis, where, according to some, she was reconciled to
were the same as modern medals in respect of modern Jason, who had sought her in her native country after her
money; they were exempted from all commerce, and had sudden departure from Corinth. She died at Colchis, as
no other value than what was set upon them by the fancy Justin mentions, when she had been restored to the confi-
of the owner. Medallions are so scarce that a set cannot denceof her family. After death she married Achilles in
be made of them, even though the metals and sizes should the Elysian fields, according to the tradition mentioned
be mixed promiscuously. by Simonides. The murder of Mermerus and Pheres, the
MEDEA, in fabulous history, a celebrated sorceress, youngest of Jason’s children by Medea, is not to be attri-
daughter of ^Eetes king of Colchis. Her mother’s name, buted to the mother, according to Julian, but to the Co¬
according to the more received opinion of Hesiod and Hy- rinthians, who assassinated them in the temple of Juno
ginus, was Idyia, or, according to others, Ephyre, Hecate, Acraea. To avoid the resentment of the gods, and to de-
Asterodia, Antiope, and Neaera. She was the niece of liver themselves from the pestilence which had visited their
Circe. When Jason came to Colchis in quest of the golden country after so horrid a massacre, they engaged the poet
fleece, Medea became enamoured of him, and it was to Euripides for five talents to write a tragedy, which clear-
her well-directed labours that the Argonauts owed their ed them of the murder, and represented Medea as the
preservation. Medea had an interview with her lover in cruel assassin of her own children. And, besides, that
the temple of Hecate, where they bound themselves by this opinion might be the better credited, festivals were
the most solemn oaths to eternal fidelity. No sooner had appointed, in which the mother was represented with all
Jason overcome all the difficulties which iEetes had placed the barbarity of a fury, murdering her own sons,
in his way, than Medea embarked with the conquerors for MEDIA, now the province of Ghilan in Persia, once
Greece. To stop the pursuit of her father, she tore to the seat of a powerful empire, was bounded, according to
pieces her brother Absyrtus, and left his mangled limbs in Ptolemy, on the north by part of the Caspian Sea ; on the
the way through which iEetes was to pass. This act of bar- south by Persia, Susiana, and Assyria; on the east hy
barity some have attributed to Jason, and not to her. When Parthia and Hyrcania ; and on the west by Armenia Ma-
Jason reached lolchos, his native country, the return and vie- jor. It was anciently divided into the provincesofTropa-
tories of the Argonauts were celebrated with universal re- tene, Charomithrene, Darites, Marciane, Amariace, and
joicings ; but iEson the father of Jason was unable to as- Syro-Media. By a later division, however, all these were
sist at the solemnity, on account of the infirmities of his reduced to two; the one being called Media Magna, and
age. Medea, at her husband’s request, removed the weak- the other Media Atropatia, or simply Atropatene. Media
ness of TEson ; and by drawing blood from his veins, and Magna was bounded by Persis, Parthia, Hyrcania, the Hyr-
filling them again with the juice of certain herbs, she re- canian Sea, and Atropatene, and contained the cities of
stored him to the vigour and sprightliness of youth. This Ecbatana, Laodicea, Apamea, Raga, Rageia or Ragea, &c.
sudden change in iEson astonished the inhabitants of lol- Atropatene lay between the Caspian Mountains and the
chos ; and the daughters of Pelias were also desirous to Caspian Sea. This country originally took its name from
see their father restored by the same power to the vigour Madai, the third son of Japhet; as is plain from Scripture,
of youth. Medea, willing to revenge the injuries which where the Medes are constantly called Amongst
her husband’s family had suffered from Pelias, increased profane authors, some derive the name of Media from one
their curiosity, and betrayed them into the murder of their Medus the son of Jason and Medea, and others from a
father as preparatory to his rejuvenescence, which she city called Media. Sextus Rufus tells us that in his time
afterwards refused to accomplish. This action greatly irri- it was called Medena, and from others we learn that it was
tated the people of lolchos, and Medea with her husband also called Aria.
fled to Corinth to avoid their resentment. Here they liv- The government of the various tribes into which the
ed for ten years with mutual attachment, when the love country was divided was originally monarchical, and they
of Jason for Glauce the king’s daughter interrupted their seem to have had their own kings even in the earliest
harmony, and Medea was divorced. Medea revenged the in- times. They were first brought under the Assyrian yoke
fidelity of Jason by causing the death of Glauce, and the de- by Pul, said to have been the founder of that monarchy,
struction of her family. She also killed two of her children or by his immediate successor Tiglath-pileser. From the
in their father’s presence; and when Jason attempted to pun- time of Pul, or Tiglath-pileser, who succeeded his fa-
ish the barbarity of the mother, she fled through the air upon ther in the year 740 b. c., they remained subject to the
a chariot drawn by winged dragons. From Corinth Medea Assyrians till about the latter end of the reign of Sen-
w ent to Athens, where, after she had undergone the neces- nacherib, 710 n. c., when, emancipating themselves from
sary purification of her murder, she married King JUgeus, or Assyrian bondage, they fell into a state of anarchy. This
(according to others) lived in an adulterous manner with circumstance, as Herodotus informs us, gave Esar-Had-
him. From her conduct with JEgeus, Medea had a son who don, or Assar-Hadon, who succeeded Sennacherib, an op-
was ca\\ed Medus. Soon afterwards, when Theseus wished portunity of reducing a great part of Media, if not the whole
to make himself known to his father, Medea, jealous of his country, under subjection. This anarchy is supposed to
fame and feaiful of his power, attempted to poison him at have lasted one year ; for Dejoces, called Arphaxad in the
a feast which had been prepared for his entertainment, book of Judith, was killed by Saoduchius or Nebuchado-
Her attempts however failed of success, and the sight of nosor, in the year 656. From the commencement of the
*
MED
Media.
reign of Dejoces to the destruction of Nineveh, 601 b. c.,
““■''Media may be properly styled a kingdom. From the de¬
struction of Nineveh we may therefore date the rise of the
empire of the Medes. Their empire lasted till the taking
of Babylon ; for we learn from Xenophon, that after the re¬
duction of that city, Cyrus went to the king of the Medes
at Ecbatana, and succeeded him in the kingdom. The
empire of the Medes had lasted sixty-five years, at the period
when the Persian empire took its rise under Cyrus. Passing
over the fabulous history of the Medes, we shall begin with
the reign of Dejoces, who was chosen by them as their
judge, and who, aspiring to the sovereign power, perform¬
ed that office with the strictest regard to justice. After
his resignation of this office, licentiousness prevailed, and
it was found necessary to appoint a king; upon which De¬
joces was named to the sovereignty, and with universal ap¬
plause placed upon the throne, 710 b. c. As soon as he had
been elected king, and vested with the supreme power, he
threw off the mask, and became a tyrant. Ecbatana was
, buiit and chosen for the royal residence, and a stately pa-
ace was erected for the sovereign. Dejoces, having enacted
\auous laws for the government of the kingdom, and having,
in a considerable degree, civilized his unpolished subjects,
entertained thoughts of extendingthe limits of his new king¬
dom, and with this view he invaded Assyria. Nebuchadono-
sor, however, at that time king of Assyria, met him in the
plain of Kagan, and a battle ensued, in which the Medes
were utterly defeated, and Dejoces was slain, after a reign,
according to Herodotus, of fifty-three years. The Assy-
lian king availing himself of his success, reduced several
cities of Media, and amongst the rest Ecbatana, which he
almost utterly destroyed. Dejoces was succeeded by his
son 1 hraortes, 647 b. c. ; and, not satisfied with the king¬
dom of Media, he invaded Persia, and is said to have brought
taat nation under subjection to the Medes. Such is the
account of Herodotus. Others, however, ascribe the con¬
quest of Persia, not to Phraortes, but to his son and succes-
j01 Eyaxares. Phraortes, however, subdued several neigh¬
bouring nations, and made himself master of almost all
Upper Asia, lying between Mount Taurus and the river
Eaiys. Emboldened by his success, he invaded Assyria,
subdued a great part of the country, and even laid siege
to Nineveh, the metropolis.
On the death of Phraortes, his son Cyaxares was placed
oil toe throne. He was not less valiant and enterprising
toon his father, and had better success against the Assy¬
rians. With the remains of that army which had been de-
featecl under his father, he not only drove the conquerors
out of Media, but obliged Chyniladan to shut himself up in
Mneveh. I o this place he immediately laid close siege ; but
v\ as obliged to abandon the enterprise, on account of an ir~
i option of the Scythians into his own country. Cyaxares
engaged these new enemies with great resolution, but was
utterly defeated; and the conquerors overran not only all
Media, but the greater part of Upper Asia, extending their
conquests into Syria, and as far as the confines of Egypt,
ihey continued masters of this vast tract of countrv for
twenty-eight years, tillatlast Media was delivered from their
\ t te y a general massacre^ at the instigation of Cyaxares#
M E D
489
andTdurin!dfhAerC afterward1s en»«ed wit!l ft6 Lydians; Mediator
nf th & v • , n.Saof”lent' there happened a total eclipse'
Mi£rn*h 13 S-aid t0 have been foretold bY Thales the
cLrlndp f o h par,1VVCre t]errified> and soon afterwards
concluded a peace by the mediation of Labynetus, that is,
Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, and Syennesis, king of
Cilicia. This peace was confirmed by the marriage of Ary-
ems the daughter of Halyattes, and Astyages, the eldest
son of Cyaxares ; and of this marriage was born in the en-
sumg year Cyaxares, who, in the book of Daniel (ch. v.
r. ' 1S, caded Darius the Mede. Cyaxares, disengaged
from the Lydian war, resumed the siege of Nineveh'; and
having formed a strict alliance with Nebuchadnezzar, king
of Babylon, they joined their forces, and took and destrov-
ec the city (606 b. c.) With this prosperous event com¬
menced the great successes of Nebuchadnezzar and Cv-
axares; and thus was laid the foundation of the two col¬
lateral empires, as they may be called, of the Medes and
Babylonians, which rose upon the ruins of the Assyrian
monarchy After the reduction of Nineveh, the two con¬
querors led the confederate army against Pharaoh-Necho,
king of Egypt, who was defeated near the Euphrates, and
compelled to resign what he had formerly taken from the
Assyrians. After this victory they reduced all Ccelesyria
and Phoenicia ; then they invaded and laid waste Samaria,
trainee, and Scythopohs ; and at last besieged Jerusalem,
and took Jehoiakim prisoner. Nebuchadnezzar afterwards
pursued his conquests in the west, and Cyaxares subdued
the Assyrian provinces of Armenia, Pontus, and Cappado¬
cia. Again uniting their forces, they reduced Persia and
busmna, and accomplished the conquestof the Assyrian em-
p.re. The prophet Ezekiel (ch. xxxii. 22, &c.) enumerates
the chief nations who were subdued and slaughtered by
the two conquerors Cyaxares and Nebuchadnezzar.
After this victory the Babylonian and Median empires
seena to have been united; but upon the death of Nebu¬
chadnezzar, or rather towards the close of his life a war
fl?SURd! ^hl<?h WaS °.nly extin£uisbed by the dissolution of
the Babylonian empire. The Medes, under Astyages the
son of Cyaxares I. withstood the power of the Babylonian
monarchs, and, under Cyrus and Cyaxares II. utterly de-
stroyed their empire by the taking of Babylon. After the
death of Cyaxares, the kingdom fell to Cyrus, by whom the
seat of die empire was transferred to Persia.
MEDIASCH, a city of Hungary, in the province of the
biebenbergen, in that part distinguished as the country of
the Saxons. It is the capital of a circle extending over
^68 square miles, and containing about 50,000 inhabitants.
I he city stands upon the river Great Kokel, is surrounded
with walls, and has a Greek, a Lutheran, and a Calvinist
church, a kranciscan convent, and 440 houses, with 4235
inhabitants. Long. 24. 16. 55. E. Lat. 46. 8. 31. N.
MEDIATOR, a person who manages or transacts be¬
tween two parties at variance, in order to reconcile them,
ihe word, in Scripture, is applied, first, to Jesus Christ,
who is the only intercessor and peace-maker between God
and man (1 Pirn. u. 5) ; and, secondly, to Moses, who in¬
terposed between the Lord and his people, to declare unto
them his word (Dent. v. 5, iii. 19}.
VOL. xiv.
3q
490
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
History. The connection between medicine and legislation bad
been perceived long before it was considered as a peculiar
branch of study, or had even obtained a distinctive appella¬
tion. Since its importance has been recognized, it is known
in Germany, the country in which it took its rise, by the
name of State Medicine ; in Italy and in France it is
termed Legal Medicine, and with us it is usually deno¬
minated Medical Jurisprudence, or Forensic Medi¬
cine. It is founded on the relations which ought to subsist
between human nature and social institutions, and con¬
sists in the application of the principles of medical science
to the administration of justice, and to the preservation of
the public health. Its nature and objects will be best elu¬
cidated by a sketch of its progress.
HISTORY OF LEGAL MEDICINE.
Notwithstanding the importance of the objects which it
embraces, and their intimate relation to the interests of so¬
ciety, the true origin of Medical Jurisprudence is of com¬
paratively recent date. It is true that traces of its princi¬
ples may be perceived in very remote times. In the Mosaic
institutions the judges are enjoined to consult the priests,
who were the sole physicians of that age and country, on
the modes of distinguishing leprosy from other diseases, on
the marks of defloration, and the examination of wounds.
In the slight notices handed down to us of the ancient code
of Egypt, attributed to Menes, we may observe one trace
of the influence of medicine on legislation, in the law which
forbade the infliction of corporal punishment on a pregnant
female ; but among the ancient states of Greece the prin¬
ciples of medical science, though successfully cultivated,
seem scarcely to have been applied to legislation, except
in certain questions respecting the legitimacy of children,
a subject on which the notions even of Aristotle were not
very definite. In the writings of Galen, however, we find
more distinct traces of legal medicine ; as in his various re¬
marks on the difference between the lungs of a foetus and
of an adult, in his treatise on simulated diseases, and in
his observations on the legitimacy of seven months’ chil¬
dren.
The law s of ancient Rome were borrowed from Greece,
and we could scarcely expect to find in them a more re¬
fined legislation ; but it is worthy of notice, that the laws
of the Twelve Tables fix on 300 days as the extreme dura¬
tion of utero-gestation, the precise term fixed by the Code-
Napoleon. Some writers contend that the Roman law
authorized the inspection of dead bodies by medical men,
because of the twenty-three wounds by which Caesar fell,
the physician Antistius pronounced one only mortal; and
because Tacitus has spoken of the marks of poison on the
bodies of Germanicus and Agricola : yet we have no proof
that such opinions were required by any positive law, or
that the judge was in the habit of demanding the assistance
of the physician. In the Justinian code, however, we find
more obvious traces of the relation between medicine and
law ; as in the titles De statu Hominum ; De Pamis et
Manumissis ; De Sicariis ; De Inspiciendo ventre Custo-
diendoque partu ; De Muliere quce peperit undecirno men-
se ; De Impotentid ; De Hermaphroditis : yet in the Jus¬
tinian code it was not by the testimony of living medical
witnesses that such quesions were to be decided, but “ on
the authority of the learned Hippocrates.”
It was chiefly on questions of medical police, as to what History,
regarded the salubrity of cities and stations, that the ancient
Greek or Roman magistrates had recourse to medical
assistance ; and it appears that it was to such subjects that
the public functions of the Archiater of the lower empire
were confined.
Medical Jurisprudence, as a science, cannot date farther
back than the 16th century. Various German emperors
had in vain attempted the introduction of an uniform crimi¬
nal code ; but George, bishop of Bamberg, in 1507, pro¬
claimed a penal code, drawn up for his states by Baron
Schwartzemberg, in which the necessity of medical evi¬
dence, in certain cases, was recognized: and though this
improvement was for some time resisted by the greatest
part of Germany, the emperor Charles V. eventually suc¬
ceeded in persuading the diet of Ratisbon, in 1532, to adopt
a uniform code of German penal jurisprudence, founded on
that of Bamberg, in which the civil magistrate was,
in all cases of doubt or difficulty, enjoined to obtain the evi¬
dence of medical witnesses ; as in cases of personal injuries,
infanticide, murders by poison or other means, pretended
pregnancy, simulated diseases, &c. The celebrated Con-
stitutio Criminalis Carolina wras published in 1553 ; this
must be considered as the true dawn of Legal Medicine,1
and Germany the country which gave it birth. To the
same country must be ascribed the glory of having first
thrown the shield of medical science over the victims of a
dark fanaticism. The belief in the powers of witches and
sorcerers was in full force in the 16th century. It is com¬
puted that in Lorrain above 900 persons were burnt alive
within 19 years, for the imputed crime of sorcery; and
that in the Electorate of Trevers alone, within a few years,
6500 individuals had perished in the flames for the same im¬
aginary crime. In Germany and France instances of pretend¬
ed demoniacal possession were perpetually occurring; and at
Freidberg public prayers w ere offered up to assuage that dire
affliction. Weiher, physician to William, duke of Cleves,
had the boldness to impugn these superstitious notions, in
a tract publislied at Basle in 1568, and undertook to prove
that witches and demoniacs ought to be considered as un¬
happy persons subject to hypochondriasis and hysteria,
whose maladies should rather excite pity, than render them
obnoxious to punishment; while he ridiculed the ordinary
modes by which these unfortunate beings were proved to
be guilty of the alleged crimes. This attack on a popular
superstition aroused alike indignation and vengeance against
the daring innovator ; and, but for the powerful interces¬
sion of his patron, Weiher himself would have perisheu in
the flames, from which he had tried to save others.
In the close of that century many treatises on different
branches of Legal Medicine appeared in various countries.
Ambrose Pare wrote on monstrous births, on simulated dis¬
eases, and a memoir on the art of drawing up medical re¬
ports. In 1598 Severin Pineau published at Paris the
treatise De Notis Integritatis et Corruptionis Virginum ;
a book still quoted as an authority. The first system oj
Legal Medicine appeared about the same time in Sicily, in
the work of Fortunato Fidele De Rclationibus Medico-
rum ; in which, as might be expected in his age and coun¬
try, the opinions of the physician are too much w arped by
his servile deference for the canon law and its clerical ex¬
pounders.
The rapid progress of anatomy in the commencement
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
History, of the 17th century now became apparent in the invaluable
V—Qiuestiones Medico-Legales of Paulo Zacchia, which ap¬
peared in successive volumes from 1621 to 1635 ; a work
which will ever be regarded as a landmark in the history of
Legal Medicine ; and which, by its learning and its saga¬
cious indications, in an age in which chemistry was in its
infancy, and physiology very imperfect, places the medical
acumen of the great Roman medico-jurist in a very favour¬
able point of view.
The noble discovery of the circulation of the blood gave
a new light to physiological reasoning, which was broadly
reflected on Legal Medicine : and to Harvey we also owe
the idea how the application of Galen’s remark, respecting
the difference between the adult and the foetal lungs, might
be applied to elucidate cases of infanticide.
About the same time appeared two valuable treatises by
Melchior Sebiz, De Notis Virginitatis, and Examen Vul-
nerum. In the first he maintained that the existence of
tnc hymen was tire real mark of virgin purity ; an inference
warmly denied by Orazio Augenio and Petro Gassendi: in
the second he pointed out the importance of distinguishing
between wounds incidentally and necessarily fatal.
In 1663 Thomas Bartholin, a Danish physician, carefully
investigated the period of human utero-gestation, and pro¬
posed the Hydrostatic Test, or observing whether the lungs
of the infant floated or sunk in water, as proving whether
it had ever breathed. The rationale of this process was
more fully explained by Swammerdam in 1677 ; but was
first applied to practical use by Jan Schreyer in 1682 ; after
having been investigated by Thruston and Rayger.
While these important steps were in progress, Germany
set the example of the first public prelections on Medical
Jurisprudence. About the middle of the 17th century,
Michaelis gave the first course in the university of Leipzig :
these were soon followed by the lectures of the celebrated
Bohn, who, before the close of the century, load published
his valuable works De Renunciatione Vulnerum, et Disser-
tationes Medicince Forensis, which were speedily succeeded
by the tract De Ojficis Medici Duplici, Clinici et Foren¬
sis. The two first were nearly contemporary with the in¬
vestigations of Welsch and Amman on the fatality of
wounds, and the celebrated work of Licetus De Monstris ;
and the latter with the valuable Sepulchretum of Bonnet.
The mode of conducting medico-legal investigations had
attracted attention in France, from the time of Ambrose
Pare, through the 17th century. French authors love to
trace the rudiments of the science in their country from the
12th century, in the rules given in the assizes of Jerusalem,
for drawing up exemptions from certain civil and military
duties, and in several subsequent ordonnances of their
monarchs, for the inspection of wounds : enactments from
which we may trace the institution of the Chirurgiens du
Chdtelet. In 1603 Henri IV. authorized his physician to
appoint persons, skilled in medicine and surgery, to make
judicial inspections and reports in all cities and royal juris¬
dictions. The difficulty of carrying this into effect induced
Louis XIV. to create, in 1692, hereditary royal physicians
and surgeons, for the same purpose, with various immuni¬
ties and privileges; but their corruption and venality soon
became notorious, and the office was suppressed in 1790.
Various decrees, however, of the parliament of Paris,
from the middle to the end of the 17th century, were di¬
rected to the improvement of legal medicine ; and that body
acquired great celebrity by the general equity and good
sense of its judgments. Notwithstanding this auspicious
commencement, Legal Medicine did not then flourish in
France ; and the work of Gendry, Sur les Moyens de hien
rapporter d Justice, shews how imperfect were the then ap¬
proved modes of investigation ; though it proves that the
importance of the subject began to be acknow ledged. No
other French work on Legal Medicine appeared in that
491
century, with the exception of Doctrine ctes rapports en History.
Chirurgie of Blegny, which was superseded in the begin- -v——>
nmg of the succeeding century by the more useful Fart de
faire des rapports en Chirurgie of Devaux.
T he 18th century commenced with happier auspices for
our science, and the press teemed with important works on
Legal Medicine. As early as 1700 the admirable treatise
on the diseases of artificers by Bernardino Rammazzini ap¬
peared at Padua. In the following year Valentini publish¬
ed his Pandectce Medico-leg ales ; his Novellce appeared in
1711 ; and both were incorporated in the excellent Cor¬
pus Juris Medico-legale in 1722. This work contains a
judicious view of all that had been done before him, and is
a vast storehouse of medico-legal information.
Several professorships for teaching this subject were about
that period founded in the German universities ; and the
succession of German writers becomes now so numerous
that we cannot attempt to give a catalogue, far less to
characterize their works. Zittman, Boerner, Kannegeiser,
and Teichmeyer, each published systems of various yet ac¬
knowledged merit. The Institutiomes Medicirwe Legalis of
the latter long formed the manual of the student: the clear
and forcible reasoning of Storch in his work De Medicince
Utilitate in Junsprudentia (1730), vindicated the high
importance of this branch of knowledge : but the Systema
of Alberti, professor of Legal Medicine at Halle, in six
quarto volumes, was the most complete and laborious wmrk
ever published on this subject. The writings of this learned
man are obscured by his attachment to the mysticism of the
Stahlian school; yet the industry with which he has col¬
lected facts renders his work a precious mine of information.
Curious additions to our knowledge were made by the
smaller publications of Loewe, Richter, Budams, Troppan-
neger, Fritch, and Wolff, Hermann, Clauder, Herzog, and
Parmeon ; which are chiefly valuable to those who may be
called to exercise the profession in Germany. In the
Bibliotheque Medicate of Ploucquet will be found the names
of those who have dedicated themselves to the illustration
of particular branches of this extensive subject; and in the
Collectio Opusculorum of Schlegel will be found some of
the best detached treatises of the first three-fourths of the
last century on the subject of wounds, poisoning, infanti¬
cide, utero-gestation, insanity, and the legal inspection of
dead bodies. About the same time appeared the Anthro-
pologia Forensis of Hebenstreit, the Specimena of Furs-
steneau, the Institutiones of Ludwig, and the Elementa of
Fazelius. The lectures of Haller belong to this same
period, though they were not published till 1781-2. To¬
wards the close of the last century, the Germans were
almost the only successful cultivators of Medical Jurispru¬
dence. The Elementa of Plenck appeared in 1781, and
the book is still considered a good introduction to the study.
The Bibhothek of Daniel appeared in 1784 ; and in it we
find the name of state medicine given to this branch of
knowledge. Between 1790 and 1800, appeared the Con¬
spectus of Sikora, the Handbuch of Loder, the System of
Metzger, and the Entwurf of Muller.
During the last century little was done in Italy after the
time of Rammazzini; and in France the subject had attract¬
ed little attention, until the celebrated case of Villeblanche
called forth the memoir of Louis on the period of utero-
gestation, in which he attacked the pretended instances of
protracted pregnancy with powerful arguments, which were
seconded by Astruc and Bouvart, but vehemently opposed
by Le Bas and Antoine Petit. This controversy gave rise
to many able publications, in which Pouteau and Vogel took
part; but victory remained with Louis and his adherents.
Louis wrote also a valuable memoir on the anatomical
examination of bodies found hanged; he pointed out the
mode by which we are able to distinguish assassination from
suicide in such circumstances. He applied them to the
492
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
History, celebrated cases of Galas, of Syrven, Montbaillet, and Baro-
■'V—/ net, in which are models of medico-legal investigation ; and
he may be considered as the first who publicly taught in
France the just application of medical knowledge to juris¬
prudence.
The subject of poisoning was examined by Sallin, in a
case where a person had been buried sixty-seven days ; and
he made a very ingenious attempt to investigate the effects
of poisons ; but has sometimes substituted speculation for
facts.
In 1789 professor Chaussier read his excellent Memoire
before the Academy of Dijon ; in which he shewed the
necessity of careful inspection by the medical witness in all
cases of death from blows or wounds, and gave admirable
models of medico-legal reports. Next year he delivered a
course of lectures on Legal Medicine to numerous pupils.
The last year but one of the last century gave to the
world the very excellent Traite de Medecine Legale of
Fodere.
It may excite surprise that in this sketch we have made
no mention of British authors. The fact is, that with the
exception of the short Elements of Medical Jurisprudence
published by Dr. Samuel Farr in 1788, which is little else
but an abridgement of Fazelius, there was no treatise on
Forensic Medicine in the English language.
It is true that some medico-legal questions are ably but
incidentally treated in the writings of Mead, Monro, Den¬
man, Percival, and John Hunter, and that an interesting
Essay was published by Dr. Wm. Hunter “ On the uncer¬
tainty of the signs of murder in the case of bastard chil¬
dren but the importance of the study, as a whole, was
not understood in this country till long after the publication
of many valuable systems in Germany, Italy, and France.
In the present century France took the lead. The
end of the last century was marked by the institution of
three professorships of Forensic Medicine. Mahon was
the first French professor, and his reputation as a teacher
gave him a name, which the posthumous publication of his
lectures has not sustained. The short Cours de Medicine
Legale of Belloc appeared in 1802. Tartra’s excellent
Essay on Poisoning by Nitric Acid was published in the
same year, between which and the year 1810 various short
treatises appeared, chiefly on detached branches by Ach-
art, Drouard, Lavort, Masson, Faulaure, Desortieux, Vigne,
Lamarre, Banc-Cave, Godemar, Raffenaut, De Lisle, and
Faure.
In 1814 appeared the important Toxicologic of Orfila, (a
Spaniard naturalized in France), which has changed the
face of this part of Medical Jurisprudence, by the number
of experiments, the original views on the nature and action
of poisons, and the disquisitions on the modes of detecting
them, it contains. The French practitioner may consult
with advantage the Manuel of Bertrand, published in
1817 ; and the admirable La Medecine Legale relative a
Vart des Accouchemens of Capuron, has scarcely left us any
thing to desire on this branch of the subject. In 1819 ap¬
peared the excellent Essays of Lecieux on Lnfanticide, of
Renard on Medico-legal examinations of dead bodies, of
Laisne on Perforations of the Stomach, and of Rieux on Ec-
chymosis, Suggillation and Contusion, in the same volume.
Valuable detached essays by Fodere and Marc are con¬
tained in the Dictionnaire des Sciences Medicates : and we
may close our French list with the Manuel of Briand and
Bi osson, republished in 1828 ; the Secours a donner aux
Asphyxiees of Orfila, which appeared in 1833 ; and the use¬
ful Manuel Complet of Sedillot.
During the present century Germany has not been idle.
We have good compends by Schmidmuller, Masius, and
Willherg. Rose published a very valuable essay on Me-
dico-legal Dissection, which has been translated and en¬
larged by Marc, (Paris, 1808); and an excellent treatise on
Pharmaco-chemico-Medical Police, was given to the world
by Remer. Phis last treatise has been translated into
French by Lagrange and Vogel, in 1816. Among many
works which have appeared in Germany of later years,
connected with our subject, we may mention the curious
collection of cases by Von Fuerbach, published in 1828,
entitled Merkwurdiger Berbreehen—Remarkable Crimes ;
the little tract of Di's. Bunsen and Berthold, on the powrer
of Hydrated Peroxide of Iron as an antidote for Arsenic,
which appeared at Gottengen in 1834; the Contributions
to Legal Medicine of Bernt; and the masterly analysis of
various poisons, by Buchner and Herberger.
Only two medico-legal works of any consequence have
proceeded from the press of Italy within the present cen-
tury . the Instituzione di Medicina Legale, by Tortosa of
Vicenza, and the Medicina Legale of Barzellotti.
Medical Jurisprudence may fairly be said to have only
commenced in Britain within the present century. The
first lectures ever delivered in Britain were given in the
University of Edinburgh, in 1801, by the elder Dr. Duncan;
and the first established Professorship wras conferred by
government on his son in 1803, since which period it has
been regularly taught in that seminary.
1 lie first original British work on Medical Jurisprudence
w as Di Male s Epitome of Juridical or Forensic Medicine,
for the use oj Medical Men, Coroners, and Barristers,
which appeared in 1816; and, though a short sketch, it
contains interesting notices of English cases, and English
law. Medical Jurisprudence, as it relates to Insanity, ac¬
cording to the Law of England, was published, in 18i8, by
Di Haslam, in a little volume, illustrated by original cases.
But the most valuable work then presented to the public,
in an English dress, was the Principles of Forensic Medi¬
cine of Dr Gordon Smith; a volume commendable as an
elementary treatise, less diffuse than most of the continen¬
tal systems, and interesting to the British practitioner, bv
the numerous references to British cases and to our nation¬
al codes. In 1820 Dr. William Hutchinson published his
useful dissertation on Infanticide, in which its relation to
physiology and Jurisprudence is very ably considered.
These works were soon followed by the more costly publi¬
cation of Paris and Fonblanque, in three octavo volumes;
in which, among some matter little interesting to the gene¬
ral student, are important references to English Jurispru¬
dence.
^ I he last British work we shall mention is the admirable
Toxicology or Professor Christison, which appeared first in
1829, and lias since gone through a second and a third
edition ; a work the most philosophical and perfect which
has yet appeared on the subject of poisons.
It would be improper to pass over the labours of our
trans-atlantic brethren in this branch of science. In 1819
Dr Cooper of Philadelphia republished in America the
ti eatises of barr, Male, and Haslam, with the remarks of
Mr Dease, intended for the information of juries and young
surgeons ; a letter originally addressed “ to the Chief Jus¬
tice of Ireland, by a surgeon of that country.” Dr Cooper
added some notes, and a good digest of the laws relating
to insanity and nuisance, for which his former station as a
judge in the American courts well qualified him. Four
years afterwards the American press presented us with the
excellent work of Dr. Beck, which is a compend of all
known on the subject. 1 he author has freely availed him-
sf °f writings of his predecessors, in many instances
of their expressions and trains of reasoning; but his refer¬
ences to original authorities are copious and correct; and
we must consider the last edition, recently brought to this
country, as the best work, on the general subject, which
has appeared in the English language.
Forensic Medical Jurisprudence may be divided into two great
Medicine, branches, Forcmic Medicine, and Medical Police. The
V—' first may be conveniently subdivided into, 1st, Questions
affecting the civil rights, or social duties of individuals ;
2d, Injuries to Property; 3d, Injuries to the person. The
second part may also be subdivided into, 1st, Questions
affecting the preservation of individuals; 2d, What relates
to the health of men collected into communities.
It is obviously impossible, in the limits of a dissertation
of this natm e, to do much more than allude in general
terms to most of the subjects included under these
branches.
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
493
PART L—FORENSIC MEDICINE.
SECTION 1. QUESTIONS AFFECTING THE CIVIL OR SOCIAL
RIGHTS OF INDIVIDUALS.
DcveJop- L—Development of the Human Frame The
5 ,lSUal develoPment of the corporeal and mental powers
becomes of high importance in establishing personal iden¬
tity, in determining criminal responsibility, and in giving
validity to various civil contracts.
1. Infancy is the period from birth until the completion
of the. seventh year; and its progress is best determined by
attention to the size of the body, the evolution of its pro¬
portions, and the state of the first teeth. Its conclusion is
marked by the loss of the milk incisors, and coming of the
first permanent teeth.
2. Childhood may be considered as extending from the
last period to the 14th or 15th year, or the commencement
of puberty. The expansion of the body, the state of the
teeth, and of the genitals, are its principal characteristics.
3. Adolescence is marked by changes in the whole con¬
stitution, by the commencement of the beard in males, and
of the catamenia in females; this is of uncertain duration,
but may be considered, with us, as extending to the 17th
or 18th year.
4. Youth is the period between adolescence and the full
perfection of the bodily powers. In it the generative func¬
tion is perfected. We may consider it as terminating with
the age of legal majority, though probably it should be ex¬
tended to the 25 th year, as it is with some nations.
5. Virility is that period during which all the bodily
powers are perfect, and the mental faculties are matured.
It has no definite bounds in man ; but the perfection of
the bodily powers of the female may be considered as
bounded by the time when the catamenia cease, or woman
is incapable^ of being a mother. That period is usually
about her 45th year. It is during this period that all the
bodily and mental faculties have generally acquired their
full perfection in both sexes.
6. Old Age has no absolute beginning, fixed by nature,
except in what we have just noticed of the female. It is
exceedingly difficult to ascertain the age of persons of
either sex in this period of life, so that no general rule can
be fixed, and the limits of old age on either hand cannot be
determined. Its general characteristics are stiffness of the
limbs, wrinkling of the skin, loss of teeth, blanching of the
hair, impaired vision, and decay of all the bodily faculties.
Its approaches are often marked by the appearance of fan-
hke wrinkles at the outer can thus of the eye, by increased
obesity, and by the shoulders becoming round.
! ^ Decrepitude is the last stage of human existence, in
which the bodily vigour is decayed; the knees and spine
are curved, from the inability of the muscles to support the
;weight of the superior parts of the body, or by alterations
in the form of the cartilages ; the senses are blunted; and
the only refuge is the grave. The periods at which these
various changes take place are accelerated and retarded by Forensic
constitution, climate, food, habits, education, and occupa- Medicine.
II._duration of Human LiFE._The ordinary chances Duration of
of human life are an important subject of inquiry, deduced Life,
from accurate comparisons of registers of births and deaths.
On this is founded the system of annuities, the principles
of benefit societies, and of insurances on lives. Unfortu¬
nately these registers have been so ill kept in Britain, that
our own tables have generally been calculated from foreign
registers, especially those of Sweden and Finland. It‘Is
well known that Dr Price’s calculations, from the Northamp¬
ton tables, gave far too high a rate of mortality; and have
caused much loss to the nation, in the payment of public
annuitants. 1 he later tables, calculated from the last Swe¬
dish and Carlisle registers, have proved this most decisively;
and the labours of Messrs. Milne, Lyon, and Finlaison have
smce furnished us with surer data for our calculations of pro-
babilities ot survivorship, and the payment of benefit clubs.
Ihe important questions connected with this subject, and the
light which a better system of registration is capable of throw¬
ing on many subjects connected with population, and the
progress of medical knowledge, the important civil rights of
individuals involved in the accuracy of registers of births,
mainages, and deaths, should induce the government to
take up the whole question of registration, and place it on
a public and permanent footing.
IH.—Personal Identity—To those little familiar Personal
wi i sue i inquiries, the danger of mistaking one person for Identity,
another will not appear very considerable; but the fatal
enois which have arisen from this source are too well known
m the jurisprudence of every country. It becomes, there¬
fore, of consequence to point out the circumstances bv
n Inch personal identity may be rendered doubtful, and to
indicate the marks by which it is best established. Tire
first may include the effects of age, climate, aliment, ha¬
bits, passions, wounds, diseases, &c. The circumstances
winch chiefly enable us to identify one long absent from
ns native country are, accurate observation of his likeness to
ins family; his resemblance to what he once was; in some
instances his dialect; his recollection off past events ; but,
above all, the occurrence of scars, or nceci materni, known
to have been on the individual in question.
IV‘7"?lARKI1AGE'—Under this head the principal busi- Marriage,
ness ot the medical jurist is with the nubile age, according
to nature, and legislative enactments; and with physical
circumstances affecting the legality of marriages, which may
justify divorce.
1. 1 lie nubile age, with us, is not below fourteen for the
male, and twelve for the female, that being the ordinary
penod of puberty in our climate ; but young persons may
after this age be prevented from marrying till the age of
majority, by parents and guardians, in England, though this
seems doubtful in Scotland.
2. The physical circumstances which may invalidate a
marriage are, lunacy in either of the parties at the time, and
physical inability to consummate. There are instances of
this last being pleaded and sustained in our Courts. Cer¬
tain diseases, such as epilepsy, are held in some countries
to invalidate marriage, but not with us.
V—Impotence and Sterility may arise from, Imnotence
1. functional Causes—Of these, habitual intoxication,
excessive venery, and diseases which greatly debilitate, or
affect the common sensarium, are the chief. They are
generally temporary only. In females the same causes
may produce sterility; to which may be added excessive
leucorrhoea, dysmenorrhoea, anaphrodisia, &c.
. ^le ‘Organic Causes are malformation of the genitals
in both sexes, or total deficiency of some of them. We
must be careful, however, not to infer the want of testes.
494
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Forensic because none are found in the scrotum. In some indivi-
Medicinc. duals they have remained through life in the abdomen, as
' occurs in the unripe foetus.
Pregnancy. VL—Pregnancy presents a wide field for medico-legal
evidence.
1. The limits between which it is possible, belong to the
province of the medical jurist. It may be limited to the
period during which the catamenia recur ; but this varies
from under ten to more than fifty years of age. A few re¬
markable instances of impregnation after sixty are recorded;
and instances of very early puberty also have occurred, even
so early as about four years ; but these are exceptions to a
general rule, which should be kept in mind, in judging of
imputed pregnancy.
2. The signs of true pregnancy should be impressed on
the mind of the jurist; for he may be called to determine
whether a capital sentence is to be suspended on this plea,
or whether an accusation of pregnancy may not, from the
effect of disease, be made against a virtuous female. It is in
the early months that the principal risk of error lies. The
usual signs are, the cessation of the catamenia, the darken¬
ing of the areola round the nipple, the general state of the
breasts, the state of the os uteri, the form of the womb as
felt over the pubes ; and as the pregnancy advances, the
tumefaction of the abdomen, and the motions of the foetus.
At this period, the stethoscope, applied to the abdomen, af¬
fords a certain indication. The female, for this last exami¬
nation, should be in bed, lying on her back, with a sheet
drawn smoothly over the abdomen : place the stethoscope
between the navel and the pubes, and an attentive ear will
readily distinguish two sounds ; a whirring one, synchro¬
nous with the maternal pulse; and the pulsations of the
foetal heart, considerably quicker and of a sharper tone.
3. Limits of Utero-gestation. Pregnancy may be pro¬
tracted beyond nine months, or forty weeks, its usual term ;
but not so considerably as was once imagined. The Jus¬
tinian and some modern codes were very indulgent in this
respect. Ten kalendar months, or three hundred days, is
the extreme limit allow'ed by the present French code ;
the Prussian extends it to three hundred and two days, a
period sufficient to include every case of protracted preg¬
nancy. The law of England at present has no definite
limit; but a case beyond the usual term would go to a
jury. The difficulty of any female ascertaining the precise
period of her conception is the cause of the discrepant
opinions of the physiologists on this subject.
Parturition VII. Parturition. This subject is also one of great
delicacy, and involves several questions.
1. Whether it he approaching in general, may be known
by indications described in all books on midwifery. The
steps of natural, protracted, and preternatural labour should
be familiar.
2. Bat the signs of recent delivery are more important to
the jurist. These are, the bruised state of the genitals,
relaxation of the vagina and of the uterus, the presence of
the lochial discharge, the general appearance of the fe¬
male, and the formation of milk in her breasts.
3. The viability of the child is very important, and is
recognized by the perfection of its organs, the position of
the median line, the appearance of its nails, and skin, the
cry of the infant, and its capability of sucking. This is a
subject of interest; because in some instances, if a child be
born not viable, it may affect the succession to property,
when the mother dies in childbed ; and it may bear on cer¬
tain cases of alleged infanticide. One other question con¬
nected with this subject is, when there is a considerable
interval between the birth of twins, whether these are to
be considered as conceived at the same time. Many deny
the possibility of superfcetation, which in such cases is con¬
tended for by others ; but it is a subject involved in much
obscurity.
VIII. Monsters and Hermaphrodites. No living Forensic
human birth, however much it differ from human shape, Medicine,
can be destroyed without committing a capital crime. 'v—
The law states that monsters cannot inherit; but it has left Monsters,
us in the dark, as to what should be considered sufficient
deviation from the human form to constitute a monster.
Hermaphrodites are now considered as beings with mal¬
formations of the organs of either sex : and physiology does
not admit the existence of true hermaphrodites with duplex
perfect organs.
IX. Paternity and Affiliation become medico-le- Paternity,
gal questions when a considerable interval has elapsed be¬
tween the birth of a child and the death or absence of its
reputed father : ten kalendar months being the utmost
limit to which modern physiology would extend the period
of utero-gestation. This subject involves questions re¬
specting children born during a second wedlock of the
mother, the circumstances of posthumous children, the laws
of bastardy, and the mode of treating alleged cases of sup¬
positious children.
X. Presumptions of Survivorship. Presunrp.
1. When a mother and her new-born infant are found dons of
dead, important civil rights depend on the question, which Survivor-
lived the longest; as the husband’s right to be tenant to sllIl)'
the curtesy, or the descent of property derived from the
mother. The law of England in such cases admits such
slender proofs of life in the fcetus as would not be received
elsewhere, and leaves much to the evidence of a medical
witness. Elsewhere the child must either cry or look
around, to constitute a quick birth; but in England a quiver
of the lips has been received as a proof of life, in defiance
of physiology.
2. When two or more persons perish by a common acci¬
dent, without any but probable means of ascertaining who
perished first, as in cases of shipwreck, or on a field of
battle, the descent of property may become the subject of
dispute. Such questions have been rarely decided in Bri¬
tain ; but probably should be determined on the principles
laid dow n in ancient Roman lawr, or in the Code-Napoleon.
XI. Mental Alienation. This interesting subject Mental
presents a wide field for speculation to the medical jurist. Alienatioii.
1. He should be familiar with the four forms of insanity,
Mania, Monomania, Dementia, and Amentia, and be able
to indicate the leading symptoms and the most judicious
treatment of each. He should be able to detect feigned
cases of insanity, and to prevent real lunatics from being
treated as criminals.
2. Die chief questions that may fall under his decision
are, how to distinguish the disease, and to prove a man in¬
sane ; if there be a real lucid interval; what period of life
is most liable to insanity ; what diseases are most liable to
be confounded with it; whether it has increased in these
kingdoms.
3. The nature and management of Lunatic hospitals are
also in his province. It must never be forgotten, that, in
such establishments, no more restraint should be erhployed
than is necessary to prevent the unfortunate being from
hurting himself or others : while the order and economy of
the house is to be maintained by a mild but firm adminis¬
tration ; rather like the authority of a parent over children,
than the rigid severity of a task-master towards a depen¬
dant.
XII. The Rights of the Deaf and Dumb are secur- Rights of
ed by law ; and if the intellect be perfectly sound, there is Beat all(l
now no question of their perfect competence to enjoy all ^111,1 ’
the civil rights of other subjects of the state. They can
intimate legal consent by signs, or by writing ; and should
be considered as responsible agents. Maladies
XIII. Maladies Exempting from Public Duties
belong to the medical man, both in his civil and military fron, pub-
capacity. He may be called to decide whether a man be fit, lie Duties
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Forensic without imminent injury to his health, or danger to his life,
Meti-c me- to perform the duties of a juryman, of an officer of justice,
''■“’■“n''"—' or to serve in the navy or the army. In all such cases the
certificate of health must be carefully drawn up, on an
honest consideration of each case, and a fearless determina¬
tion to do justice.
Simulated XIV. Simulatei) Diseases present a field of investi-
Diseases. gation, requiring caution and discrimination. It may be
the duty of the medical man to aid the magistrate in the
detection of the guilty impostor, or the military tribunal in
consigning to merited punishment the pretended invalid.
No questions require more professional skill, more self-pos¬
session, or more knowledge of human character.
SECTION n. INJURIES TO PROPERTY.
Nuisances. !• Nuisances prom Manufactories, fee. These may
affect the property of our neighbour in different ways ; or
the nuisance may be a public one. The first is what is
termed a private nuisance, and may be abated by an ac¬
tion for damages ; the second is a common or public nui¬
sance, and the proper remedy is by indictment. In certain
cases the injunction of a court of equity will stay the
nuisance in a summary manner.
It was at one time ruled, “ that usefulness shall com¬
pensate for noisesomness, and that unless it could be proved
deleterious to the health, a manufacture, however disagree¬
able, might be introduced into a town but by several
later decisions of our judges, it is sufficient to prove that
the nuisance complained of is very disagreeable, and ren¬
ders the property of a neighbour less valuable, or diminishes
in a marked degree the comfort of his life. In judging of
such cases, a medical man is often on delicate ground, be¬
tween parties deeply interested in the issue of the cause :
but w'e may in general terms conclude, that what is very
disagreeable to the olfactory organs of most persons is in¬
jurious to health ; and now it is sufficient to prove the very
offensive nature of the nuisance, to obtain its abatement or
suppression.
The principal nuisances which are likely to become the
subjects of an action are :
1. Establishments or manufactures in which offensive
odours are either naturally given out, or generated by pu¬
trefaction,—such as the erection of privies, piggeries, cattle-
pens, slaughter-houses, cemeteries, collections of decaying
animal and vegetable substances, steeping of hemp and
flax, starch making, dealing in various animal matters, as
in the trades of the knacker and gut-spinner.
2. Manufactures which evolve noxious or offensive efflu¬
via by the aid of heat,—as in sugar refining, dyeing, glue¬
making, hartshorn and ivory-black works, Prussian blue
making, rendering of fat and tallow, boiling of whale and
fish oil, leaf-horn manufactories, varnish making, soap
works, acid making, alkali works, preparation of chlorine,
smelting houses, coal-gas works, turpentine making, uncon¬
sumed smoke from steam-boilers, fee.
3. Manufactures which corrupt or pollute streams or
springs,—as bleaching, dyeing, tanning, gas making, lime¬
burning, and the like.
4. Establishments that become nuisances from their noises
—as the business of the tin-plate worker, the copper-smith,
the trunk-maker, the boiler-maker, tilting machinery, fee.
Arson. II. Arson. The crime of w ilful fire-raising can rarely
become the subject of medico-legal investigation, except
when there is a doubt whether the alleged fire may have
arisen from spontaneous combustion. Spontaneous com¬
bustion may arise in inert matter from
1. Friction or percussion, by w hich the latent heat of bo¬
dies is suddenly converted into sensible heat.
495
2. By fermentation of vegetable matter,—as in the fir- Forensic
ing of new hay, of collections of linen rags, roasted bran, Medicine,
and powdered charcoal; in which the heat excited appears •v—^
to be owing to the rapid absorption of watery vapour,
which, when condensed, gives out its latent caloric in
sufficient quantity to cause ignition.
3. By chemical action,—-as in the effect of drying oils on
hemp, flax, cotton, and on some powders,—as that of char¬
coal, and black oxide of manganese; the action of nitric acid
on essential oils, indigo, fee., or the mixture of oil with
wool. Under this head also may be advantageously dis¬
cussed the singular combustions of the human body, which
have sometimes led to accusations of murder, when the
event wras due to spontaneous changes in the living body.
III. —Forgery and Falsification of Documents.— Forgery.
This may be of two kinds :
1. Forgery of Engraved or Printed Bills.—The im¬
portance of preventing forgeries, in a great commercial
country7, where public and private bills form an immense
portion of the circulating medium, has given rise to various
contrivances for the prevention of frauds. This has been
attempted by introducing peculiarities in the manufacture
of the paper, as the use of water marks, and colouring the
pulp ; but ingenious knaves have imitated both successfully.
It has been also attempted by employing complicated de¬
signs, not easy of imitation. The most ingenious and suc¬
cessful effort of this kind is the multiplication of the same
design, by Mr. Perkins’s machinery, through which the
same figure cut on steel afterwards hardened, may be inde¬
finitely multiplied, by being transferred to copper. The
success of this method is proved by the very few forgeries
which have taken place on the banks which have employed
his plates. Substitution of one sum for another has some¬
times been made. This is easiest prevented by the multi¬
plication of the word or figures on the face of the note, and
also by care in the manufacture of the printing-ink. It is
found that an ink composed of lamp-black, Prussian blue
or smalt,-with copal varnish, is more difficult of erasure than
common printer’s ink.
2. Falsification of Deeds, and forgeries of names, have
been committed by the erasure of the common ink used in
the signatures. Common ink is usually effaced by diluted
nitric, or oxalic acids, by solutions of chlorine, by caustic
alkalis, and by butter of antimony. All these substances
soften or injure the texture of the paper, but the traces of
this injury have been effaced by washing, sizing, and press¬
ing the paper. If these steps have not been carefully per¬
formed, however, the writing may, in some instances, be
restored; the erasure by acids, in that case, becomes mani¬
fest on the application of an alkali—the effect of alkalis by
acids; but chlorine may leave no trace of its employment,
except the extreme whiteness of the paper. In deeds and
writings of importance the best preventive would be to use
as an ink a solution of copal in oil of lavender, coloured by
lamp-black. The defect of this ink is, that it is apt to
become thick, and not to flow freely from the pen ; but it
cannot be erased by the means already noticed.
IV. —Coining of False Money—-The care with which Coining,
the die is prepared will not always secure against frauds of
this sort, as the coin itself offers a ready means of obtaining
a mould, of sufficient sharpness for the purpose of the coiner.
The object of such persons is to pass off base alloys for
pieces of gold and silver. These may be detected by defi¬
cient specific gravity; but, in the ordinary business of life,
this is not a practicable test. Most of the base alloys are
much less sonorous than the precious metals, and the sound
is therefore employed to ascertain the genuine coin. All
coin is alloyed with copper, which imparts hardness, and
prevents loss in wearing: this quantity, in our mint, amounts
to two parts of alloy for every twenty-two of pure gold or
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
silver, or 1-12th. The simplest method of detecting the
intermixture oi too large a quantity of alloy is by the change
of colour produced when a streak is made on touchstone,
and compared with the streak formed by needles of metal
of ascertained purity; but chemical examination is to be
preferred.
1. Debasement of Gold is ascertained by dissolving a
given weight of the alloy, cut into small pieces, in pure
nitric acid. This will leave the gold, but dissolve the baser
metals; and the weight of the residue, washed and dried,
gives the quantity of gold present. The nature of the alloy
may be found by different chemical tests. There is only
one debasement of gold coin not to be thus detected. Gold
coin has been debased by platinum. If the attempt be
made to form an alloy, it spoils the colour of the gold; but
at Rouen it was accomplished by plating the platinum with
gold so nicely, as to give the piece its due weight. Cutting
such a coin will detect the fraud. If an alloy has been
made, it may be detected by the colour being greyish, or
by dissolving the whole in nitro-muriatic acid; when the
addition of muriate of potassa, or of ammonia, to the acid
solution, throws down a yellow precipitate, if platinum be
present.
2. Debasement of Silver is usually detected by cupella-
twn. The weight of the button of silver left on the cupel
gives the quantity of silver in the alloy. It may also be
found by dissolving the alloy in nitric acid, and precipitat¬
ing the solution by muriate of soda: the precipitate blackens
by light, and affords the means of ascertaining the quantity
of silver in the compound.
SECT. III. INJURIES AGAINST THE PERSON.
These may be A. such as do not imply the loss of life;
or 13, such as usually endanger or destroy life.
A.
-—Defloration—The signs of defloration are ob¬
scure. 1 he state of the sexual organs have been chiefly
relied on as indications of the loss of virginity, and in
particular the rupture of the hymen; but the hymen has
been found entire in some females who have had carnal
intercourse with man, and is sometimes naturally wanting,
or may be destroyed by disease. The appearance of the
nymphae, and the size of the vaginal orifice, are not cer¬
tain indications, any more than the appearance of the
carunculm mystiformes, or the firmness of the mammae.
It is only by considering all the signs together, that we can
arrive at any just conclusion.
—Rape—This crime consists in the forcible know¬
ledge of a woman against her will; her resistance must be
continued to the utmost, while she retains her senses or the
power of struggling with the ravisher, unless she may have
yielded to the immediate fear of death. It is not a rape,
without these conditions being complete ; the woman other-
uise is supposed to have consented to the act, which may
indeed have commenced in violence, but have terminated
with her consent. An infant, however, under ten years of
age, cannot give legal consent; and whoever has carnal
•knowledge of such an infant, either with or without her
consent, is guilty of a capital crime. The proofs of rape,
besides the consistency of the woman’s story, mainly depend
on the marks of violence on her person. If a virgin hath
been violated, the injury to the sexual organs, with the
precautions mentioned under defloration, will be taken into
consider ation. If a married female be the victim, we must
ook for bruizes on her own person, or injuries she may
have inflicted on the ravisher during her resistance, which
last are accessory proofs of no small importance. The
crime may even be perpetrated on a prostitute. It is rape, Forensic
if the act be forcible, and against her will. The slightest Medicine,
penetration is sufficient; emission is not now required to —J
be proved. The physical signs of rape soon pass away;
and unless the female be inspected within ten days after
the alleged violence, we shall, in most cases, vainly seek
for confirmation of the allegation from inspection. The
charge of rape is not invalidated by the female conceiving,
nor by the occurrence of syphilis in the woman.
111—Mutilation.—Demembration, mutilation of the Mutilation,
face, cutting or maiming, are capital crimes by Lord Ellen-
borough s act. rI he extent of the injury may often be
referred to a medical man; and in a case of slitting the nose,
an English judge overruled the objection of the prisoner’s
counsel, “ that the nose was only cut,” by stating, “ the
surgeon snare it was slit;” and that slit was anciently
synonymous with cut. Castration was always, in Britain,
considered as a capital offence, even when other mayhems
(as mutilations are termed in English law) were punished
by fine and imprisonment. In France, the perpetrator is
condemned to hard labour for life, except where it has been
“immediately provoked by an outrage against modesty.”
Castration, long after the infliction, may be recognised by
the cicatrix of the wound.
B.
IV.—Criminal Abortion—The laws of Britain recog- Oimiiml
nize this crime only after the period of quickening, on the Abortion,
false idea that then only life enters into the foetus. Quick¬
ening is merely the mechanical escape of the gravid uterus
from the pelvis into the abdomen, and usually takes place
in the fourth month of utero-gestation. Before this has
taken place, causing a woman to abort is not a crime in our
code, thougli it be so in that of some other countries, as in
I rance; and ought to be so; for quickening has nothing
to do with the life of the foetus, which has been a living
being long before. The chief means by which abortion is
sought to be accomplished are, by blows and bruises on the
abdomen, by the administration of drastic purgatives, or
other medicines acting violently on the human frame, by
repeated venesection, and by the introduction of pointed
instruments into the womb. None of the means, except
the last, are certain in their operation, but all are highly
dangerous to the mother; and one who only essays abortion
may thus commit a double murder. In cases of alleged
abortion, the medical witness has to consider the involun¬
tary causes which may produce it; as accidental falls and
blows, strong mental emotions, errors of diet and regimen,
or spasmodic diseases; and he should balance these against
the marks of premeditated design.
v —Infanticide—By the laws of Britain, the mother Infanticide,
who concealed her pregnancy till she was delivered of a
dead child, or who, during labour, failed to cry out for
assistance, or whose infant disappeared after birth, was for¬
merly held guilty of infanticide ; and many convictions and
executions took place on this cruel statute. In later times
very moderate proof of these three circumstances was held
sufficient to invalidate the capital charge. Even in Eng¬
land, in cases of the murder of bastard children, contrary to
all the usual forms of justice, a statute of James I. threw
the onus of proving her innocence on the mother; and it
was not until the 43d year of George III. that this iniqui¬
tous law was repealed, and the same rules of evidence here
applied as in other cases of murder.
This subject involves some very nice points of legal
medicine. I he proofs of the child being born alive enter
into the case. It must be proved to have arrived at the
period when there was a probability of its living ; its body
should be carefully inspected for marks of wounds or
bruises ; its cavities should be opened, lest there be traces
MEDICAL JUI
Forensic of injuries sufficient to have caused death, found in the
Medicine, head, abdomen, or chest; the state of the peculiarities in
“■""n the fetal circulation, and of the organs of respiration, must
be examined; and we must observe whether the lungs seem
to have been dilated by breathing, or remain in the dense
condition and backward position they have before respira¬
tion has commenced. This leads us to consider the cele¬
brated docimasia pulmonum, or test by their sinking or
floating in water, which was at one time regarded as indis¬
putable proof of the death of the child, before or after
birth, but has now been considered as ambiguous. If,
however, we try the lungs together with the heart, with
that organ separated, each lung separately, and also detached
portions of the lungs, we shall generally find little difficulty
m deciding the important question, especially if attention
be paid to the quantity of blood in the lungs, and the state
of the ductus venosus and d. arteriosus, the contents of the
air-tubes, and of the alimentary canal. We must carefully
distinguish between the effects of artificial insufflation of
t ic lungs after death, and their floating from respiration, or
from incipient putrefaction. In cases of artificial insuffla¬
tion, the whole lungs will not float, and the air may be
squeezed out of a. cut portion of the lungs, so as to sink in
water ; whereas, it is not possible, by compression with the
t umb and finger, so to free from air a portion of lime that
has respired, that it will not float. Putrefaction may be
distinguished by the smell, and the air not being in the
cells, but in oblong globules in the cellular tissue uniting:
the cells. °
Infanticide from strangulation, from drowning, and from
mephitic air, may be distinguished by the marks to be
mentioned under asphyxia. Infanticide may be produced
by omission, as by neglecting to tie the navel string; in
which case the body will appear bloodless, the great ves¬
sels near the heart, and that organ itself will be empty.
The child may perish, if not removed from the discharges
which accompany delivery; and the possibility of this hap¬
pening, without any fault of the mother, must be taken
into consideration, dhe infant may die from exposure to
cold. If it be found in a remote or sequestered situation,
that would be ground for suspicion. If there be meconium
discharged from its bowels; if it exhibit marks of starva¬
tion, in the emptiness of its alimentary canal; or if it
appear to have been fed, we may be sure that it was born
alive, and probably perished from criminal neglect. Any
artificial objects, such as articles of dress, found near the
child, should be carefully preserved, as one means of iden¬
tifying the exposer ; and if foot-marks are seen there, they
should be accurately measured and noted.
In cases of exposed infants, it is very important to ascer¬
tain the real mother. As such exposure usually takes
place soon after birth, comparing the age of the infant with
the signs of recent delivery on the suspected mother, is the
best method of proving the connection between them.
Homicide. VI—Homicide—It is only with culpable homicide, and
with murder, that the medical jurist has to deal. When a
person is found apparently dead, a medical man may be
required to inspect and report on the cause of death. He
should, of course, first ascertain whether it be a case of
real or only of apparent death. This sometimes is not
easy. Singular instances of resuscitation from apparent
death are noticed by Winslow, Bruhier, and others, which
should make us pause ere we hastily pronounce a person
dead, without evident causes for his death appearing on his
body.. Neither pallor of the face and lips, insensibility to
stimuli, cessation of the organs of respiration and circula¬
tion, loss of heat, nor even stiffness of the limbs, are infal-
lible criteria. Until, along with these, we have marks of
incipient putrefaction or decomposition, we cannot be abso¬
lutely certain that a person is quite dead; and, in all cases
VOIi. XIV.
U S P R U D E N C E. 497
i>{ doubt, we should wait for incipient putrefaction ere we Forensic
sanction interment. Where the symptoms appear at all Medicine,
equivocal, we should scarify, or apply hot oil to some parts
of the skin.
Here it may be proper to describe the general method
of carrying on the medico-legal examination of a body.
In cases where a person is found dead, the body should
be carefully inspected for external wounds or marks of
contusions. Any wound, however minute, should be traced
with a probe, and followed to its termination by the knife.
Blackish marks should be cut into, in order to ascertain
whether they be the effect of the effusion of coagulated
blood, or merely the consequences of that infiltration of the
skin which takes place in the depending parts of bodies
after death. The first is termed ecchymosis; the latter
may be distinguished from the former by the name of sugil-
lation. In the subsequent examination of the head, the
hair should be removed, the scalp inspected, and afterwards
divided from ear to ear, over the vertex; the skull-cap
removed; the state of the brain and its membranes care¬
fully marked, and especially any unusual appearances noted
down. All should, on the spot, be committed to writing
-—nothing trusted to the memory, however tenacious. The
inspection of the larynx, trachea, and gullet, is best per¬
formed by making a cut through the lower lip, and down
the fore part of the neck and chest, to the xiphoid cartilage.
Transverse cuts should then be extended from the longitu¬
dinal one, along the edges of the lower jaw and the collar
bones, so as to enable us to turn back the integuments
of the neck. The symphysis of the chin should then be
sawed through, and the soft parts divided. We can thus
separate the two sides of the lower jaw. When the tongue
is pulled forward, the fauces, and upper part of the oeso¬
phagus and larynx, are freely exposed, and the introduction
of acrid poisons, or of foreign bodies, may often be thus
detected. The state of the cartilages of the larynx and
tiachea should be noted, as fracture or displacement of
these has occasionally detected strangulation. A ligature
should be put on the lower part of the gullet, and the tube
divided above the ligature.
The abdomen may next be opened, by a cut through the
Sivin from the sternum to the pubes. In new-born infants
the whole skin and abdominal muscles may at once be cut
through, along the cartilages of the ribs on each side, and
thence to the anterior edge of the ileum, curving down¬
ward to the pubes. This will, when the flap thus formed
is turned down, expose the abdominal viscera sufficiently,
without disturbing the vessels of the umbilical cord. In
the adult, we may first separate the skin of the abdomen
from the muscles, in one line from the sternum to the
pubes, and, as it is easily extensile, cut out a flap of the
muscles of the abdomen, as above directed, so as to expose
the viscera. The skin so divided makes a neater appear¬
ance when sewed up, than when the muscles and skin are
divided together, as in the infant. A ligature should be
put on the duodenum, and division of the intestines made
below the ligature; so that we may remove the stomach
and its contents, and reserve them for subsequent exami¬
nation. The other viscera should also be carefully inspected.
The thorax should be last examined; because this enables
us the better to ascertain the descent of the diaphragm,
and the arching of the chest, which takes place in asphyxia,
than when we open the chest before the abdomen. The car¬
tilages of the ribs should be divided as close as possible to the
ends of the ribs, as thus a larger opening is made in the
chest. The position and appearance of the lungs and heart
should be noted, and their engorgement with blood, or the
emptiness of thegreat vessels, ascertained. Whenitis neces¬
sary to examine the spinal canal, the body must be laid on
a table with the face downwards: an incision is to be made
3 u
498 MEDICAL JUT
Forensic along the whole spine, from the occiput to the sacrum, the
Medicine, integuments are to be separated on each side, so as to
^ v ~ expose the posterior portion of the vertebrae, which may be
divided near the transverse processes by a saw, the rachi-
tome, or by cutting plyers. A triangular piece should also
be sawed out of the occipital bone at the foramen magnum.
This will expose the whole spinal canal.
Homicide may be accomplished by several modes that
may sometimes be ascertained by examination of the body.
Death from Death by Asphyxia or suffocation may be produced by
bu. ,ication drowning, by hanging, by strangulation, and by mephitic
air.
1. Drowning may produce the fatal effect in two differ¬
ent modes. In some the suddenness of the shock, or the
surprise instantaneously arrests both the functions of circu¬
lation and of respiration; no struggle precedes death.
This species of drowning has been justly compared to
syncope ; and hence has been by Desgranges termed as¬
phyxia syncopalis. In others the circulation goes on
for some time after the respiration has been interrupted ;
the animal struggles, makes vain efforts at inspiration, and
portions of air are forced out of the lungs by a convulsive
effort of the muscles of respiration. The circulation of un¬
oxygenated blood through the brain seems to act as poison
on that delicate organ ; and the consequence is diminution
of nervous energy over all the body, by which the play of
the heart is enfeebled and the animal soon dies. In this
case the brain is usually found congested with dark blood.
This state has been aptly termed aphyxia congestiva. This
difference in the phenomena may account for the great
difference perceived in the bodies of drowned persons, and
also for the difference in the chances of recovery after sub¬
mersion. In the first species the pallor of the countenance
is marked, and the features little altered. In the latter,
the face will often appear swelled and livid, the tongue be
protruded, the nose and air passages filled with frothy
mucous, the brain and right side of the heart gorged with
black blood. The body which has been sometime immers¬
ed is generally pale, the eyes are half open, and the pupils
generally much dilated, the chest arched, and the diaphragm
pushed down into the abdomen. These last signs are
most conspicuous in those who have perished from as¬
phyxia congestiva. When the person has retained his sen¬
sibility after falling into the water, the ends of the fingers
are often found excoriated by his grasping at any object
within his reach ; and mud or gravel will often be found
lodged below his nails. The blood in drowned persons
generally remains fluid. These are the principal signs by
which we can distinguish the extinction of life by drown¬
ing, from the cases in which the person has been thrown
into the water after death. If we find in the stomach water
containing any foreign bodies, such as fragments of straws
or weeds, similar to those in the water in which the body
was found, we may be sure that the person was living
when immersed in the water : for no water will enter the
stomach after death.
It may, however, be very difficult to distinguish a mur¬
der by drowning, from death by accidentally falling into
water, or from a suicide. The most material circumstances
will be, the marks of struggle near the spot where the body
has been immersed, the obstacles in the way, the impres¬
sions of the feet of more than one person leading to the
water. We must also pay attention to appearances of in¬
juries on the body, which could not have occurred from
simply falling into the water ; such as marks of strangula¬
tion on the neck, or wounds inflicted by deadly instru¬
ments.
2. Hanging produces most of the internal appearances
just described; such as turgescence of the vessels of the
head, livor of the face, fluid black blood in the lungs and
right side of the heart, protrusion of the tongue, and the
ISPRUDENCE.
nose loaded with mucus : but besides these, we usually find Forensic,
a mark round the neck ; and when the person has under- Medicine
gone a public execution, especially when the drop is em-
ployed, there is often luxation of the neck, and fracture of
the processus dentatus. Ecchymosis is generally found
under the mark of the rope : sometimes this mark is not
apparent until some hours after death, but dissection will
shew the cellular tissue, beneath the rope, dry and compress¬
ed. I he face is generally less distorted, the eyes less pro¬
minent, in those in whom luxation of the neck is produced
by the drop, than when the struggle is more protracted.
Recovery is hopeless in the first case, but has sometimes
followed the asphyxia produced by mere strangulation,
which seems to cause a stupor, that is, however, soon fatal,
if the person be not soon relieved.
In examining the body of a person found suspended by
the neck, we must determine whether this be really the
mode in which life was extinguished, or whether the body
was suspended after death. The absence of the usual
marks of hanging, the position of the rope-mark on the
neck, the presence of other mortal injuries, the appearance
of the rope are all important objects of consideration.
These become of the utmost importance in the difficult
cases, where there is a doubt whether the person was mur¬
dered or committed suicide. We must rely for a solution
of the problem on the indications just noticed, and the pre¬
vious history of the individual.
3. Strangling may be accomplished by drawing a rope
tightly round the neck, or by forcibly compressing the an¬
terior of the windpipe, after the manner of Burke and his
imitators. In the first, the mark round the neck will ge¬
nerally be nearly circular and not inclined to the ear or
occiput. In the latter, marks of fingers will often be per¬
ceived on the neck, or a circular depression will be found
on the front of the w indpipe, and sometimes some of its
cartilaginous rings will be broken or displaced. The signs
of suffocation will be equally present, as in hanging ; but
if the mark of the cord be on the lower part of the neck, it
cannot be a case of death by hanging.
Suffocation has sometimes occured from bulky substances
sticking in the gullet, and compressing the trachea. As¬
sassination has also been effected on infants, or on feeble
individuals, by covering up the mouth and nose. This last
mode leaves no external marks of violence, and can scarce¬
ly be detected, except by the appearances of suffocation
found after death.
4. Mephitism, or death from irrespirable gases, often
happens accidentally, but is seldom the mode of assassina-
ation, except in cases of infanticide: and will be noticed
under Toxicology.
In every case of suffocation our attempts at reanimation
should be directed to renew respiration by inflation of the
lungs, to restore the animal heat by exposure to warm pure
air, and by assiduous frictions of the surface, to rouse by
stimuli, and by brushing the soles of the feet and palms of
the hands, to relieve cerebral congestion, when necessary,
by moderate and cautious bleeding.
VII. Death from Starvation. Cases may occur Death from
where it is important to distinguish this from other modes Starvation,
of the extinction of life. In such cases the cutaneous veins
disappear, the skin has become harsh and has a shrivelled
look ; the fat has disappeared, and the soft parts are most¬
ly wasted ; the gums desert the teeth ; the eyes are com¬
monly more or less open and bloodshot; the tongue and
fauces are dark and dry ; the stomach shrunk, blackish and
ulcerated on its internal surface ; the intestines resemble a
cord ; the gall bladder is gorged with bile, which stains the
intestines to a considerable extent; the heart is wasted, and
the great vessels are almost empty; the body exhales a
most offensive odour of putridity, even before life is extinct.
The period required to destroy life in inanition is very
Forensic
Medicine.
ture.
various, and appears to be shorter in the young and vigor-
^ j 0,13 ^lan in persons of middle life, in men than in women.
""" v some comatose diseases, and in persons reduced by pre¬
vious illness, the life under inanition has occasionally been
greatly protracted ; and when there has been stupor with
occasional intermissions, an astonishingly small quantity of
liquid aliment has prolonged life for many weeks, months,
or even years. Some of the published cases of fasting are
apocryphal; but in others where the quantity of nutriment
has been extremely small, the individuals may be consider¬
ed as in the state of hybernating animals, where the dimin¬
ished nervous energy renders the waste of the system
exceedingly slow. Those who are deprived also of drink
perish soonest of inanition ; and those who are confined in
dry warm air, than those exposed to a moist, cool atmos¬
phere.
Oontli from \ III. Death from Extremes oe Temperature.
Tempera-0 l\From extremes of cold. After the sensation of ting¬
ling in the fingers and toes, exposure to extreme cold is
soon followed by languor, Joss of sensation, and irresistible
propensity to sleep, which is so oppressive, that even the
known fatality of the indulgence while exposed to the cold
is insufficient to prevent the sufferer to seek repose. Cold
does not seem to produce a painful death. In arctic regions
the best preservatives against extreme cold are, woollen gar¬
ments next the skin, with furs and dressed leather over
them, a free use of warm diluents, and avoiding wine and
spirits.
2. From a much increased temperature, the fatal effects
may be scalding or burning, according to the medium ap¬
plied. This mode of extinction of life leaves very obvious
traces on the body. Sometimes fire has been applied to
the body after death, to conceal a murder. This fact sug¬
gests the propriety of the medical man examining a scorch¬
ed body minutely, lest there be wounds on its surface, in¬
flicted during life. If the person has lived sometime after
the scorching, in general there will be found a ring of in¬
flammation surrounding the eschars: but this only takes place
when the burning has not been so severe as to sink the
powers of life beyond the capability of reaction.
An increased temperature may be insufficient to vesicate
or destroy the skin, yet may prove fatal; as is well known
in what is termed a coup de soleil. This is a species of
apoplexy, chiefly induced by the direct influence of the
sun on the head, and appears to be similar to the effect of
the Khamsin or Simoon of the desert.
3. Death from lightning is not wholly to be attributed
to the high temperature, but partly to the impulse or shock
instantly affecting the brain, and paralyzing the heart: yet
as the marks of singeing are often observed on the bodies of
those killed by lightning, it may be here considered. The
skin is sometimes discoloured in stripes or oblong patches ;
at other times the surface has no mark of injury, but the
viscera have been observed more or less affected, and oc¬
casionally there is a small perforation on the skin. The
blood is described in every case as remaining fluid, and the
corpse runs rapidly to putrefaction.
IX. Wounds. The examination of wounds, whether
fatal or not, often becomes an important branch of legal
medicine. Wounds are usually divided into contusions,
lacerations, incisions, stabs, gunshot and poisoned wounds.
Each kind requires to be minutely examined, and described,
as they are in approved works on surgery. The degree of
danger from each should be familiar to the jurist; and he
should recollect that there is scarcely any wound which
may not become incidentally fatal from improper treat¬
ment, or peculiarities in constitution. Punctured wounds
or stabs require minute attention ; for there have been in¬
stances in which death has been produced by an instru¬
ment not thicker than a pin, thrust into the brain, the spinal
marrow, or the heart.
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Wounds.
499
Poisoned wounds belong to Toxicology. Forensic
Wounds are more or less dangerous according to their Medicine
locality. ° ^^ .
1. Wounds of the head axe always dangerous, especially
if the blow has been considerable. The person so wound¬
ed may die without separation of the integuments or frac¬
ture of the bone ; as happens in what is termed concussion
of the brain. Contusions which do not divide the skin may
fracture the skull; or the inner table of the skull may be
fractured without the outer being broken or depressed.
Even wounds of the integuments may prove fatal, from in¬
flammation extending inwards to the brain. Punctured
wounds of the head are more dangerous than cuts, as more
likely to excite fatal inflammation. When the brain or its
meninges are injured, all such wounds are generally fatal.
W ounds of the face or organs of sense are often danger¬
ous, and always disfiguring. Malicious disfiguring of the
face was made a capital felony in the reign of Charles II.,
by the C oventry act; but the monstrous anomaly pointed
out by Filangieri, that disfiguring with the intent to dis¬
figure was punished with death, while the intent to murder
was not capital, ^ no longer disgraces our statute book.
Wounds of any of the organs of sense are generally danger¬
ous, and always produce serious inconvenience.
2. Wounds of the nech are always very serious wherever
more than the integument is divided. The danger of open¬
ing large blood-vessels, or injuring important nerves, is im¬
minent : even the division of a considerable vein in the
neck has proved immediately fatal, from the entrance of
air into the vessel, and its speedy conveyance to the heart*
A blow on the side of the neck has instantly proved fatal
either from the blood being forced back into the brain, or
from injury to the superior parts of the par vagum, the great
sympathetic, or the other cervical nerves. Dislocations and
fractures of the bones of the neck prove instantly fatal.
3. Wounds of the Chest are always serious, when the
cavity is penetrated, though persons have recovered from
wounds of the lungs, and have even survived for some time
considerable wounds of the heart. This last is an import¬
ant fact; because we are not always to consider the spot
where the body of a person killed by a wound of the heart,
and apparently remaining where he fell, is found, as that in
which the death-wound was inflicted. Instances have
occurred of persons surviving severe wounds of the heart
for several days. Fractured ribs are never without danger;
and the same may be said of severe contusions of the chest,
from the chance of inflammation extending inwards.
Wounds penetrating both sides of the chest are generally
considered as fatal, though animals have recovered after
having both sides of the thorax penetrated, and the wounds
kept open for some minutes.
4. Wounds of the Abdomen, when they do not completely
penetrate, may be considered as simple wounds, unless
when inflicted with great force, so as to bruise the contents
of the cavity; in that case, they may produce death with¬
out breach of surface, as sometimes happens from blows or
kicks on the belly. Wounds injuring the general perito¬
naeum, or that duplicature of it investing the stomach and
intestines, are highly perilous, from the risk of severe in¬
flammation. Wounds of the stomach or intestines, or of
the gall bladder, generally prove mortal, from the effusion
of their contents into the general cavity producing fatal
inflammation. Wounds of the liver, spleen, or kidneys, are
genei ally soon mortal, from the great vascularity of those
organs.
5. Wounds of the Extremities, when fatal, may generally
be considered so from excessive haemorrhage, from the
consequences of inflammation and gangrene, or from the
shock to the system, when large portions of the limb are
forcibly removed, as in accidents from machinery, and ir-
wounds from fire-arms. •
500 MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE
Forensic X—Toxicologt.—This most important branch of legal
Medicine, medicine has been more thoroughly investigated than any
' other part of Medical Jurisprudence. A poison may be
Toxicology defined
a substance capable of impairing or extinguishing
the vital functions, in a great majority of cases. This
limitation is necessary, because some of the most deadly
substances, in small doses, may be taken not only with
impunity, but with salutary effects ; and habit renders doses
of them innocuous, which would destroy an individual
unaccustomed to their use. Some poisons act directly on
the organs to which they are applied; others appear to act
by their influence on the nervous system. Some appear to
act merely as irritants or escharotics; others by directly
impairing vital functions; and some have a twofold action.
The manner in which poisons affect the system appears to
be either through their direct influence on the extremities
of the nerves to which they are applied, or by absorption,
and consequently by the circulating fluids. The rapidity
with which some poisons, as hydrocyanic acid, act, favours
the opinion that their influence is instantaneously conveyed
to the vital organs by nervous communication. The detec¬
tion of poisons, in some instances, in the blood, or in the
exhalations or secretions, favours the opinion of the circu¬
lation being one channel by which they are carried to the
system; a fact which is further confirmed, by the effect of
ligature, or of division of vessels, in preventing the consti¬
tutional affection of the poison on the system. Some poisons
exert their deleterious influence on one organ, or set of
organs; others generally affect the system. Poisons, classed
according to their effects, may be divided into irritants,
narcotics, narcotico-acrids, and septics. Their action is
modified by the tissue to which they are applied, the con¬
stitution of the individual, the quantity of the poison, and
its mechanical state.
The mode of treatment of poisoned persons depends on
the nature of the poison. The first indication is undoubt¬
edly to evacuate the poison as speedily as possible, by the
stomach-pump or by emetics; the second, to administer
antidotes, if any such be known for the particular poison;
the third, to shield the stomach and primce vice against the
acrimony of the substance; and, lastly, to obviate any vio¬
lent or untoward symptoms they may produce, by all the
resources of our art.
The evidence of poisoning may be presumptive, or posi¬
tive, physical, or moral. The physical proofs are derived
from the symptoms, from experiments on the lower animals,
and from a chemical investigation of the ingesta or egesta.
The symptoms, however, only supply us with probable
evidence; but the most important inferences they afford
are deduced from the simultaneous occurrence of similar
symptoms, in more than one individual previously in good
health, soon after a meal on the same articles of diet. Ex¬
periments on the lower animals with the remains of the
ingesta, or portions of egesta, are not much to be relied on,
as all animals are not equally susceptible of the same
poisons; and what is deleterious to one is innocuous to
another. Some poisons, however, such as arsenic and
corrosive sublimate, are equally poisonous to all. Such
experiments we consider as scarcely justifiable, except in
the cases of some vegetable poisons, which cannot other¬
wise be readily detected. The evidence from chemical
analysis of the stomach, of the ingesta or of the egesta, is
the most unexceptionable. The refinements of modern
chemistry have enabled us to detect surprisingly minute
quantities of inorganic poisons, and even of some vegetable
poisons. In such investigations, the contents of the sto¬
mach, or egesta, should be put into clean vessels; if too
thick, diluted with distilled water, boiled, and when cold,
filtered through muslin, and then through paper. If the
filtered liquor contain much animal matter, this must be
separated, as it obscures the various tests to be applied.
This in general is best done by acidulating the liquor with Forensic
vinegar, by again boiling and filtering. Sometimes it Medicine.
requires to be further clarified, by the addition of animal r"—> '
charcoal, or of nitrate of silver, which separate all the ani- Toxicology
mal or vegetable matter. To portions of the clear and
colourless liquid thus obtained various tests are applied, the
effects of which will decide the nature of the poison. Some¬
times the whole poison may have been so evacuated by
vomiting, or taken up by absorption, that not a trace
remains in the contents of the stomach. In this case we
can occasionally detect it, by cutting the stomach into
pieces, boiling them in distilled water, purifying the liquid
by some of the processes already described, and then ap-
plying the tests. Narcotic poisons are easiest detected by
their smell ; sometimes we can eliminate one or more of
their peculiar ingredients by chemical means, but frequently
we have no better means of detecting them than by the
symptoms they produce, and the moral evidence of the case,
or the morbid appearances on the body after death.
We are not to regard the livid appearance of the body
as evidence of poisoning ; it is not always present in cases
of poisoning, and may arise from other causes. The rapid
putrefaction of the body is as fallacious an indication.
The very reverse is sometimes the fact. The classes of
irritant and narcotico-acrid poisons are usually indicated by
inflammatory appearances in the primae vise, but these are
not invariably present; and cases often occur of which the
moral evidence may be strong, yet the direct evidence may
amount to no more than a probability.
The moral evidence of poisoning may sometimes be best
collected by the medical attendant. He may be the only
witness to the conduct of the accused ; he may have ob¬
served him suspiciously active in removing every trace of
the potion administered, or of the egesta in which a poison
might be detected; he may have observed the guilty con¬
fusion of the suspected person, or heard his attempts to
explain a fatal mistake, if the administration has been traced
to him; or the physician may have been the chief deposi¬
tary of the dying declaration of the sufferer. All these
things it is his duty to note down, and to transmit to the
proper authorities.
Poisons are derived from the inorganic or organic king¬
doms of nature. The first class may be metallic, earthy,
alkaline, and simple chemical substances, and gaseous
bodies: the second vegetable and animal poisons.
i.—Metallic Poisons.—Of these arsenic, quicksilver, Metallic
copper, lead, antimony, zinc, tin, bismuth, chrome, silver, Poisons,
gold, are the most important.
1. Arsenic is poisonous in all its combinations. Its most
usual preparations given as poisons are, the blackish oxide
or fly powder, the white oxide or arsenious acid, the sul-
phurets, and the combination of arsenious and arsenic acids
with alkalis. All are very deadly, even in small doses,
whether swallowed, introduced into the anus or the vagina,
applied to the abraded surface, or even when extensively
applied to the whole skin. The symptoms commence
usually within an hour after the administration ; and are,
nausea, vomiting, great heat and pain in the stomach,
purging, intense thirst, severe spasms in the limbs and
body, prostration of strength, pallor of the face, a feeble
pulse; sometimes convulsions precede death. In a few
cases the symptoms of an irritant poison are wanting, and
the arsenic appears to be fatal by immediately inducing
paralysis of the heart.
The fauces, gullet, and stomach are often found marked
by inflamed patches of a deep vinaceous colour, produced
by blood effused under the villous coat of the stomach.
Sometimes the villous coat appears corroded or thickened,
but the stomach is seldom perforated. When the villous
coat has suffered erosion, the poison has generally been
given in the solid form, and grains of it may often be picked
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Forensic off the surface of the stomach for analysis. The inflam-
Medicine. mation seldom reaches to the jejunum; but, though the
j—'v—' greatest portion of the small intestines and the colon escape,
Toxicology marks 0f irritation are often observed about the rectum,
especially if the purging has been violent. Various anti¬
dotes have been proposed, such as charcoal and magnesia;
but the only substance that seems to deserve any reputa¬
tion is the recently prepared hydrated peroxide of iron,
promptly administered in large doses.
The means of detection, when the arsenic is solid, are
easy. Introducing it, with charcoal powder if it be white
arsenic, or with black flux if it be orpiment, into a small
tube, and applying gradually the heat of a spirit lamp, will
afford a blackish, shining, metallic crust, the interior of which
is crystalline. A portion of this, exposed to heat, exhales
as a white smoke, and gives out an alliaceous odour. Ano¬
ther portion, slowly heated in a tube open at both ends, is
converted into minute tetrahedral crystals. When it exists
in solution in the contents of the stomach, we have to clarify
the liquid, by the means already mentioned, and to apply
tests; of which the most approved is a stream of sulphur¬
etted hydrogen, which throws down a lively yellow preci¬
pitate ; the ammoniaco-nitrate of silver, which gives a
yellow precipitate, that soon fades to a brown ; ammoniaco-
sulphate of copper, which gives a green precipitate. Either
of these precipitates heated with black or soda flux, in a
glass tube, will afford the crust already described. These
indications leave no doubt of the presence of arsenic ; and
from the 2 ^ or of a grain may be converted into a
sensible metallic crust. Arsenic seems to have a tendency
to preserve from putrefaction the stomachs of persons
poisoned by it; and it has been detected in bodies that
have been from four months to two years buried.
2. Mercury or Quicksilver—This metal in its pure state
has been supposed innocent; but when in the state of va¬
pour it is well known to be speedily deleterious, and to
produce all the symptoms of mercurial poison. The most
usual mercurial poisons are corrosive sublimate, or bichlo¬
ride of mercury, its oxides, and sub-salts. The long-con¬
tinued use of calomel is capable also of acting as a poison;
but almost the only mercurial poison criminally adminis¬
tered is corrosive sublimate, though, from its detestable
taste, it cannot be given by the mouth as a secret poison.
The usual indications are a styptic taste, then burning
of the throat, violent vomiting, great distress in the stomach
and bowels, violent cholic and severe purging, blood ming¬
led with the matter brought up by vomiting, or ejected by
stool. The symptoms often simulate dysentery: the face
at first is often flushed, the eyes sparkling; soon the powers
of life sink, the voice is lost, cold clammy sweats bedew the
surface, perception of external objects is lost, and convul¬
sions close the scene. When the substance is given in
small doses, or if the mercurial be a milder preparation,
after dysenteric symptoms ptyalism supervenes ; the person
may sink from the violence of that affection, the fauces may
become ulcerated, and gangrene may ensue. If ptyalism
follow the administration of a single large dose of mercu¬
rial, it is always to be regarded as a formidable symptom.
When the person survives, he may suffer from mercurial palsy.
The effects of mercurial poisons are indicated after death
by the following appearances. The fauces 'are generally
more affected than from arsenic, and the inflammatory
appearances are more diffused over the alimentary canal.
Destruction of the coats of the stomach are often observed,
either the consequence of the escharotic power of corrosive
sublimate, or of ulceration. Peritonaea! inflammation is not
uncommon; and irritation of the urinary organs, perceived
during life, is marked by inflammatory indications found
after death.
We possess in whites of eggs, milk, and gluten of wheat,
very effectual antidotes for the poison of corrosive subli-
501
mate, provided they be given soon after the poison. The Forensic
first is the most powerful. The secondary symptoms must Medicine,
be met by antiphlogistic remedies and venesection. v v '
Mercurial poisons are easily detected when we obtain Toxicol°gy
them in substance, but not so readily when mingled with
the contents of the stomach. Corrosive sublimate is readily
decomposed by several animal substances, and therefore we
are not likely to detect it unchanged in the contents of
the stomach. It is there usually converted into calomel,
either in whole or in part. When held in solution, it is
easily detected by Sylvester’s method, i. e. by dropping a
little of the suspected liquid, slightly acidulated, on a gold
plate, or a gilt card, and touching the gold surface, through
the liquid, with a piece of zinc or iron wire. Professor
Traill employs a similar method to separate the whole mer¬
cury from its solution. He wraps a gold leaf round a slip
of zinc, and immerses it in the suspected liquor, slightly
acidulated—the mercury is precipitated; and scraping off
the gold and the tarnished surface of the zinc, he introduces
them into a small tube, and the heat of a spirit lamp is
sufficient to produce a ring of brilliant metallic globules.
Pie has employed a similar method to separate arsenic from
its solutions.
In all probability the mercurial will not be found in the
stomach in a soluble state. In this case we have to form
the contents of the stomach into a pulp, and to pass a stream
of chlorine through the mass, when the mercurial present
will be converted into bichloride, which may be separated
by filtration ; drive off the excess of chlorine by boiling the
liquid, and then either precipitate the mercury, by intro¬
ducing into the liquid a cylinder of pure tin, according to
Devergie’s method, or by Traill’s combination of zinc and
gold leaf. The tarnished surface of the metals in either
case is to be scraped, and the powder so obtained intro¬
duced into the tube and heated, as already described.
When we have much corrosive sublimate to operate on,
we may try it by lime water, which throws it down of a
deep yellow ; by alkalis, which form with it an orange pre- "
cipitate; by protomuriate of tin, which gives a slate-grey
powder ; and by hydriodate of potassa, which forms a splen¬
did scarlet precipitate.
3. Copper—The poisonous effects of the salts of copper
have long been known; but though little likely to be used
as secret poisons* they sometimes produce death from being
accidentally mingled with food, as in the use of culinary
utensils of copper. The symptoms are those of other irri¬
tant poisons, to which is added spasmodic rigidity of the
limbs, in some cases amounting almost to tetanus. Salts of
copper may produce salivation, and also jaundice. The
morbid appearances are not very characteristic.
Albumen of eggs appears an antidote of some power
against the salts of copper, and therefore, after evacuating
the stomach, the whites of raw eggs should be adminis¬
tered. Inflammation should be obviated by antiphlogistic
means.
The poison of copper may be sought for by boiling the
contents of the stomach with acetic acid ; this will dissolve
every preparation of copper, and enable us to separate them
from animal and vegetable matter by the filter. We may,
if necessary, concentrate the solution by evaporation ; and
if the addition of ammonia give the solution a blue colour,
we may be satisfied that it contains copper. A stream of
sulphuretted hydrogen throws down a brown precipitate
from the solution of copper ; and if the quantity of copper
be considerable, a piece of bright polished iron will become
coated with a film of copper.
4. Lead.— The poison of lead is of considerable conse¬
quence, although never used as a secret instrument of
revenge. Its oxides and salts all appear to be deleterious,
but those from which accidents have most commonly hap¬
pened are litharge, white lead, and sugar of lead. These
502 MEDICAL JUR
Forensic often find their way into the stomach, from little-suspected
-Medicine, sources, and produce a species of poisoning with very pecu-
Toxicolow ^ai" symPtoms- Leaden pipes and cisterns are acted on by
water, especially by soft rain-water, and the carbonate of
lead thus formed being soluble in an excess of carbonic
acid, is liable to enter the human system with the food.
Acescent articles of diet act on leaden vessels, and, when
aided by heat, on the plumbiferous glazes of our earthen¬
ware. These are the most general sources of this poison; but
persons engaged in works where white lead is largely used,
smelters of lead ores, painters, and potters, are liable to the
same deleterious influence. The symptoms produced are
obstinate constipation, severe tormina, with the symptoms
commonly known by the name of painter's colic, colic of
Poitou, and of Devonshire. After these have subsisted for
some time, the person begins to have paralysis of the limbs,
first of one or both arms; in general the extensor muscles
suffer before the flexors, and the palsy may then become
general in that limb, or extend to other parts. The pre¬
parations of lead, when given in large doses, appear to act
as irritant poisons.
Orfila found that animals poisoned by sugar of lead had
a preternatural whiteness of the villous coat of the stomach,
if tliey perished speedily; but, if their death were protracted,
the inner coat of the stomach was reddened. The stomach
has often been found corrugated after death.
Frequent ablution of the surface is the best prophylactic
for those much exposed to the powder of the preparations
of lead; and when lead has been introduced into the sys¬
tem with the food, the best means of obviating the return
of the evil is by rigidly excluding lead from all culinary
and economic purposes. Hard water is less liable to act on
lead than soft water, and hence the impropriety of lead
cisterns for rain water. Mercury seems to have a beneficial
effect in lead colic, especially when conjoined with opium.
Lead is easily detected. To whatever articles it is sus¬
pected to enter add vinegar, and boil; filter the solution
and all the lead will be in the clear liquor. If in large
quantity, it may be detected by the sweetish astringent
taste of the liquid; part of which may be tried by the ad¬
dition of a solution of sulphuretted hydrogen, or of hydro-
sulphuret of ammonia, which instantly darkens the most
dilute solution of lead; another portion may be tried by
bichromate of potassa, which throws down solutions of lead
ot a brilliant yellow ; a similar colour is formed with them
and hydriodate of potassa.
5. Antimony is rarely a poison ; because its most active
and best known preparations are violently emetic, and thus
counteract its effects. Emetic tartar, when given to the
lower animals, if vomiting be prevented by tying the gul¬
let, causes inflammation of the lungs and stomach ; and this
v ould probably be its effects on man. The lungs appeared
a mixture of orange-red, and violet-blue, and they were
gorged with blood, which prevented the usual crepitus. It
was also fatal when applied to a wound. The stomach was
violet coloured, thickened, and covered with tough mucus,
the intestines empty, in a man killed by emetic tartar.
I he best antidote for this poison is decoction of peruvian
bark, especially of cinchona cordifolia.
The detection is not difficult; sulphuretted hydrogen
throws down a rich orange-red precipitate. When the an-
timony is mixed with animal and vegetable matter, add first
a little muriatic acid to precipitate the contaminating sub¬
stances, and then tartaric acid to dissolve any antimonial
present. This will afford by filtration a clear liquid for the
application of the tests. I he sulphuret is best reduced
by Ur. 1 urner s process ; i. e. passing a stream of hydrogen
over it when heated to redness in a tube.
6, x he other metals, though affording some poisonous
salts, scarcely require notice in this place. Zinc in solution
may be detected by a stream of sulphureted hydrogen af-
ISPRUDEN CE.
fording a whitish precipitate. The muriate of tin affords Forensic
one of a rich purple, the powder of Cassius, with deuto- Medicine,
muriate of gold ; and when strong, coagulates milk com-
pletely. Sub-nitrate of bismuth may be detected by cal- toxicology
cining in a moderate heat the contents of the stomach, and
adding diluted nitric acid to form a solution, from which
water throw s down a white precipitate. The soluble salts
of silver are thrown down by alkaline and earthy muriates ;
and the precipitate is easily fusible into horn-silver. A
plate of copper becomes silvered by immersion in the so¬
lution of silver. Gold may be detected by solution in nit-
ro-muriatic acid ; which solution affords the purple powder
of Cassius with muriate of tin ; and the neutral solutions of
gold instantly gild silver or copper immersed in them.
ii. Earthy and Alkaline Poisons. Earthy and
1. Baryta.—Both the carbonate and pure baryta are
very poisonous, as are the soluble salts of this earth. The Poisons-
symptoms are those of irritant poisons : the senses then be¬
come blunted, the respiration feeble, and convulsions close the
scene. The stomach is found inflamed, and the brain
shews congestive apoplexy. The antidotes are any of the
alkaline sulphates, which instantly form with all the poison¬
ous salts of baryta, insoluble, inert compounds. Sulphu¬
ric acid, or sulphates, are also the tests of this earth : but
it might be confounded with strontia, the salts of which do
not seem poisonous, except in as far as they are acrid. The
best distinction is obtained by procuring a muriate of the
suspected salt, and dissolving it in alcohol. The muriate of
baryta imparts a yellow colour to the flame of spirit; the
muriate of strontia, a fine red.
2. Lime is only poisonous as an acrid. The antidotes
for it are phosphates of soda or potassa, and water impreg¬
nated with carbonic acid. The detection of the salts of
lime is easy. Its properties when pure are alkaline: it
forms with sulphuric acid a substance of little solubility ;
but phosphoric and oxalic acids precipitate it from all its so¬
luble combinations.
3. Potassa and Soda.—The pure alkalis and their carbo¬
nates are poisonous. Several fatal accidents have happened
from them. They act as strong irritant poisons, producing
intense heat and pain in the abdomen, then cold sweats,
tremors, and convulsive twitchings in the limbs, the stools
are tinged with blood, and membranous flakes are mixed
with the egesta. When the person lives some time, gene¬
ral peritoneal inflammation is observed after death. Ni¬
trate, and chlorate of potassa are irritant poisons in large
doses, producing dangerous inflammation of the stomach
and bowels.
The best remedies are large quantities of mild oil. The
tests of the alkalis are obtained from their combinations
with different acids, and the manner in which they colour
the flame of the blowpipe. When nitrate or chlorate of
potassa can be had in the solid form, the first may be known
by its ready deflagration with charcoal in a crucible; the
second by putting a drop of sulphuric acid on a mixture of
the salt with sugar, which it instantly ignites.
4. Ammonia and its salts. They all act rapidly as irri¬
tant poisons, and have besides a violent effect on the ner¬
vous system, especially on the nerves of the spinal cord.
This last effect is principally produced by pure ammo¬
nia and its carbonate. Convulsions are caused by the
too long continued inhalation of the vapour of ammonia,
which has several times proved fatal to man, terminating in
severe bronchitis. For this species of poisoning, muriatic
acid vapour is the best remedy. On the reception of car¬
bonate of ammonia in the stomach, we should administer
diluted vinegar instantly.
We detect the presence of ammonial vapour by the
smell, and by a rod dipt in muriatic acid, which gives rise
to w hite fumes of muriate of ammonia.
5. Alkaline sulphurets are all poisonous, chiefly from the
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
   503
and the muscular coat ,s congested with blood. The al- cases. When the patient lives'^ for some timerftwfflbe
Acid Poi¬
sons.
kaline sulphurets act as narcotico-acrid poisons Their difficult to ZLrt th - f i 8011,6 ,time> ifc wil1 be
eIhIPIse ss; iilHiigii
iti ^1; fe‘a t" a^Si'S'SIr 52"^" ^p^cfof
3. Muriatic acid destroys the tissues also, but renders ^slL'LtrrredelLfS rffte metne^f ^ T'"'
the fauces usually whitish, as if the surface were of ivory, or of hydriodic acid bv the intpncp LI C ? 10C me’
1 he symptoms produced by the three acids are similar, and duced. If hydriodate ofpotssa benresen t "th^r’T Pr°'
£^„7th^^»r^.n?JS bnfittr;:eisa “XtahtTat tz
brown. This circumstance becomes of importance in cases scribe its effects or mode of detection. Y d
of maliciously throwing acid on any person, when no part
of the acid liquid has been preserved. The stained por¬
tions of clothes, soaked in distilled water, will give out the
acid; if sulphuric acid be present, it is best detected by
nitiate of baryta, which gives a white precipitate, insoluble
in pure nitric acid. Muriatic acid is detected by the addi¬
tion of nitrate of silver, which throws down insoluble muri¬
ate of silver. Nitric acid is best recognised by its effect in
destroying the colour of sulphate of indigo, when heated
with it in a tube.
4. Oxalic acid is a most deadly poison. It differs from
other acids derived from the vegetable kingdom in not
containing hydrogen; being like the mineral acids, a
binary compound. Its taste is so intensely sour that it can¬
not be employed as a secret poison ; but it has been
swallowed by mistake for sulphate of magnesia, so as to
prove fatal. Its alkaline salts are almost equally poisonous,
v:—Gaseous Poisons—Of these some are fatal from Gaseous
tne irritation they produce, A; others are narcotic, B. Poisons.
A.
, } ‘ Chlorine—This gas destroys life, if incautiously in¬
haled, by the irritation it produces. It causes violent
constriction of the epiglottis, and severe pain in the chest,
even when diluted. It disinfects air contaminated by ani¬
mal emanations. Its solution in water kills dogs; and when
injected into a vein, it speedily destroys life. It is most
certainly detected by its smell.
2. Hydrochloric gas, or muriatic acid gas, is still more
irritating and destructive. It is largely emitted in the
manufacture of soda from salt, and is then most hostile to
vegetation; of it contaminating the atmosphere, so as
to destroy plants.
3. Sulphurous acid gas is also most suffocating; is, even
i fy xv vvni.-I!!.. X. . A    J _ « . • ~ _
especially the binoxalate of potassa, or salt of W, and whe'n mfch ZtTvZ destmS to ,S’
they are speedily fata, when applied to wounds. Oxalic has, as etolti^frok burntag “Lhur ISM
acid renders the tongue red and inflamed, and it corrodes employed to commit infanticidp° It b
the stomach; burning pain in the primae vise speedily come livid. " ’ e ungs very
rif]COldl ClTmc flswe,ats’ a faint and fluttering pulse sue- 4. Nitric oxide, and nitrous acid vapour are noisonous
ceed and palsy of the heart soon appears ; proving that this irritant gases, that cannot be respired, unless larRelv diWd
substance is not only an acrid but a true narcotic. Unfor- The attempt to respire the former nearly proved fa A to
tunately its effects are so violent and sudden that there can Davy. The fumes of the latter have aeeit.n * ^
little be done by art to save the patient. Instant evacua- fatal to individuals producing burnino- cPn ^ l)rov^d
tion of the stomach, and the exhibition of chalk mixtures throat and chest an expectoration of vA W l ^
are the best means to he employed. Even when the per- a,vine defectns of a BeZr ' d “rf
son survives the immediate effects, he often dies of the in- the body becomes livid the breathing iIlo . efore death
“on or the corrosion of the alimentary canal. of ammo^^^^
The best mode of detecting oxalic acid is to precipitate of this gas, of hydrochloric and of sulnhnro„« f t
portums of ,t by so ut.ons of lime and magnesia. The"pre- but weLie m/mean Tdetelifg ± oTif
cipitate by the first is not decomposable by any acid : sul- gases, in the small quantity the/ever can exist S Z
phate of copper gtves a precp.tate w,th oxalic acid, insolu- human chest, except by the sense of smell
He m a little munahe ac.d; and the precipitate with 5. Ammonia is not only irritating when received into
nitrate of silver, when dried, deflagrates with a gentle heat, the lunes, but is as we have a]rParL c. vf . ed I.n,to
. iv—Simple Substances with Poisonous Quali- S d ready Said’ narcotico-acnd.
ubstances ties. B
•nous01" L Phosphorus, even in very small quantities, is poison- 6. Nitrous Oxide, the exhilarating- gas of Daw nar
Jiaiities. ^ ; tW0 grain.® have Proved fatal to a n?an: In that case cotic> Yet can scarcely be considered^ poisonous>’since it
t lere were sugillations on the belly and thighs, the scrotum may be inhaled several times a-day without injurv • but it
was bluish and phosphorescent, the chest contained much seems to have a tendency to cause7cerebral congestion
imple
504 MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Forensic 7. Sulphuretted Hydrogen is one of the most poisonous
Medicine. 0f gaSes, destroying life when injected into tlie intestines,
'—> ' or into the cellular tissue, when received into the lungs, or
Toxicology even when extensively applied to the surface of the body.
It is largely given out in the corruption of some kinds of
animal matter. Many serious accidents from this gas have
happened in clearing out the Parisian fosses d'aisanee.
The symptoms are instantaneous asphyxia, with discharges
of bloody froth from the mouth, and convulsive movements
of the limbs; motion and sensibility soon cease, the lips
become livid, the eyes close, and lose their lustre, the sur¬
face becomes cold, the action of the heart is tumultuous,
then feeble, and before death complete tetanus often comes
on. Even when the gas does not kill, it produces severe
tormina, nausea, and drowsiness. The body of one killed
by it quickly becomes putrid; the skin is livid, and soon
meteorized; the brain tender, and of a greenish hue. The
proper treatment of persons suffering from this gas is to
carry them into pure air, to dash cold water and vinegar
over the body, to rub the surface diligently with warm
flannels, but to admit air freely to the surface, wThile the
palms and soles are to be strongly brushed. Lavements
of cold water and vinegar should be first used, and then
lavements containing common salt; when the heart beats
violently blood should be abstracted.
This gas is well known by its smell resembling that of
rotten eggs. Solutions of sugar of lead are very delicate
tests of its presence in minute quantity.
8. Carhuretted Hydrogen, of various qualities, is given
out by stagnant waters. It is one of the results of com¬
bustion, and is abundantly produced in coal mines, wdiere
it is the formidable fire damp. When the atmosphere is
much contaminated with it, it oppresses the breathing, and
produces headache and giddiness. When mixed in the
proportion of about with the atmosphere of mines, it
will explode on the approach of a flame ; yet in such an
atmosphere persons will continue to work for some time
with impunity; but even if there be no risk of explosion,
the narcotic effects of the gas begin to be perceived on
those long exposed to it.
9. Carbonic Oxide, mixed with other gases, is given out
by burning fuel, especially if moist, and burning slowly.
It scarcely becomes an object to the toxicologist in its pure
state. It is inflammable, rather lighter than atmospheric
air, and lias a disagreeable smell. It may be respired when
diluted; but produces temporary intoxication, and when
injected into the veins gives the blood a brown colour.
10. Carbonic Acid.—This gas is well known to be heav¬
ier than atmospheric air, to be totally irrespirable when
pure, and to be speedily fatal to animals plunged in it. It
is always present in the air in minute quantity; but is
largely given out by the burning of all sorts of fuel, is pro¬
duced in every species of fermentation, is formed in the
respiration of all animals, and, under certain circumstances,
it is given out by plants, particularly in the dark. From
these sources, the air, in confined situations, may become
impregnated with it, in a proportion inconsistent with the
safety of man. Numerous instances of its fatal effects have
been observed in the neighbourhood of large fires, in brew¬
eries, in crowded apartments; and in rooms where many
plants are growing, it is unhealthy to sleep. When a con¬
fined atmosphere is much mixed with it, uneasy respiration
is speedily felt, and the person may escape the danger by
seeking the open air; but at other times drowsiness or
stupor comes on, before any warning is given, and the indi¬
vidual loses the power of attempting his escape. When
the gas is undiluted, it is almost immediately fatal to ani¬
mals immersed in it; and even if the animal be made to
respire pure air, while the whole body, except the head, is
immersed in carbonic acid, life will be extinguished. After
death from this gas, the features remain placid, the eyes Forensic
open and brilliant, the body long retains its heat and flexi- Medicine,
bility. When the person has not been exposed long enough
to extinguish life, the breathing may be stertorous and Toxicolo&y
oppressive, the face flushed, the pulse feeble, the eyes pro¬
minent and wildly rolling about, the tongue swollen, and
the saliva flowing out of the mouth.
The proper treatment consists in removing the patient
into the open air, or into a w ell-ventilated room; the sur¬
face should be sprinkled with vinegar and water, and every
few minutes rubbed dry with hot towels. If the valve
bellows be at hand, the foul air should be first drawn from
the lungs, and its place immediately supplied by fresh air,
thrown in by the same machine. This alternation may be *
two or three times repeated, and then we should imitate
natural respiration as much as possible, throwing in air by
the bellowrs, and aiding the expulsion of the air by gentle
pressure on the chest. Brushing the soles of the feet and
palms of the hands with stiff brushes, stimulating the nose
by a feather, or by ammonia, are useful auxiliaries. When
animation is restored, it is time enough to put the patient
to bed.
Vi.—Vegetable Poisons—These include most of the Vegetable
narcotic and narcotico-acrid poisons of Orfila. Narcotism Poisors.
begins with a sense of fulness in the head, then succeed a
sort of intoxication, dizziness, headache, loss of voluntary
motion, almost amounting to paralysis, sometimes convul¬
sions, and finally, stupor and coma. These symptoms may
not all be present; for each poison has its peculiar modifi¬
cation of the general symptoms. The post mortem exami¬
nations of those who perish by narcotic poisons do not
generally throw much light on their mode of destroying
life; and there are some diseases that bear considerable
resemblance to narcotism. Thus, Apoplexy chiefly differs
in there having usually been some warning before the fatal
attack, and in coming on during a meal. Narcotism is
generally perceived from half an hour to one hour, or more,
after taking the poison. Narcotism is more gradual than
apoplexy, and at first the person may be roused from his
stupor. Apoplectics generally survive for a day, or often
much longer. Epilepsy may generally be distinguished by
the history of the case, by the abruptness of the attack, by
the pei'son being instantly rendered insensible, and by its
rarely proving fatal on the first attack. One species of
fatal syncope is more difficult to be distinguished from nar¬
cotism ; and if it has not been witnessed, wTe do not know
how it can be recognised after death.
1. Opium.—The deadly effects of this substance have
been long known ; and it wTas supposed to be a proximate
vegetable principle, simple in its nature, and peculiar in its
effects. Modern chemistry has shewn that opium, like
many other active vegetable substances, owes its qualities
to an alkaloid, which may be separated, by chemical pro¬
cesses, from many other ingredients. The first of these
alkaloids was detected in opium about 1812; and the care
with which this important drug has been since examined,
has shewn it to be an exceedingly compound substance,
consisting of not less than of thirteen, or perhaps of four¬
teen different vegetable principles, of which six are crystal-
lizable. Of these, in a toxicological point of view, the most
important are Morphia and Meconic acid. These twTo in¬
gredients appear to exist in combination in opium; and
when magnesia is added to a w atery solution of opium, an
insoluble meconate of magnesia is formed, from which the
morphia, sparingly soluble in water, is taken up by alcohol;
or, if we add muriate of lime to the liquid, instead of mag¬
nesia, we obtain meconate of lime, as an insoluble precipi¬
tate, and a soluble muriate of morphia; which last, when
purified by several nice chemical manipulations, is obtained
in minute, white, silky crystals. This is the valuable part
0f 0piUm t0 the medical practitioner, as it is powerfully
luemcrne^ hypnotic, and is less liable to cause headache, nausea, and
Toxicologyltch"lg °f the than crude opium.
When either this substance or opium are administered in
an over-dose, the symptoms are drowsiness and insensibi-
lity, but this state is often preceded by a slight excitement:
the face assumes a ghastly hue, the jaw falls, the eye-lids
remain half open, the pupils are strongly contracted, stupor
and complete coma succeed; convulsions are rare in adults,
but often are seen in infants. Adults in general die easy
from this poison.^ Opium produces its fatal effect, however
introduced into the system, and even when applied to a raw
surface, has destroyed life. Morphia is stronger than opium,
in the proportion of 1 to 6.
The principal morbid appearances are great turgescence
of the vessels of the brain, and sometimes serous effusion
between its membranes, or in its ventricles; the lungs are
gorged with blood, the stomach x'arely appears inflamed, the
blood is found fluid in the heart, and the body runs rapidly
to decay. 1 ^
Evacuation by the stomach pump, or by emetics, is the
remedy chiefly to be trusted ; and after the patient is rous¬
ed, we must prevent him falling asleep while any tendency
to stupor is perceived. Artificial respiration appears to have
saved one person who was found comatose. No antidote is
known.
The best tests of crude opium are those which shew the
presence of morphia and meconic acid. The contents of
the stomach, in a case of the poisoning with opium, may
have the smell of that drug. The whole should be empti¬
ed into a clean mortar, and reduced to a thin pulp by the
addition of distilled wrater ; acidulate the wdiole with acetic
acid, strain and filter, then reduce the liquor to the consis¬
tence of a syrup by a gentle heat: add alcohol gradually,
boil, and filter when cold. The spirituous solution wall
contain all the morphia. Again, evaporate to the consis¬
tence of syrup, and add magnesia, which will throw down
meconate of magnesia and the morphia in the form of a
greyish powder, which may be freed from much of its
colouring matter, by washing it with cold water, and then
with cold proof spirit. The morphia may now be separa¬
ted from the meconate of magnesia by hot strong alcohol:
concentrate this last solution, which wrill have a bitter taste,
which, on adding a drop of nitric acid, will strike an orange
yellow colour, soon passing to golden yellow ; and wall give
a duck-blue with permuriate of iron.
- I he meconate should be decomposed by muriate of
baryta, which will form an insoluble meconate of baryta;
from which the addition of very diluted sulphuric acid se¬
parates the meconic acid. This acid has a silky lusture in
the state of crystals, and affords, with permuriate of iron, a
very intense red. There is only one source of fallacy in
Operating with meconic acid from the human stomach,
which must be guarded against, namely, that the sulpho-
Cyanates of the alkalis precipitate permuriate of iron of a
red colour, and some of the secretions, as the saliva con¬
tain a sulpho-cyanate. If the solution of morphia be strong
there is no danger of mistake ; because of the intensity of
the colour produced. Professor Forbes has also shewn that
the two solutions affect the prismatic spectrum in a differ¬
ent manner ; though perhaps this test is less applicable to
medico-legal causes, where the quantity of ingredients is
generally very minute.
2. Hyoscyamus niger. The whole plant is narcotic, es¬
pecially the roots, which have several times caused fatal
■effects, by being eaten instead of parsnips. The symptoms
are active delirium, in which persons have danced and reel¬
ed about until stupor supervened. In persons fully under
this stupor, stimuli cease to rouse, and the eye is insensible
to light, or even to being touched. Emetics are the reme
dies ; but we have no particular tests of this poison,
vom xiv.
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
505
Forensic
Medicine.
d. Besides Hyoscyamus, other solanece are narcotic.
1 ns is especially the case with solanum nigrum and s.
mammosum. Both owe their activity to an alkaloid, Sol-
anea ; which is capable of exciting vomiting, hurried res- Toxicology
piration and stupor.
. ,4; {faucet virosa is a poisonous plant, with a juice that
is highly narcotic, and has the smell of opium. This juice,
when inspissated, forms the lactucarium of the shops, which
was at first derived from the lactuca saliva, but is obtained
in gi eater quantity, and of precisely the same quality, from
L virosa. Stupor and coma follow an over-dose of lactu¬
carium.
5. Hydrocyanic acid, or Prussic acid forms the poison¬
ous ingredient in an important class of vegetables. It is
yielded by the kernels of the bitter almond, and of several
othei species of that genus ; by the leaves of the cherry
laurel, or prunus lauro-cerasus, by the prunuspadus ; and
probably is contained in the seeds of the pomacece, and in
all vegetable productions with the odour of bitter almonds.
1 he acid, when concentrated, is the most deadly of all
poisons ; producing almost instant death, whether swallow¬
ed or introduced by a wound. Even the diluted hydrocy¬
anic acid of the apothecary’s shop is fatal in a very moderate
dose ; and the essential oil of bitter almonds is not less so.
An infusion of the leaves of cherry-laurel is a very deadly poi¬
son : bitter almonds have sometimes proved fatal; and the same
eftect has followed on eating the blossoms of the common
peach, prunus persica, in a salad. When the preparation
is concentrated, the death is very speedy: the breath in a-
immediately becomes laborious, convulsive movements of
tie limbs come on; in dogs it ends in violent tetanus.
After death the eyes are glistening, the pupils dilated, the
muscles of the spinal column stiff, the countenance pale
and often composed, the abdomen drawn in; the veins of
the brain are found to be loaded with black blood, and the
blood in the heart and great vessels is generally fluid. In
some instances the blood and cavities of the body have ex¬
haled a strong odour of prussic acid; and the blood has
been said occasionally to have exhibited a bluish tint when
the strong acid has been administered. The bile has often
been observed to be of a dark blue hue in such cases.
No remedy can be of service in poisoning by this sub¬
stance, unless instantly administered: but ammonia ap¬
pears to have a great power in alleviating the symptoms
when the quantity of hydrocyanic acid has not been very
great. Ammonia diluted with water should be introduced
into the stomach ; its fumes sufficiently diluted with air
allowed to enter the lungs, taking care not to excoriate the
air passages by the too free use of the ammonia. Another
very powerful antidote is chlorine. It is most advan-
tageous to employ the vapour of water containing about
one fourth part of its volume of chlorine gas. This may
be inspired without risk; it has saved the lower animals
when the poison had been administered for five minutes
before its application, even after the convulsive stage had
passed, and that of insensibility had supervened. In Qr-
fila’s experiments, in ten minutes after inspiring diluted
chlorine in this manner, the recovery of the animals was
certain. Herbst of Gottingen states, that dashing cold
water on the surface of the body, is a powerful antidote in
such cases : it is most successful before the convulsive sta(re
but is useful during the spasms.
The tests of hydrocyanic acid are certain when we can
obtain it in quantity : but when we must look for it in the
body , the smell is its best criterion. The stomach and the
blood will sometimes have its peculiar odour for more than
three days after death ; and if the body has been buried
within twenty-four hours, the odour will occasionally re-
main till the eighth day. When we can obtain a little of
the liquid acid ; nitrate of silver is a very delicate test. A
wnite precipitate is formed, which, when dried and heated
3 s
DICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
508 M E
Forensic ,n a tube, gives off cyanogene, a gas that burns with a rose-
-nedicine. Coioured flame. If we add to the suspected liquid sulphate
of copper, a rich emerald green solution is formed : and if
X Cu ^ to another portion of the liquor we previously add a drop
or two of potassa, that test will throw down a greenish
salt, which is partially dissolved by hydrochloric acid, leav¬
ing behind a cyanide of copper, which will yield cyanogene
like the precipitate of silver. This test will detect prussic
acid in 20,000 times its weight of water.
4. Substances yielding strychnia. The vegetable sub¬
stances yielding this new alkaloid all act in nearly the same
manner, and are very poisonous. The alkaloid was first
obtained from the strychnos nux vomica, and s. Ignatii.
One nearly similar in its properties is found in the bark of
brucea antidysenterica, to which the name of Brucina has
been given. This substance is likewise found in nux vomica
united to strychnia. Both are highly poisonous, producing
convulsions and tetanus ; both are intensely bitter. Strych¬
nia is used in paralysis, with advantage, in doses from one-
eighth to one-fourth of a grain. Now that it is an officinal
preparation, it may be employed as a poison ; but there is
too sure a substitute, in malicious hands, in the seeds of
the two plants from which strychnia was first obtained. A
dose of fifteen grains of the powder of nux vomica has
been fatal.
; The symptoms from this powder and from a much small¬
er dose of strychnia are similar. Spasms speedily ensue
with anxiety and agitation, the limbs become stiff, the face
and hands livid, from the impossibility of respiration, pro¬
duced by the fixation of the muscles of the chest. These
severe affections come on in paroxysms; the intervals ex¬
hibit nausea, a feeble pulse, and profuse perspiration : the
repetition of the fits destroy life, and the victim seldom lives
above an hour.
The best remedies, after evacuation of the stomach, ap¬
pear to be the simple substances chlorine and iodine.
Where the death has been rapid there are little or no
marks of inflammation to be seen in the stomach ; but
'when it has been lingering, the stomach and intestines shew
traces of violent inflammation ; their colour is a violet, and
incipient gangrene has been observed in some cases : ser¬
ous effusion has been found in the head, the blood has re¬
mained fluid, and the body often retains, after death, the
rigidity ot the tetanus, in which the sufferer died ; but in
dogs poisoned by it the limbs are sometimes relaxed after
death.
The powder of s. ignatii is stronger than that of s. nux
vomica: both adhere obstinately to the villous coat of the
stomach, and will generally be found there after death. They
may be distinguished by their intense bitter taste, by be¬
coming orange-red when nitric acid is added, a hue which
soon passes to golden yellow.
The celebrated Javan poison is prepared from the antiaris
toxicaria and strychnos tieute ; plants belonging to the natu¬
ral order of the Apocynece : another plant of the same fam¬
ily, cerbera tanghin, is so deadly, that a single seed, it is
said, will destroy twenty persons.
The wourali or ivourara poison of South America is
said to be derived from a strychnos ; but this cannot be, if
what Humboldt relates be correct, namely,—that the South
American Indians use it as a purgative. We have found
it fatal to animals in very minute quantity when inserted
under the skin.
I he bark of a South American tree has proved poisonous,
when administered instead of true Angostura bark, galipea
officinalis, or bonplandia trifoliata.
When we suspect any substance containing strychnia to
be in the stomach, digest its contents with alcohol,'and con¬
centrate this tincture, which will be intensely bitter; preci¬
pitate by ammonia, and this precipitate, when a drop or two
of nitric acid is added, will become orange-red if any Forensic
strychnia be present. Medicine.
5. Tobacco is a well known narcotic, of which the detec- v—;v-~—'
tion will be difficult, except by the smell. Toxicology
6. Atropa Belladona, or deadly night shade, is a strong
narcotic poison. All the plant is poisonous, especially the
leaves and the fruit. The symptoms produced arg deliri¬
um, dilated pupils, and loss of vision. Sometimes it causes
hysterical bursts of laughter, the lips, tongue and throat are
parched, there is a great sense of sinking, with tremulous
movements of the hands ; but convulsions are rare. Many
instances of poisoning have happened from eating the
berries and the young shoots. The active principles is an
alkaloid, Atropia.
7. Batura Stramonium is another poison sometimes em¬
ployed on the continent to facilitate robbery or rape ; and in
this country it has been administered by mistake. It owes its
activity to an alkaloid, daturia, which abounds also in d.
tatula. The extract of stramonium produces dryness of
the fauces, intoxication and active delirium, with cerebral
congestion.
8. Various Umbelliferous plants zxc. poisonous; such as
conium maculatum, cethusa cynapium, and lactuca virosa.
The roots and leaves contain a poisonous juice, and the
symptoms are those of narcotics, with some degree of irri¬
tation. Various authors have spoken of the cenanthe cro-
cata as very poisonous ; but Dr. Christison gave it largely
to dogs, without killing them. Conium maculatum owes
its activity to an oily alkaline principle, conia; which smells
strongly of mice, and becomes, though a clear liquid when
cold, opake on being heated.
9- Several of the Ranunculacece are acrid and narcotic,
as the ranunculus sceleratus, r. flammula, r. bulbosus, r.
lingua, r. acris, and r. arvensis; but we have no mode
of detecting their poison.
10. Aconitum napcllus produces delirium and stupor, with
burning in the throat, vomiting, and purging.
11. Helleborus niger is a narcotico-acrid poison of great
activity.
12. Several other poisonous plants may be mentioned,
such as anemone pulsatilla, and cytisus laburnum; the
seeds of the latter are narcotic. In all these cases the best
remedies are emetics.
13. Bigitalis purpurea owes its activity to Digitalia, an
alkaloid, which may be obtained from it. The chief cha¬
racteristic of digitalis is its extraordinary power in reducing
the force and frequency of the pulse ; on which account it
is used in medicine, but it is poisonous even in small doses.
14. The other narcotico-acrid poisons of the vegetable
kingdom we shall briefly notice, indicating such as have
yielded alkaloids to analysis. Of these menispermum coc-
culus is one, the active principle of which is picrotoxia :
delphinium staphysagria, the seeds of which yield delphi-
nia ; chelidonium majus ; arum maculatum ; juniperus sa-
bina ; veratrum album, which yields veratria, an alkaloid
lately introduced as an external application, and nearly re¬
sembling another poisonous alkaloid, colchicia, obtained
from colchicum autumnale; bryonia alba, said to afford
bryonina; euphorbia officinarum; hippomane mancinella;
various species of jatropha, which yet by cooking yield
wholesome food ; the seeds of ricinus communis ; seeds of
croton tiglium; cucumis colocynthis ; momordica elaterium;
scilla maritima ; various species of daphne ; several species
of rhus; hebradendron cambogioides; convolvulus jalapa,
and c. scammonea. To these some add narcissus pseudo¬
narcissus, gratiola officinalis, caltha palustris, and lobelia
inflata.
15. Poisonous Fungi. Several of this natural order are
poisonous, especially those belonging to the geneva Amani¬
ta and Agaricus. Their poisonous qualities appear to de-
»
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
507
Forensic pend on two principles; one of which is volatile and ern Or-pan rn->^ i r.
Medicine, disappears on boiling, drying, or macerating in a weak acid, been described bv ofishoWF fatallty of P°ison has Forensic
^ 1° this principle Le Tellier ascribes the irritant oualitv of svinnfnm • M . ao. m’^ erSuson) and Thomas. The Medlcli‘e-
Tojacologypojgono^ mJlr00m, The S?s vXiiUtfibL tn thel^ “f *6 sur-W-
in water, unites with some acids into crystallizable com- spasms, giddiness, coma at°“^c!'“d b',":els> “Il^Ilausea> ey
pounos, and appears to be an alkaloid now termed Fungia: sons have died whilst m’asticatin- a'nor linn TtU per"
on this the narcotic properties of these plants depend, any of it was swallowed a P^'011 of the fislh ere
The time in which the symptoms occur, after thelfungi vario^'sweeVhqueuTs^arel^d cane, and
have been eaten, is very various ; often not until twelve or cases. ^ be S6 U ln the sllghter
even twenty-four hours. The sufferers are often relieved by Fishes in this eonntrv nro 0nm0f
vomiting; but if not, the surface becomes livid and cold muscles have ar® sometimes poisonous; and
violent colic ensues, and deatR ic a~i:_: j i , casionally, with us, produced death, with
Animal
poisons.
O   “ “'’'‘I ucuuuics nviu anu com,
violent cohc ensues, and death is preceded by delirium and
deep coma. The corpse is livid all over, the blood fluid,
and sanguine discharges are apt to flow from the mouth,
nose and eyes.
lb. Secale cornutum. The ergot of rye produces, when
eaten in bread, many of the symptoms of mushroom poison.
Decandolle ascribes this disease of grain to a fungus of the
genus Sclerotium; and it has been found to yield a princi¬
ple resembling fungia. The tendency of this substance to
produce dry gangrene is generally admitted by German and
French writers. There is a learned dissertation on it by
Dr. Wiggers, in which its fungoid origin, and its peculiar
action-in promoting the expulsive efforts of the gravid uterus,
seem to be established.
derived by art from vegetable matter. They are well
known narcotics, producing at first intoxication, and after¬
wards stupor and cerebral congestion. They are also irri¬
tants, the stomach of persons killed by them being often
inflamed. ^ When the moderate use of spirit does not pro¬
duce death, it may give rise to delirium tremens. The
smell of spirit is often perceived in the cavities of the chest
and abdomen of those who have died from drinking. The
stomach-pump and milk are the best remedies.
18. Camphor, a concrete essential oil, has pretty strong
narcotic qualities. It is best detected by its peculiar
odour. r
VII. Animal Poisons.
1. Cantharides. An acrid poison, is contained in the body
ot the cantharis vesicatoria. It is found to reside in a
whitish matter, resembling spermaceti in colour and con-
sistence, which is united to three other marked principles.
I he first is a green oil, soluble in spirit, but not in water;
the second a blackish matter, soluble in water, not in spirit;
less rapidity, but with symptoms of the same kind. The
cause of the poisonous quality of fish is, with some proba-
bility, attributed to their having fed on acrid mollusca.
I he flesh of birds is occasionally poisonous; as happens
to the phasmanida of North America, when they have fed
on the buds of the kalmia latifolia. The honey of the bee,
m like manner, is poisonous, when they have fed on the
sugar of the rhododendron and kalmia, as is described by
Xenophon, Pallas, and Dr. Smith Barton. In the former
case the honey produced a species of madness; in the lat-
ter, the symptoms were similar to what occurred to the
soldiers of Xenophon.
3. Animals have a poison generated in them by disease,
*h?Se wh0 eat’”
17. Alcohol and Ether may be here considered, as being therfleshaP The hestt™8 thoSe''’lw eab ” touch
rived bv art from veoetehle matter. The,, ’ .,“,1 I ?! lhe best. knm™ “stances of this is in the
    U1 LIUS IS m tHC
pestis bovilla or murrain among domestic animals, by which
their flesh and juices become deadly poison to other ani¬
mals. I his appears somewhat analogous to the accidents
that happen m dissection.
4. The bites of rabid animals belong to the same class of
poisons. The bite, for instance, of a rabid dog, will destroy
other animals ; after some time they become delirious, then
paraiyti c, and invariably die rabid. In man similar symptoms
occur, to which is superadded hydrophobia;—a symptom
never observed by Mr. 1 ouatt in any animal except man. * Ex¬
cision of the wound, or destruction of the part by caustic, is
t e best prophylactic; belladona and Scutellaria lateriflora
seem to have some preventive power, according to the
same authority; and excessive bleeding seems to have
arrested or cured the disease in India.
5. Bites of Snakes—Poisonous snakes are provided with
two or more teeth placed on a moveable bone, on each side
ot the upper jaw, and corresponding to the maxillary bones
o ot.ier animals. These teeth or fangs are hollow, and
the third a yellowish viscid matter, soluble both in water }L°.th eSe ,teeth °r fanSs are ho]low> and
X .a^uuhedin
A     VY 1 Ull Ksan-
thandine, and renders it soluble in water, which it is not
when pure.
The symptoms of poisoning by cantharides are, intense
burning heat in the primae viae, painful deglutition, pain in
the stomach and bowels, bloody vomiting, painful micturi¬
tion, and priapism, intense desire to void urine, and dis¬
tressing pain in the whole urinary organs ; frightful convul¬
sions and tetanic spasms usher in the fatal termination
V v lion t H r\ -fl i i  1 i ->.
When the flies in substance have been swallowed the frag and the™nSrfn0US s"“e!f eJ.the raUle-make of America,
ments of their green elytra are found adhering to the villas and of Fr.nnnt “ ±1'“ L‘ie. T1*''°fthis C0Hntry
_ . O VY diiu W tile I Fclw “
ments of their green elytra are found adhering to the villous
coat ot the stomach ; and this has been observed even after
the body has been buried for months. There is no antidote
tor this poison. Evacuants and mucilages are the best
remedies. Oil given by the mouth increases the evil, by
dissolving the cantharadine, but oil thrown into the bladder
is useful in allaying the irritation.
2. Tish Poison—This singular subject is little under¬
stood, except that, in certain seas, and in certain seasons,
nshes, at other times wholesome, prove deadly poisons.
Dus is chiefly tlie case with the yellow-billed sprat, the
oarracuta, the grey snapper, the spams venenosus, and arm
tahrus ot the West Indies; with several species of diodim
and tetrodon, and with aplodactyluspunctatus, of the South-
- . -o r _ piiiinpu muscies mat
close the jaws; so that when the animal bites, the poison is
squeezed from the bag, and is instilled, through the hollow
of the fangs, into the wound. The symptoms, in general,
are m proportion to the quantity of the poison, compared to
the size of the animal bitten, the smallest animals sufferina;
most. I he general symptoms are, pain in the part wounded,
trembling, weakened respiration and circulation, and coma.
Die most poisonous snakes are the rattlesnake of America,
JT Y  UI tins I
and of trance sometimes produces fatal accidents. Exci¬
sion of the part, sucking, or cupping the wound are to be
tried; and both ammonia and arsenic given internally ap¬
pear to have considerable power in curing the bites, even
of the most deadly snakes.
6. The stings and bites of Arachnidce and Insecta, are
poisons of a similar kind. The complex apparatus of the
sting of the bee and wasp convey poison to the wound, so
acrid, that horses, asses, and also men, have died from
numerous stings. The sting of the scorpion, and bite of
sco opendra morsitans, as well as of spiders, are inflicted
with a poisoned apparatus analogous in structure to the
fane-s of snakos.
VIII.
Imaginary, Pretended, and Imputed Poi- Poi^onni^
508 M E D I C A L J U R I
Medical sonings, require much patience and attention on the part
Police. 0f the medical jurist; to them no general rule can be ap-
' v plied, but they must be treated according to the nature of
each particular case.
PART II—MEDICAL POLICE.
SECTION I CIRCUMSTANCES AFFECTING THE HEALTH
OF INDIVIDUALS.
Cleanli- I. Cleanliness—This subject may be considered under
ness. three heads.
1. Personal cleanliness is valued by all nations in pro¬
portion to their advance in civilization, and exercises an
important influence on the health of individuals. Most
savage nations are disgustingly deficient in this virtue; but
the polished nations of antiquity paid great attention to it,
as is evinced by their general use of baths, the stupendous
ruins of which still surprise us in the remains of their cities.
In modern times, especially in Great Britain, warm and cold
bathing are far less employed than is desirable; and we
cannot help regretting the want of public baths for all
ranks, especially in our manufacturing towns, where the
luxury of warm or tepid bathing might be very cheaply
obtained, by collecting the waste water from the condensing
backs of steam engines. Bathing, by removing sordes and
remains of perspiration, keeps the skin in a fit state for its
important functions. Public baths should be established in
every town, and all children should be taught to swim. The
warm and vapour baths of northern Europe prove how
cheaply such luxuries might be obtained for the great mass
of the community.
2. Domestic cleanliness is perhaps better understood by
the Dutch and the English than by any other nations in
the world. This virtue has been long practised in Holland,
but is comparatively only of late origin in Britain. The
picture which Erasmus draws of English manners is not
very flattering; and our own historians prove that it was
not until after the civil wars of the 17th century that the
English became a cleanly people. Now no nation can
surpass them in domestic cleanliness, and none equal them
in domestic comfort. The effect on the health of the in¬
habitants is shewn by the less frequent attacks of severe
epidemic diseases in modern times, and perhaps also by the
increased value of life annuities.
3. Ventilation of Habitations is one important part of
domestic economy, now better understood; and Strutt,
Sylvester, and Murray have taught us how ventilation may
be combined with warmth. The renewal of the air, vitiated
by respiration and combustion, is secured by simple con¬
trivances, and the air admitted into apartments is warmed
by passing between a close stove or cockle and an exterior
covering.
Aliment. II. Aliment—Under this head may be considered,
1. Preparation of Food. Alimentary matters are ren¬
dered more wholesome and nutritive by cooking; and the
mystery of that art is not unworthy of consideration, even
were it not also the means of economizing the sustenance,
and increasing the gratification of man.
2. Culinary Utensils deserve attention here, because the
wholesomeness of aliment often is materially affected by
them. There is risk of cooking food, especially of the
acescent or oleaginous kinds, in copper vessels, though the
danger is diminished by keeping the utensils always bright,
and not suffering the food to remain in them after removal
from the fire. Vessels of lead and pewter should be en¬
tirely banished from the kitchen, as they are never without
danger, from the ease with which they are acted on by
acids. Tinning copper vessels renders them safe, as long
as the coating of tin lasts; but the vessels usually made of
SPRUDENCE.
pewter, an alloy that contains lead, should be replaced by Medical
those of block tin, or of tinned iron. The objection to the Police,
last kind of vessels is their little durability, and the lead
solder with which they are put together. Vessels of iron
are durable and cheap, but they blacken some kinds of
food : this is best obviated by a coating of tin. Vessels of
gold and silver are far too expensive for ordinary use; but
copper is often covered with a thin plate of silver, forming
what is termed plated ware, which is excellent while the
silver remains on the copper. A thinner coat of silver is
applied, in some instances, by means of an amalgam of
silver, and a similar process is commonly used to gild the
inside of silver or of plated ware. Pottery is a valuable
addition to culinary utensils. It is of all qualities, from the
purest porcelain of China or of Europe, to the coarsest
earthenware. The glazes which contain lead are objection¬
able, where acids are to be used, but if well baked, such
glazes are not readily acted on. For chemical experiments
the porcelain of China or of Germany, in which there is no
lead, is always preferred, and it would be so also for culinary
purposes, but for the expense. These glazes are made
with felspar, or with mixtures of flint and alkalis.
3. Adulterations of Food may be accidental or designed.
We have just stated how lead and copper may find their
way into food, but there are other accidental adulterations.
Farina, or flour, may be rendered unwholesome by the pre¬
sence of the ergot, the smut of wheat, and the seeds of
lolium temulentum, which last act as a narcotic. Flour
may also be mixed with sand, from the use of too soft
millstones; with other impurities, from want of care in
winnowing or grinding; or by fraudulent mixtures of chalk
and gypsum. Bread may be mixed with chalk, magnesia,
potassa, soda, or alum, to conceal bad flour; and it has
been sometimes adulterated with white lead. These adul¬
terations are easily detected. On rubbing down the bread
into a pulp with w-ater, the heavy particles will subside to
the bottom, and may be collected; the alum, alkalis, or
lead may be detected by chemical tests. Butcher meat
may be unwholesome from disease in the animal, or by long
keeping. Butter may be deteriorated by containing too
much salt or water. Water may be unwholesome or dis¬
agreeable from corrupting animal or vegetable matter;
from being too hard, that is, containing too much saline or
earthy ingredients. Soft water may be adulterated by
passing through leaden pipes, or standing in cisterns of that
metal. Milk may be fraudulently mixed with water, or
with magnesia and chalk. Malt liquors have been purposely
adulterated by cocculus indicus, lolium temulentum, &c., to
increase their intoxicating qualities. Wines have been
chiefly adulterated by brandy, to give them strength ; by
preparations of lead, to correct acidity, and impart astrin-
gency. This last ingredient is best detected by a test,
consisting of a solution of tartaric acid, impregnated with
sulphuretted hydrogen. The chief adulterations of spirit
are by water, which is detected by the hydrometer ; and
by lead, accidentally introduced from the worms of the
stills. Lead is readily thrown down by infusion of galls,
which will convert new unwholesome spirits into good spirit.
Vinegar is liable to contain lead and copper, from the pipes
and cocks through which it flows. These metals are easily
detected by sulphuretted hydrogen and ammonia.
III. Police of Apothecaries Shops.—The supply Police of ■
of good drugs is regulated, in many countries, by the drug-shops
government. Inspectors are appointed, who examine and
report on the state of the drugs found in the premises of
dealers, and any infringement of the laws is rigorously
punished. In our country the inspections are a mere form,
of little or no utility. They should be made by persons
paid by the state, and competent to the task, whose office
should be honourable.
IV. Clothing.—The importance of paying attention to Clothing.
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Medical
Police.
Temper¬
ance.
Exercise,
Prostitu¬
tion.
Celebacy
and mar¬
riage.
the qualities of clothing is generally admitted. The advan-
tage of flannel or cotton next the skin, to persons of a con-
sumptiye habit, or of otherwise delicate constitutions, and also
to soldiers and sailors, or other persons whose occupations
are laborious, is acknowledged. The use of linen next the
skin is suitable for the young and robust; but as persons
advance in life, cotton or woollen under-garments are ad¬
visable.
1. The Male dress should afford sufficient protection to the
parts it covers, and should not impede the free use of the
limbs. The covering of the head should defend the eyes
from excess of light, and the head from the sun. Any thing
tight about the neck is injurious. Those who take much
exercise will find useful support from broad belts round the
waist; especially as they advance in life.
2. The Female dress should keep the body comfortably
warm. Compression of the chest and abdomen of females
is far too general; and the ribs of most of our ladies are
deformed by tight lacing. This practice diminishes the c3l~
vity of the chest; it confines the stomach and liver exces¬
sively, and has a tendency to contract the width of the
pelvis. By the first, consumptive diseases are induced ; by
the second, the function of digestion is injured; by the
last, -the perils of child-bed are increased. The practice of
tight-lacing is ancient. It is severely stigmatized by Juve¬
nal ; and is condemned by all modern authors. Excessive
exposure of the bust is also too general among women,
and often lays the foundation of disease.
Y. Temperance—Its importance to health, to vigor¬
ous youth, and to honoured age, need not be insisted on.
Gluttony is not less destructive, and is even more disgust¬
ing than drunkenness : both are sure to end in debase¬
ment of the mental faculties, and destruction of the bodily
health.
VI. Exercise—Regular exercise in the open air is
highly conducive to health ; and those who are interested
in the improvement and happiness of the lower classes in
our towns cannot help lamenting the little that has been
done to encourage our artizans and shop-keepers to take
out-door exercise in pure air.
The philanthropist must remark with regret the cir¬
cumscription of the means of enjoying fresh air, which the
enclosure of commons and of waste lands, near towns and
villages, has produced, and the discouragement, by offici¬
ous magistrates, of the out-door games and pastimes of the
lower orders. Part of the sums, so frequently left to en¬
dow hospitals and alms-houses, would be more rationally
expended on gymnasia for the encouragement of healthy
sports in the open air, or on public walks for the recreation
of our citizens.
VII. Prostitution—In most parts of the Continent
the state has interfered, not, as is falsely alleged by some,
to raise a revenue from this polluted source, but to secure
the rising generation, as much as possible, against the fear¬
ful consequences of diseases, that sap the foundations of a
nation’s strength, by impairing the sources of a healthy pro¬
geny. The unfortunate class of females, who may generally
be considered as the victims of male licentiousness, are there
regularly registered, and subject to domiciliary visits of the
authorities, who send them to hospitals, when disease first
makes its appearance. The arguments against this practice
are not more rational than it would be to forbid the medi¬
cal practitioner to lend his aid in other cases, where the
imprudence of the sufferer was the cause of his malady.
VIII. Celibacy and Marriage In the most pol¬
ished states of antiquity marriage was enjoined by positive
enactments, and enforced by penal statutes ; in modern
times legislators wisely leave it to the sense and discretion
of individuals. In fact the propensity to celibacy is so
small in most persons, that marriage may be safely entrust¬
ed to individual will. The tendency to increase and mul-
509
tipjy is so forcible that it will generally be found to produce Medical
a population up to the very limit of the means of providing Police,
for children. It was for advocating this philosophical truth, >
and for pointing out the natural checks to a redundant, and
miserable, because destitute, population, that Malthus has
been abused by sciolists and pretended philanthropists, who
appear, from their senseless declamations, either never to
have read his works, or not to have comprehended their
import.
IX. Lactation and Care of Offstring The im- Lactation.
portant duty of rearing the helpless infant devolves by na¬
ture on the female parent; and in general it can never be
so well performed by any other individual. In an artificial
state of society, however, many females become mothers
who are not able to nurse their children. In such cases
we would recommend the employment of a wet nurse, as
affording the best chance of rearing the infant. The child
should not be long fed exclusively from the breast; because
its stomach should be gradually accustomed to other food
before it is weaned. The infant is totally dependent on the
care of those around for its preservation. To retain it healthy,
it should undergo daily ablutions, have its clothes of suitable
warmth, easy, and frequently changed. Its food should be
chiefly of milk and farinaceous matter for the first two or three
years. It should have regular exercise in the open air; and
not be confined in its early years to too sedentary occupa¬
tions. The dreadful mortality in foundling hospitals proves
the importance of the circumstances alluded to under this
head.
X. Effects of Profession and Trade on Health. Profession
This is a very important consideration, and may be divided and trade,
into various heads.
1. Diseases incident to affluent idleness are chiefly such
as arise from indolence and want of some definite object
of pursuit; hypochondriasis, tedium vitas, dyspepsia, gout.
For these the best remedies are, rural amusements, intel¬
lectual pursuits, mingled with sufficient inducements to
take exercise in the open air.
2. Diseases of Literary Men are chiefly produced by want
of attention to regular exercise in the open air, giving rise
to dyspepsia and constipation ; by inequalities in the time
of eating and sleeping; and by excessive use of the eyes
in artificial light. They are best obviated by abridging the
hours of study, and mingling sedentary avocations with ac¬
tive and social occupations. Literary men, however, espe
cially in France, have been a long-lived race.
3. Clergymen have a wholesome intermixture of seden¬
tary with active duties ; and, if their lungs be sound, they
are generally long-lived.
4. Laivyers, when their occupations are chiefly at the
desk, are subject to the diseases of sedentary persons ; but
barristers, when not excessively harassed by toil, may ge¬
nerally be considered as engaged in a healthy occupation.
Many of our judges attain extreme old age.
5. Medical Men, from the general activity of their pur¬
suits, their knowledge of the causes that promote health,
and the wholesome exercise of mind and body induced by
their profession, are generally considered as a long-lived
class : but in this, as in other learned professions, small ac¬
count is made of those who die before they have become
known, of those who pine away from penury and hope de¬
ferred, or whom a desire to better their condition sends
abroad to perish on inhospitable or pestilential shores.
F et taking the whole together, the medical profession is
certainly favourable to longevity.
6. Schoolmasters, Clerks, fyc. are subject to the usual
diseases of sedentary persons, and to those produced by pass-
ing a great part of the day in vitiated air, with the sternum
leaning on a desk. Such persons should live at some dis¬
tance from the scene of their labours, that they may be
compelled to take exercise in the open air
10
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Medical
Police.
7. These observations apply also to Merchants, to Master-
manufacturers, and Shop-keepers. A British merchant has,
when successful, an enviable life. The morning is dedi¬
cated to business, and the afternoon to his family and
friends ; while his home is usually remote from the crowd¬
ed streets, in which his counting-house is necessarily
placed.
8. The shopman, however, generally leads a very differ¬
ent life. He is late and early in the shop, the whole day
is spent in serving customers, and in many instances his
hours of rest are abiidged by the duties of his business,
which afford him no time to take exercise in the open air.
This is peculiarly hard on young persons, perhaps sent from
the country to be immersed in the smoky atmosphere of a
crowded, narrow street. Multitudes of both sexes annually
fall victims to this change.
9- Soldiers and Sailors, when they escape the perils of
training to their laborious occupations, are often healthy, if
temperate, and if care be taken of their health by their su¬
periors. Their ailments often arise from their own intem¬
perance, as much as from the casualties of their calling.
Excessive fatigue is certainly unfavourable to longevity;
and when we find very old persons in this class, we may
attribute it in a great measure to the iron nature of consti¬
tutions, which have enabled them to resist the hardships to
which they must have been subjected in their younger
years. Soldiers on duty are more exposed than sailors to
wet and cold, to unwholesome climates, and to bad fare.
A sailor carries with him his provisions and his change of
raiment; and in the British navy he has much attention
paid to his health while on board his ship. Long marches
are apt to produce diseases of the hip joint, and hernia,
especially in young soldiers. The sailor is liable also to
hernia from strains in the course of his laborious duty.
10. Agricultural Labourers have generally a very healthy
occupation, when the returns of their industry afford them
sufficient aliment and comfortable clothing. Their situa¬
tion is much more favourable to health than that of the
town-mechahic. The same may be said of carters, pos¬
tilions, and coachmen; except that the latter are often ex¬
posed at night to the inclemencies of the weather, and
are not always remarkable for sobriety.
11. Quarrymen and Stone-masons axe liable to serious
injury> from the minute dust they create entering the air
passages along with their breath. This often gives rise to a
species of consumption ; and such persons are seldom long-
lived. It affects the stone masons of Scotland more than
those of England : the former work under sheds, the latter
in the open air. Marble-cutters for the same reason are
unhealthy ; and even the employment of a sculptor cannot
be considered as a good one for a person of delicate lungs.
12. Carpenters and Joiners exercise healthy trades, be¬
cause they require activity, and are freely exposed to the
air m many of their operations. It is very different, how¬
ever, with artizans whose trades are chiefly carried on in a
vitiated atmosphere.
13. The trade of the Weaver is always rather unhealthy
from Ins working in a confined space ; but the introduction
of machinery has reduced the pittance of the hand-loom
weaver below what can support life with any comfort, and
bis habitation is proportionally wretched. There is in this
occupation exercise to the limbs; but the breast leans against
the beam, which, with wretched fare and depressed spirits,
ie”( .er ^?77tlade °f the weaver unfavourable to health.
14. Milliners and Tailors are confined in hot, and ill-
ventilated rooms, they work too many hours in the day, and
often have the natural hours of rest greatly abridged.
Milliners are liable to become short-sighted, and the prac-
tice of biting the thread generally injures their front teeth.
J hc ,re*of y°ung females are often sacrificed to this busi¬
ness. lailors assume a faulty position whilst at work ; and
the consequence is, that wdien they walk, they nave a pe- Medicil
culiar strut; the increased power imparted to the muscles Volice
of the back, from long supporting the weight of the head, ' w
causes the shoulders to be preternaturally drawn back.
They are also very subject to phthisis.
Ifr Shoemakers are more healthy ; but the pressure of
the last against the sternum and stomach is sometimes in¬
jurious.
lb. Miners and Well-sinkers are engaged in laborious
trades, in which they are exposed for considerable periods
to breathe a vitiated atmosphere ; and are further liable to
the bad effects of inhaling dust, which predisposes to asth¬
ma.
17. Artizans working amidst putrid animal matters seem
more liable to plague and typhoid fevers than most other
classes.
18. Artizans exposed to inhale minute particles of dust
are very liable to pectoral diseases. This is especially the
case with knife and needle grinders. They are subject to
the disease called grindeds rot, an incurable consumption,
which renders this occupation most deadly. Currents of air,
and interposed plates of glass, have been used to remedy
which evil. Large magnets have been employed to arrest
the iron dust? but it cannot abate that from the grindstone
itself, which is not less fatal.
19- Workers in lead, brass, and copper, are subject to
disease, from those substances finding their way into the
system, as already stated.
20. Bleachers and Dyers are liable to suffer from acrid
fumes, in some instances, and also from sudden changes of
temperature.
2 L Snuff Mahers and Millers are exposed to dust; and
the former to the consequences of inhaling also a narcotic;
but the effect is seldom very marked on either.
22. Chimney Sweepers are liable to consumption, and to
a peculiar cutaneous disease, the chimney sweeper’s cancer,
which cnieffy affects the scrotum. Early excision removes
it; but it is liable to recur.
23. Cotton, silk, and fax spyinning by machinery expose
the operatives to bad air, dust, and confinement in hot
rooms. This is especially injurious to the young, who are
much employed, from eight years and upwards, in such
manufactories. The hours of work of all classes in them
arc too long. \\ oollen factories seem to be less unhealthy
on the whole; but in them the employment of very young
children, and too long hours of labour, are to be regretted.
24. Persons exposed to a high temperature, such as
Cooks, Confectioners, Pokers, are liable to rheumatism, from
sudden changes of temperature. Bakers were remarked to
be the most general victims of the plague, at Marseilles, in
the beginning of the last century. Sugar-refiners are ex-
posed to much heat, and to sudden chills. Smelters of
iron, and other ores, are subject to the same; to cough,
from dust, especially if they be founders; and their eyes
become weak, from he intense glare of the metal. Glass-
blowers not only suffer from these causes, but also from the
excessive exertions of their lungs, which often give rise to
haemoptysis and asthma.
SECTION II. CIRCUMSTANCES AFFECTING THE HEALTH
OF COMMUNITIES.
I. Climate.—The effect of climate, the most general ri- ..
°i t lose circumstances, depends chiefly on the temperature,
the hygrometric state of the air, and the general force and
direction of the winds. The temperature of any place is
well known to depend, in a great degree, on its latitude.
Iheinclmatmn of the earth’s axis to the plane of its orbit
as diffused the influence of the sun’s rays more extensively
over the surface than if the same points had always a ver-
Medical
Ptdice.
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
511
ticai sun. The changes in temperature had been marked varies sreatlv according * t
long before there was an instrument for measuring their of the^tmoJphere It^s tl.p temPer^ture ^^pressure Medical
extent, and hence the distribution of the earth’s surface and to he ^ddeTn “ of ^ > w'"'
mto parallel zones denominated climates; but the invention The ouantitv nrcJnt in .®udden"c ot lts precipitation. —
of the thermometer shewed how ill this arrangement ac- hygrometer? The quantity oSn whicSf- ^
corded with observation ; and it was soon found that there should be ascertained hv thl * S C an7 /)lace
were very different Citnates under the satne parailels. Th^ of ?r“by
Leslie s almometer. The number of rainy days should also
be noted; for the quantity of rain is not proportional to the
number of wet days. In hot climates it rains more seldom,
but more falls than in temperate regions. Thus, the mean
annual rain in the West Indies averages 120 inches; at
Calcutta it is=81 ; at Rome=39; at Liverpool—32; at
Ldinburgh=24 ; at Petersburgh=l6. In any climate, more
average or mean temperature is obtained by a series of
thermometrical observations, carried on in the open air,
and in the shade. Large springs and deep caverns usually
have the mean temperature of the place where they occur;
and it has been found that a series of observations made
every hour through April, will give a pretty accurate mean
Sr^TT’v? by Th„s«,
WWde in "so^ ^ ^ “
corresponding latitude m eastern Asia^ or in America, as The changes in barometric pressure should also be noted
isoRienn^hnes CaA2nrn^e' C^e fV^r .^urr^)0^t,s.c^ayt of These are extremely small within the tropict or even t
cated t^Sir Dnv,-A ? !Sn.°iSimi ^ observatlo1ns indi- ^thern Europe, but fluctuate in northern Europe even to
cated to Sir David Biewster that there were, in each conti- J ‘h of the whole column *
tSffi\wesrinm thltoL0a?lcTh!CTbthe TT te,T,rfture S ■ 2- ^ °fp°tahk Water is a most essential requi-
tne lowest in that parallel. These he termed the cold site. It should not be hard, it should be free of anv neculiar
falTs on Sher hTd ”S *0 ^ temPerature ‘“s*a „OT smeU ; and the nearer its specific gravity approaches
r> . ,i . . ' . 10002, to distilled water as 10000, so much the better The
Of W , I Pr‘nCT l:!rcumstance which modifies the effect capability of carrying water through pipes, to any station
,lt e ,LS elevatl°n above the sea. As we ascend is important, when a colony is to be founded. Running
ountams, the temperature foils; and in every region, if water of a good quality is also very important; but it should
s mountains be sufficiently lofty, they are the abodes of be recollected that stagnant water is not wholesome
perpetual congelation. The limit varies with the latitude: 3. Fuel is another essential requisite, both for cookin-
i is ugliest under the equator, and diminishes as we ap- and for warmth. A plentiful supply of wood, coal, or peat is
proach the poles : thus, at the equator, the point of per- —^ -i- - 1 * J1 ^ • ’ ’ or Peat 18
petual congelation is more than 15,000 feet above the sea;
in Britain it is about 5000. The climate of a place, then,
varies with the latitude, with the longitude, and with the
elevation.
Even when the mean temperature is the same, places
may differ greatly in the extremes of heat and cold in sum¬
mer and in winter. The chief agent in equalizing heat is
the ocean, the temperature of the mass of which remains
nearly the same in all latitudes. This renders the summers
r* • i t i ■, it. . i " , ° iiiuol nut uc mat a station Duneci in deep forests
$ is seldom wholesonie, and in hot climates is often pesfilential.
indispensable iv here many human beings are to be congre¬
gated. Open fire-places are cheerful, but not economical
modes of warming apartments ; stoves are more frugal;
hot-air-flues combine ventilation with warmth, but require
considerable attention in their management; steam-tubes
convey an equable temperature, but are less convenient
than the circulation of hot water, in the apparatus devised
by Mr. Perkins.
4. Vicinity of Trees is an important circumstance ; but
it must not be forgotten that a station buried in deep forests
continents under the same parallels. The peculiarities of
climate affect the vegetable productions of a country, and
its salubrity is greatly modified by the nature of its surface.
A region shrouded in forests is generally colder than one ex¬
posed to the rays of the sun; and the exhalations from swamps
5. Vicinity oj Hills and ^Mountains is also deserving of
consideration. If they be very lofty, in hot climates, the
plains at their feet are often pestilential, producing black
vomit and jungle fever ; yet removal to the mountains im¬
mediately relieves the sufferer, as is witnessed in the ascent
orvviw, i . .I, a.vaiiipn ineuiaieiy relieves me sutrerer, as is witnessed in the ascent
and marshes materially affect Ms fitness as a residence for man. from Vera Cruz to Xalapa, and from southern Hindustan
buch countries are subject to violent intermittent and re- to the Neilgherries.
The sites
towns.
mittent fevers, especially when the marshes are acted on by
intense solar heat; and in tropical regions such places are
pestilential. Several other diseases appear to depend on
climate, as the goitres and cretinism of the Alps, and other
mountainous countries, the elephantiasis of Africa and the
M est Indies, and the strumous affections of cold climates.
All these peculiarities must be considered by those con¬
sulted on, .
II. I he Sites for Towns and Habitations. If the
medical man be asked to give an opinion on any particular
site, let him consider,
1. The purity and hygrometric state of the air The
average proportions of the cognizable ingredients of atmos¬
pheric air are,
Measure.
77.50
20.00
0.08
. 1.42
Nitrogen, . . .
Oxygen, . . .
Carbonic acid,
Aqueous vapour,
The proportions of the gaseous ingredients are nearly
the same everywhere; but the proportion of aqueous vapour
Weight.
75.55
23.32
0.10
1.03
6. Vicinity of Marshes, in every country, is to be shun¬
ned, in fixing on a site for human habitations. Marshes
produce malignant remittents in hot seasons, and give rise
to severe hepatic disease. The marsh fevers of Walchern,
and the malaria of Italy, originate in stagnant water; and
the fatality of some of our stations in the West and East
Indies are to be attributed to swamps. Some of them, as
British Guiana, have become more healthy as the country
is more drained and cultivated.
7. Vicinity of the Sea is always an important element in
choosing a station. In hot climates the sea-breeze miti¬
gates the heat of day, and renders it endurable. This
breeze, in summer, is very regular even at Gibraltar. The
vicinity of the sea also mitigates the cold of winter. Some¬
times it renders a station unhealthy, when the recession
of the tide exposes a great extent of a muddy beach. This
is especially the case at the mouths of great rivers; yet
such stations, though unwholesome, are often politically
important, as naval stations, or as keys to the back-coun¬
try. Marshes, into which sea-water occasionally enters,
are observed to be more pestilential than mere fresh-water
swamps.
512
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Medical
Police.
Drains and
sewers.
Public
ways.
Cemete¬
ries.
Hospitals.
III. Drains and Sewers are important public works,
on the proper construction of which the salubrity of a sta¬
tion may greatly depend. They should have such a fall as
to carry off impurities, and to prevent an accumulation of
stagnant water. The Greeks and Romans excelled in their
attention to such works; but the unhealthiness of many
places in Italy, in the present day, is owing to the neglect
of those useful structures.
IV. Paving of Streets, and Care of Public Ways,
are objects also worthy of the attention of the medical man,
though chiefly in the province of the civil engineer.
Y. Cemeteries—Little attention has been, in this
part of Europe, bestowed on the police of repositories for
the dead. Burial in churchyards, in the midst of a crowded
population, and even within churches, is still suffered to
disgrace our cities. The French have set a good example ;
and the Turks have been long noted for the decent pro¬
priety, and judicious position of their cemeteries, which are
always beyond their towns. The same is the practice of
the Chinese, and of many nations whom we call barbarous.
A better system is commencing among us, in the new
cemeteries of Glasgow, Liverpool, and a few other places ;
and it is fervently to be hoped, that ere long our towns will
cease to be infected with putrid emanations from crowded
churchyards, and the temple of God to be polluted with
the frail remains of mortality. The cemeteries of London
are a disgrace to the metropolis: they are rather better at
Edinburgh; but the cemeteries ought to have been removed
altogether beyond the city; and the retired valley between
Salisbury Craig and Arthur’s Seat, offers an admirable site
for a spacious and magnificent necropolis. The best mode
of sepulture is probably in the earth, without vaults; but
anything is preferable to the horrid practice in Rome, of
disposing of the carcases of the poor in huge caverns, often
opening into the very churches.
VI. Hospitals—The erection of hospitals is intimately
connected with the subject of medical police. We cannot
enter on a consideration of each sort of hospital, but state in
general terms, that the wards should be lofty, with windows
on one side, and galleries on the other for exercise to conva¬
lescents. Ventilation should be secured by some of the
means already indicated; the wards should be provided
with privies, and baths appropriated to each ; the bedsteads
should be of iron, as less liable to harbour vermin; airing
grounds and convalescent rooms should be attached to all
hospitals. In a lunatic asylum, each class of patients should
have separate airing grounds; and occupations suited to
their cases should be provided for convalescents. Found¬
ling hospitals, from the mortality in them, even under the
best management, seem to be amongst the most pestilent
institutions of mistaken benevolence. Such considerations
induced a German author to propose as an appropriate in¬
scription over the gates of such establishments, “ Children
murdered here at the public expense.” Hospitals for the
sick, military hospitals, and barracks, all may fall under
medical police.
Schools. VII. Schools—Seminaries for the instruction of youth
merit more attention from the legislature than they have
received. The rooms are often defective in ventilation;
and the modes of warming them in cold weather are often
very inefficient. In some schools too little attention is paid
to vary the diet of children ; and though seldom deficient
in quantity, at large public and private schools, there often
exists inattention to render it palatable, or to suit it to
peculiarities of constitution. In many schools the hours of
study, for very young children, are too long. The degrad¬
ing practice of public flogging, even almost to manhood, in
some schools, is brutalizing to the inflictor, and destructive
of the delicate sensibilities of ingenuous youth. We must
also stamp with our strongest disapprobation the practice of
fagging, which prevails at some English schools, and is
calculated to foster the vices of both tyrants and slaves. In
female. seminaries the lessons are generally too long, the
pupils too sedentary, too little in the open air; and many
female accomplishments, as they are termed, are apt to pro¬
duce lateral curvature of the spine, as was fully proved by
the late Mr. Shaw.
Medical
Police.
VIII. Prisons.—The state of our prisons is much im-Prisons,
proved since the time of Howard. The principal improve¬
ments are in the county prisons of England, in many of
which much attention is paid to preserving the health of
prisoners, by clean rooms, commodious airing grounds, and
humane regard to their diet, and the cleanliness of their
persons. In most of the prisons of this country, however,
much is still defective, in what relates to the classification
of prisoners, and separating juvenile delinquents from har¬
dened offenders. In the county jails of Lancashire and
Cheshire, much has been done to render prisons what they
ought to be ; but even in some of the best English prisons
there are still no hospitals for the sick inmates; and the jails
of Scotland are far behind those of the two counties alluded
to in every respect. As far as lodging and diet go, there
is no room for improvement in many British jails; and this
humane attention is rewarded by the disappearance of jail-
fever from our island. The subject of prison discipline is
a w ide field. The benevolent exertions of Mrs. Fry and
her Quaker associates prove, that much good wrould flow
from attention to the instruction and moral improvement
of the unhappy inmates of our prisons.
IX. Lazzarettos and Quarantine Establish- Lazzaret-
ments are of Italian origin, at the period when the com- tos.
merce of the East was engrossed by the free cities of Italy.
I he doctrine of contagion is not of modern origin, as has
been ignorantly alleged. Notwithstanding the clamour of
interested individuals, a few years ago, no rational medical
man denies the contagious nature of the plague; and we
have no doubt that the immunity of this island from that
dreadful scourge, for 170 years, notw ithstanding our multi¬
plied relations with the East, is mainly owing to the rigour
with w hich the quarantine laws have been enforced. Some
of these regulations may err on the side of excess of cau¬
tion ; but this is far preferable to rash experiments, prompted
by crude medical speculations, and supported, as they were
attempted to be, by distortion of facts. The quarantine laws
were revised in 1825, and the code is now, upon the whole,
good. The quarantine stations for Britain are Standgate-
creek, Deal, Milford-haven, Liverpool, Holyloch in the
Clyde, and Inverkeithing bay in the Forth.
X. Punishments—This subject, the last of the present punish-
dissertation, is w orthy of the attention of the legislator meats,
and of the medical jurist.
1. Corporal Punishments, inflicted by sentences of our
courts, extend to imprisonment, whipping, and forced labour.
Imprisonment is adjudged for several offences, and even
for inability to pay a debt. \V hen the health of a prisoner
might suffer from confinement in a damp or unwholesome
jail, the humanity of judges has frequently mitigated the
severity of the sentence, on the representations of medical
witnesses. It would be unjust to inflict a greater punish¬
ment than the lawr contemplated, by the mode of confine¬
ment ; but in general our jails are far more comfortable,
as far as lodging and diet are concerned, than the usual
habitations of the very poor; and therefore imprisonment,
in some instances, may have lost some of its salutary terrors
in preventing crime.
Whipping is sometimes inflicted by sentence of the court,
either publicly or privately; it is now generally applied to
juvenile offenders in prison, and is far less frequently inflict¬
ed in public than formerly, especially since the abolition of
the pillory for ordinary crimes. Flogging is still permitted
to a limited extent both in our army and the navy. A medical
man is always by on such occasions; and should he declare
MEDICINE.
Medical the punishment enougn, even one msh more, at that time in-
11* flicted, is a crime, and would subject the officer who ordered
Medicine t0 indictment for murder, should the sufferer die. Hard
labour is now generally inflicted by the tread-mill, a con¬
trivance by which the united weight of the prisoners
condemned to it puts in motion a wheel, which moves
machinery. The defect of this punishment is its inequa¬
lity. To active persons, accustomed to walking, it is a
light exercise; but to sedentary persons it is a most grievous
punishment, giving intolerable pain to the muscles of the
eg8 and the spine. To the disgrace of our country, it has
been inflicted on females. Their muscles are too weak, and
their habits little inured to such labour; and it is liable to
induce prolapsus uteri, or miscarriage, if the prisoner be
pregnant; or serious diseases of the female system, in vari¬
ous ailments of the sex. It arms, too, with a dangerous and
tyrannical power ignorant justices and unfeeling magistrates.
Ihe law should forbid this infliction on females in all cases,
and prevent the erection of tread-mills in all prisons not
liable to the legal inspection of grand juries; which it seems
houses of correction in England are not, they being “ not
under the jurisdiction of the sheriff of a county.” The
beating of hemp was formerly with us the infliction for
petty crimes ; and in Holland it was rasping of dye-woods
m the Rasphaus, which was always considered as a severe
punishment. In America the penitentiary system of forced
a our has been tried, and is still a subject of discussion,
oohtary confinement has also been employed there; which
some have considered worse than death.
2. Capital punishments.—In this country, excepting in
cases ot nobles for treason, hanging is invariably the mode
employed by law. fliis is with justice preferred to any
other mode of public execution, as the evidence of those,
who have recovered after suspension, renders it probable that
the person suffers very little pain, from his becoming speedily
insensible ; and when the drop is employed, the injury to
the neck seems generally to extinguish life instantaneously.
Beheading is in this country performed with the axe,
m Germany with the sword, and in France with the
guillotine ; the prototype of which seems to be the Scot¬
tish maiden, still to be seen in the Antiquarian Society’s
Museum m Edinburgh. The axe often requires a repe-
titmn of the blow ; and the sword is liable to the same objec¬
tion. The maiden chopped off the head by the descent of
an axe loaded with lead. The guillotine slices it off, en¬
tering one side of the neck by an oblique edge. All sorts
of beheading present a very ghastly spectacle, and habitu¬
ate to the sight of human blood ; besides which, serious
doubts have been started as to the possibility of the head
for a short time retaining its sensibility,
j 3- Pleas in bar of execution—When a person is con¬
demned to die, execution of the sentence may be deferred
on three pleas.
Insanity may be pleaded by the relatives of the con¬
demned, and a jury may be appointed to try the sanity or
insanity of the prisoner.
The youth, of the party is the second. There is no age
fixed by British law, at which the perpetrator may not be
executed for heinous crimes. In 1629 a child between eight
and nine years of age was executed in England for an atro¬
cious murder; one of ten years was condemned in 1748 at
1 ork ; and a boy of thirteen was executed in this city, with¬
in the present century, for a murder. Blackstone states the
lowest degree of non-age, by the practice of the English
courts, to be seven years.
Pregnancy is the last plea admitted in our courts. When
this is alleged, a jury of matrons is appointed by the
judge to inspect the party, and if the allegation be found
true, she is respited till after delivery. These persons are
very incompetent to so delicate a task. It should be en¬
trusted to accoucheurs, who, from the appearance of the
mammae, and the application of the stethoscope to the ab¬
domen in the latter months, will readily ascertain the truth
or falsehood of the allegation. (J. j. j.)
513
Medica
Police.
Medicine.
MEDICINE.
Medicine, in its most extended signification, may be said
to comprehend all the knowledge which can be useful in en¬
abling us to prevent the occurrence of diseases; or which
may assist us, when diseases have occurred, in conducting
t icir treatment, with a view to their alleviation or cure.
Ihe knowledge subservient to these several purposes (the
prevention, alleviation, and cure of diseases) may be com-
prehended under three general heads : 1st, an acquaintance
with the human economy in the state of health ;—2d, an ac¬
quaintance with the various deviations from the healthy
state, or, in other words, the various diseased, morbid, or
pathological conditions to which that economy is liable ;  
and 3d, an acquaintance with those agents or powers which
are capable of inducing disease in the economy, when it is
in a healthy condition, and with those which are capable,
when it is in a diseased condition, of restoring it to a state
of health; that is, an acquaintance with what are termed
morbific causes and therapeutic agents.
It is necessary to consider medicine both as a science
and as an art. To the science of medicine it belongs to
collect all the facts that have been ascertained respectincr
the operations and phenomena of the economy in its heal-
thy and morbid conditions, and respecting the causes and
remedies of diseases; to compare these facts with one an-
VOIi. XIV.
other, so as to discover their mutual relations ; to arrange
them in a convenient order, and to deduce from them the
general conclusions to which they may seem to lead; and
to point out where the knowledge of facts is imperfect,
and to suggest the means by which such deficiencies may
be supplied. The art of medicine, again, consists in the
immediate practical application of the knowledge that has
been acquired by observation and experiment, in the several
departments enumerated, to the prevention and treatment
of diseases.
In the following article it is proposed in the first place to
take a brief view of medical science considered in reference
to the three departments which medicine has been said to
comprehend. A similar view will afterwards be taken of
those divisions which convenience and custom have es¬
tablished in medicine considered as a practical art. It is
in the susceptibility of the economy to be affected with
diseases, and in the influence which certain circumstances
and agents exercise in producing their removal, that medi-
cine, both as a science and as an art, has its primary origin.
Diseases and their remedies, accordingly, must have been
the first subjects of medical investigation that engaged the
attention of mankind. The importance of a correct ac¬
quaintance with thehuman economy in a state ofhealth could
3 T
514 M E D I
Health. COme to be felt only after these practical branches had
^ ^ made some degree of advancement. It is now, however,
well understood that the extent of knowledge which can be
acquired respecting the human economy in the state of dis¬
ease, must in a great measure be dependent upon the
knowledge that is possessed of that economy in the state of
health ; since the very ground-work on which all rational
inquiries respecting diseases must ultimately rest, is the
knowledge of the circumstances in which the economy that
is disordered, differs from the same economy in a sound con¬
dition.
Health. I. As the human economy consists of two distinct ele¬
ments, an organised body and a conscious mind, which,
whatever may be the nature of their connection, exercise
most important influences on one another; and as both of these
elements of the economy are liable to experience deviations
from their natural or healthy condition, a knowledge of the
body and of the mind, in the healthy exercise of their func¬
tions, forms the essential foundation of medical science.
The study of the mind, in its healthy condition, has usu¬
ally been regarded as constituting a particular department
of philosophy (psychology) quite independent of medicine;
but we shall afterwards find reason for believing that the
consideration of its various phenomena, intellectual and mo¬
ral, ought to be included under the same department of me¬
dical science that treats of the healthy phenomena of the
corporeal part of the economy.
The knowledge of the organised body, in the state of
health, is of a two-fold nature ; first, as it relates to the
structure of its several parts ; and, secondly, as it relates to
the use, purpose, or function which each part performs in
the economy, and to the reciprocal dependence of the dif¬
ferent functions on one another. The two branchesof me¬
dical science that treat of the structure and functions of the
body, are comprehended, as every one knows, under the
names of Anatomy and Physiology ; branches which are,
no doubt, most closely allied, and in some respects insepar¬
ably connected with one another, but which are at the same
time sufficiently distinct in their objects and in their means
of prosecution, and sufficiently extensive in the field of inves¬
tigation which each of them presents, to admit of, or rather
to require, separate consideration in any view of them pre¬
tending to be systematic.
Anatomy. To each part of the body capable of performing some par¬
ticular function or purpose in the human economy, the name
of organ is usually assigned ; thus the eye is said to be the
organ of vision; the stomach and intestines with the liver,
pancreas, &c., the organs of digestion; and the muscles,
bones and joints, the organs of voluntary motion. In exa¬
mining the structure of the different organs of the body,
it is found that they all consist of different anatomical ele¬
ments ; and whilst some of these elements vary in the
different organs that are examined, others of them are
met with in all the organs indiscriminately. Thus if we
compare the structure of the heart and of the liver, we shall
find in the former, layers of muscular fibres of which no
trace can be observed in the latter organ; while in the
liver, on the other hand, wxe find a peculiar arrangement of
cellular matter, usually denominated parenchyma, to which
nothing analogous is discoverable in the heai’t. In both
of these organs, however, vessels, for the conveyance of
blood and other fluids, and nervous filaments can be dis¬
covered ; and these latter anatomical elements, the vessels
and nerves, pervade, in greater or less number, all parts of
the animal frame. W hilst each bone and each muscle may
be said, in some sort, to have a separate existence, inde¬
pendent of every other bone or muscle of the body, every
blood-vessel and every nerve, on the contrary, exists only
as a part of a general system, all the ramifications of which
ai e connected with one another through the medium of a
central organ or part. Those anatomical elements which
CINE.
vary in the different organs of the body, such as muscular Health
fibre, cellular substance, mucous and serous membrane, &c.,
are denominated textures by anatomists ; whilst those which
are constant in all the organs, the blood-vessels, lymphatics,
and nerves, are regarded as parts of their corresponding
systems.
There are several different points of view in which the its several
structure of the human body may be considered. 1st, We depart-
may examine the different classes of organs and the differ- merits,
ent systems, separately, confining our attention principally
to the relations which the different organs of the same class,
or the different parts of the same system bear to one
another ; the bones, the muscles, the vascular system, the
nervous system, &c., each being treated of under a distinct
head. . It is in this view chiefly that the structure of the
body is considered in what has been termed Descriptive
Anatomy. 2nd, We may consider the relations which the
different organs and systems entering into the composition
of any particular region of the body, bear to one another,
as, for example, the relations of the muscles, blood-vessels,
and nerves of the neck ; or the relations of the parts of the
perineum to one another and to the knver part of the blad¬
der. It is this kind of anatomical knowledge, (the anatomy
of the regions, as it has been termed), which is essential in
the performance of surgical operations, and which has hence
frequently received the name of Surgical Anatomy. 3d, We
may examine into the minute structure of each of the differ¬
ent kinds of organs and parts of systems, as of the stomach,
liver, heart, arteries, brain, nerves, &c., and endeavour to as¬
certain in relation to each, whether it consists of one or of
several elementary substances or textures, what is the physical
arrangement of each of the textures entering into its compo¬
sition, and in what manner these are united and combined.
To this minute investigation of the structure of the different
organs and systems of the body, and of the textures entering
into their composition, the name of General Anatomy has
been assigned. 4th, We may compare the different parts of
the human frame, as the nervous or vascular system, the res¬
piratory or digestive organs, &c., with the corresponding parts
of other animals, a comparison which frequently leads to an
improvement and extension of our knowledge of the struc¬
ture of the human body. To this field of inquiry the name
of Comparative Anatomy has been given. And, 5 th, We may
enquire into the progressive development which the body
and each of its parts undergoes, during the embryo and
foetal states, from its earliest period of formation to the time
of birth; a branch of investigation which has received the
name of the Anatomy of Development, and which is equally
applicable to man and to the lower animals.
When we reflect on the length of time during which the
structure of the human body has been the subject of inves¬
tigation, the number of persons who have been engaged in
the inquiry, and the enthusiasm with which it has been pro¬
secuted, it may appear strange that there should be still
many anatomical points respecting which we are aware that
our knowledge is very deficient; and that from time to
time facts are brought to light, in this department, of which
no previous suspicion had been entertained. Anatomical
discoveries, as appears from the foregoing observations, may
relate to the textures, to the systems, to the organs, or
to the regions of the human body; or they may relate to
the structure of the lower animals, or to the gradual deve¬
lopment of animal bodies during their foetal existence.
1. The anatomy of textures is comparatively a recent in¬
vestigation, for though it cannot be said to have originated
with Inch at, yet unquestionably it received from him the
dignity of a separate branch of scientific inquiry; not only
from his having contributed materially to its advancement
by Ids own labours, but from his having by the ingenious and
philosophical views which he took of the subject, rendered
tiie medical profession more fully aware of the important ad-
M E D ]
Health, vantages to be derived from its cultivation. Butbesidesbeing
—v—' of recent origin, the anatomy of textures is a subject at¬
tended with very considerable difficulties from the minute¬
ness of the objects to be investigated. As illustrating these
difficulties, we may refer to the various statements0wliich
have at different times been given respecting the primary
structure of muscular fibre, of bone, and of nervous substance.
And as the principal means by which we are assisted in
overcoming them, may be mentioned in the first place, the
employment of chemical re-agents, by which, in some instan-
9 ces the parts are rendered more fit for examination by being
hardened, as is, for example, the case with the substance of
the brain ; and in other instances the structure of the part
is ascertained by one texture being destroyed whilst another
is left entire, as in the case of the bones and nerves. As
a second means of overcoming the difficulties attendant on
the anatomical investigation of textures, may be mention¬
ed the use of the magnifying glass and of the microscope.
The latter instrument, which was invented about 1620,
seems to have been first applied to purposes of anatomical
investigation by Malpighi, who was followed in this line of
research by Hook, Power, Leuenhoeck, and Lieberkunn.
In later times it has become an essential part of the appa¬
ratus of the anatomist.
2. The discoveries relative to the anatomical systems,
which have from time to time been made, and which may be
expected to be still further extended, refer to the minute
ramifications of the vessels and of the nerves; to the modes in
which the different kinds of vessels, arteries, veins, capillaries,
and lymphatics communicate with one another; and to the con¬
nections of the minute filaments arising from different nerves.
The prosecution of this department of anatomy, in particular,
has been most materially advanced by the invention of the art
of injections. “ In the latter part of the last century,” says
Dr. Hunter, in his introductory lectures to his last course of
anatomy, “ this science made two great steps, by the inven¬
tion of injections, and the method ot what we commonly
call preparations. These two modern arts have really been
of infinite use to anatomy; and besides, have introduced
an elegance into our administrations wdfich in former times
could not have been supposed to be possible. They arose
in Holland under Swammerdam and Ruysch, and after¬
wards in England under Cowper, St. Andre, and others,
where they have been greatly improved. And from Eng¬
land, they are of late years spreading to all parts of the
British dominions, to France, Italy, and other parts of
Europe. I say, from England, because the arts of making
fine injections and preparations seem to have been almost
peculiar to Holland and England, and the anatomists who
have excelled in that way have generally made a secret of
their methods and improvements, till within the last thirty
years, when all these arts have been constantly taught in
public courses of anatomy here.”
3. The anatomy of the organs, and particularly of some
of the internal viscera, as the brain, the liver, &c., notwith¬
standing the repeated investigation to which they have been
subjected, still presents an extensive field of inquiry; for
much remains to be ascertained as to the textures that enter
into the composition of each organ, and as to the relations
of these textures to one another, and to the ramifications
of the systems with which they are more or less largely
combined.
4. In the anatomy of regions, the objects of investiga¬
tion are on comparatively a large scale, and consequently
more easily discovered and appreciated. Yet structural
arrangements modifying the progress of surgical diseases,
and regulating the performance of surgical operations, still
continue from time to time to be brought to light. The
improved knowledge that is at present possessed of the
anatomy of the parts concerned in hernia, and in the ope¬
rations of aneurism and of lithotomy, bears honourable testi-
C 1 NE. 51;
mony to the diligence and skill with which this department Health,
has in modern times been prosecuted. v—
5. Comparative anatomy, though from the name it bears,
it obviously originated in the comparison of the structure
of the human body with that of other animals, has in its
progress come to form a science in itself; and when we
consider the number of animals already known, the addi¬
tions that are from time to time made to these, by those
who are engaged in exploring distant regions of the globe,
and the increased facilities of obtaining specimens for the
purposes of dissection, afforded by voyages of commercial
or scientific enterprise, it is not wonderful that this depart¬
ment should every day be presenting a rich harvest of dis¬
covery to reward the industry of those who are engaged in
its cultivation.
6. The anatomy of development, notwithstanding the
zeal with which it has, in modern times particularly, been
cultivated, still affords an extensive field for the collection
of curious and interesting facts. From the ease with which
observations may be made on the eggs of birds, during the
progress of incubation, many anatomists have availed them¬
selves of the opportunity thus afforded for studying the
development of the foetus and its several organs. But it
was not till a very late period that their observation was
extended to the formation or evolution of the organs in the
other classes of vertebrated animals. It is satisfactory to
know that the more the structure of the ova of the differ¬
ent classes of vertebrated animals has been studied, the
more perfect has the resemblance between them appeared
to be. “ Since our acquaintance with the development of
the ovum has increased,” says a late writer on this subject,
“ the mode in which the organs of the foetus are produced,
has been proved to be analogous in the different classes of
vertebrated animals; and we are induced to believe that a
knowledge of the simpler forms of these animals must
greatly facilitate our study of the more complicated.” We
may remariv that there are two leading views, in conformity
with one or other of which the investigation of this depart¬
ment of anatomy has been prosecuted. According to the
one view, the impregnated ovum, or original germ, before
the process of development has commenced, contains al¬
ready formed all the parts which are afterwards to be found
in tiie perxect animal; so that the successive appearance of
the organs ox the animal, which is observed during the
progress of development, is owing simply to the evolution,
or coming into sight, of parts which had previously been
invisible, in consequence of their small size and of their
transparency. According to the other view, the original
germ, before development has commenced, is very simple
in its structure, and does not, so far as can with the greatest
attention be discovered, contain any part that can be com¬
pared to the foetal or adult animal, so that during the
development of the fetus, its organs are actually formed,
and not simply evolved. Those who entertain this opinion
accordingly maintain, that several of the organs of the
embryo can be seen gradually forming by the apposition
of their parts. Closely allied with the anatomy of develop¬
ment is the inquiry relative to the various malformations or
monstrosities which animal bodies occasionally exhibit; for
according to the notion that may be adopted respecting
tne pximitive condition of the germ, and the changes which
it subsequently undergoes, will be the view entertained
as to whether the occurrence of monstrosities is attribut-
aole to some peculiarity in its original structure, or to
some imperfection or irregularity in its development. And
in proportion as our knowledge shall be extended, of the
relative periods at which the different organs are formed,
and ox the successive series of changes which they undergo,
w ill we be the better able to analyse and comprehend the
modes in which monstrosities are produced.
Besides the consideration of the functions of the corpo-rhysiology.
516 M E D I
Health, real part of the economy, Physiology comprehends likewise,
' as has been already hinted, that of the phenomena of mind.
All these phenomena, or operations of the human economy,
corporeal and mental, it has been found convenient to ar¬
range under three classes of functions, designated by Galen,
the Natural, the Vital, and the Animal. Under the Natu¬
ral are included those functions which are performed by all
organised beings, plants as well as animals, and which are
essential to the preservation of the individual, and the con¬
tinuance of the species ; the functions, namely, of nutrition
and reproduction. The Vital class of functions compre¬
hends two, which, in the higher orders of animals at least,
cannot be suspended for more than a very short space of
time, without putting a stop to life ; the functions of circu¬
lation and respiration. The Animal functions are those by
the exercise of which the animal creation is particularly
characterized, but which vary in their degree and perfec¬
tion, according to the place the animal occupies in the scale
ofexistence ; the functions ofsensation, thought, and volition.
On an analysis of all the phenomena which these several
functions exhibit, it will be found that these phenomena are
of three kinds. In the production of some, corporeal organs
only are concerned; others are wholly of a mental character;
and others, again, are partly mental and partly corporeal.
The corporeal operations of the human economy, as regards
their results, are physical or chemical, that is, they consist in
changes in the relative situation of sensible particles, un¬
attended with change in their composition; as when the
blood is conveyed from the heart throughout the whole
fabric of the body, and again returned to the central organ
of circulation: or they consist in changes in the combina¬
tions and arrangements of elementary particles ; as in those
changes of deterioration and purification which the blood
undergoes during its progress through the greater or sys¬
temic, and the lesser or pulmonic circulation. There are
several operations of the economy, of which the present
state of our knowledge does not enable us to determine
whether they be properly of a physical or of a chemical
character^ as, for example, those processes by which va¬
rious fluids are separated from the blood, in the different
organs of secretion. As regards their causes, the corporeal
phenomena of the animal economy seem to be partly de¬
pendent on the common properties of inorganic matter, as
gravity, weight, elasticity, chemical affinity, &c.; and partly
on vital properties peculiar to animal bodies, more parti¬
cularly the irritability of the muscular fibre, and the ener-
getory influence of the ganglionic system of nerves.
V' ith respect to the phenomena of the human economy that
are wholly mental, “there is,” as was well observed by the
late Dr. Thomas Brown, “a physiology of the mind as there
is a physiology of the body; a science which examines the
phenomena of our spiritual part simply as phenomena, and
from the order of their succession, or other circumstances
of analogy, arranges them in classes under certain general
names ; as in the physiology of our corporeal part, we con¬
sider the phenomena of a different kind which the body
exhibits, and reduce all the diversities of these under the
names of a few general functions.” A knowledge of the
intellectual and moral powers, though their investigation
orms the peculiar province of the metaphysician and
moral philosopher, is essentially necessary to the physiolo¬
gist, both from their own importance as parts of the con¬
stitution of man, and from the powerful influence which
they exercise over his bodily functions. Itisobvious, likewise,
that a knowledge of the mind in its healthy exercise must be
equally necessary to a proper understanding of mental dis¬
eases, as is a knowledge of the body in the state of health
to the understanding of its diseases. It is gratifying, there¬
fore, to find that medical men are becoming more and more
aware of the importance of acquiring such a knowledge of
the operations of the intellectual faculties and moral feel-
CINE.
mgs as may serve as a groundwork for the scientific study Health
and humane treatment of mental diseases. The most in-
teresting point of view, certainly, in which the mental phe¬
nomena present themselves to the consideration of the
physiologist, is in their connection with the nervous svstem.
It is well known that while some physiologists are content
with recognising a general connection between the faculties
of the mind and the brain, others have endeavoured to esta¬
blish a more especial relation between particular mental
powers and particular parts of the cerebral organ.
Of the phenomena of the economy in the production of
which the mind and body arc both obviously concerned, a
part, those, namely, of sensation, originate in the body and are
concluded in the mind; whilst another part, those, namely,
of \ oluntary motion, originate in the mind, and are concluded
in the body. In each of these two functions, the nerves seem
to serve as the medium of communication between the brain,
as the more immediate organ of the mind, and the different
sensory and motory organs of the animal frame.
The progress of physiology is necessarily dependent on its sources
the advancement of other collateral sciences, particularly of improve-
of anatomy and of chemistry, as well as on experimental nient.
research. A few illustrations of the advantages that have
accrued to physiology from the improved and extended cul¬
tivation of each of these departments, may serve to place
this dependence in a clear point of view.
1. As to the influence of anatomy on the advancement
of physiology, we may observe, that to know the action or
operation of a machine, it is essential to know its mechan¬
ism or structure; and to those conversant with this kind ‘
of inquiry, nothing in many instances is requisite but a
knowledge of the relative situation and the connection of
parts, to enable them to comprehend the general effect
which will result from their combined action, and the par¬
ticular share which each part contributes towards its pro¬
duction. .There can be no doubt that the circumstance
which first directed the attention of the illustrious Harvey
to those investigations which terminated in the discovery
of the circulation of the blood, the most important physio¬
logical discovery certainly that has ever been made,'was
his .desire to ascertain the use of the valves of the veins,
the existence of which had been pointed out to him by his
distinguished teacher in anatomy, Fabricius ab Aquapen-
dente. It is obvious, too, how great a difference in the
knowledge possessed of the function of assimilation must
have been produced by the discovery of those absorbent
vessels, the lacteals, as they have been termed, that con¬
vey the digested food or chyle from the intestinal canal
along the mesentery, to the common trunk named the tho¬
racic duct, which ultimately discharges it into the venous
system. It was not till 1622 that the lacteal vessels were
discovered by Gaspard Aselli at Cremona, and twenty-
five years elapsed subsequently to this before Pecquet of
Dieppe discovered, at Montpellier, the thoracic duct. Pre¬
viously to that time it had been supposed that the chyle is
conveyed by the veins of the mesentery from the intestines
to the liver, and that it is the peculiar function of this
organ to convert that fluid into blood.
2. Many illustrations might be given of the lights which
chemical science has in modern times thrown upon the
phenomena and functions of the animal economy. The
reciprocal changes which the atmospheric air and the blood
pi oduce upon one another within the lungs, in respiration; the
changes which the food undergoes from the action of the differ¬
ent fluids with which it comes in contact in its passage through
the alimentary canal; and the composition of the different
products of secretion, as the gastric juice, the bile, and the
urine, are amongst the more remarkable objects of physiolo¬
gical inquiry, to the advancement of the knowledge of which
chemistry has powerfully contributed.
3. Every function of the body furnishes a host of in-
i
Disease.
Health, stances in which our knowledge of its mode of performance
II and of its reciprocal dependence upon, and influence over,
i other functions, has been advanced by experimental
researches. None of these researches, perhaps, are more
important in the conclusions to which they have led and
still promise to lead, or have been prosecuted with greater
diligence and sagacity, than those which relate to the de¬
pendence of particular functions upon particular portions of
the nervous system.
II. Such, then, are the two points of view in which it
n^cessary ^or tf*6 purposes of medical science to consider
the human economy in the state of health ; first, in rela¬
tion to the structure of the body and its several parts ; and
second, in relation to the actions or functions of these parts
or the corporeal and mental phenomena of which the hu¬
man economy is the field of operation. But it is in pre¬
cisely the same points of view that it is necessary for us to
consider the economy in the state of disease. There is a
department of Morbid as well as of Healthy Anatomy, and
a department of Morbid, as there is one of Healthy Physi-
ology. These two departments considered separately, and
in their relations to one another, constitute the branch of
medical science denominated Pathology. As it is the object
ot Healthy Anatomy to make us acquainted with the struc¬
ture, forms, dimensions, and connections of the several tex¬
tures, systems, and organs of the body, in the state of health •
so it is the object of Morbid or Pathological Anatomy to
make us acquainted with the changes in all of these respects
to winch the different parts of the body are liable in the state
of disease. And m like manner, as it is the object of Healthy
Physiology to make us acquainted with all the several phe¬
nomena, corporeal and mental, that are taking place in the
human economy in its healthy condition, to trace the causes
trom which they originate, the mechanism by which they
are accomplished, and their reciprocal dependence and influ¬
ence on one another; so it is the object of Morbid or Pa¬
thological Physiology to ascertain to what deviations the
several corporeal and mental phenomena are subject in the
state of disease, and to discover what new phenomena are
developed in that state, and by what powers or agents these
deviations are occasioned.
AnatomV i N° (*ePartment of medical science, probably, ever receiv-
Anatoiny. ed so large an accession of materials for its elucidation, in
so short a period of time, as morbid anatomy has done, since
medical men became fully aware of the benefit which
iheoretical and Practical Medicine is capable of receivino-
from the investigation of those various morbid alterations
of structure that occur in the different organs of the human
xx y. iere are three principal points of view in which
the knowledge obtained by necroscopical examinations may
be considered; and were we to trace the history of Patho-
ogical Anatomy, it would be easy to shew that the con¬
sideration of that knowledge in these different points of view,
marks the successive epochs in the progress of this depart¬
ment of medical science. ^
si re epochs 0lTStS endeavour to ascertain the various
• morbid alterations that occur in the structure of the different
textures, systems, and organs of the body, in the progress of
particular diseases, as ot fevers and febrile eruptions, of
tetanus or locked jaw, or of consumption, &c. The Observa-
tiones MediccB harwres of Schenckius, published at Frank-
fort m 1600 ; the Sepulchretum sive Anatomic, Practice ex
Cadaveribmmorbo denatis of Bonetus, published at Gen-
eva in 16/9; and the Epistolce de Sedibus et Causis
Morborum per Anatomen indagatis of Morgagni, published
hIreniCe.ln 1761> thouSh differing widely from one an¬
other in importance and merit, may be regarded as all
belong „g to this first period of pihologtaT A„aSra '
cases^f ff1 ^ & C°nS'f.’ for the most Pai% of individual
cases of disease, arranged in a systematic order according
to the part of the body which had been principally affected?
MEDICINE.
Morbid
Its success
2. They may consider each particular texture, system, or
organ of the body, (as, for example, serous membrane, the
heart and blood-vessels, or the stomach and intestines), se¬
parately, and without reference to individual cases of dis-
ease, in relation to the various morbid changes of structure
Vvmch it is liable to undergo, (such as inflammation and its
consequences, morbid degenerations and new growths, and
with a view to the effects which these changes produce on
the performance of the functions of the particular texture
system or organ. As illustrations of this mode of consider-
mg Morbid Anatomy we may refer to the systematic works
of Ludwig, Baillie, Conradi, Yoigtel, and Otto. The re¬
cent investigations respecting the morbid alterations of
structure that occur in the different portions of the nervous
system, in the heart and blood-vessels and in the organs of
respiration, are most creditable proofs of the diligence and
success with which this department has been prosecuted in
the course of the present century.
3. They may consider each particular kind of morbid
structural change, (as inflammation, tubercle, cancer, &c.),
as a separate subject of examination, in respect of the general
characters which it exhibits from its first development till
its termination or the death of the individual, in all the parts
of the body in which it is liable to occur, and the modifica¬
tions it exhibits in each particular texture or organ. It is
by the greater degree of attention bestowed upon this de¬
partment, that the pathological anatomy of the present day
is more particularly distinguished from that of former times.
But though great additions have recently been made to our
knowledge of morbid structures, as for example, in what
relates to the development of tubercle, by the works of Bayle,
Laennec, and their followers; to the distinctions between
scirrhus and fungus haematodes, or hard and soft cancer, by
the writings of Hey, Burns, and Wardrop; and to the ex¬
istence of morbid structures not previously known, such as
melanosis; a great deal still remains to be accomplished
befoie this branch of medical science can be considered as
placed upon a satisfactory footing.
1 he means by which our knowledge of morbid structure Its means
has been extended, and may be expected to be still further of advance-
advanced, are the same as those upon which the progress merit,
of healthy anatomy depends ; frequent dissection of the dead
body, and the employment of those physical and chemical
aids to which we had formerly occasion to refer.
A circumstance which has materially assisted in diffusin'^
a knowledge of the morbid alterations of structure which
the different textures, systems, and organs of the body are
Iiaole to undergo, has been the formation in anatomical
museums, of collections of specimens of diseased parts,
lliese collections seem to have consisted at first, chiefly or
solely,, of such substances as could be preserved in a dry
condition, such as macerated bones, calculi, &c.; but their
value has been greatly increased in later times, by the col¬
lectors availing themselves of the art of making wet pre¬
parations. Within a still more recent period an important
advancement has been made in the application of the pic-
toiial art to the illustration of pathological anatomy. It is
ong indeed since it has been customary to represent in
engravings, detached specimens of diseased parts, particu¬
larly of those which exhibit considerable change of form on
the external surface of the body; and some valuable works
had been published, m which particular branches of patho¬
logical anatomy had been considerably advanced by illustra¬
tions of this description. The “ Series of Engravings, in¬
tended to illustrate the Morbid Anatomy of some of the
most important parts of the human body,” which was pub¬
lished by Dr. Bailhe at the beginning of the present century,
is alike distinguished by the sound judgment displayed in the
selection of the subjects, and by fidelity and beauty in their
representation. But it has been of late years only that pa-
t lologists have called in the aid of colouring to assist in
518
M E DICI N E.
Disease.
Pathologi¬
cal chemis-
wy.
Significa¬
tion of the
term Symp
tom.
conveying an idea of the changes which disease induces, not
only on the surface of the body, but in each of its different
textures, systems, and organs. And when it is considered
how important an element colour forms in the characters by
which the different morbid alterations of structure are dis¬
tinguished, and how seldom it is possible to preserve any
traces of it in preparations, it must be obvious how much
coloured delineations are calculated to aid in communicat¬
ing a knowledge of pathological anatomy, by conveying to
the mind, speedily and precisely, through the medium of the
eye, appearances of which the most lengthened verbal de¬
scriptions can enable the reader or hearer to form only a
very imperfect conception.1
Of the light which the improved knowledge of morbid
alterations of structure has thrown upon diseases and their
treatment, we shall afterwards have occasion to speak; at
present we may remark, that as morbid anatomy has been
promoted by the gradually improving acquaintance with the
anatomy and physiology of the body in the state of health,
it has in its turn materially assisted in elucidating many ob¬
scure and difficult points in these two departments of medi¬
cal science. The processes of disease, indeed, not unfre-
quently fulfil the same purposes as the experimental measures
to which anatomists and physiologists are wont to have re¬
course, in prosecuting their respective investigations. Ofthis
many striking illustrations might be found in the injuries and
diseases of the different portions of the nervous system.
As an important ally of pathological anatomy, in the investi¬
gation of disease, it is proper to .mention pathological chemis¬
try, or the application of the knowledge that has been acquir¬
ed, respecting the composition ofthe different solids and fluids
of the body, to the discovery of the morbid changes which
they are liable to undergo. Our know ledge of the results of
morbid action has already received very considerable and
valuable additions through the means of this department of
scientific research. Amongst the benefits for which we are
indebted to it, may be mentioned the replacement of the
vague and conjectural art of Uromancy, by a body of precise
information relative to the various morbid changes which
the urinary secretion experiences in the diseases of its own
peculiar organs, or in those of other parts of the body.
Before proceeding further in this general view of that de¬
partment of medical science which relates to disease, it may
be proper briefly to state the import of two terms of which
we shall have frequent occasion to make use, namely, symp¬
tom and proximate cause, and to point out the principal
varieties of symptoms and proximate causes, as they present
themselves to the consideration of the pathologist. By a
symptom, then, is meant any phenomenon or circumstance
which leads us to infer that some one or other of the func¬
tions of the economy is not exercised in its ordinary or
healthy manner. Of these circumstances a know ledge may
be acquired in three ways: 1st, through the information of
the patient; 2d, by direct observation; or, 3d, by experi¬
mental investigation. Of each of these modes of recogniz¬
ing or discovering symptoms, w’e shall offer a few illustra¬
tions.
1. We know that a person in health sees objects single,
and does not experience any sensations of sound unless his
ear be exposed to atmospheric vibrations. But if a patient
tells us that he sees objects double, and has ringing in his ears,
these we hold to be symptoms of derangement in the exercise Disease.
of the sensory functions of the nervous system. It is only by — 
the information of the patient himself that we can obtain a
knowledge of the occurrence of these and similar symptoms,
having a relation to the exercise of the function of sensa¬
tion.
2. In a person in health, the colour of the skin exhibits a
peculiar hue, known by the name of flesh-colour; and the
two sides of the face are nearly or altogether symmetrical.
But if the skin assume an orange yellow, or a scarlet hue ;
or if one side of the face is drawn over to the other, so as to
give to it a twisted appearance, these unusual phenomena
lead us to conclude that some parts of the economy are out
of order; they serve us as symptoms of disease, and are ob¬
viously examples of that class of symptoms a knowledge of
which we acquire by direct observation.
3. We know that in a healthy person the temperature of
the surface of the body is about 970 Fahr., and that the fre¬
quency of the strokes of the pulse ranges within certain limits,
corresponding with the age of the individual. If by trial or
experiment we find that the temperature has risen above or
fallen below the standard of health, or that the frequency of
the pulse either exceeds or falls below the limits proper to
the period of life, these deviations furnish so many symptoms
of disease. Again, the fluid secreted by the kidneys, besides
exhibiting certain physical characters obvious to the sight,
has been found by experimental examination to possess a
determinate specific gravity, and to contain certain chemi¬
cal elements in determinate proportions. These, however,
are subject to variations in the state of disease; and the as¬
certainment of these deviations by appropriate instruments,
and by the employment of chemical tests and process¬
es, furnishes us with important aids in detecting the ex¬
istence of diseases, and in determining their nature. To the
same class of symptoms, also, we must refer those which
are furnished by the practices of percussion and auscultation;
practices that have turned the attention of physiologists
and pathologists to so many curious circumstances respect¬
ing the healthy and morbid actions of the body, particularly
those of the organs of circulation and respiration.
It must be remembered, however, that there exists a con¬
siderable latitude in the mode in which the functions are
naturally exercised in different individuals ; and therefore
that what may justly be accounted a symptom of disease in
one individual, may in another be perfectly consistent with
the state of health. The whole external appearances of dif¬
ferent individuals, as their complexions, degree of corpu¬
lency, and of muscular vigour, furnish numerous illustrations
of diversities in the exercise of the functions, compatible
with health. The degree of ruddiness or of sallowness, of
corpulence or leanness, of strength or feebleness, which
would mark disease in one individual, may be said to form a
part of the natural constitution of another. In the same
way, though there be a general correspondence in the fre¬
quency of the pulse of persons about the same period of
life, yet exceptions are by no means unfrequent, so that the
pulse of an individual in health may beat as quickly as that
of another in a state of fever, or as slowly as that of a third
person labouring under some affection capable of diminish¬
ing the frequency of the heart’s contractions. Proximate
By the term proximate cause, again, as employed in me- Pa,,.L.,
1 Professor Lordat of Montpellier, in his Essai sur I’Iconohgie Medicate, ou sur les Rapports d’utilite entre I'art du Dessin et I'ctude de
la Medeane (1833), has given a brief but interesting outline of the connection which has subsisted between anatomy and the fine arts,
particularly painting and engraving, in the successive periods of their progress; and has with great justice represented the art of engraving
as having most powerfully contributed to advance the knowledge of anatomy. M* Lordat has thrown out some ingenious refiections, too,
on the applicability of painting to the representation of what may be called the physiognomy of disease ; that is, the changes it produces on
the outward appearance of the frame. He does not, however, seem to have even dropped an incidental allusion to the applicability ot deli¬
neation to the illustration and advancement of pathological anatomy. The advantage that might result from the application of coloured
delineations to the representation of diseases was fully pointed out by Professor Delius, in his Meditatio de Iconibus Pathologico-Ana-
tomicis ad Naturam pictis, published at Erlangen in 1782, along with his treatise DeChlolelithis, in which he gives a coloured plate repre¬
senting gall-stones.
MEDICINE.
Disease, dieine, is understood that morbid deviation from the healthy
—v—state of the economy, to which the morbid phenomena or
symptoms of a disease are ultimately referable, the morbid
condition or pathological state on which their occurrence
depends; the conditions of the body, for example, in the
cases of the symptoms adverted to, to which the double vision,
the ringing in the ears, the yellow skin, the twisted face, and
the increased heat or the frequency of pulse, are respectively
attributable. Thus understood, proximate causes admit
of being arranged under two principal heads. 1st, those in
which there is an apparent change in the structure of some
portion of the organised frame, as in scirrhus and cancer of
the gullet, stomach, or intestines; 2d, those in which no
appreciable change of structure can be detected, as in dys¬
pepsia or indigestion, and some forms of dysphagia or difficult
deglutition. If we follow out this division of the proximate
causes of diseases into the organic and the functional, we
find that the organic may be subdivided into those in which
the parts naturally existing in the body are altered in their
structure, and those in which an entirely new substance is
produced. Thus inflammation produces various alterations
in the structure of the lungs; but in pulmonary consumption a
number of small bodies called tubercles are scattered through
them, which form no part of their original substance. The func¬
tional proximate causes, again, seem referable to three classes;
those in which the action of the diseased organ is increas¬
ed, those in which it is diminished, and those in which it is
otherwise vitiated or perverted. The secretion of the kidney,
for example, may be in excess of quantity, as in the disease
termed diabetes; or it may be below the natural standard, or
entirely suppressed, as in ischuria; or this secretion may want
some of the ingredients which it usually contains, or contain
some that are not usually found in it, as in some species of
gravel. It is of importance to keep in mind, that wb.en there
occurs in the economy such a deviation from the state of health
as to constitute disease, it seldom happens that only one proxi¬
mate cause exists; but that there may be several different
morbid conditions, and these even in different parts of the
body, concurring to produce a particular disease. It must be
kept in mind, also, that for the most part each proximate
cause existing in the body gives rise not to one single but
to several morbid phenomena or symptoms.
If we consider what idea we can form of any individual
disease, such as pulmonary consumption or gravel, there ap¬
pear to be two different conceptions which Ave may enter¬
tain. 1st, We may associate mentally that group of external
phenomena, or symptoms as they are called, by which we are
made aware that certain inward changes, not directly appreci¬
able by the senses, have occurred in the organic system of our
patients. Thus, in speaking of pulmonary consumption, it is
the cough and expectoration, the gradual emaciation and de¬
bility, with alternations of feverish chilliness and flushings,
which enter into our conceptions, as constituting or represent-
i ng the disease. In speaking of gravel, it is the pains experi¬
enced in the region of the kidneys, and extending thence along
the urinary passages and the parts sympathising with them,
together with the appearance of crystalline or lateritious
matter in the urine, which suggest themselves to our minds.
But in the second place, Ave may form our conception of a
disease from the alteration of structure or of function in Avhich
Ave suppose it essentially to consist; from that morbid condition
or pathological state, in which the diseased economy differs
from the healthy, the proximate cause of those external
phenomena which we designate as symptoms. Thus pulmon¬
ary consumption, according to this view, we consider as con¬
sisting in the deposition of tubercles in the substance of the
lungs, and in the series of changes which they undergo, or
to which they give rise in the surrounding textures. °Gra-
vel we consider as consisting in a morbid action of the kid-
neys, in consequence of which the proportions of the con¬
stituents of the urinary secretion, are not duly balanced.
519
According to tne former of these views then, a disease Disease,
consists in a determinate group of symptoms observed to ^
occur, in combination or succession, in a number of indivi¬
duals ; according to the latter a disease consists in a determi¬
nate deviation of some part of the economy from its healthy
structure or function, in some determinate proximate cause.
Much has been said and written lately, in some medical
schools, of the great superiority of the plan of investigating
diseases with a view to the pathological conditions on
which they depend, over that which principally occupies
itself with the examination of the symptoms which they ex¬
hibit. It does not appear to us, however, that there is
either necessity for, or justice in, depreciating the one branch
of inquiry in order to exalt the other. It must be the ob¬
ject of an enlightened cultivator of medical science to obtain
every information in his power respecting diseases consider¬
ed both in reference to the symptoms which they exhibit,
and to the pathological states, morbid conditions or proximate
causes on which they depend. However great the diffi¬
culty may be of accurately marking the symptoms of
diseases, that of referring them to their proximate causes
is infinitely greater, and it is not therefore to be won¬
dered at, that these two branches of inquiry are not equal¬
ly advanced. But because Ave have become more sensi¬
ble of the importance of being acquainted with those
elementary changes in structure and function on which de¬
viations from the healthy condition of the economy depend,
we are by no means entitled to speak slightingly of the la¬
bours of those, who by their diligent and accurate examina¬
tion of diseases, in reference to the more or less regular
combinations and successions of symptoms, have demon¬
strated the necessity of, and prepared the Avay for, this other
branch of medical inquiry.
In pathology, or the investigation of diseases, as in the Progress of
other departments of inductive philosophy, the order ininvestiga-
which those proceed who attempt to extend the limits of bon in pa-
human knowledge, and that which is followed by those Avho tholoSf*
are endeavouring to communicate to the uninformed the ac¬
quisitions that have already been made in this branch of
medical science, are essentially different. In their original
investigations, pathologists seek to advance from the know¬
ledge of individual facts respecting morbid structure and
morbid function, to the establishment of general principles ;
whilst in their instructions they commence with the expo¬
sition of general principles, and descend from these to the
enumeration of the particular facts which these principles
connect, or which, to use the ordinary language, they serve
to explain.
If we carry ourselves back in imagination to the earliest
ages of medicine, we shall be sensible that it was only in
the examination of individual cases of disease that the pa¬
thological studies of the practitioners of those days could
consist. But by comparing the cases that fell within their
observation, they Avould be led to notice various circum¬
stances in which they resembled or differed from one an¬
other. If avc could suppose them to have attempted to re¬
cord the histories of these cases, they must have found that
the Avork involved them in a great deal of repetition, from
the similarity of the symptoms Avhich presented themselves
in a number of different individuals; a similarity that must
have appeared the greater to these early observers, from its
being only. the outstanding or prominent features of the
cases to which their attention would be given. On the ob¬
servation of such a similarity amongst individual cases, must
have been founded the recognition of particular diseases, such
as ague, rheumatism, apoplexy, pleurisy, and dysentery, a
specific name being given to every combination or series of
morbid phenomena that was observed to occur with con¬
siderable regularity in a number of different persons, just on
the same principle as a specific name is given to every other
520 MEDICINE.
Disease, group of objects which exhibit a general correspondence in
v—^ their qualities or characters. It must have been in this way
that the transition was made from the consideration of in¬
dividual cases of disease to that of particular diseases, and
that the pathologist of those early times, instead of confin¬
ing himself to drawing up an account of each single case in
all its minutest details, would be led to generalize the re¬
sults of many similar cases; first, perhaps, in relation to par¬
ticular circumstances of their history, and afterwards in re¬
lation to their whole course or progress, so as ultimately to
produce a delineation exhibiting those more prominent and
more important characters in which the whole group of cases
agreed, without its being overloaded with the trivial and ac¬
cidental circumstances peculiar to each.
Nosogra- To designate that branch of pathology which is occupied
phy, and with the detailed description of particular diseases, (the
diagnosis. Prima Medicina sive Historia Morborum of Baglivi,) no
more suitable term perhaps has been invented than that of
Nosography, employed by M. Pinel. The marking of those
phenomena and circumstances by which particular diseas¬
es are especially characterised, has long been considered
as a peculiar branch of medical inquiry under the name of
Diagnosis.
Semeiolo- But the processes of comparison and contrast which
gy. were necessary for establishing and describing particular
diseases, must have called the attention of medical men to
a number of points in which different diseases correspond
with or differ from one another ; and thus have opened
up to them views of disease extending not only beyond
the consideration of individual cases but even beyond that
of particular diseases. Thus, when it was found that the
same individual symptom, such as quickness of pulse, head¬
ache, cough, vomiting, or purging, may occur in several
diseases, which in other respects differ very essentially from
one another, this observation would suggest an inquiry as
to the different conditions of the economy in which each
particular symptom of disease may occur ; and in this man¬
ner would be established a general doctrine in medical
science, having for its object to consider individual symp¬
toms of disease in all their various relations ; a department
of inquiry to which the names of Semeiology or Symptom¬
atology have been assigned.
Prognosis. Bo the friends of the sick it is naturally an object of great
anxiety, at as early a stage of their malady as possible, to
be able to anticipate its ultimate result as well as general
progress, and the more striking phenomena which it will
exhibit in its course: and the skill of the medical practi¬
tioner is in a great measure estimated by the bystanders,
according to the accuracy of his predictions on these sub¬
jects, or, as it has been termed, of his prognostics. To be
able particularly in the early periods of diseases, from the
contemplation of the present to anticipate the future, when to
the unpractised eye every thing seems involved in general
obscurity and doubt, has accordingly been at all times a very
favourite object with medical men ; and those who are ac¬
quainted with the writings of the father of medicine must
know how large a share of them is occupied in laying down
rules to guide the practitioner in the formation of his prog¬
nostics, principally founded on the results of his own extend¬
ed observation. No portions of his writings, indeed, more
fully justify, than those which relate to Prognosis, the elo¬
quent observation of M. Prunelle, that “ the works of Hip¬
pocrates present the most striking application of that philo¬
sophic method, which, creating axioms out of observations,
and transforming the results of particular facts into general
rules, furnishes the human mind with the most active in-
strument for perfecting the sciences.” The anticipations
ot the medical practitioner respecting the future progress
of individual cases of disease must, it may be remarked, be
Founded on the occurrence of particular single symptoms,
or of particular combinations of symptoms, and must be in¬
fluenced in many cases by the constitution of the individual Disease,
affected, or by the external circumstances to which he has -v——
been or is subjected, such as the prevailing atmospheric
constitution, or the character of the reigning epidemic.
It must soon have been found that it is not individual Nosology
symptoms only that are liable to occur in several different
diseases ; but that certain determinate combinations of
symptoms may be common to diseases which neverthe¬
less are marked as different from one another by the other
symptoms with which, in each of them, these common phe¬
nomena are combined. Such, for example, are the particular
groups of symptoms by which fevers, inflammations, haemorr-
hagies, dropsies, &c., are characterised, each class compre¬
hending a number of diseases, which all correspond to a certain
extent in the symptoms by which they are accompanied,
and at the same time all differ widely from one another in
other respects, according to the particular organ which may
be the more immediate seat of disease. The observation
of such general analogies or resemblances in the symptoms
of different diseases, and the employment of general terms
to designate them, would suggest to medical men the idea
of classing diseases in more or less numerous families or
groups, such as those which we have just named. Other
grounds of classification would be found in the resem¬
blances or differences of particular diseases in regard to
their general course and ultimate result, suggesting such
distinctions of diseases as those into acute and chronic,
continued and intermittent, mild and malignant, &c. It
has been, however, in comparatively recent times, that the
classification of diseases, combined with their nomencla¬
ture and definitions, has been erected into a separate de¬
partment of medical science under the title of Nosology.
In watching the various preternatural phenomena which Proximate
the several functions of the economy are liable to exhibit in causes."
the state of disease, medical men are naturally led to con¬
sider what the changes in the internal conditions of the cor¬
responding organs of the body can be, which give rise to
those deviations from the ordinary exercise of the functions,
that constitute the symptoms of diseases. The attempt to
ascertain the internal conditions of the economy on which
the externa] phenomena or symptoms of diseases depend,
or, in other w ords, to ascertain the Proximate Causes of dis¬
eases, though it has unquestionably involved medicine in much
unprofitable, or rather injurious speculation, is as legitimate
and necessary a subject of investigation as any other depart¬
ment of the science. It has been in the attempts of medi¬
cal men to arrive at extensive generalizations of the proxi¬
mate causes of diseases, whilst their observations w ere still
too imperfect and too inaccurate to serve as a foundation for
such attempts, that the various systems of medicine have had
their origin, which have at different times been proposed.
A very slight analysis of these various systems, would, we
believe, be sufficient to shew that however great may be the
diversity of opinion which they seem to embrace, they are
all founded upon a few leading assumptions which may per¬
haps be expressed in the following propositions :
1. T hat diseases depend upon morbid changes in the General
chemical composition of the different parts of the body, and theories of
particularly of its fluids. This principle forms a prominent disease.
f eature in the doctrine of the four humours entertained by
Hippocrates ; in that of salt, sulphur, and mercury, adopted
by Paracelsus; in that of ferments, suggested by Van
Helmont; in that of acid and alkali, maintained by Sylvi¬
us ; and of those other doctrines founded upon the more
accurate knowledge of chemical elements that has been ob¬
tained in modern times, which have been proposed by
Baumes and others.
2. That the physical conditions of the solids and fluids of
the body, furnish the proximate causes of diseases. This
has served as the principal groundwork for the doctrines of
the medico- or iatro-mathematicians, Borelli, Bellini, Bag-
Disease.
Hvi, &c. ',bnt it may be traced bade to a much earlier origin
— in the Methodic school ot medicine, founded on the cor¬
puscular or atomic system of philosophy; in the hypothesis
of Asclepiades respecting the dependence of disease on the
relative proportions of the pores and of the circulating
nuids; and in that of I hemison, who regarded all diseases
as depending on a lax or a strict condition of the solids of
the body.
3. That the primary agents in the production of morbid
phenomena are those peculiar vital powers different from the
physical and chemical properties of inorganic matter, with
which the living animal economy is endowed; sensibility, ir¬
ritability, and an influence supposed to be exercised by the
nervous system over the organs by which the natural and
vital functions are performed, which some have designated
animal power, cerebral action, or energy of the brain, and
others innervation or innervatory influence. Of this doc¬
trine Hoffmann seems first to have opened up the leading
principles. The researches of Haller and of Whytt, and
. e pathological speculations of Cullen and Bordeu, gave
it a still farther extension ; and in the hands of Brown it
received, what it has in some medical schools retained, the
form of an exclusive system.
4. That in addition to its known vital, and to its phy¬
sical and chemical properties, there is implanted in the ani¬
mal economy one great, superintending, independent pow¬
er or principle which regulates all its actions both in the
state oi health and of disease. Such has been supposed to
be the principle denominated nature or innate heat by Hip¬
pocrates ; pneuma, or spirit, by Athenaeus and the other
members of the Pneumatic school; archeus, by Paracelsus
and Van Helmont; and vital principle by Mr. Hunter in
this country, by M. Barthez in the school of Montpellier,
and by their respective followers.
It is not easy to say whether we ought to include under
the last of these assumptions the animistic doctrine of Stahl
or to consider it as resting upon a separate and fifth assump¬
tion, viz. that the phenomena of the human economy, in the
state both of health and of disease, are under the immedi¬
ate government or control of the soul. When the term soul
is employed as synonymous with the rational mind, as it
seems to be by Stahl, the animistic doctrine must obvious¬
ly be considered as distinct from all the other assumptions ;
but when the soul is spoken of as governing the functions
ot the body without the exercise of reason, the doctrine
seems to ally itself with the principles mentioned under our
fourth proposition.
R especting the different theories of disease, it may be re-
mai Led, that each of them has varied in its outline and de-
, ^ dlfferent periods, according to the general state of
knowledge and the prevailing system of philosophy. It must
be kept in recollection, also, that whilst in some systems
one of the assumptions above enumerated serves as the sole
basis or foundation of the doctrine, in other systems two or
more of them are combined. Thus Hippocrates united in
ms system the doctrine of nature or innate heat with that of
the four humours; Athenaeus that of the four elements with
tii e pneuma; Paracelsus that of the body being composed of
salt, sulphur, and mercury, with the doctrine of the archeus;
and Hoff mann the influence of the nervous system, with the
doctrines of the iatromathematicians. “ In reviewing,” says
Buffahm, “ the different theories or systems of pathology
that have successively prevailed during the long period that
has elapsed from the age of Hippocrates to our own time, we
cannot fail to be struck by two circumstances; the first, that
almost the whole of these systems are founded not on observa¬
tions relative to the animal economy, but for the most part
on the prevailing doctrines of the schools of philosophy;
the second, that all of them (perhaps without exception)
have had their origin in a very small number of fundamen¬
tal errors, which, from being differently clothed and adorn-
VOL. XIV.
MEDICINE.
521
ed, give the appearance of great variety, where in fact there Disease,
exists a great similarity, of opinions.” v. - y,,
The ancient systems of medicine are now very generally
regaraed as being so many attempts, founded on very par¬
tial and often erroneous observation, to reduce the whole
physiological and pathological phenomena of the economy
to a few primary principles; a simplification which it is
hopeless to expect to attain, at least till these phenomena
are much better understood separately, and in their rela¬
tions to one another, than can for a long period be expect¬
ed. The ^ more correct views that at present prevail re¬
specting the peculiar properties of animal bodies, for which
medical science is so much indebted to the labours of Hal¬
ler ; and the extended knowledge that has been obtained
respecting the morbid changes liable to occur in the physi¬
cal and chemical conditions of the solids and fluids of the
body, have certainly tended much to introduce a greater de¬
gree of precision than was formerly judged necessary, into
the notions which pathologists entertain relative to the proxi¬
mate causes of diseases.
It is in an order of advancement such as we have endea¬
voured now to trace, as having necessarily been followed by
the early cultivators of medicine in regard to the deviations
of the economy from its healthy condition; that is, in advanc¬
ing u om the consideration of individual cases to that of particu¬
lar diseases, and from these, again, to general views of disease,
that those must proceed who seek to improve the science
of pathology. But where the object is to convey to others
the results of the acquisitions that have already been made
in the knowledge of disease, the order that may be most
advantageously pursued is directly the reverse of this. Our
view of diseases should commence with explaining the gene¬
ral principles that have been established respecting morbid
structure and morbid function, considering each chano-e of
structure or function as constituting in itself a specific object
of investigation, in all its possible effects, and in all its pos¬
sible modes of production. It is in this way that we should
be prepared to enter on the consideration of those combin¬
ations of symptoms which constitute or rather which mark
particular diseases; to view each disease in respect of the
course which it runs, the symptoms which it exhibits in its
successive stages, and by which it is characterised and dis¬
tinguished from other particular diseases ; the nature and
seat of the morbid actions, and of the morbid alterations of
structure from which it may arise, or which it is liable to
produce ; and the circumstances which indicate a favourable
or unfavourable termination to it. With a knowledge of
particular diseases, in these various relations, such as is to be
acquiied from books and from lectures, the student is pre¬
pared for being conducted by an experienced practitioner
lo the bedsides of the sick, and for having his attention di-
rected to the phenomena of diseases as they present them¬
selves in individual cases.
. ^rom tlus sketch, slight and imperfect as it has been, it General
is apparent that the consideration of the economy in its dis-divisions of
eased states, or the department of pathology, presents itselfPatkology.
to the cultivator of medical science under three general as-
pects ; 1st, that of the general doctrines of morbid structure
and function, or general pathology, a branch of medical
science which, though too long kept in the back-ground in
the medical schools of this country, in consequence of its
having been associated, in the courses of instruction, with
other very interesting and very extensive departments, is
now beginning to vindicate its due share of attention ; 2d,
that of the history of particular diseases, nosography or spe¬
cial pathology ; and, 3d, that of the examination of indivi¬
dual cases of disease, or clinical medicine. And whilst the
business of the teacher commences where that of the origi-
nal investigator terminates, in the consideration of general
principles, it terminates where that of the original investigator
commences, in the investigation of individual cases of disease.
3 u
rm
ME D I CINE.
jEtiolcgy.
Morbific
causes.
III. Besides an acquaintance with the human economy
in its healthy and in its morbid conditions, we have said that
the science of Medicine includes an acquaintance with Mor¬
bific causes and Remedial powers. The advancement of
medical men in the knowledge of these two classes of agents,
and their modes of considering them respectively, must have
keptpace with their progress in the investigation of diseases.
1. Whilst the attention of the pathologist was confined
to the examination of individual cases of disease, he would
naturally be led to inquire into the morbific agents, single
or combined, by the operation of which each individual case
had been produced; and in like manner, in combining
groups of similar cases under general denominations, so as
to establish particular diseases, it would be noticed that
each disease, beside corresponding in the phenomena which
it presented to the observer, in the different individuals
in whom it occurred, also corresponded very generally in
respect of the cause or causes by which it had been excited.
On further investigation, however, it would be found that
different diseases may arise from the same cause, as that
rheumatism and pleurisy may both be produced by the ope¬
ration of cold; and that different causes may produce the
same disease, as that intense heat and intense cold may
equally excite inflammation and gangrene. Medical men
would then naturally be prompted to inquire what are the
circumstances of correspondence and difference among the
different causes of disease upon which it depends, that in
their operation on the economy, similarity or identity of
effect may arise from diversity of cause, or diversity of effect
from similarity or identity of cause; and a foundation would
thus be laid for the consideration of morbific causes, or what
is usually termed ^Etiology, as a general doctrine in medical
science.
It is the province of aetiology, therefore, to ascertain
what are the various powers that are capable of exer¬
cising an injurious influence on the human economy; to
arrange these powers according to the most commodious
classifications; to inquire into the channels through which
those of them that are exterior to the body find their way
into it; to ascertain upon what part of the constitution each
of them primarily acts; and what is the nature of the change
or changes in the economy, organic or functional, to which
each of them gives rise. The study of aetiology presents,
indeed, a very wide field of investigation; for there is scarcely
any agency in nature, material or mental (not excluding
even those agents by which, under ordinary circumstances,
the economy is maintained in a state of health, and those
by which it is restored from a morbid to a healthy condition)
that may not, under some circumstances or other, contri¬
bute directly or indirectly, immediately or more remotely, to
induce the state of disease.
Predispo- Independently of the material morbific agencies, physical,
sition to chemical, and vital, by which the human body is surrounded,
disease. an(l 0f the injurious influence which mental emotions may
exercise upon it, there are frequently inherent in its own
constitution, conditions that exert very important influences
in the production of diseases and in the determination of
their characters; conditions which, as marking deviations
from the healthy standard, might be in some degree regarded
as proximate causes of disease, but which, from the devia¬
tions being too slight, to manifest themselves by any symp¬
toms sufficiently characteristic of their existence, patholo¬
gists are wont to consider not as actual states of disease, but
only as predispositions to disease. It is to this head of pre¬
dispositions that medical men refer the diversities of tem¬
perament, constitution, or diathesis which different individu¬
als exbibit, and wbich appear in some instances to be born
with them, and in others to be acquired in the progress of life.
Remote As the pathologist regards the symptoms of diseases as
causes. the consequences or effects of deranged conditions of certain
portions of the economy, so he regards those morbid condi¬
tions in their turn, as the consequences or the effects of the Atiology.
operation of morbific agencies ; and as the term proxi-
mate causes is employed to designate the morbid condi¬
tions, structural or functional, which give rise to the symp¬
toms of diseases, so the term remote causes is used to denote
the agencies by which these morbid conditions or proxi¬
mate causes are themselves produced. The agency of the
remote in exciting the proximate causes of diseases, mtist
ever be a leading object of investigation to the scientific
physician ; since it is obvious that his power of arriving, in
particular instances, at a knowledge of the proximate cause of
a disease, must be materially aided, if, in addition to the
judgment which he forms as to its nature from a consider¬
ation of the existing symptoms, he can also form a judg¬
ment upon this subject from a consideration of the causes
by which it has been induced. Thus, for example, an ac¬
quaintance with the various effects which mental emotions
are liable to induce in the economy, frequently enables the
medical practitioner, (as in the case of affections of the heart),
to correct the judgments which, from a consideration of the
symptoms alone, he would be disposed to form of the nature
of the diseases with which his patients are afflicted.
The extent of the difficulties that are experienced in en¬
deavouring to trace the influence of morbific agents in induc¬
ing disease, may be inferred from the many points which, as
is well known even to unprofessional persons, are still mat¬
ters of doubt and controversy, relative to the origin or pro¬
duction, and to the diffusion or propagation of those two
morbific powers which have been denominated specific, viz.
terrestrial miasm or malaria, and human contagion. That
an acquaintance with the laws which regulate the operation
of the other agencies or influences that induce disease (the
general or common morbific causes) must be still more
difficult of attainment, may reasonably be presumed; since,
whilst each of the specific agents uniformly produces, when¬
ever its operates, one determinate or specific form of dis¬
ease, each of the common exciting causes, on the contrary,
may produce various forms of disease, according to the de¬
grees and combinations in which it is applied to the human
economy, and according to the particular circumstances in
which the economy may at the time exist.
The term Hygiene has long been used as synonymous with Hygiene,
the art of preserving health, to designate the consideration
of the means which ought to be employed for maintaining
the economy in a sound condition. It was justly remarked
by Dr. Cullen, however, that there is truly no other means
of preserving health, but what consists in the prevention of
diseases; and that this again can be effected only by the
avoidance of their exciting, or by the correction of their pre¬
disposing causes. /Etiology, as treating of the sources of
the exciting causes of diseases, and of their modes of action,
is the necessary foundation of that part of hygiene which
relates to their avoidance ; whilst the correction of predis¬
positions is really and truly, as Dr. Cullen observed, the re¬
moval of diseases ; and the means of accomplishing it are no
other than the remedies we employ in curing diseases, so
that they may with propriety be comprehended under the
title of therapeutics.
It is on the consideration of morbific agencies, as acting Medical
upon large masses of men, that Medical Statistics are found-statistics,
ed ; this branch of investigation having for its principal ob¬
ject to ascertain the influence which peculiarities of climate,
of diet, of occupation, &c., exercise on the populousness of
different regions; on the liability of mankind to disease; on
the characters of the maladies to which they are subject; and
on the age to which they attain. To a country like this,
holding such extensive colonial possessions in very different
quarters of the globe, and having its own population engaged
in so many kinds of employment, civil and military, agricul¬
tural, manufacturing, commercial, and maritime, medical-
statistical inquiries are both interesting and important.
MEDICINE.
Rertiedial
powers.
Remedies. 2. In considering the action of Remedial powers, the at¬
tention of medical men, it may be supposed, would first be
directed to the effects produced by particular remedies in
individual cases of disease. When they had advanced to
the recognition of particular diseases, they would be encour¬
aged to make use of those remedies which had proved be¬
neficial in one case, in the treatment of other cases of what
they regarded as the same disease; and lastly, when they
had formed some notions of the internal morbid conditions,
or proximate causes, on which different diseases depend, they
would extend the employment of those remedies which seem¬
ed to have assisted in removing a particular proximate cause
in one disease, to all diseases in which there seemed reason
to siispect the existence of similar pathological conditions.
The measures which are in use for the prevention, cure,
or alleviation of diseases, may be referred to three heads :
First, those which relate to the management or regulation
of those circumstances that are included under the head of
regimen, such as the diet of the sick, the temperature and
other qualities of the atmosphere in which they live, their
clothing, and their exercise, bodily and mental,—compre¬
hending, obviously, what used, in the language of the schools,
to be called the non-naturals ; second, the various operations
requiring manual skill or dexterity, which it is necessary to
perform for the relief either of internal or external diseases,
such as the application of bandages, the operation of blood¬
letting, &c.; and, third, those substances which by experi¬
ence have been found, when introduced into the system, to
exert some influence on the economy that tends to restore
it from some one of its diseased states to a healthy condi¬
tion ; as, for example, those substances which remove spasm
and allay pain, (anti-spasmodic and narcotic medicines, as
they are termed), and those which increase the alvine or
the urinary evacuations, either when the action of the organs
by which these evacuations are effected is deficient, and it
is desired to restore them to their natural vigour, or when it
is wished to increase their activity beyond its ordinary de¬
gree, laxative or purgative, and diuretic medicines.
An acquaintance w ith the substances which exercise bene¬
ficial influences on the diseased economy is obviously of es¬
sential necessity to the practitioner of physic. Of these sub¬
stances some are derived from the vegetable, others from the
mineral, and a few from the animal kingdom; and hence
arises, in part at least, the importance to the medical prac¬
titioner of being acquainted with the sciences which treat of
these several departments of natural history. But whilst some
medicinal substances are employed as they exist in nature,
or after undergoing some slight and unimportant manipula¬
tion, others can be obtained only by long and elaborate pro¬
cesses, many of them involving a knowledge of the principles
of chemical science ; and here again we see, in part at least,
the cause why chemistry, since its earliest dawnings,has been
regarded as essentially allied to medical science. “Every
substance, as was observed by the late Dr. A. Duncan, jun.,
“ employed in the cure of diseases, whether in its natural
state, or after having undergone various preparations, belongs
to the materia medica, in the extended acceptation of the
wrords. But in most pharmacopoeias the materia medica is
confined to simples, and to those preparations which are sel¬
dom prepared by the apothecary himself, but commonly pur¬
chased by him, as articles of commerce, from druggists and
chemical manufacturers.” It is the province of Pharmacy
to consider the preparation which medicinal substances re¬
quire in order to fit them for the purposes of the medical
practitioner; whether these changes shall be of a mechanical
or chemical nature; whilst the consideration of the effects
which medicines and other remedies are capable of produc¬
ing on the different systems and organs of the economy,
constitutes that department of medical science usually deno¬
minated general Therapeutics. All these various kinds of
knowledge relative to medicines, their natural history, their
523
pharmaceutical preparation, and their therapeutical powers, Remedies,
it has been by some proposed to include under the general '
title of Pharmacology.
The improvements that have been made, or that remain Sources of
to be made, in the department of materia medica, may con-improve-
sist either in making additions to, or subtractions from, thement in the
number of substances employed for medical purposes. Ad-kmnvledge
ditions may be made to the number of medicines either °freniedi<iS
from the discovery in substances already known, of powers
or virtues which they were not known to possess, or from
the discovery of entirely new substances possessing the¬
rapeutical powers. The baneful influence of spurred rye
in producing gangrene has been long known, but it is only
of late that attention has been particularly called to the
power which that substance is by some alleged to possess of
exciting the contraction of the muscular fibres of the uterus.
Ihe noxious influence of the different acetates of lead, w hen
internally administered, has likewise been long known, and
particularly their effect in exciting colicky pains, but it is of
late only that their influence in suppressing excessive intes¬
tinal evacuations, and in restraining haemorrhages, has par¬
ticularly attracted the attention of medical men. Iodine,
on the other hand, may be mentioned as an instance of a sub¬
stance which within a short time after its discovery, acquired
a high character in the estimation of many practitioners, for
its therapeutical virtues. The history of the croton oil, the
powerful action of which upon the intestinal canal is now fami¬
liar to every one, affords a remarkable example of a medicine
the knowledge of the powers of which has been very slowly
diffused among medical practitioners. It would appear that the
seeds of the croton tiglium have been in use among the na¬
tives of the East from time immemorial, and that they were
formerly known in Europe as a drastic purgative, under the
name of grana molucca or grana tiglii. They had fallen,
however, into oblivion, when the attention of the profession
was again called to them by the observations in Sir White-
law Ainslie’s Materia Medica of Hindostan, that gentle¬
man having been induced to point out this medicine to the
particular notice of the medical men of India, from find¬
ing that it was highly prized by the Hindoo doctors, and ex¬
tolled in various sastrums or professional tracts. It appears,
moreover, that the oil, in which the purgative virtue resides,
was first prepared and used in medicine by the Dutch sur¬
geons in India, about a century ago, a single drop taken in
Canary wine being employed as a common purgative. It
is only, however, within these few years that the use of the
croton oil has been introduced into Europe.
The difficulty that is experienced in arriving at a sound
judgment with regard to the medicinal powers of the reme¬
dies which every now and then are obtruded on public
notice, with lofty and but too often exaggerated panegyrics,
renders it very necessary to rid the pharmacopoeia from time
to time of inert and useless substances. The expulsion from
our pharmacopoeias of a great many substances of this de¬
scription within the last century, and the much greater de¬
gree of reserve with which new substances are admitted into
them, than was formerly practised, afford a gratifying proof
of the steady advancement of correct discrimination in this
department of medical science.
The progress which has recently been made in chemical
knowledge has contributed very materially to improve the
department of pharmacy. This improvement is particularly
conspicuous in the preparation of vegetable medicinal sub¬
stances. Ihe employment of steam instead of fire in the
preparation of vegetable extracts, presents an elegant though
simple illustration of a pharmaceutical process improved
upon chemical principles. The separation from many vege¬
table substances of the principles on which their medicinal
virtues depend, so as to allow of these being administered
free from a quantity of useless and possibly hurtful matter,
(as the separation, for example, of quinine from bark), affords
MEDICINE.
524
Remedies, an illustration of a still more elaborate and not less import-
ant application of chemistry to pharmaceutical science.
If it be reasonable to expect that medical men are to be
aided in the treatment of diseases by an improved know¬
ledge of their nature, therapeutics cannot fail to derive be¬
nefit from every advancement that is made in pathological
science, and particularly in the knowledge of the proximate
causes of diseases. But the action of remedies in restoring
health is so dependent upon, and so mixed up with, the nat¬
ural or spontaneous operations of the economy, as to ren¬
der it at all times a matter of the utmost difficulty, for the
most careful and candid observer, to determine or even con¬
jecture what part of the result is attributable to the one,
and what to the other of these joint influences. It must be
confessed, indeed, that we are still far from knowing what
nature accomplishes in different diseases by her own unas¬
sisted efforts towards the restoration of the diseased body to
a sound or healthy condition ; what she accomplishes when
judiciously assisted by medical art; and what she does not
effect either singly or with all the aid that medicine is able to
render her. These are the great problems in therapeutics, for
the solution of which it must be the main object of scientific
practitioners to furnish the necessary materials. There can
be no doubt that morbid anatomy, by the light which it has
thrown upon the proximate causes of diseases, has contributed
very much to correct and extend the views of medical men as
to what is curable and what is incurable in disease, as well as to
guide them in forming their therapeutical indications. Thus,
it may be remarked, that to the success of medical practice,
nothing is more important than the power of discriminating
when a stimulant or repleting, and when an antiphlogistic or
depleting mode of treatment ought to be pursued. The
knowledge that has been obtained, by means of dissections,
of the circumstances under which inflammatory affections
are liable to develope themselves in the different organs
and textures of the body, in the progress of various diseases
in which their occurrence is apt to be overlooked, has been
of great use in assisting medical men to discriminate the
cases in which these two plans of treatment are respective¬
ly to be preferred.
Specifics. In reference to the progress and present state of thera¬
peutical science, it deserves to be noticed, that in proportion
as medical men have become better acquainted with the
operations of the economy in its healthy and morbid condi¬
tions, the number of medicinal agents reputed to be possessed
of specific therapeutical powers, that is, to be capable of
exercising a beneficial influence in curing particular dis¬
eases, without any external manifestation of their immediate
mode of operation, on which their beneficial influence may
be supposed to depend, has gradually diminished. This
may be attributed, perhaps, in part to medical men having
been able to ascertain the particular actions which these
supposed specific medicines exert upon the economy; and
partly to their being less credulous in admitting the efficacy
of remedies, of whose mode of operation they are unable
to form any conception.
Accessory Such is a slight view of the three departments into which
sciences, we have said that medical science admits of being divided;
—that which considers the human economy in tlie state of
health ; that which considers the same economy as affected
with disease, and that which investigates the pov/ers or
agents by which health may be banished and disease pro¬
duced, or on the other hand, disease dispelled and health re¬
stored. But besides those branches of knowledge that are
to be regarded as more strictly medical, there are others, an
acquaintance with the principles of which is most important
or even essential to the cultivator of scientific Medicine. It
is to these that the well-know n observation of Celsus is applic¬
able, “ Quanquam multa sint ad ipsam artemproprienon per-
tinentia} tamen earn adjuvant, excitando artificis ingenium:
itaque ista quoque naturae rerum contemplatio, quamvis non Accessory
faciat medicum, aptiorem tamen medicinae reddit.” Amongst sciences,
the sciences auxiliary or accessory to medicine may be just-
ly reckoned natural or mechanical philosophy, chemistry,
and natural history.
A knowledge of mechanical philosophy is indispensible to Mechani.
a right understanding of the actions of several of the organs cal philoso-
of the body in the state of health, and consequently of se-P*1?-
veral of the deviations from the healthy state to which these
organs are liable in disease ; and this knowledge is neces¬
sary also to the right comprehension of the action of several
external agents upon the body, both in the state of health
and of disease.
Though the higher phenomena of the human body arise
from its being endowed like the bodies of other animals with
peculiar vital properties, and from its being associated with
a rational mind, yet it must still be regarded as a piece of me¬
chanism of the nicest and most elaborate construction; and
it is impossible to arrive at correct or enlarged notions with
regard to its structure without possessing an adequate know¬
ledge of the principles of mechanics. Hence it is, indeed, that
the language of anatomy is replete with terms derived from
mechanical science. The study of animal mechanics, or what
may be termed structural physiology, that is, the consider¬
ation of the mechanical contrivances discoverable in the
construction of the different parts of the body, a branch
w hich furnishes so ample a field of illustration to the student
of natural theology, essentially requires to be combined
with the study of anatomy; since without it the latter would
be only a dull and uninteresting record of names, forms and
dimensions. Thus, for example, to give an interest to the
study of that extensive portion of the animal frame which
is subservient to voluntary motion, it is essential that each
muscle, bone and joint should be considered in its mechani¬
cal relations : and nothing certainly can be more calculated
to excite admiration than, in contemplating the arrange¬
ments of these parts in reference to the properties of
the lever, as constituting respectively the moving power,
the resistance and the fulcrum, to become sensible of the
advantages that are obtained in respect of elegance of form
and rapidity of movement, by the sacrifice of a portion of
that force with which the muscular fibres have been so
largely endowed.
It would be easy to adduce many illustrations to shew
how essential a knowledge of mechanical principles is to the
comprehension of the vital and natural functions of the ani¬
mal economy. The inquiry as to what the powers are by
which the blood is moved through the body, is one which
cannot be properly prosecuted w ithout an acquaintance with
the laws of hydraulics. It is to the too frequent ignorance
on the part of physiologists, of the principles of mechanical
science, that must be attributed much of the doubt which still
prevails on many points relative to the function of circulation,
and particularly as to whether the motion of the blood de¬
pends wholly upon the propelling powers of the organs within
which it is immediately contained, or with whiefi these are
themselves surrounded; or whether it be not partly attribut¬
able to the pressure of the atmospheric air over the whole sur¬
face of the body, acting in co-operation with the production of
a vacuum at the central organ of circulation. From finding
themselves unable to refer all the various motions that are ob¬
served to occur in the solid and fluid parts of animal bodies, to
the known properties of inorganic matter or of organic struc¬
ture, some physiologists have been led to imagine that there
exists in these bodies a secret or unknown principle cap¬
able of giving rise to various physical motions, as well as of
producing other phenomena, in the economy; and to this
principle they have given the name of the vital power. It
seems reasonable, however, to hope that in proportion as we
shall obtain a more precise knowledge of the motions that
actually occur in animal bodies, and of the principles or
M E D I
Accessory sources of motion that are in operation throughout organ-
sciences^ ise(j aricl unorganised nature, the occasion will cease for em-
• ploying this ambiguous and uninstructive term. It is pro¬
per indeed to keep in mind that within no very great length
of time, several different kinds of motions occurring in in¬
organic bodies have been brought to light, which probably
exercise considerable influence on the functions of organis¬
ed beings. To these may be referred the motions perform¬
ed by extremely minute particles of solid matter, whether
obtained from organic or inorganic substances, when sus¬
pended in pure water or in some other aqueous fluids ; and
which from their irregularity and seeming independence,
resemble in a remarkable degree the less rapid motions of
some of the simplest animalcules of infusions. We have
another example of a recently discovered principle of mo¬
tion in endosmosis and exosmosis, or that power or proper¬
ty in virtue of wdtich there takes place a reciprocal trans¬
mission through all organic membranes and some inorganic
laminae, of fluids which are in contact with their opposite
surfaces, and which differ from one another in certain phy¬
sical conditions. An analogous principle of motion has also
been found to operate in the case of gases and to regulate
their diffusion. It would be out of place to inquire here
what particular phenomena in the animal economy have re¬
ceived, or may receive, elucidation from these or other
sources of physical motion of which we have recently arriv¬
ed at the knowledge. But it is obvious, that besides these,
there may be yet undiscovered sources of physical motion,
operating in the production of those phenomena in the eco¬
nomy of living beings, which physiologists, from not being
able to refer them to any of the known sources of motion,
have been wont to regard as the effects of a peculiar vital
principle.
There are many problems in pathology also, for the so¬
lution of which-it is absolutely necessary to appeal to the
principles of mechanical science. Thus it has been of late
only that pathologists have sufficiently turned their atten¬
tion to the physical considerations wThich it is necessary to
keep in view in any explanation that may be attempted of
the conditions of the encephalon, (that is, of the brain and
the solids and fluids connected with it), upon which the pro¬
duction of coma or insensibility depends, viz. first, the un¬
yielding nature of the cranium, or bony case of the ence¬
phalon ; second, the exemption of the encephalon, so long
as its bony case remains entire, from the pressure of the at¬
mosphere, except in one direction, the aperture at the base
of the skull, through which the spinal marrow passes; and
third, the impossibility of the entire encephalon or any of
its parts, undergoing a sensible degree of compression from
any force to which they can be subjected during the con¬
tinuance of life. Again, in surgical pathology, we have an
illustration of the benefits to be derived from a knowledge
of mechanical principles, in the light which they have thrown
upon the variations in the effects produced by penetrating
wounds of the chest, according to the proportion between
the size of the wound and of the aperture of the glottis ; and
according as the substance of the lungs has or has not itself
been injured, so as to allow of air passing from the res¬
piratory cells into the cavity of the pleura. Those who
require more immediate illustrations of the applicability
of mechanical science, to practical purposes in the removal
of disease, may find many such in the contrivance and ap¬
plication of surgical instruments and apparatus. The ad¬
vantages to be derived in many diseases from the observance
Oi the horizontal posture, and from bandaging, simple as
these means appear, would probably be more duly appreciated
than they are, were medical men more in the habit of consid¬
ering the physical influences to which the body is subjected.
Chemistry. Of the applicability of chemistry to the several branches
of medical science, notice has been taken in speaking of each
of these branches successively. We need not repeat how
CINE. 525
important an acquaintance with chemistry is to the practi- Accessory
tioner of pharmacy. The anatomist derives assistance from sciences.
chemistry in the prosecution of his researches. The physi-  '
ologist finds that many of the phenomena occurring in the
animal economy depend on processes of combination and
decomposition; and are as strictly of a chemical nature as
any which are conducted in the laboratory of the chemist on
unorganized substances. The pathologist has learned that
from various circumstances these chemical processes are li¬
able to be deranged, so that the products are different from
what they should be ; and the therapeutist has hence been
led to enquire what are the appropriate remedies by the ad¬
ministration of which the natural composition of the products
may be restored. From the light which has been already
derived from this branch of science, since it was first applied
to the investigation of the phenomena of the animal econo¬
my in health and disease, we are warranted in anticipating
that it will still powerfully contribute to elucidate many
points in medicine which are at present involved in obscuri¬
ty. “ The imperfection of pathological chemistry/’ says M.
Prunelle, “obliges us to refer to the vital forces, a host of
diseases which necessarily depend on lesions of mixture. A
great number of physiological and pathological phenomena
which we consider at present as dependent upon the vital
forces, will pass under the domain of the chemical and the
organic forces, in proportion as the laws of these forces shall
be better known and more generalised.”
With regard to the applicability of a knowledge of natu- Natural
ral history to purposes of medical science, it may be remark-history,
ed, that whether we consider the human economy in the
state of health or of disease, or turn our attention to the
operation which morbific or therapeutic agents exert upon
it; in each department important aid may be derived from
an acquaintance with the three kingdoms of nature.
How much assistance we receive in attaining an accurate Animal
knowledge of the structure and functions of the human kingdom,
body, from tracing through the successive series of animals,
the instruments that are subservient to their several func¬
tions, and the manner in which these function!? are exercised,
there has already been occasion to remark. It seems rea¬
sonable to expect, that as the study of the lower animals
has contributed to improve our knowledge of the anatomy
and physiology of man, so, in like manner, much benefit
should accrue to pathology from similar comparative inves¬
tigations. Morbid anatomy, for example, ought certainly
to be prosecuted to much advantage in the inferior animals,
not only from the parts being, in some cases at least, upon a
larger scale, but from our having an opportunity, by putting
the animals to death, to trace the effects which the action
of different morbific causes produces upon the structui'e of
their different textures and organs ; as well as to examine
the changes which diseases induce in the successive stages
of their progress. The experiments and observations that
have been made with regard to the development and pro¬
gress of cysts and tubercles in the lungs and other organs of
some of the lower animals, besides suggesting some inter¬
esting views respecting the series of changes that occur in
morbid structures, have given rise to important considera¬
tions respecting the circumstances under which these mor¬
bid changes of structure are most liable to take place. The
liability of animals kept in confinement to undergo diseases
from which they are exempt, or to which they are less sub¬
ject in their natural condition, suggests another hint that
may prove serviceable in the study of morbific causes. A
very direct source of interest in veterinary medicine arises
to the physician, from the fact that some of the diseases
depending on specific contagions, to which the lower ani¬
mals are liable, are capable of being communicated to the
human subject. It is to the observation of a fact of this
kind that we are indebted for that most invaluable dis¬
covery, the protection against small-pox afforded by having
526
M E D I C I N E.
Accessory passed through a disease which, whatever may be its pri-
Sdeuces. mary source, is best known as occurring upon the udder of
Y the cow. The other diseases which are liable to be propa¬
gated from brute animals to the human species, such as hy¬
drophobia, glanders, pustule maligne, &c., we know only
by the injurious effects which they produce.
From the correspondence of many of the diseases of the
lower animals with those of man, it seems obvious that ani¬
mals may be made the subjects of therapeutical as well as
of physiological and of pathological experiments. The use
of the cautery, for example, particularly in diseases of the
joints, has probably been advanced in surgical practice
from the experience which veterinary surgeons have ob¬
tained of the beneficial effects offiring upon the horse.
It may be remarked too, that whilst a large portion of
the animal kingdom is rendered subservient to mankind in
the way of food, and a few animals supply remedial agents,
there is a considerable number which produce, in various
ways, noxious or poisonous effects upon the economy. Cer¬
tain animals secrete, when in the state of health, noxious
fluids which serve them as means of attack and of defence,
on account of which power they are designated under the
common name of venomous animals. These animals, of
which the mammalia and birds do not present any species,
are found principally among the serpents, insects, and zoo¬
phytes. It has been alleged that some fishes also are cap¬
able of communicating a venomous character to the wounds
which they inflict with their prickles. But fishes and some
species of mollusca are better known for their poisonous
qualities when employed as articles of food. Of poisonous
Ashes, again, there are some which are essentially poison¬
ous, that is to say, they are so at all times, although they
are not distinguished by any anatomical character from those
which are most salubrious; whilst other fishes which are in
general more or less healthful and agreeable as articles of
food, become hurtful only accidentally ; whether their noxi¬
ous character then depends, as some have supposed, upon
the season, or, as others have imagined, upon their having
made use of a particular kind of nourishment; or, as others
again have conjectured, is attributable to a particular mor¬
bid state, and the consequent formation of a poison suigen¬
eris, that is diffused over the whole substance of the animal.
It is sufficiently obvious that for the acquisition and exten¬
sion of this species of knowledge, and for the power of turn¬
ing it to account in the different circumstances in which
they may be placed, medical men must be dependent on an
acquaintance with zoology.
Vegetable The most important benefit, certainly, which medicine
Kingdom, derives from the knowledge of the vegetable kingdom is in
relation to the purposes of the materia medica, and to the
investigation of poisons. Botany, however, is not without
its use in the elucidation of the functions of the animal eco¬
nomy. In plants we have an opportunity of witnessing the
performance of two classes of functions, those essential to
the preservation of the individual, and those necessary for
the continuance of the species, under the most simple con¬
ditions in which they can be executed. And, independent¬
ly of any resemblances that might be traced in the functions
ot circulation and secretion as performed by plants and by
animals, those which have been ascertained to exist between
the chemical processes attendant upon germination and
vegetation in plants and on respiration in animals, afford a
very interesting analogy between the operations of these
two classes of organised beings.
The benefits to be derived in scientific medicine, from
the investigation of the inorganic kingdom of nature, are not
less than those which result, as we have endeavoured to
shew, fiom the study of the other two kingdoms. The
connection between epidemic diseases and particular kinds
of weather, whether as occurring regularly at particular
periods of the year, or as varying in different years without
Mineral
Kinudom
any fixed rules, is a subject of medical consideration which Practice.
may be expected to receive some light from the science of   1
meteorology. The influence of climate upon the human
economy, and particularly in the production, modification,
and removal of diseases, confers a great share of importance
on the investigation of all those circumstances upon which
the character of a climate depends; the atmosphere, the
soil, and the waters which flow from it, or with which it may
be surrounded. A knowledge of the principles of meteo-
rology and of geology is essential therefore to any correct
views of Medical Topography.
The fascination exercised over many minds by those vari¬
ous branches of natural knowledge, which we have here
represented as the auxiliary sciences of medicine, have led
some to regard with much jealousy, invitations or recommen¬
dations to medical men to engage in their study. This
jealousy, however, seems to arise from a total misconcep¬
tion as to the manner in which they ought to be prosecuted
when considered as branches of a medical education. To ac¬
quire a knowledge of the details of any one of them is pro¬
bably sufficient to occupy the time of a person of ordinary
application; and would consequently be to most persons
inconsistent with the prosecution of studies of a more strict¬
ly medical character. But without the sacrifice of any
knowledge essential to his profession, a medical man may
attain a competent acquaintance with the general principles
of these auxiliary sciences sufficient to enable him to under¬
stand their bearings upon medicine. In possessing a know¬
ledge of these principles, he holds an instrument in his hand
by which he may be able to work out any part of the de¬
tails of these sciences that may seem capable of throwing
light upon any point of medical doctrine or practice to w hich
his attention may happen to be particularly called. To the
extent that we have hinted, therefore, a medical education
cannot be considered as complete which does not compre¬
hend an acquaintance with these several auxiliary sciences.
“ It is not possible,” says an intelligent author, whose country
is apparent from his illustrations, “ that a medical man
should know botany like De Jussieu or Richard; chemistry
like Vauquelin, Thenard, and Bouillon La Grange ; physics
like Biot and Gay-Lussac ; mineralogy like Haiiy ; and
natural history like Cuvier and Dumeril: but a knowledge
of the elements of these sciences is indispensable to him ;
and immense as is the domain of medicine alone, he may
very well, if he chooses, find time to make some excursions
on neighbouring territories.”
In the exercise of Medicine as a practical art, the second Medicine
point of view in which we have said it must be considered, as an art.
three branches of the profession independently of pharmacy Slirgery
or the preparation of medicinal substances, have long been and PhLsic
recognised; surgery, physic, and midwifery. To the do¬
main ot Surgery have been referred, besides injuries pro¬
duced by agents operating on the external surface of the
body, those diseases which, in addition to the ordinary means
of cure, require the assistance of the hand, and are thence
calledchirurgical or surgical diseases ; and to that of Physic,
those diseases which may be cured, without the employ¬
ment of manual operation. An attempt has been made to
identify this division of diseases into surgical and medical,
with those into local and constitutional, and into external
and internal diseases. But it must always be remembered
that the different textures, systems, and organs of which
the human body is composed, are arranged so as to form an
entire whole, the various parts of which act on, and are re¬
ciprocally acted on by one another. Although, therefore,
some morbid affections occurring on particular parts of the
external surface of the body, and consequently regarded as
surgical, may produce no disturbance of the general econo¬
my, or attended with constitutional symptoms too slight for
observation, yet there are external or local diseases which
MEDICINE.
Practice, often produce constitutional effects of the most alarming and
'—'v'—"' fatal nature. Symptomatic and hectic fever, locked-jaw,
convulsions, and epilepsy, maybe mentioned as some of the
more remarkable constitutional affections which are pro¬
duced by the action of local diseases. And on the other
hand, internal and constitutional diseases, which are con¬
sequently regarded as falling under the province of the phy¬
sician, occasionally become attended in their progress with
external or local affections requiring surgical interference;
as when abscesses occur in the progress of fever, or fistula
in the progress of consumption; or when pleurisy terminates
in empyema, or disease of the liver in ascites or cedema. “ It
is in the knowledge of these and of similar diseases, that the
boundaries which divide physic from surgery meet and are
lost in each other; for whatever distinctions convenience
or custom may have introduced among the practitioners of
the healing art, there is no foundation for these distinctions
either in the nature of diseases, or in the knowledge that
every medical practitioner should possess of the appear¬
ances which different diseases exhibit, and of the means
by which they are to be removed. Division of labour may,
indeed, in medicine as in the other practical arts of life, be
attended with many advantages to society ; but in learning
and in teaching the elements of physic and of surgery, it
must never be forgotten that they are branches of the same
art, have had the same origin, are governed by the same
principles, and pursue entirely the same object.” It is not,
indeed, in the kind or in the extent of their knowledge, that
the physician and surgeon of die present day are to be dis¬
tinguished ; but in the latter’s being possessed of, and ac¬
customed to exercise those powers of head and hand upon
which the skilful performance of difficult or dangerous oper¬
ations must depend.
No topic ever gave rise to more acrimonious controver¬
sies, than the question as to the necessity or expediency of
physic and surgery being practised as separate and distinct
professions; and, where such a separation has been made,
as to the proper relation of the practitioners of these pro¬
fessions, to one another. But, whilst the practitioners have
been engaged in discussing, the public has settled the mat¬
ter on its own judgment, and in the manner best suited for
its own convenience. Every thing seems to intimate that at
the present day there exists a strong disposition on the part
of a large portion of the public, to entrust the charge of their
health, and of that of their families, under whatever kind of
malady they may suffer, to some one practitioner in particu¬
lar ; and in the event of there appearing obscurity, or reason
for apprehension in the complaint, then to avail themselves
of the additional advice or assistance of some person or per¬
sons supposed to have directed their attention in a particu¬
lar degree to cases of a similar description. Accordingly,
it is only in cities that are the residence or the resort of
large numbers of people, that any medical men can attempt
to confine their practice to the treatment of medical or sur¬
gical cases exclusively; and even in such situations, the
great bulk of practitioners must, like their brethren in small¬
er towns and rural districts, to a greater or less degree, com¬
bine the exercise of all branches of practice. It is by hav¬
ing sagaciously perceived, and judiciously availed themselves
of this disposition on the part of the public, that the apo-
thecaries of England have obtained so extensive and firm a
footing in medical practice in that country.
Midwifery Under the department of Midwifery, is included every
thing connected with the process of child-bearing, and the
diseases to which women are subject, both during gesta¬
tion and after parturition: and as the class of practition¬
er who occupy themselves especially with the practice of
midwifery, are favourably circumstanced for becoming ac¬
quainted with those diseases peculiar to women, which are
unconnected with child-bearing, as well as with the dis¬
eases of infants j it has become usual to include these dis-
527
eases also in systematic views of this department of medical Practice,
practice.
It is satisfactory to find that the medical corporations of
this country have at last extended the right hand of fellow¬
ship to the practitioners of midwifery. Nothing, indeed,
could be more ridiculous than the grounds upon which they
have hitherto held its exercise to be a disqualification for
corporate association. If there be any class of practitioners,
of whom, more than another, it is desirable that to great
practical skill, and to an extended acquaintance with all de¬
partments of medical science, they should unite the great¬
est delicacy of feeling, and refinement of manners, it cer¬
tainly must be those engaged in this branch of the profes¬
sion. ^ It would be strange, therefore, if the public, for the
gratification of some absurd notion of professional etiquette
relative to manual operation, were to sanction with its ap¬
probation the affixing a stigma to a profession in which such
qualifications are desirable.
In reference to medical practice considered as an objectMedicalie-
of legislative regulation, it may not be out of place to re- gelation,
mark here, that there are two principal modes in which le¬
gislatures have endeavotired to improve the profession of
medicine. The first of these has been by making arrange¬
ments for the conferring of distinctions upon persons, who,
from the education they have received, and the examina¬
tions tney have undergone, may be considered as competent
to exercise the different branches of the art. The second
mode, and that which it has hitherto been the great object
of all plans of medical reform in this country to enforce, has
been the suppression of unlicensed and incompetent prac¬
titioners, by penal enactments. That the pointing out the
competent is a just and expedient interference on the part
of the legislature, does not seem to admit of doubt. But
the suppression of the incompetent seems not only question¬
able in respect of justice, but incapable of being enforced in
a country politically constituted like this, so long as there ex¬
ists a taste for quackery in the public mind. It is as regards
the employer rather than the employed, that the justice of
this interference may be doubted; for there seems no good
reason why, if a person prefers the doctor of nature, as the
quack is supposed to be, to the doctor of the schools, the le¬
gislature should control him in his choice. It has usually
been pretended, indeed, that the object of such enactments
has been the protection of the poor and the ignorant against
the unskilful. But the exception generally made in favour of
gratuitous practice, suggests a doubt whether those at whose
instigation the legislature has sanctioned such enactments,
may not have been influenced in demanding them by other
less ostensible motives. Experience seems to have shewn
that the prosecution of quacks, particularly when this has
been conducted at the instance of medical corporations, so
far from suppressing has rather had a tendency to strengthen
the public taste for quackery. The only mode in which it
can be expected that this taste will be overcome, is by dis¬
seminating among the community sound views of health,
disease, and remedies, so as to enable them to appreciate the
pretensions of those who profess to accomplish things which
it requires only a little information to know to be impossi¬
bilities. So long, however, as the taste shall continue to
prevail, it is surely much better that it should find vent in
the employment of professed quacks, than be directed to
the corruption, we would say prostitution, of regular prac¬
titioners. The legitimate means by which unlicensed prac¬
titioners may be discouraged by the legislature, are, first,
their not being allowed to hold public appointments ; se-
cond, their having no legal claim to remuneration; and, third,
their being punished in case of their assuming a title which
they liave not legitimately acquired. Further than these
measures, it is not to the legislature that the medical pro¬
fession should look for assistance in suppressing quackery
and quacks.
528 MEDICINE.
Practice. It is impossible to allude to the interference of the legis-
]a‘ure in matters relating to medical education and prac¬
tice, without congratulating the medical profession and the
public in general, on the very full inquiry recently instituted
into these subjects under the authority of the House of Com¬
mons. The number of contending interests, real or sup¬
posed, requiring to be consulted, and the jealousy felt by
some of the parties, of undue partialities being entertained
in influential quarters, in favour of their competitors, ren¬
dered it proper to receive a mass of oral and written evi¬
dence of so great extent that some time has necessarily been
consumed in its digestion. We venture to hope that the in¬
telligent and indefatigable chairman of the committee, (to
whose extraordinary perseverance in expiscating informa¬
tion, and patience in receiving what was offered, we have
much pleasure in bearing our humble testimony,) will ere
long propose a system of medical legislation in which the
principles shall be fully recognised, that whatever distinc¬
tions or divisions, political or medical, may formerly have
existed, or there may still in some minds be the wish to
maintain, the different branches of medicine form only one
science, and the different parts of the British dominions only
one empire.
Medicalju- ^le intercourse of society, many questions arise which,
risprudence though not bearing immediately on the treatment of dis¬
eases, are yet so connected with the consideration of the
human economy in its healthy or diseased states, that the
advice and opinions of medical men are very frequently re¬
quired respecting them. Of these, some relate to the means
of detecting crimes ; others to the capability of individuals
for discharging the social or civil functions of life ; others
to the means of preserving the public health, and so forth.
It is the object of Medical Jurisprudence to explain at least
the general principles by which medical men should be
guided in forming their opinions on the particular points
that may be referred to their decision. For the proper cul¬
tivation of this branch of study, there is no single depart¬
ment of medical science a knowledge of which is not ne¬
cessary. Chemistry, materia medica and pharmacy, an¬
atomy and physiology, surgery, physic and midwifery, must
all contribute their several lights for the elucidation of many
of those medico-legal questions on which the medical man
is called to pronounce a judgment; and we have but too
often reason to lament the deep and painful obscurity in
which, notwithstanding all possible assistances, many of these
questions are still left involved.
No branch of medical jurisprudence has made more rapid
progress than that which relates to the power of detecting,
by chemical reagents, the presence of poisonous substan¬
ces, not only in the various media in which they may be
administered, but also subsequently to their introduction
into the body, and their diffusion through its different fluid
and solid parts. But whilst toxicology, or the considera¬
tion of poisons, has been thus greatly advanced by the im¬
provement and extension of chemical knowledge, it has
likewise received most important contributions from branches
more strictly medical. The symptoms to which poisons
give rise during life, and the changes which they produce
upon the surfaces with which they come immediately in con¬
tact, as well as on more remote organs, and which are dis¬
coverable after death, have been investigated with great at¬
tention, with a view to their discrimination from similar
symptoms and changes occurring as consequences of disease.
Morbid anatomy has rendered important services to medi¬
cal jurisprudence by directing attention to those appear¬
ances in the different textures and organs of the body,
which are the consequences of changes occurring subse¬
quently to death or immediately previously to it, and by
teaching medical men to distinguish these pseudo-morbid
appearances from those that are the genuine products of
disease, or or injury inflicted during life.
To surgery medical jurisprudence looks for a determina- Practice,
tion as to the amount of external violence of different kinds “v—JI
by which death may be occasioned; and particularly for
ascertaining the circumstances upon which it may depend,
that injuries apparently trivial in their degree may give rise
to most injurious or even fatal consequences. It is the pro¬
vince of the surgeon also to endeavour to judge, in cases of
injury depending on external violence, as to the nature of
tire means or instrument by which the injury had been pro¬
duced.
The medico-legal questions which fall more particularly
under the consideration of those who are engaged in the
practice of midwifery, are many of them of an extremely
delicate nature in a moral point of view, and extremely dif¬
ficult of determination. As illustrations of these may be
mentioned the questions as to the variations in the length
of time during which gestation may continue in the human
species ; as to the earliest period of its uterine existence at
which a human foetus can live, when separated from its mo¬
ther naturally or by artificial means; and as to the marks
by which it can be determined whether an infant found
dead, had or had not survived the period of its birth.
No class of medico-legal questions proves more ff equently
perplexing than those in which it is necessary to pronounce
a judgment on the mental sanity or insanity of an individ¬
ual ; to determine whether he labours under such a degree
of mental weakness or aberration, as to be incapable of
managing his own affairs, or unfit to be trusted with the
control of his own actions, or as to render some restraint
upon his proceedings proper or necessary for the safety of
others. The difficulties in cases of this kind are most ma¬
terially increased by the circumstance that the mental aber¬
ration may implicate only one small portion of the intellect,
the individual speaking and acting rationally except in so
far as he may be misled by a single hallucination ; and they
are greatly augmented also by the circumstance, that per¬
sons thus insane upon particular topics, not unffequently
possess the power, when suspicious of being objects of at¬
tention, of concealing the particular delusion under which
they labour.
So far as medical jurisprudence bears on the preservation
of the public health, it must, like hygiene, of which, indeed,
when viewed in this light, it forms a part, be dependent on
the study of aetiology. The circumstances under which
human contagions or terrestrial miasmata are engendered;
the laws according to which their diffusion is regulated, and
the means best suited for preventing their propagation; the
influence which other effluvia exert upon the economy, as,
for example, those produced in the operations of manufac¬
tories of different kinds ; the circumstances under which
particular provisions become unwholesome or poisonous; 
these and many other axiological questions, medical men are
constantly liable to have referred to them by the public au¬
thorities, either with a view to the adjustment of private
rights, or to the preservation of the health of communities.
The whole range of Medicine, it thus appears, may be Conclusion
divided into two parts ; the scientific or theoretical, and the
empiric or practical. The theoretical part again naturally
divides itself, so far as regards the study of the human eco¬
nomy, into four branches : 1st, a knowledge of the struc¬
ture of the body in the state of health, or Anatomy; 2d, a
knowledge of the functions of the economy in the state of
health, or Physiology; 3d, a knowledge of all that relates
to diseased structure and diseased function, or General Pa¬
thology ; and, 4th, a knowledge of the powers of remedies,
or General Therapeutics. The practical part of medicine
may also be marked out into four divisions: the 1st, com¬
prehending Surgery, or the consideration of external dis¬
eases and injuries ; the 2d, Physic, or the consideration of
internal diseases; the 3d, the principles of Midwifery; and
M E D
Medico the 4th, the application of medicine to police and iurispru-
V—' dence. To the several articles Anatomy, Phvsiologv, Pa-
thology, 1 herapeutics, Surgery, Nosology, Midwifery, and
Medical Jurisprudence, we must refer our readers for fur-
ther information on each of these branches of medicine.
We cannot conclude this brief outline of the different
branches of Medicine considered as a science and as an art,
better than in the language of one whose words we have
already several times had the pleasure to quote. “A person
may possess,” says M. Prunelle, “ extensive information in
medicine, and still not be able to treat a disease. This in
itself establishes an essential difference between the science
o. mecllL'ine *nd the art of curing, the latter of which con¬
sists in the talent of applying that science to the preserva¬
tion or to the restoration of health. The science exists,
therefore, independently of the art; and the art is exer¬
cised, sometimes without serious injury, by persons to whom
the science is almost unknown. The true physician com-
bmes in Inmseh the knowledge of the man of learning and
the skill of the practitioner. Imbued with the true prin¬
ciples of the science, accustomed to reflect on what he sees
MED
529
Phe^men^ofd01 Contefed witb perceiving the outward Medic
1 enomena of diseases; he remounts to their causes * he
produced h 6 With the Phenomena which they have
producea, he seeks amongst these phenomena for “those
which suggest the employment of curative means ; and if
m1renjierin§ himself a reasoA for all
parts or his conduct, a kind of instinct, a secret presenti¬
ment, warn him at least of what he ought to do. The mere
practitioner, on the contrary, I should rather say the em-
pinc,^nutates, without scrutinizing the reasons for it, all
that he has seen practised; he is guided by an analogy fre¬
quently deceitful, to treat on the same plan diseases which
have the same external appearance ; he considers, as it
ere, on y ieir bark, and if the habit of seeing, joined with
a natural talent for observation, enable him sometimes to
imitate successfully, he is unconscious of what he is himself
accomplishing; he is never struck with those sudden inspi¬
rations that are the privileges of medical genius, which na-
ure reserves for those only who are able to unite with
learning, the facility of promptly analysing all the elements
of a disease, and calculating all its probabilities.”
  (L.P.P.L.)
MEDICI, Cosmo pe’, was born in the year 1389, and
was in the prime of life, at the death of his father Giovanni.
Ilis conduct wras distinguished for urbanity and kindness to
tfie superior ranks of his fellow-citizens, and by a constant
attention to the wants of the lower class, whom his munifi¬
cence abundantly relieved. His prudence and moderation,
however, could not repress the ambitious designs of the ri-
va! families; and in 1433, Rinaldo de Albizi, at the head
of a formidable party, carried the appointment of the magis¬
tracy. On returning from his country-seat he was seized
upon by firs adversaries, and committed to prison. But the
conspirators not agreeing as to the proper method of dis¬
patching their prisoner, one Peruzzi recommended poison,
which was heard by Cosmo, who refused to take any other
sustenance than a small portion of bread. In this dismal
situation he remained four days, shut up from all his kin-
dred and friends, and he soon expected to be numbered
with the dead. But the man employed to take him off,
unexpectedly proved his friend. Malavolta, the keeper of
the prison, relented, and declared that he had no just reason
to be alarmed, as he hesitated not to eat of every thing; which
Was brought him. &
His brother Lorenzo, and his cousin Averardo, raised a
considerable body of men in Romagna and other districts •
and being joined by the commander of the republican forces!
they marched to I lorence to relieve him. A decree was
obtained from the magistracy, by which he was banished to
I adua for ten years, and his brother to Venice for five, whilst
several of their relations shared a similar fate. Padua was
in the dominions of Venice, and before he reached it he
received a deputation from the senate, promising him their
protection and assistance in whatever he should desire. He
experienced the treatment of a prince rather than that of an
exile, as they entertained the highest expectations from his
great commercial knowledge. From this period his life
may be considered as one continued scene of uninterrupted
prosperity, and his family received an education equal to
that of the greatest potentates. In his public and private
chanties he was almost unbounded, and perhaps possessed
more wealth than any single individual in Europe at that
penod. In the promotion of science and the encouragement
of learned men he was truly exemplary, and by his conduct
in this respect he acquired the greatest honour and esteem.
His fostering hand cherished the arts as well as the
sciences; and architecture, sculpture, and painting, all
flourished under his powerful protection. The countenance
He shewed to these arts was not such as their professors
VOL. XIV. r
generally receive from the great; for the sums of money
which he expended upon pictures, statues, and public build¬
ings, appear almost incredible. When he approached the
term of his mortal existence, his faculties were still unim¬
paired ; and not many days before he died, he requested
Iicino to translate from the Greek the treatise of Xeno-
crates on death. He died on the 1st of August 1464 at
the age of seventy-five, and gave strict injunctions, that’his
funeral should be conducted with as much privacy as pos-
sible. By a public decree he was honoured with the title of
rather of his Country; an appellation which was inscribed
on his tomb, and declared, by competent judges, to be foun-
tled in real merit.
Medici, Lorenzo de’, styled, with great propriety, the
Magnificent, was the grandson of Cosmo, and about sixteen
years of age at his decease. In 1469 his father died, and
he succeeded to his authority as if it had constituted apart
of his fortune. In the year 1474, Lorenzo incurred the
displeasure of the pope on account of the opposition he offered
to some papal encroachments on the petty princes of Italy,
and for this reason the pontiff deprived him of the office of
treasurer of the Roman see, which he conferred upon one
Razzi, connected with a Florentine family, the interest of
which he thus secured, and intended to sacrifice Lorenzo
and Juhano to his private revenge. Their assassination was
fixed for Sunday the 26th of April 1478, and the cathedral
was the place in which a monster of an archbishop had
resoWed to murder them at the instigation of the pone.
When the people saw one of their favourites, Juliano, ex¬
piring, and the other, Lorenzo, covered with blood, their
rage was not to be expressed in language. The interfer¬
ence of the magistrate was finally victorious, and he had
the courage and virtue to hang the archbishop from one of
the windows, arrayed in his pontificial robes, which made
Florence resound with acclamations of joy,
Lorenzo was delivered from that part of the cathedral to
which he had fled for refuge, and triumphantly carried
home, where his wounds were attended to by men of abili¬
ty. His friends in the mean time pursued the conspirators,
anu spared none who happened to fall in their way. In a
word, the generality of them were either hanged or decapi¬
tated, and very few had the good fortune to escape the
vengeance of their pursuers. To the honour of Lorenzo,
he exerted all his influence to prevent the indiscriminate
massacre of his enemies, and restrain the just indignation
° tbe PeoPlej begging that they would trust the magistrates
with the punishment of the guilty; and the respect in which
3 x
530 M E D
Medina, he was held had the effect of restraining the vengeance of
v— popular indignation.
No sooner had hostilities ceased between Pope Sixtus
and the Florentine republic, than Lorenzo began to devel-
ope plans for securing the internal peace and tranquillity of
Italy. But the life of this great man was again brought
into imminent danger by the intrigues of Cardinal Riario,
and some Florentine exiles, who determined to assassinate
him in the church of the Carmelli, on the festival of the
Ascension in 1481 ; but the plot was happily discovered,
the conspirators were executed, and after this time Lorenzo
seldom went abroad without being surrounded by a num¬
ber of friends in whom he could securely confide.
When we attentively examine the character of Lorenzo,
it will not perhaps appear astonishing, that Italy, Christen¬
dom, and even the Mahommedans themselves, honoured him
with the most flattering approbation. The Prince of Mi-
randola chose Florence as the place of his residence entire¬
ly on account of this remarkable man, and there ended his
mortal career. To a most engaging person Lorenzo added
almost every other accomplishment. He was declared to
be unrivalled in chivalry, and one of the most eminent ora¬
tors that the world had in any age produced. When Fer-
dinand, king of Naples, was informed of his death, he ob¬
served, “ This man has lived long enough for his own glory,
but too short a time for Italy.” He died on the 8th of
April 1492, amidst a number of his weeping friends, who
appeared deeply conscious of the irreparable loss sustained
by their country. His life and character, and the general
history of his age, form the subject of a well known and
elegant work by the late Mr. Roscoe.
MEDINA, a city of Arabia, and one of the holy cities
of the Mahommedans, celebrated for affording refuge to Ma-
hommed in his flight from Mekka, for his residence in it,
and for his tomb, to which the devout hadjis still resort, al¬
though its visitation is not considered as a duty, nor necessary
part of the Mahommedan pilgrimage. It is situated on the
edge of the great Arabian desert, close to the chain of moun¬
tains which traverses that country from north to south, and
forms a continuation of the chain of Lebanon. The town is
built on the lowest part of the plain, and it is enclosed on
three sides with gardens, trees, and walks, leaving only that
part of the plain open to the view, which is on the side of the
road towards Mekka, where the rocky nature of the ground
renders cultivation impossible. It is mentioned by Burck-
hardt, {Travels in Arabia, vol. ii. p. 148,) as one of the best
built towns which he saw in the east, ranking in this respect
next to Aleppo. The houses consist generally of two sto¬
ries ; they are built of stone, and have flat roofs. The stone
being of a dark colour, the streets present rather a gloomy
aspect, and are, with some exceptions, very narrow, being
often only two or three paces across ; a few of the prin¬
cipal are paved with large blocks of stone, a comfort sel¬
dom found in the Arabian towns. Medina is divided into
the interior town and the suburbs; the interior forming an
oval of about 2800 paces in total circuit, ending in a point.
The castle is built at the point, on a small rocky elevation,
and the whole is enclosed by a thick stone wall, between thir¬
ty-five and forty feet in height, flanked by about thirty towers,
and surrounded by a ditch, formed by the Wahabees, and
now in many places filled up. Three fine gates lead into
the town, one of them the finest town gate, according to
Burckhardt, that he had seen in the east. The principal
street of Medina, which is also the broadest, leads from the
Cairo gate to the great mosque. This street contains most
of the shops. Another considerable street runs from the
mosque to the Syrian gate ; but many of its houses are in
ruins. This contains also a few shops, but none are found
in other parts of the town ; and in this respect Medina dif¬
fers from Mekka, which is one continued market. At pre-
Bent, especially since the great pilgrimage was interrupted
M E D
by the incursions of the Wahabees, the town has a desolate Medina-,
appearance; the houses are suffered to go to decay ; the n,-—
crowd of visitors to whom they were in the habit of letting
their apartments having diminished, the owners have no
prospect of being reimbursed for any extra expense which
they may lay out. Ruined houses, and walls wanting re¬
pair, are seen in every part of the town ; and Medina, like
most eastern towns exhibits but a faint image of its ancient
splendour. On the west and south of the town, extend the
suburbs, which cover more ground than the town itself. An
open space intervenes, narrow on the south side, but widen¬
ing on the west, before the Cairo gate, where it forms a
large public place called Monakh, where the caravans alight,
and which is always crowded with camels and Bedouins.
Here are erected huts and sheds, in which provisions are
sold, and a number of coffee huts which are beset all day
with visitors. The side of the suburbs which fronts this
place has no wall; but on the outside they are enclosed
by a wall of inferior size and strength to the interior town
wall. Four gates, or rather wooden doors, none of them
of any strength except that leading from the Cairo gate,
which is larger and better built than the rest, lead into the
suburbs. These consist of large court-yards, with low
apartments built round them, on the ground-floor, and se¬
parated from each other by gardens and plantations, with
the exception of the west side directly opposite the Cairo
gate, where the suburb consists of regular and well-built
streets, with houses resembling those of the interior of the
town. Many of the richer inhabitants have their summer
houses in these quarters, where they pass a month in the
date harvest. Every garden is enclosed by mud walls, and
several narrow by-lanes, just broad enough for a loaded
camel to cross the suburbs in every direction. The suburbs
are principally inhabited by all the lower classes of the town,
by many of the Bedouin Arabs who have become settlers
there, and by all who are engaged in agriculture. The town is
divided into separate hamlets, called hosh, containing thirty
or forty families, who often in times of unsettled govern¬
ment, are engaged in desperate feuds with one another.
Few large public buildings are found within the precincts
of the town. The great mosque, containing the tomb of
Mahommed, is the only temple. A fine public school, called
Medrese el Hamdye ; a similar one near the mosque; a
large corn magazine, enclosing a w ide yard in the southern
quarter of the town; and a bath not far distant from it, built
in the year of the hejira 973 (A.D. 1678,) by Mahommed
Pasluq are all the public buildings that w ere observed by
Burckhardt. The want of public buildings, however, in the
town is compensated by the numerous pretty private habi¬
tations, having small gardens with wells, the water of which
is used in irrigation, and fills marble basins, round which in
summer time, the owners pass the hours of noon under lofty
shades. The castle already mentioned is surrounded by very
strong walls, and several high and solid towers. It contains
sufficient space for 600 or 800 men ; has many arched rooms
bomb proof; and would be impregnable against any Arabian
force, being built upon a rock, which cannot be undermin¬
ed. But it would not hold out for any time against European
artillery.
The great ornament of Medina, which nearly raises the
sanctity of the city to a level with that of Mekka, is the great
mosque containing the tomb of Mahommed, which is situated
towards the eastern extremity of the town; it is inferior in
its dimensions to the mosque at Mekka, being 165 paces in
length, and 130 in breadth. It is built on much the same
plan of an open square, surrounded on all sides by covered
colonnades of ten, four, and three rows, on the south, west,
and north sides, with a small building in the centre of the
square. The roof of the colonnade consists of a number of
small domes, white-washed on the outside, in the same man¬
ner as those of Mekka. The interior walls are also white-
MED
Medina, washed except the southern one, which is cased with slabs
——s'—of marble up to the top, and has several rows of inscriptions
in gilt letters. The floor under the collonades is coarsely
paved, excepting in those parts nearest to the tomb of Ma-
hommed, where the pavement is mosaic, forming one of the
best specimens of that kind of workmanship to be seen in
the East. Large and high windows, with glass panes, the
only instance of glass in windows that Burckhardt saw in
Arabia, some of them of fine painted glass, admit the light
through the southern wall. Near the south-east corner
stands Mahommed’s tomb, detached from the walls of the
mosque, and enclosed by an iron railing painted green, which
is entered by four gates. Within the inclosure is a curtain
carried wholly round it, which is said to cover a square
building of black stones, supported by two pillars, in which
are the tombs of Mahommed and his two earliest friends and
immediate successors, Abou Bekr and Omar. These tombs,
as far as Burckhardt could learn, are covered with precious
stuffs ; and here were deposited all sorts of vessels set with
jewels, ear-rings, bracelets, necklaces, and other ornaments,
brought as presents from all parts of the empire, by the rich
pilgrims as they passed through Medina. The whole form¬
ed a collection of considerable value; though it was, no
doubt, occasionally pillaged by the pious priests who are
appointed to the service of the temple, in the same manner
as they stole the golden lamps from the mosque at Mekka.
Amongst other curious relics, a copy of the Koran in Cufic
characters, which belonged to Othman ibn Affan, was de¬
posited here. When Medina was taken by the Wahabees,
their chiefs seized all the golden vessels. Saoud, who pene¬
trated behind the curtain, took everything that was valuable,
and amongst other precious articles, the Cufic manuscripts
of the Koran, and a brilliant star set in diamonds and pearls
which was suspended directly over the prophet’s tomb.
Several of the golden vessels were re-purchased by Tous-
soun Pasha, the son of Ali Pasha, when he entered Medina
in bis war against the Wahabees, and replaced in their ori¬
ginal situation. The door between the curtain and the rail¬
ing is inlaid with various coloured marble in mosaic ; and
here are suspended glass lamps which are lighted every
evening, and remain burning all night. The whole of this
inclosure is covered with a fine lofty dome, which the Wa¬
habees determined to destroy; but it was so strong that
it resisted all their efforts to destroy it. The dome is sur¬
mounted with a globe and crescent both glittering with
gold. A wooden partition, about eight feet in height, and rich¬
ly painted with arabesque, runs from the western side of
the railing across the mosque, parallel with the south wall,
and separates the holy place called El Rodha, or the garden
of paradise, from the common passage. Here, on the carpet,
the congregation assembles, this being the favourite spot
for prayers. The entrance has a splendid appearance ; but,
says Burckhardt, it is all tinsel decoration, and has a paltry
appearance compared with the catholic churches of Eu¬
rope. The mosque is entered by four gates ; and its ser¬
vice is entrusted to forty or fifty eunuchs, who have, like
their brethren in Mekka, large stipends annually remitted
from Constantinople. Medina is abundantly supplied with
water, though not of a very good quality, by a fine sub¬
terraneous canal, carried hither from the village of Koba,
about two miles distant; and water is everywhere found by
digging to the depth of twenty-five or thirty feet. A sup¬
ply of water is also derived from a torrent, which flows from
south to north, passing across the suburbs. In 1804, Me¬
dina surrendered to the Wahabee arms ; but was again be¬
sieged and taken in 1812, by the Egyptian army of Ali
Pasha, under his son, Toussoun Bey, when a thousand of the
inhabitants were massacred in the streets. Yembo is the
port of Medina, from which it is distant 160 miles.
Medina., a town and fort of the island of Bahrein, near
the x\rabian shore of the Persian Gulf, which carries on a
M ED 531
considerable trade with Bassora and the other ports of this M e dina
sea. Near it is a bank containing the finest pearls in the I!
world. Meditation
Medina Celi, an ancient town of Spain, in Old Castiile, v'-‘—v~—^
and capital of a considerable duchy of the same name;
it is situated near the river Xalon, in W. Long. 2. 9. N.
Lat. 41.15.
Medina de-eas-Torres, a very ancient town of Spain,
in Estremadura, with an old castle, and the title of a duchy.
It is situated on the confines of Andalusia, at the foot of a
mountain near Badajoz.
Medina-dee-Cameo, a large, rich, and ancient town of
Spain, in the kingdom of Leon. The great square is very
fine, and adorned with a superb fountain. It is a trading
place, enjoys great privileges, and is situated in a country
abounding with corn and -wine. W. Long. 4. 20. N. Lat.
41.22.
Medina-del-rio-Seco, an ancient and rich town of
Spain, in the kingdom of Leon, with the title of a duchy;
it is situated on a plain, remarkable for its fine pastures. E.
Long. 4. 33. N. Lat. 42. 8.
Medina Sidonia. A city in the province of Andalu¬
sia in Spain. It is the head of a duchy, and with the sur¬
rounding country is the property of a duke, in whom are un¬
ited the estates and titles of Medina Celi, and Medina Si¬
donia. The city is built ou the side of a high mountain,
from whence, owing to the translucency of the atmosphere, it
has a fine view of the city and bay of Cadiz, and the popu¬
lous towns and rich districts around it. It contains 5000
inhabitants.
Medina, Sir John, an eminent painter, was son of Me¬
dina de 1’Asturias, a Spanish captain, who settled at Brus¬
sels, where the subject of this notice was born in 1660. He
was instructed in painting by Duchatel, under whose direc¬
tion he made great progress ; and applying himself to the
study of Rubens, he made that eminent master his principal
model. He painted both historical subjects and portraits,
and was held in extraordinary estimation by most of the
princes of Germany, who distinguished his merit by several
marks of honour. He married young, and came into Eng¬
land in 1686, where he painted portraits for several years
with great reputation, exhibiting remarkable freedom of
touch, with a delicate management of tints, and producing a
strong resemblance to the originals. The Earl of Leven
encouraged him to go to Scotland, and procured him em¬
ployment there to the extent of £500. He went thither, car¬
rying a large number of bodies and postures, to which he
afterwards painted heads. He returned to England for a
short time, but went back to Scotland, where he died, and
was buried in the churchyard of the Greyfriars at Edin¬
burgh, in 1711, aged fifty-two. He painted most cjf the
Scotch nobility. Medina was knighted by the Duke of
Queensberry, lord high commissioner, and was the last knight
made in Scotland before the Union.
MEDINE, an Egyptian piece of money of iron silvered
over, and about the size of a silver threepenny piece.
MEDIOLANUM, now Milan, an ancient city, the ca¬
pital of the Insubres, built by the Gauls, on their settlement
in that part of Italy; it was a mimicipium, a place of great
strength, and also a seat of the liberal arts, whence it had
the name of Novce Athence.
MEDITATION, an act by which we consider any thing
closely, or in which the soul is employed in the search or
consideration of any truth. In religion it is used to signify
a consideration of the objects and grand truths of the Chris¬
tian faith. Mystic divines make a great difference between
meditation and contemplation. The former consists in dis¬
cursive acts of the soul, considering methodically and with
a ttention the mysteries of faith and the precepts of morality,
and is performed by reflections and reasonings, which leave
behind them manifest impressions on the brain. But the
532
M E D
purdy contemplative have no need of meditation, as they
if s.ee a11 tlnnSs m God at a glance, and without any reflec-
Medusa. tl0?* . ^n a man, therefore, has once quitted meditation,
an(t arrived at contemplation, he returns no more; and,
according to Alvarez, never resumes the oar of meditation,
except when the wind of contemplation is too weak to fill
his sails.
MEDITERRANEAN, something enclosed within land,
or that is remote from the ocean, properly so called.
Mediterranean is more particularly used to signify that
large sea which flows between the continents of Europe and
Afiica, entering by the straits of Gibraltar, and reaching
into Asia, as far as the Euxine or Black Sea and the Palus
Mseotis.
The Mediterranean was anciently called the Grecian Sea
and the Great Sea. It is now cantoned out into several di¬
visions, which bear several names. To the west of Italy it
is called the Ligurian or Tuscan Sea; near Venice, the
Adriatic; towards Greece, the Ionian and Agean; between
the Hellespont and the Bosphorus, the White Sea; and be¬
yond the Bosphorus the Black Sea.
MEDITRINALIA, a Roman festival in honour of the
goddess Meditrina, observed on the 30th of September.
Both the deity and the festival were so called a medendo,
because on this day they began to drink new wine mixed
w ith old by way of medicine. The mixture of wines, on
t us festival, was drunk with much form and solemn cere¬
mony.
MEDIUM, in Logic, the mean or middle term of a syl¬
logism, being an argument, reason, or consideration, concern¬
ing which we affirm or deny any thing; or, it is the cause
why the greater extreme is affirmed or denied of the less in
the conclusion.
Medium, in Arithmetic, or arithmetical medium or mean,
called in the schools medium rei, is that which is equally
distant from each extreme, or which exceeds the lesser ex¬
treme as much as it is exceeded by the greater, in respect
Gt quantity, not of proportion. Thus 9 is a medium between
b and 12.
Geometrical Medium, called in the schools medium per¬
sona;, is that where the same ratio is preserved between the
urst and second as between the second and third terms, or
that which exceeds in the same ratio or quota of itself; as
it is exceeded. Thus 6 is a geometrical medium between
4 and 9.
Medium, in Philosophy, that space or region throughout
which a body in motion passes to any point. Thus mther
is supposed to be the medium through which the heavenly
bodies move; air, the medium in which bodies move near
our earth;_ water, the medium in which fishes live and move;
and glass is also a medium of light, as it affords it a free
passage. That density or consistency in the parts of the
medium, by which the motion of bodies in it becomes retarded,
is called the resistance of the medium, which, together with
the force of gravity, is the cause of the cessation of the mo-
tion of projectiles. Sir Isaac Newton considers it probable
that, besides the particular aerial medium in which we live
and breathe, there is another more universal one, which he
cal s an (Ethereal medium; vastly more rare, subtle, elastic,
WpiftlVe’ I-T T’ and/reely Permeating the pores and
interstices of all other mediums, and diffusing itself through¬
out the whole of creation, and by the intervention of which
oYLmre r^ahim’ m0St °f the ^ P'—
wrziTtsisnifies any substa,,ce ^ -hid,
MEDUCK, a town of Hindustan, and chief town of a
fWrPP nf 16 ST*na ml’ WhlCh is situated about the 18th
flifcltv If H i1 au i ^ t0WVS fifty miles NNW- from
MFnn^y er/uaf’ u°ng-78' 20- E- Lat-17- 50- N.
MEDUSA, m fabulous history, one of the three Gordons
MEG
and daughter of Phorcys and Ceto. She was the only one Medway
of the Gorgons who was subject to mortality; and she was cele- II
brated for her personal charms and the beauty of her locks.Megalesia-
Neptunebecame enamoured of her, and obtained her favours  '
in the temple of Minerva. But this violation of the sanc¬
tity of the edifice provoked Minerva, and she changed the
beautiful locks of Medusa, which had inspired Neptune’s
love, into serpents, the sight of which turned the beholders
into stones; Perseus, however, armed with Mercury’s axe,with
which he killed Argus, cut off Medusa’s head, from the blood
ot which sprang Pegasus and Chrysaor, together with the in-
numerable serpents that infest Africa. The conqueror
placed Medusa s head on the aegis of Minerva, which he had
used in his expedition ; and the head still retained the same
petrifying powers as before.
MEDWAY, a river of England, which rises in the Weald of
bussex, and entering Kentnear Ashurst, runs by Tunbridge
and thence continues its course towards Maidstone. It is
navigable for large ships to Rochester bridge, and thence
for vessels and barges to Maidstone, the tide flowing up to
that town. The distance between the mouth of this river
where the fort at Sheerness is erected, and Rochester bridge,
is between sixteen and eighteen miles. In this part of the
nver the channel is so deep, the banks so soft, and the
reaches so short, that it is one of the best and safest harbours
in the world; and ships of eighty guns ride afloat at low
water, within musket-shot of Rochester bridge. Nor is
there a single instance upon record, that any of the royal
navy ever suffered here by storms, except in the dreadful
tempest which happened in November 1703, when the Po?/al
Catherine was sunk and lost.
MEDYN, a circle of the Russian province Kaluga, ex-
tending from N. lat. 54. 28. to 55. 19, and from E* long.
f.4‘ 42;^ onn46*’ being 13,28 S(lliare miles> with a popula¬
tion of 76,800 persons. The capital is a town of the same
name, 583 miles from Petersburg; it is situated on the river
Medynka, and has 195 houses, with 1250 inhabitants. A
battle was fought near it, on the 14th of October 1812, when
the French were defeated. Lat. 55. 4. Lonu. 37. 45. E
MEEGHEOUNG-YAY, a town of the Birman empire,
and province of Ava. It is situated on the bank of the Irra¬
waddy river, and it carries on a considerable traffic in grain
and oil. It stands in the midst of a fertile and well cul¬
tivated country. Long. 94. 50. E. Lat. 19. 53. N.
MEERAT, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Ai-
mecr, district of Zundpoor, thirty-six miles west from the
city of Ajmeer. Long. 74. 14. E. Lat. 26. 35. N.
MEERCASSERAI,asmall town of Bengal, and district of
Chittagong, thirty-five miles N. by W. from the town of
Islamabad. Long. 90. 30. E. Lat. 22.48. N.
MEERJAO W, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Cascara, which stands upon an inlet of the sea, and is sup¬
posed by Dr. Robertson to have been the Musiris of the
ancients. It was nearly destroyed by Hyder Ali, when he
invaded the province in 1773. The forests in the neigh¬
bourhood abound with teak timber; they also produce black
pepper spontaneously, and cassia and wild nutmegs are
common. It is eighty miles SSE. from Goa. Long. 74. 36.
E. Lat. 14. 27. N. fe ‘ ^
MEG ALE Pouis, or Megalopolis, in Ancient Geogra¬
phy,^. town of Arcadia, built under the auspices of Epami-
nondas, after the battle of Leuctra, many inconsiderable
towns being joined together in one great citv, the better to
withstand the Spartans. According to Strabo it was the
greatest city of Arcadia.
MEGALESIA, and Megalenses Ludi, feasts and games
celebrated by the Romans in honour of Cybele or Rhea, the
mother of the gods, on the 12th of April, and famous for
great rejoicings and diversions of various sorts. The Galli
carried the image of the goddess along the city, with the sound
ot drums and other music, in imitation of the noise which
Mehwas.
MEG
M^tjara. they made to prevent Saturn from hearing the cries of his
11 infant^ son Jupiter, when he was disposed to devour him.
MEGARA, in Ancient Geography, a noble city, the ca¬
pital of the territory of Megaris, which for many years carried
on war with the Corinthians and Athenians. It had for
some time a school of philosophers, called the Megarici, who
were successors of Euclid the Socratic, a native of Megara.
Their dialect was the Doric. Megara was situated at a dis¬
tance from the sea, and about midway between Athens and
Corinth. Its port was called Niscea, from Nisus, son of
Pandion the second, who obtained Megaris as his portion,
w-hen the kingdom of Athens was divided into four lots by
his father. He founded the town, which was eighteen sta¬
dia or two miles and a quarter from the city, but united with
it, as the Pireeus was with Athens, by means of long walls.
MEGARIS, in Ancient Geography, the country of the
Megarians, is described as a rugged region, like Attica;
the mountain called Oneian or Asinine, now Macriplayi or
the long mountain, extending through it towards Bceotia
and Mount Cithaeron. It belonged to Ionia or Attica, until
it was taken by the Peloponnesians in the reign of Codrus,
when a colony of Dorians settled in it. This territory had
Attica to the east, Boeotia to the north and west, and the
isthmus of Corinth to the south.
MEGASTHENES, a Greek historian, who flourished in
the age of Seleucus Nicanor, about 300 years before Christ.
He wrote concerning the oriental nations, particularly the
Indians, and his history is often quoted by the ancients; but
what now passes as his composition is spurious.
MEGIDDO, in Ancient Geography, a town of Galilee,
enumerated amongst the cities of Manasseh, in the tribe of
Issachar or Asser, on the western side of Jordan, and fa¬
mous for the defeat of Ahaziah and Josiah, who perished
there. (2 Kings xxiii. 29.)
MEGNA. This river is formed by the numerous streams
which issue from the mountains that form the northern
boundary of Bengal, of which the principal is the Brahma¬
putra, wrhich joins it about lat. 24. 10., after which its size
is greatly increased, and it assumes the name of the Megna.
Below the city of Dacca it is joined by the Issamuthy, bring¬
ing the collected waters of the Dullasery, Boorigmega,
Luckia, and many other smaller rivers, forming an expanse of
water resembling an inland sea. From hence it approaches
the sea by a SSE. course, when its volume is augmented
by the Ganges-, and the W'hole collected stream is rolled
into the bay of Bengal. The muddy tide leaves a great
quantity of sediment, wdiich forms many islands, amongst
which aye Dukkinshabazpoor, thirty miles long and twelve
broad, Hatha, Sundeep, and Bamony. Between these is¬
lands the tide rushes with great impetuosity, forming in
spring tides what is called the Bore, which in a few minutes
rises twelve feet in height. The sand-banks run nearly thirty
miles into the sea, and will probably be one day habitable
islands, like Sangor.
MEGO, or Puno Mego isle, a small and uninhabited
island, situated off the western coast of Sumatra. Like all
the other low islands which lie off the western coast of Su¬
matra, it is so thickly skirted near the sea-beach with cocoa
nut trees that their branches touch each other. Lone. 101.
S.E. Lat. 4. S. b
MEHINDRY, a river of Hindustan, in the province of
Gujerat, having a winding course of 190 miles. After pass¬
ing the city of Ahmedabad, it falls into the Gulf of Cam-
bay.
MEHWAS. a district ofHindustan, in the province of Gu¬
jerat, situated on the south-east bank of the Puddur river. It
literally signifies the residence of thieves, which character
attaches to the inhabitants, who live by plundering their
neighbours. Every man who in this turbulent region can
muster twenty horsemen, considers himself as an independent
chief, and sets out on a marauding expedition.
M E i
533
MEIBOMIUS is the name of several learned men, by Meibomm
birth Germans, who in their day enjoyed considerable re- '
putation.
Meibomius, John Henry, wus born in 1590 at Helm-
stadt, where he afterwards professed physic, and died at
Lubeck in 1655, having been, for sometime, first physician
at that place. Lie was the author of several learned wrorks on
medical subjects, particularly, 1. Jusjurandum Hippocratis,
Greek and Latin, 1643, in 4to.; and, 2. De Usu Hlagrorum
in Re Medica, Leyden, 1639. In the literary world he is
known by a work, entitled Maecenas, sive de C. Cilnii Mae-
cenatis Vita, Moribus, et Rebus gestis, Leyden, 1653, in
4to.; in which he has quoted almost every passage in the
ancient authors where any thing is said of or allusion is
made to Maecenas, but has employed neither method nor
criticism, and hence cannot lay claim to any higher merit
than that of a mere collector.
Meibomius, Henry, son of the preceding, wras born at
Lubeck in 1638. After acquiring the elements of literature
in his native place, he went, in 1655, to the university of
Helmstadt, where he applied himself to philosophy and me¬
dicine, and afterwards studied at Groningen, Franeker, and
Leyden. On his return to Germany, he undertook a tour
through Italy, France, and England; contracted an acquaint¬
ance with the learned wherever he went; and took his de¬
gree in physic as he passed through Angers, in 1663. In
1664, he obtained a professorship of physic at Helmstadt, to
which, in 1678, were joined the professorships of history
and poetry, which he held until the time of his death, in
March 1700. Besides a number of works relating to his
own profession, he published Scriptores Rerum Germani-
carum, 1688, in three vols. folio; an useful collection which
had been commenced but not completed by his father.
Meibomius, Marcus, a learned man of the same family
as the two preceding, was born in 1611. He early devoted
himself to literature and criticism, particularly the learning
of the ancients, and became eminently skilled in archaeology.
In 1652 he published a collection of seven Greek authors, who
had written upon music, to which he added a Latin version by
himself. It was entitled Antiques Musicce Auctores Septem
Greece et Latine, Marcus Meibomius restituit et notis explica-
vit, and forms the most celebrated of all his critical works.
From these commentaries on the Greek musical writers, parti¬
cularly Alypius, we can almost decipher the characters used
by the Greeks in their musical notation; characters which,
before the time of Meibomius, had been so altered, corrupted,
and disfigured, by the ignorance or negligence of the tran¬
scribers of ancient manuscripts, that they had become near¬
ly, if not altogether, unintelligible. The Queen of Sweden, to
whom this publication was dedicated, invited Meibomius to
her court; but his stay there was abridged by an occurrence
equally ridiculous and extraordinary. He became the victim
of one of those malicious tricks called practical jokes. The
queen having imbibed somewhat of his enthusiasm in favour
of the music of the ancients, was easily persuaded by Bour-
delot, a physician in attendance on her person, to desire Mei¬
bomius to sing an ancient Grecian air, whilst an old French¬
man, named Naudet, should dance a la Grec to the sound
of his voice. Meibomius of course complied with the royal
request; but the performance, instead of exciting admira¬
tion, produced loud bursts of laughter, in which her majesty
heartily joined. Meibomius, enraged beyond measure at
this reception, chanced to espy Bourdelot in the gallery
amongst the scoffers, and having no doubt that it was he
who had maliciously instigated the queen to desire this per¬
formance, immediately flew thither, and unrestrained by the
presence of her majesty, floored the luckless physician by a
terrible facer, delivered with all the energy of passion. In
consequence of this summary proceeding, the expounder of
ancient music found it necessary to quit Sweden without the
ceremony of asking leave, or waiting to be called to account
534
M E I
Meinungenfbr his conduct. He went to Copenhagen, where he w'as
-,T well received, and soon afterwards appointed professor in a
G 'r in‘y college instituted for the instruction of the young Danish
nobility. He was also honoured with the title of aulic coun¬
sellor, and advanced to the dignity of president of the board
of maritime customs at Elsinore ; but having neglected his
duty,hewas dismissed from his office, and obliged to quitDen-
markin disgrace. He then proceeded to Amsterdam, where
he settled, and became professor of history in the college of
that place. But his evil fortune still pursued him; for hav¬
ing refused to give instructions to the son of a burgomaster,
upon the ground that he was not accustomed to teach boys
the elements of knowledge, but to direct the studies of
young men advanced in learning, he was deprived of his
situation, and forced to quit Amsterdam. Being again
thrown upon the world, he visited France and England; after
which he returned to Holland, where he led a private and
studious life until 1711, when he died, at a very advanced
age, having nearly completed a century. Meibomius pre¬
tended that the Hebrew Bible was full of errors, and un¬
dertook to correct them by means of a metre which he
fancied he had discovered in the books of the Old Testa¬
ment. But the whole scheme was an illusion, and drew
upon the author the unsparing ridicule of the learned. Ne¬
vertheless, he was a scholar of no mean order, as is proved
by his edition of Diogenes Laertius, Amsterdam, 1692, in two
vols. 4to.; his Liber de Fabrica Triremium, 1671, in which
he endeavours to explain how the ancients disposed their
bancs of oars; his edition of the ancient Greek Mytholo-
gists ; and his Dialogues on Proportions, in which Euclid,
Archimedes, Appollonius, Pappus, Eutocius, Theon, and
Hermotinus are the interlocutors. (a.)
MEIN UNGEN, a city of Germany, the capital of the
dominions of the Duke of Saxe-Meinungen. It stands on
the river Werra, 830 feet above the level of the sea. It is a
well built city, surrounded with walls and ditches, and having
broad streets well paved. The principal building is the
magnificent palace of the sovereign, whose front is 500 feet
in length, exclusive of two wings, and has a good library and
several valuable collections of minerals, coins, pictures, and
natural history. It contains about 4200 inhabitants, who
carry on some small manufactures, but subsist chiefly on the
court and public offices. Lat.50.33.53.N. Long. 10.19. l.E.
MEISENHEIM,acity of the landgravate of Hesse-Hom-
burg, in Germany, the capital of the barony of that name,
and containing 1227 inhabitants. The city is situated on
the river Elan, is walled, and is the seat of the courts of law
of the small state. It contains 420 houses and 1850 inha¬
bitants, employed in making glass and iron, and in working
a mine of quicksilver near to the town.
• MEISSEN, one of the circles into which the kingdom of
Saxony is divided, being formed out of the ancient margrav-
ate of that name. It extends over 1610 square miles, compre¬
hends thirty-nine cities and towns, 1156 villages, and 309,460
inhabitants. It is divided into twelve bailiwicks, one of
which bears the same name. It is a productive territory,
but suffered much during the late war, from the effects
of which it has scarcely yet recovered. The city of Meissen,
which is the capital of the circle, is situated on the river
Elbe, over which is a bridge in a picturesque situation, ren¬
dered more so from the Albertsburg, the ancient palace of
the Saxon house, but now used for the manufacture of the
celebrated china which has been commonly called Dresden.
This fabric employs about 500 workmen, but is said to be
attended with an annual loss to the king, who is the proprie¬
tor. Meissen contains in the town and suburbs 556 houses,
with 42/ 0 inhabitants, some of whom are employed in mak¬
ing linen and woollen goods, and in tanneries.
MEKRAN, a large maritime .province of Persia, (the
ancient Gedronia) which extends along the Indian ocean
from Cape Jask to the borders of Scind, which bounds it
M E K
on the east $ on the west and north-west it is bounded by Mekka.
Kerman ; and on the north by Seistan and Arakaje. It is a ' ■
country which has been but little travelled by Europeans ;
but from the account of Captain Grant, who traversed the
western part of this province in 1809, from Guattur to Cape
Jask, it appears that the middle parts are entirely moun¬
tainous, diversified with valleys and plains, none of which
is exceedingly fertile, whilst others are arid. The moun¬
tains run parallel with the coast, seldom at a greater distance
than eight or ten miles excepting at Cape Jask and Chobar,
where they approach almost the edge of the sea. The
greatest elevation of this chain is at Surku, where the
streams that rise on the south side flow towards the Indian
ocean, and these which have their source on the south side
to the Persian Gulf. Between the sea and the hills there is a
level plain, seldom more than eight or ten miles in breadth,
where is produced abundance of pasturage, and where Cap¬
tain Grant observed numerous flocks of sheep and camels,
often in droves of two or three hundred, and only once in
his journey experienced a scarcity of water. The produce of
the province consists of rice, dates, wheat, barley, jouree and
cotton. They have two harvests ; that of dry grain is in
the end of March, and that of rice in September. Oxen are
used in agriculture ; and the horses are more remarkable
for their hardiness and beauty. The towns and villages,
most of which are surrounded with a few palm trees, con¬
sist of moveable mud huts, defended by a mud fort. The
population of Mekran consists of many different tribes and
independent chiefs; of these the Balooches are the most
numerous. They are a middle-sized race of men, spare,
muscular, and active ; some live in towns, others in tents
of black hair, migrating with their flocks from place to
place. The women, unlike those in most Mussulman coun¬
tries, are allowed to appear freely in public. The whole
force in the country may amount to 1:5,000 men.
MEKKA, or Mecca, a large city of Arabia, and capi¬
tal of the province of the Hedjaz, one of the holy cities of
the Mahommedans, and the annual retreat of innumerable
pilgrims, celebrated all over the east as the birth place of
Mahommed, and the first seat of his power. It is situated in
a narrow and sandy valley, the main direction of which is
from north to south; the valley is from one to seven hundred
paces in breadth, and the chief part of the city is situated
where the valley is broadest. The town itself covers a
space of about 1500 paces in length, from the quarter called
El Shebeyka, to the extremity of the Mala. But the whole
extent of ground comprehended under the denomination of
Mekka, from the suburb called Djeronel, where is the en¬
trance from Djidda to the suburb called Moabede on the
Tayf road, is 3500 paces. The valley in which the city is
built is enclosed by mountains from 200 to 500 feet in
height, and entirely barren and destitute of trees. The
town is partly built on the sides of the mountains, princi¬
pally of the eastern chain, where the primitive habitations
of the Koreysh and the ancient town appear to have been
placed. The city was formerly protected by three walls at
its extremities, but they are now decayed and it is open on
every side ; though the neighbouring mountains form a
barrier of considerable strength against an enemy. Mekka
may be styled a handsome town ; its streets are in general
broader than those of eastern cities, which seldom allow a
greater space than is required for two camels to pass. But
the numerous visitors who are crowded together in this holy
city during the pilgrimage render it necessary to leave afn-
ple space in the streets. The houses are lofty, many of them
being three stories in height, and they are built of stone;
and the numerous windows that command a view of the streets
give them a more lively and European aspect than the
houses in most of the eastern towns, which present but few
windows towards the exterior. Few of the houses are white¬
washed us at Djidda, being of a dark-coloured stone which
M E K K A.
Mekka,
^ ^ miicli preferable to a glaring1 white# Every house has
its terrace, the floor of which, composed of a preparation of
lime-stone, is built so as to allow the rain-water to run off
through gutters into the street. These terraces are con¬
cealed from the view by slight parapet walls, as it .is rec¬
koned discreditable in the east that a man should appear
upon the terrace, whence he might be accused of looking
at women on the terraces of neighbouring houses, where
they pass much of their time in various domestic duties,
such as drying corn, hanging up linen, &c. Almost all the
houses, except those belonging to the principal and richest
inhabitants, are constructed for the accommodation of lodg¬
ers, being divided into many apartments, separated from
each other, and each consisting of a sitting room and a small
kitchen. The only public place in the body of the town is
the ample square of the great mosque. No trees or gar¬
dens are interspersed amongst the houses to cheer the eye ;
but the scene is enlivened during the pilgrimage by the
gieat number of well-stored shops which are found in every
quarter. Mekka is more deficient in public buildings than
any other eastern city of the same size; having nothing of
this description excepting four or five large houses be-
longing to the scherif or governor, two colleges, now con¬
verted into corn magazines, and the mosque writh some
buildings and schools attached to it. Neither khans for the
accommodation of travellers or for the deposit of merchan¬
dise, nor palaces of grandees, nor mosques, which adorn
every quarter of other towns in the east, are here to be
seen. This want of public edifices Burckhardt the enter¬
prising traveller, to whose work we are indebted for this
account of the holy city, ascribes to the veneration which
the inhabitants entertain for their temple, to which they
are averse to construct any rival edifice. The streets are
all unpaved, in consequence of which the sand and dust
are blown about in summer to the great inconvenience of
the passengers ; and so deep is the mud during the rainy
season that they are scarcely passable after a shower, as
the water stagnates in the interior of the town until it is
diied up. It may also be ascribed to the destructive rains,
which, though of shorter duration than in tropical countries,
fall with violence, that no ancient buildings are found in
Mekka. Burckhardt is of opinion that there are not any
houses more than four centuries old; and hence there are
here no interesting specimens of architecture or any such
beautiful remains of Saracenic structures as are still admired
in Syria, Egypt, Barbary, and Spain. No regulations of police
are enforced in Mekkaas in other eastern cities. The streets
are totally dark at night, no lamps of any kind being lighted;
and its different quarters are without gates, differing in this re¬
spect also from most eastern towns, where each quarter is re¬
gularly shut up after evening prayers. The dirt and sweep¬
ing^ of the houses are cast into the streets, where they add
to tne accumulated mass of dust or mud according to the
season. Another great inconvenience, and one great cause
of dirtiness and also of disease, is the scarcity of water, which
is heie fully as much felt as at Djidda. There are but few
cisterns for collecting rain, and the well water is so brack¬
ish that it is used only for culinary purposes, except during
11e time of the pilgrimage, when the lowest class of the
pilgrims drink it. "I he famous well of Zemzem in the great
mosque is indeed sufficiently copious to supply the whole
town, but its water is heavy to the taste and impedes diges¬
tion. The best water in Mekka is brought from a conduit
in the vicinity of Arafat, about thirty miles distant. This
conduit is wholly built of stone, but'it is greatly neglected
and has fallen into decay, so that most of the wrater is lost
m its passage to the city through apertures, or slowly forces
its way through the obstructing sediment; and hence the sup¬
ply is barely sufficient in ordinary times tor the use of the
inhabitants, and during the pilgrimage sweet water is so
scarce that a small skin pf it is often sold fo;- the value of a
shilling, a very high price amongst the Arabs. At two places
t le aqueduct runs above ground, and there the water is
let oft into small channels and fountains, at which a toll is
exacted by the slaves of the scherif for liberty to fill the
water-skins; and here during the pilgrimage crowds are to
be seen day and night quarelling and fighting for access to
the water. When the Wahabees besieged the place they
cut off this supply of water, and it was not till some time
afterwards that the injury was partially repaired. There is a
small spring which oozes from under the rocks behind
the great palace of the scherif which affords excellent water,
but it is wholly appropriated to the use of the scherifs fami¬
ly. It has been already mentioned that there are few pub¬
lic buildings of any consequence in Mekka. The castle
stands nearly on the summit of the range of mountains
which enclose the town; it commands the greatest part of
the city,^ but is itself commanded by several higher summits.
The building was considerably strengthened and repaired by
Ghaleb, a scherif of Mekka, who mounted it with heavy
guns. It contains a large cistern and a small mosque, and
might accommodate a garrison of 1000 men. It is an impreg¬
nable fortress against the attacks of Arabs, and might even
offer some resistance to Europeans. The approach is by a
steep and narrow path. Below the castle hill upon a small
plain stands the great palace of the reigning scherif; it has
high and solid walls and seems to have been intended for
an out-work to the castle above it, with which, according
to the reports of the Mekkawy, there is a subterranean com¬
munication. It is an irregular pile of building and com¬
prises many spacious courts and gloomy chambers; it is
now converted into a magazine of corn. The most re¬
markable building in Mekka is the mosque, called the Bei-
tullah, which, however, is only remarkable on account of
the Kaaba which it encloses; there being several mosques
in other places of the East nearly equal to it in size,
and much superior in beauty. The Kaaba is contained
in an oblong square 250 paces in length, and 200 in
breadth ; this open square is enclosed by a quadruple row
of pillars, some of white marble, granite, or porphery, but
the greater part of the common stone of the Mekka moun¬
tains ; these pillars are united by pointed arches, every
four of which support a small dome; from the arches
lamps are suspended, some of which burn every night, and
the whole are regularly lighted up during the nights of Ra¬
madan. The Kaaba is an oblong massive structure of the
grey Mekka stone, eighteen paces in length, fourteen in
breadth, and from thirty-five to forty feet in height; seven
paved colonnades, of sufficient breadth to admit four or five
persons to walk abreast, lead towards the Kaaba in the centre.
At the south-east corner of the Kaaba, near the door, is the
famous “ black stone,” said to have been brought by the
angel Gabriel to form the foundation of the edifice. It
forms a sharp angle of the building, at four or five feet from
the ground. It is an irregular oval, about seven inches in
diameter, consisting of a dozen smaller stones cemented
and perfectly smoothed by the millions of touches and kisses
which it has received. The grand ceremony through which
the pilgrims pass, is to go seven times round the Kaaba, re¬
citing certain appointed verses and prayers, and kissing the
sacred stone. In the south-east corner of the Kaaba is an¬
other stone which the people, walking round the Kaaba,
touch only with the right hand. On the north side there is a
hollow in the ground lined with marble; and here it is thought
meritorious to pray. The four sides of the Kaaba are
covered with a black silk stuff, hanging down and leaving
the roof bare. Round the Kaaba there is a good pavement of
marble, and opposite the four sides stand four other build-
ings, where the Imaums of the orthodox Mahommedan sects
take their station and guide the congregation in their pray¬
ers. 1 he building which encloses the Zemzem, or well of holy
water, of which the pilgrims take large dranMits. and wEP-K
Mekka.
536 MEL
Mela, is supposed to cure all diseases, (besides a thorough ablution
in its waters, which, they imagine, purifies from sin), is of a
square form with an entrance into the room which contains
the well, and which is ornamented with marbles of various
colours. Adjoining there is a small stone reservoir which is
always full of Zemzem water. This room is constantly
filled with visitors from dawn till near midnight. The out¬
side walls of the mosque are those of the houses which sur¬
round it on all sides. These houses belonged originally to
the mosque, and they are let out as lodgings to the richest
hadjis at high prices. The mosque has nineteen gates, and
its interior is adorned with seven minarets irregularly dis¬
tributed. It will be seen that the general plan of the
mosque, from the above account, differs but little in its con¬
struction from the mosque of Zakania at Aleppo, the large
mosque called El Amvay at Damascus, and the greater
number of the mosques at Cairo, which are construct¬
ed exactly upon the same plan, with an arched colonnade
round an open square. For further particulars respecting
the ancient and celebrated structure, the reader is referred
to Burckhardt’s work on Arabia, which contains ample and
interesting details on this subject.
The population of Mekka may all be styled foreigners,
or the oftspring of foreigners, except a few Hedjaz Bedouins,
or their descendants who have settled here. The most numer¬
ous are those whose fathers came from Yemen and Hadramaut;
and next to them in numbers are the descendants of Indians,
Egyptians, Syrians, Mogrebyns and Turks. There are also
Mekkawys of Persian origin, Tartars, Bokhars, Kurds, Af¬
ghans ; and, in short, inhabitants from every Mahommedan
country in the world. They have but two kindsof employment;
trade and the service of the Beitullah or Temple. They are
extremely commercial in their habits, and almost all the ole-
mas, or persons engaged in the service of the temple, are se¬
cretly engaged in trade. With the exception of a few poteries
and dyeing houses, Mekka has not a single manufactory,
but during the time of the pilgrimage it is the seat of a very
extensive trade; the wealthy pilgrims bringing from every
Mussulman country its native productions to Djidda, either
by sea or across the desert from Damascus, and exchanging
them amongst each other, or receiving from the merchants
of Mekka the goods of India and Arabia which the latter
have accumulated the whole year in their warehouses.
Mekka at this time becomes one of the largest fairs in the
East, and is interesting from the variety of natives who fre¬
quent it. \\ hilst there is peace with the interior a con¬
siderable trade is carried on with the Bedouins, and es¬
pecially with the inhabitants of the towns of Nedjed, who
are in want of India goods, rings, and articles of dress,
wdiich they procure either from Medina or at a cheaper
rate from Mekka. The rise of the Wahabee powTer in
Arabia was rather unfavourable to Mekka. The pilgrims
who visited the holy city were afraid to send their goods
lest they should be seized by the Wahabees, and the im¬
ports were reduced to what were necessary for the inhabi¬
tants. Burckhardt, from all the inquiries he could make,
estimated the stationary inhabitants at between 25,000
and 30,000, besides from 3000 to 4000 Abyssinian and
black slaves. The climate is sultry and unwholesome ;
the heat is reflected from the rocks which enclose the nar¬
row valley, and suffocating hot -winds occasionally prevail.
Inflammatory fevers and dysentery are common and often
fatal. Mekka surrendered to the Wahabees in 1803, but
was retaken by Ali Pasha’s troop under his son Toussoun
Bey in 1813. Long. 40. 15. E.; Eat. 21. 18. 9. N.
MELA, Pomponius, the earliest Roman geographer,
whose work has been preserved, lived, most probably in the
reign of Claudius, A. i>. 43, though we have no precise in¬
formation respecting him. The passage which seems to
place him in the time of Claudius, is that (iii. 6.) where
he speaks or a mighty emperor who is going to celebrate a
MEL
triumph on account of the conquest of Britain, and this con- Melah
quest we know took place A. ». 42. Julius Caesar only re- II
connoitcred the coast and could not be said to have subdued Melampus.
the island. Mela (ii. 6.) names the place of his birth, but
the different manuscripts give various readings. It was cer¬
tainly in Spain but whether it was Tingentera or Cingentera,
and in what part of the country it was situated, we do not
know. His name is also written Mella in many of the ancient
manuscripts. The family too from which he was descend¬
ed is equally a subject of dispute. Some imagine that he
was descended from the family of Annaeus, and suppose
either that he wTas the son of Marcus Annaeus Seneca, the
orator, or that he was his grandson by L. Annaeus Seneca,
the celebrated philosopher. The former opinion is ground¬
ed principally on the fact that Seneca the orator has dedi¬
cated the first and the fifth of his ten books to his three
sons, M. A. Novatus, L. A. Seneca, and L. A. Mela. The
chief objections arise from our never finding Annaeus pre¬
ceding the name of Mela. The w ork of Mela on geography
is entitled De situ Orbis, in three books, and has come down
to us in the same state as Mela wrote it, with the exception
of the numerous blunders of the transcribers. He has de¬
rived most of his information from Greek geographers,
adopting, more particularly, the system of Eratosthenes.
After a few introductory remarks on the globe in general,
the author in his first book gives a description of Mauritania
on the western coast of Africa, then Numidia, Aifica Pro¬
per, Egypt, Arabia, Syria, Cilicia, Pamphylia, Lycia, Caria,
Ionia, iEolis, Bithynia, Paphlagonia, and the other districts
along the coast of the Euxine. In his second he describes
the countries on the banks of the Tanais, (Don), the Scythi¬
ans, Thrace, Macedonia, Thessaly, Hellas, Peloponnesus,
Epirus, Illyria, Gaul, Spain, and terminates his description
where he began. In the third he describes the north-west¬
ern coast of Spain, Germany, Sarmatia, the countries on
the Caspian sea, Carmania, Persia, Arabia; then he passes
into Africa, where he gives some account of western Ethi¬
opia, and terminates his description at Cape Ampelusia, in
Mauritania. The style of Mela is concise and spirited,
though somewhat affected. The best editions are those of
Gronovius, 1696, and of Tzschucke, Leipzig, 1806. (See
Tzschucke Diss. de Pomponio Mela.)
MELAH, a town of Hindustan, in the Rajpoot territories,
and province of Ajmeer, forty-eight miles SSE. from Zand-
poor. Long. 73. 33. E. Lat. 25. 49. N.
MEL AMP US, in fabulous history, a celebrated sooth¬
sayer and physician of Argos, the son of Amythmon and
Idomenea or Dorippe, who lived at Pylos in Peloponnessus.
His servants once killed two large serpents which they found
at the bottom of a large oak ; and Melampus paid so much
regard to their remains, that he raised a pile, upon which he
burned them. He also took particular care of their young
ones, and fed them with milk. Some time after this the
young serpents crept to Melampus as he slept on the grass
near the oak, and, as if sensible of the favours of their bene¬
factor, they wantonly played around him, softly licking
his ears. This awoke Melampus, who was astonished at
the sudden change which his senses had undergone, finding
himself acquainted with the chirping of the birds, and with
all their rude notes, as they flew around him. Taking ad¬
vantage of this supernatural gift, he made himself perfect in
the knowledge of futurity, and Apollo also instructed him
in the art of medicine. He had soon afterwards the happi¬
ness of curing the daughters of Prcetus, by giving them hel¬
lebore, which from that circumstance has been called me-
lampodium; and as a reward for his skill, he received the
eldest of these princesses in marriage. The tyranny of his
uncle Neleus, king of Pylos, obliged him to leave his native
country ; and Proetus, to shew himself more sensible of his
services, gave him part of his kingdom. About this time
the personal charms of Pero, the daughter of Neleus, had
MEL
Melanc- gained many admirers; but the father promised his daughter
thoru to him only who should bring into his hands the oxen of
v Iphiclus. This condition displeased many; but Bias, who
was also one of her admirers, engaged his brother Melampus
to steal the oxen and deliver them to him. Melampus was
caught in the attempt, imprisoned, and nothing but his ser¬
vices as a soothsayer and physician to Iphiclus could have
saved him from death. All this pleaded in the favour of
Melampus ; but when he had taught the childless Iphiclus
how to become a father, he not only obtained his liberty,
but also the oxen, and, besides, he compelled Neleus to
give Pero in marriage to Bias. A severe distemper, which
had rendered the women of Argos insane, was totally re¬
moved by Melampus; and Anaxagoras, who then sat on the
throne, rewarded his merit by giving him part of his king¬
dom, where he established himself, and where his posterity
reigned during six successive generations. He received
divine honours after death, and temples were erected to his
memory.
ME LUANC TH°N (Sgiiwartzerd),Philip, born at Bret-
ten in the I alatinate, in 1495, was one of the wisest and most
able men amongst the reformers, though of a mild temper,
and disposed to accommodate rather than to inflame disputes.
In his youth he made great progress in learning, and was
appointed professor of Greek at Wittenberg in 1509. Here
his lectures upon Homer and the Greek text of St. Paul’s
epistle to Titus, drew to him a great number of auditors,
and entirely effaced the contempt to which his low stature and
mean appearance had exposed him. Melancthon reduced
the sciences to system, and acquired such reputation, that
he had sometimes between two and three thousand auditors.
He soon formed an intimate friendship with Luther, who
taught divinity in the same university; and in 1519 they
went together to Leipzig, to dispute witli Eccius. The fol¬
lowing years he was continually engaged in various employ¬
ments; he composed several books; he taught divinity; he
performed several journeys, in order to found colleges and
visit churches; and in 1530 he drew up a confession of
taith, which goes by the name of the Confession of Augs¬
burg, because it was presented to the emperor at the diet
leld in that city. All Europe felt convinced that he was
not, like Luther, backward to accommodate the differences
between the various sects of Christians. He hated religious
disputes, into which he was drawn only from necessity by
the part which he was called to act in the world; and he
would therefore have sacrificed many things to produce an
union amongst the Protestants. For this reason, Francis I
wrote to desire him to come and confer with the doctors of
the borbonne, in order to agree with them about putting an
end to all controversies; but although Luftier endeavoured
to persuade the Elector of Saxony to consent to that jour¬
ney, and though Melancthon himself desired it, that prince,
whether distrusting Melancthon’s moderation, or afraid of
quarrelling with the Emperor Charles V., refused to grant his
permission. The king of England, Henry VIIL, also desired
to see him, but in vain. In 1529 Melancthon assisted at
the conferences of Spires; and in 1541 he was present at
the famous conferences at Ratisbon. In 1543 he went to
meet the archbishop of Cologne, to assist him in introduc-
tn nnlv hiS diocese ; but that project came
, . in>j' n 1548 he assisted at seven conferences on the
subject of the Interim of Charles V., and wrote a censure on
that Interim, and all the writings presented at these con-
t?6 wai extremely affected at the dissensions
exceed by Flaccus Illyncus. His last conference with those of
tne Koman Catholic communion took place at Worms, in 1557.
?eear 1 if Wlt?nberf in the year 1560’ and was interred
a niec^nf er‘ ^ ^ be?)re his death’ he "™te upon
rWt, °1 paper the reasons which induced him to look upon
death as a happiness; the chief of which was, that it would
VOL. Xiy.
M E L
537
riven MpW !i'°ln the0l°^1 Persecutions. Nature hadMelanippi-
g , Me ancthon a peaceable and moderate temper, which des.
was but ill suited to the time in which he lived.1 His mo- H
delation served only to increase his troubles. He was like Me]chise-
a lamb m the midst of wolves. Nobody liked his mildness • dec' ,
it appeared as if he was lukewarm; and even Luther him- ' v
self was sometimes exasperated against him. Melancthon
was a man m whom many good as well as great qualities
were united. He had parts and learning, sweetness of temper,
moderation, contentedness, and other virtues, which would
fiave made him happy in any times but those in which he
lived. He never affected dignities, or honours, or riches,
but was rather negligent of all these things, indeed, too
much so in the opinion of some, considering he had a family;
and his son-in-law Sabinus, who possessed a more ambitious
temper, was actually at variance with him upon this very
account. Learning was on many accounts infinitely obliged
to Inm; but on none more than this, that, as already ob¬
served, he reduced almost all the sciences which had been
previously taught in a vague irregular manner into system.
Considering the distractions of his life, and the infinity of
. ISPut(:s and tumults in which he was engaged, it is aston-
islirng how he found leisure to write so many books. Their
number was so great, that, it was thought necessary to
publish a chronological catalogue of them in the year
1582. His works indeed are not correct, and he himself
owned it; but as he found them useful, he chose rather to
print a great number, than to finish only a few, “which,
however, as Bayle observes, “was postponing his own glory
to the advantage of others.” His constitution was very
weak, and required great tenderness and management; a
circumstance which made Luther, fiery and zealous as he
'"MELANIPPmFS0”!",8 5°° e;mestly “vineyard.
MlsLAINn-TIDES, in fabulous history, a Greek poet who
flourished about 520 years before Christ. His grandson, of
the same name, flourished about sixty years thereafter at the
court of Perdiccas of Macedonia. Some fragments of their
poetry are still extant.
MELAPO, a town of Anatolia, the ancient Mylasa, for¬
merly adorned with magnificent temples. It is still a large
town, situated in a fertile plain, but the houses are mean.
It is eighty miles south of Smyrna.
MELCHITES, in church history, the name given to the
~7riac’ Egyptian, and other Christians of the Levant. The
Melchites, excepting some few points of little or no import-
ance, winch relate only to ceremonies and ecclesiastical
discipline, are in every respect professed members of the
Greek church; but they are governed by a particular pa¬
triarch, who resides at Damascus, and assumes the title of
Patriarch of Antioch. They celebrate mass in the Arabian
lunguage. The religious amongst the Melchites follow the
mle ot St. Basil, which is common to all the Greek monks.
1 hey have four fine convents distant about a day’s journev
from Damascus, and never quit the cloister.
MELCHISEDEC, rex justitice), the name of
an individual who occupies an important place amongst the
characters which appear in the Old Testament history, as
typical of Christ. Very little, however, is said in Scripture
regarding him personally; his name occurs only twice in
the Old Testament, (in Gen. xiv. 18, and in Ps. cx.4); and
the reference to him in the New, (in Heb. vii. 20. and vii.
L), has respect only to his typical character. His name is
mentioned for the first time in the sacred history, on the
occasion of the return of Abraham from the defeat of the
four kings or sheikhs who had invaded the district of Sodom,
and carried captive his nephew Lot. In the valley of Sha-
veh or “ the king s dale,” probably the same valley as that
mentioned under the same name in 2 Samuel (xviii. 18), the
victor was met by Melchisedec, who is described as “the
king of Salem, and who, with the generous readiness of
3 Y
538 M E L C H
Melchise- eastern hospitality, set before him and his troop “bread and
^e(" y wine,” that is, a plentiful repast.1 The Salem here mentioned
v ^ v is not to be confounded with the Salem spoken of in Psalm
Ixxvi. 2, where it is plainly Jerusalem that is referred to,
but must have been some city, unknown to general history,
which lay somewhere between Damascus and Sodom, to
which district the narrative of Moses fixes the route of
Abraham’s march.2 In addition to his royal dignity he sus¬
tained also the sacerdotal office: “ he was priest of the
most high God and in this capacity he pronounced a be¬
nediction on Abraham. In return for his kindness, and
especially from reverence to his priestly office, the patriarch
gave him a tithe of all the spoil he had taken in that expe¬
dition, from which he was then returning.
This is the sum of wdiat Moses records respecting Mel-
chisedec; and the only addition that can be made to the
recital from the other passages above referred to is, that his
priesthood was not derived from hereditary descent, but had
been conferred on him by the immediate appointment of
God.3 Meagre, however, as this account is, there is some¬
thing in the character and position of the individual to whom
it refers of so singular a nature, as at once to excite curi¬
osity and stimulate further investigation. That in a land
inhabited by the accursed race of Canaan, and at a time
when the knowledge of the true God was confined apparent¬
ly to Abraham and his dependents,4 an individual descended
from that race should have been found, uniting in himself
the two offices of priest and king, worshipping the true God
of heaven and of earth,5 and so eminent in dignity and piety,
that his blessing was gratefully received by Abraham, and
the divinity of his priesthood acknowledged on the part of
the patriarch, by an offering to him of tithes, is a circum¬
stance which cannot fail to excite the surprise of every
reader of the sacred narrative. It is natural for him to ask,
Who or what was this extraordinary character ? From what
race did he spring ? Whence did he derive his knowledge
of the true God ? Or how came he to be “a king of right¬
eousness,” and “a king of peace,” as well as a priest of God,
in the land of Canaan ? To these questions the narrative of
Moses furnishes no reply, and what is said of him in other
parts of Scripture6 only tends to heighten our curiosity, by the
elevated rank which is there assigned to him, as a type of the
Messiah. Our only resource in such a case is probable con¬
jecture, and to this it is not surprising that expositors of the
Scriptures, both in ancient and modern times, should have
had recourse ; nor is it to be wondered at that the opinions
which they have advocated on the subject have been both
numerous and discordant. To recapitulate the whole of
these would only be to occupy space which might be far
more usefully filled ; we shall, therefore, confine ourselves
to a statement of one or two of the most prominent, with a
brief view of the arguments by which they have been en¬
forced.
1. By the Jewish expositors generally, Melchisedec is
said to have been Shem, the son of Noah, and this, as we
learn from Epiphanius, (Haeres. Iv. p. 205), was also the
opinion entertained by the Samaritans. It has likewise
been held by a few Christian interpreters, amongst whom is
Luther. The passages from Jewish writers advocating it,
have been carefully collected by Bochart, (Phaleg. lib. ii.
c. 1), who has also very satisfactorily shewn its absurdity;
apart from the decisive evidence furnished against it by
the statement of Paul, that Melchisedec was one whose
descent could not be identified with that of the Levites,
I S E D E C.
(m yevedkoyovfxtvas e£ avrav, Heb. vii. 5), a statement which Melchise-
is not true of Shem, who was in the regular line of Levi’s dec.
progenitors. It seems highly unreasonable that Moses, who v v—'
often mentions Shem, should here introduce him under ano¬
ther name, without giving any explanation as to the person
really intended; nor is it easily conceivable that Abraham
should have been described as “ sojourning in q strange
country,” if he had been in the immediate vicinity of his
ancestor Shem. The Jews, moreover, are not unanimous
in this opinion, for Josephus tells us that Melchisedec was
a prince of the Canaanites ;7 and in one place of the rab¬
binical book Sohar,8 he is spoken of as a type of the king of
true peace.
2. Augustin and Theodoret severally inform us of a class
of heretics in the early church, who received the name of
Melchisedechians, from their holding the opinion that Mel¬
chisedec was a mighty divine power, (dei virtutem, ueyd\r]v
nva Ka\ 6eiav dwdfj.iv), superior to Christ, and the model after
which Christ was formed. The founder of this sect was one
Theodotus, an usurer, who seems to have flourished about
the year 174.3 An advance upon this opinion was made
by Hierax, who, as we learn from Epiphanius, identified
this divine power with the Holy Spirit. (Haer. Iv. p. 304).
The sect seems to have commanded little attention, and
their opinion is worthy of notice only as forming one of the
heresies of the early church.
3. By some of the fathers, and not a few of the more
modern expositors, Melchisedec has been regarded as the
Logos or second person of the Trinity, who appeared to
Abraham, not incarnate, but only, as Epiphanius expresses
it, \v Idea dvdpwTvov, in the model of man. In defence of this
opinion, its advocates adduce, 1st, the acknowledged fact
that such appearances were vouchsafed to the patriarchs, as
in the case of Abraham, when “ the Lord” communed with
him respecting the destruction of Sodom, and of Jacob,
when he wrestled with the angel, and saw “ God face to
face;” 2dly, the evident mystery attached in Scripture to
the person and character of Melchisedec, “ of whom,” says
Paul, “ we have many things to say and hard to be utter¬
ed ;”10 3dly, the assertion of the same apostle that Melchise¬
dec was not mortal, implied in his declaration, that'whilst
other men who receive tithes die, “ it is witnessed of him
that he liveth ;”n 4thly, the strong and unqualified terms in
which the unearthly origin of the “ order” of his priesthood,
and its perpetual duration, are spoken of by the same apostle,
as well as by the psalmist ;12 5thly, the language of Paul
in regard to the mysterious existence of Melchisedec, as
“ without father, without mother, without descent, having
neither beginning of days nor end of life,” language strik¬
ingly applicable to Christ, “ whose goings forth have been
of old from everlasting,” but hardly to be understood of a mere
man; axid.,finally, the circumstance of Melchisedec’s receiv¬
ing tithes as a tree-will offering from Abraham, an homage
which was rendered by the pious to none but the Almighty.
On the side of this theory are ranked some eminent names
both in the early and in the modern church. It is enough to
mention those of Ambrose, Damianus, Moulin, Cunaeus, Ou-
trein, Hottinger, Starke, Gaillard, Ridgley, Hunter, Henry,
and Brown. A very able defence of this opinion has recently
appeared in a work entitled, Melchizedek, by the author of
Balaam, Elijah, &c. London, 1834, the production, we be¬
lieve, of a lady.
4. By far the most common opinion is, that Melchisedec
was a righteous and powerful king, a worshipper and priest
1 Patrick, foe. Josephus, Antiq. i. 9. 2 See this clearly shewn by Bochart, Phaleg, 1- ii c. 4.
3 Heb. vii. 3. Fuller on Gen. xiv- 18. 4 Josh. xxiv. 2. 5 Gen. xiv. 19
6 Ps. cx 4. Heb. vi. 20. 7 Xavavaleov dwaa-rgs. De bell. Jud. vii. 18.
8 Lech, lecha, fob GO, col. 237, ed. Sulz., quoted in Professor Tholuck’s Comment, zum briefe an d. Heb. in loc.
* Theodoret, Haer-fab. lib. ii. cap. 6. ap. Suicer. Thes. Eccl 10 Heb. v. 11. 11 Heb. vii. 8. 12 Heb. vii. 3, &c. Ps. ex. 4.
MEL
Melcomb- of the Most High God, in the land of Canaan, and a type of
Rofria T  /"'ll • j. t /-» i . .... _ " L
MEL
.539
Jesus Christ. In support of this opinion it is contended^-1 st,
that the mysterious character attributed to Melchisedec in
Scripture, is nothing more than belongs to all the prophetical
types ; and that when Paul says he has many things to say
respecting him which are hard to be uttered, he only means
that owing to the carnality of those to whom he was writ¬
ing, the revelation which he was about to give of the spiri¬
tual character of Melchisedec as a type of Christ, would not
be easily apprehended;» 2dly, that his being described as
aTrarcap kcu upkeep, implies nothing more than that his de¬
scent was not matter of record, in the same way as Sarah
is called apprap by Philo, because her mother’s name is not
known, or as Servius Tullius is said by Livy to have been
born patre nullo, matre serva, because only his mother’s
name (Cornicula) was matter of history ; 3dly, that what
is said of his being “ without beginning of days or end of
life,” refers merely to our ignorance of the time and man¬
ner of his birth and of his death, which are purposely left
unrecorded in order that he might serve as a type of Christ
“ who ever liveth 4thly, that in all the certain instan¬
ces of divine appearances recorded in the Old Testament,
the fact of the Deity’s being present is made apparent in
the narrative itself, and that this not being done in the case
of Melchisedec renders it unjustifiable, without express au¬
thority from some other part of Scripture, to suppose that
he was such an appearance ; 5thly, that had Melchisedec
been himself the Son of God, the apostle would not have
said that he was “made like (dcfxopouopevos, assimilatus, lik¬
ened to, compared to) the Son of God,” for this would have
been to compare him with himself; Gthly, that no sufficient
reason is apparent from the narrative for so extraordinary
a revelation as that of the second person of the Trinity in
human shape, nor does any end worthy of such means seem
to have been answered by the interview ; and, finally, that
Abraham’s offering of a tithe of the spoil might with great
propriety be presented to Melchisedec though only a man,
as an act of homage not to himself, but to that God whose
priest he was and in whose name he had blessed the patri¬
arch. This view of the subject has been adopted by a ma¬
jority of the fathers as well as of modern divines. It has
been strenuously defended by Dr. Owen in his work on the
Hebrews, where he denounces the opposite opinion as a
series of “ groundless fables,” and “ woful mistakes,” and has
received the suffrages of the greater part of those who have
commented upon that epistle, amongst whom may be men¬
tioned the names of Calvin, Cameron, Scott, Blomfield,
Stuart, Kuinoel, and Tholuck. It may be regarded as the
common opinion of the orthodox church.
According to this opinion, the reasoning of St. Paul in the
passage referred to goes to establish an analogy between
Melchisedec and Christ, in respect of the following points :
1st,offtake and designation,both being denominated “king
of righteousness,” and “ king of peace 2dly, of obscurity
of descent, both being without beginning of days or end of
life, the one because his genealogy is not recorded, the other
because with regard to him this was literally true; 3dly, of
the homage rendered to both by their receiving tithes as a
free-will offering, the one in the name of the God whom he
served, the other in his own name ; 4thly, of the peculiar
character of the ofiice they sustained, neither having had
either predecessors or successors, the one, because God ar¬
ranged it so, the other, because it was of necessity so ; and,
5thly, of the superiority of both to the priests under the law,
the one having blessed, as a superior, Abraham the father
of Levi, the other having abolished the whole economy of
the Levitical priesthood by the sacrifice of himself.1 2
MELCOMB-llEGIS,a town of Dorsetshire, in the hund¬
red of Culliford-tree, 127 miles from London. It is situated Meleager.
on the right bank of the river Wey, which divides it from   v '
Weymouth, both which towns are connected together by the
bridge. 1 he two towns have one corporation of mayor and
aldermen between them, and formerly chose four members to
parliament, each person entitled to the franchise having four
votes. By the new law, an alteration has been made, and the
towns united chuse two members only. The whole are
commonly called Weymouth, though Melcomb is the larger
place of the two, and that in which are the market, town hall,
and custom house, and wherein are the best houses for the
accommodation of the visitors who resort to it for the pur¬
pose of sea-bathing, for which the shore is peculiarly adapt¬
ed. The market is held on Tuesday. The population was
inlSOl, 2350; in 1811,2985; in 1821, 4252; and in 1831,
5126.
MELEAGER, in fabulous history, a celebrated hero, the
son of Oeneus, king of Calydonia, by Althaea, daughter of
Thestius. The Parcae were present at the moment of his
birth, and predicted his future greatness. Clotho said that
he would be brave and courageous ; Lachesis foretold his
uncommon strength and valour ; and Atropos declared that
he should live as long as that firebrand, which was on the fire,
remained entire and unconsumed. Althaea no sooner heard
this, than she snatched the stick from the fire, and kept it
with the most jealous care, as the life of her son totally de¬
pended upon its preservation. The fame of Meleager in¬
creased with his years. He signalized himself in the Ar-
gonautic expedition, and afterwards delivered his country
from the neighbouring inhabitants, who made war against
his father at the instigation of Diana, whose altars Oeneus
had neglected. But Diana punished the negligence of
Oeneus by a greater calamity. She sent a wild boar, which
laid waste all the country, and seemed invincible on ac¬
count of its immense size. It soon became a public con¬
cern ; all the neighbouring princes assembled to destroy
this terrible animal; and nothing is more famous in my¬
thological history, than the hunting of the Calydonian boar.
The princes and chiefs who assembled, wrere Meleager son
of Oeneus, Idas and Lynceus sons of Apharcus, Dryas son
of Mars, Castor and Pollux sons of Jupiter and Leda, Piri-
thous son of Ixion, Theseus son of iEgeus, Anceus and
Cepheus sons of Lycurgus, Admetus son of Pheres, Jason
of iEson, Peleus and Telamon sons of ^Eacus, Iphicles son
of Amphitryon, Eurytrion son of Actor, Atalanta daughter
of Schceneus, Idas the friend of Hercules, the sons of Thes¬
tius, Amphiaraus son of Oileus, Protheus, Cometes, the
brothers of Althaea, Hippothous son of Cercyon, Leucippus,
Adrastus, Ceneus, Phileus, Echion, Lelex, Phcenix son of
Amyntor, Panopeus, Hyleus, Hippasus, Nestor, Mencetius
the father of Patroclus, Amphicides, Laertes the father of
Ulysses, and the four sons of Hippocoon. This troop of
armed men attacked the boar, which was at last killed by
Meleager. The conqueror gave the skin and the head to
Atalanta, who had first w ounded the animal. This irritated
the rest, and particularly Toxeus and Plexippus the bro¬
thers of Althaea, and they endeavoured to rob Atalanta of
the honourable present. Meleager defended her, and kill¬
ed his uncles in the attempt. Meantime the news of this
celebrated conquest had already reached Calydon, and Al¬
thaea went to the temple of the gods to return thanks for
the victory which her son had gained ; but being informed
that her brothers had been killed by Meleager, she in a
moment of resentment threw into the fire the fatal stick on
which her son’s life depended, and Meleager died as soon
as it wTas consumed. As Homer does not mention the fire¬
brand, and some have hence imagined that this fable is pos¬
terior to that poet’s age. But he informs us, that the death of
1 The word he uses :s SvaepprjvevTos which the Vulgate renders ininterpretabilis.
2 See Chrysostom Homil. Calvin Comment. Tholuck Comment, in loco, &e. ike.
540
MEL
Melicerta.
Meleager Toxeus and Plexippus so irritated Althaea, that she uttered
the most horrible curses and imprecations upon her son’s
, head.
Meleager, a Greek poet, was the collector of the first
Anthologia that is known. Neither the place where he was
born, nor the time at which he flourished is known with
any degree of precision. We think that Mr. Clinton {Fasti
//e//e/2^’,xi.p.541)proves that he is notMeleager, the cynic
of Gadara, the contemporary of Menippus, but that he flou¬
rished after Antipater Sidonius somewhere about 95 b.c.
Meleager was the editor of a collection of fugitive pieces
of poetry, and the author of some original poems. His col¬
lection was made from the works of forty-six authors, and
was entitled Sre0ai>oj, the Garland. The authors were
Anytus, Myro, Sappho, Melanippides, Simonides, Nossis,
Rhianus, Erinna, Alcaeus, Samillo, Leonidas, Mnasalces,
Pamphilus, Pancrates, Tymnes, Nicias, Euphemus, Dama-
getes, Callimachus, Euphorion, Hegisippus, Perseus, Dio-
timus, Menecrates, Nicaenetes, Phaennus, Simmias, Par-
thenis, Bacchylides, Anacreon, Anthemius, Archilochus,
Alexander (Etolus, Polycletus, Polystratus, Antipater, Posi-
dippus, Hedyles, Sicelides, Plato, Aratus, Cheremon, Phe-
dimus, Antagoras, Theodorides, and Phanias. This col¬
lection has disappeared, but we possess one hundred and
thirty-one pieces which are said to have been the produc¬
tion of this poet. They are written principally on amorous
subjects, and are remarkable for the elegance of their ver¬
sification. The best editions of Meleager are that of Manso,
(lena 1789,) ofMeinecke, (Lips. 1789,) and of Grsefe (Lips.
1811.) See Fabricius, Bib Hoth. Greeca, tom. iv.; Prole¬
gomena to the Anthologia Grceca of Jacobs ; Reiske in his
Preface to his Anthologia Grceca; Schneider in his Ana¬
lecta Critica, facie. 1.; Burette, Memoires de VAcad.des
inscript, xix.
MELETIANS, in ecclesiastical history, the name of a
considerable party who adhered to the cause of Meletius,
bishop of Lycopolis, in Upper Egypt, after he had been
deposed, about the year 306, by Peter bishop of Alex¬
andria, on the charge of having sacrificed to the gods, and
been guilty of other heinous crimes; though Epiphanius
represents as his only failing an excessive severity against
the lapsed. This which was at first a personal difference
between Meletius and Peter, became a religious contro¬
versy ; and the Meletian party subsisted in the fifth cen¬
tury, but was condemned by the first council of Nice.
MELFLa city of the province Basilicata in the kingdom
of Naples, being the seat of a Bishop, to whose see Napolla
is united. It is situated on the river Antroluco, near its
junction with the Ofanto, and contains, besides a cathedral,
fourteen churches, eight monasteries, and 7400 inhabitants.
MELFORD-LONG, a town of the county of Suffolk,
fifty-seven miles from London. It is situated on the river
Stour, and consists of one street about a mile in length.
The church is a beautiful gothic building. The country
round is, pleasant, and ornamented with several gentlemen’s
seats. The population in 1801 amounted to 2204; in 1811
to 2068 ; in 1821 to 2288 ; and in 1831 to 2514.
MELIBOEA, in Ancient Geography, an island of Syria,
at the mouth of the Orontes, which before it falls into the
sea, fonns a spreading lake round it. This island was fa¬
mous for its purple dye. It was believed to be a Thes-
hence Lucre«s epithet of Thessalicus.
MELILERIA, Meeicertes, or Melicertus, in fabulous
ustoiy, a son of Athamas and Ino. He was saved by his
mothei from the fury of his father, who prepared to dash
him against a wall as he had done his brother Learchus.
Hie mother was so terrified that she threw herself into the
sea with Mehcerta in her arms; but Neptune took compassion
on the misfortunes of Ino and her son, and changed them
bot;VTnto sea deities. Ino was called Leucothoe or Matuta ;
and Mehcerta was known amongst the Greeks by the name
MEL
of Palcemon, and amongst the Latins by that of Portum- Melinda
rms. borne suppose that the Isthmian games were insti- II
tuted in honour of Melicerta.' Melksham.
MELINDA, a kingdom on the east coast of Africa, situ-
ated, according to some, between the third and fourth de¬
gree of south latitude ; though there is great disagreement
amongst geographers as to its extent. It is allowed by all,
however, that the coasts are very dangerous ; being full of
rocks and shelves, and the sea at some seasons very liable
to tempests. The kingdom of Melinda is for the most part
rich and fertile ; producing almost all the necessaries of life
except wheat and rice, both which are brought thither from
Lambaya and other parts; and those who cannot purchase
t lem make use of potatoes in their stead, which are here
fine, large, and plentiful. They likewise abound with great
variety of fruit trees, roots, plants, and other esculents, and
with melons of exquisite flavour. They have also great
plenty of venison, game, oxen, sheep, hens, geese, and other
poultry, and one breed of sheep, whose tails weigh between
thirty and forty pounds. The capital city is also called
Melinda.
MELIN UM, in Batural History, the name of an earth
famous in the earliest ages of painting, being the only white
the gi eat painters of antiquity used; and, according to Pliny’s
account, one of the three colours with which alone they
performed all their works. From the description given of
this eaith it seems to have been aluminous, tolerably pure,
and in a state of minute division.
MELISSA, in fabulous history, a daughter of Melissus
king of Crete, who with her sister Amalthcea fed Jupiter
with the milk of goats. She first found out the means of
collecting honey, and hence it has been fabled that she wras
changed into a bee, as her name is the Greek word for that
insect.
MELISSUS, a philosopher of Samos, was the disciple of
Parmenides and Heraclius; he flourished b.c. 444, and was
the contemporary of Zeno of Velia, and Empedocles. He
did not confine himself to the abstruse questions of philo¬
sophy, but took an active part in the political affairs of his
country. We find him commanding the fleet of his native
island against Pericles, b.c. 440, but he did not succeed
in preventing the island from falling into the hands of the
Athenians. (Pint. Pericl. c. 26, 27.) Melissus supposed
that the universe was infinite, unchangeable, and immove¬
able. He denied the reality of motion, maintaining that
it was merely a deception of the senses. Of the gods he
maintained that we know nothing, and therefore cannot
enter into a discussion respecting their power and attri¬
butes. {Diogenes Laert. 1. ix.) He was the author of a
work, nepi TOV ovros, on Nature, of which Eusebius has pre¬
served a fragment in his Praparatio Evangelii, xiv.; and an-
other, De Animalibus, of which Fulgentius has inserted in
his mythology what Melissus mentions respecting the swan.
Fabricius, Biblioth. Grceca, i. p. 820.)
MELITO, a canonized bishop of Sardis in Lydia, in the
second century, remarkable for the apology he presented
to the emperor Aurelius, in favour of the Christians, on
which Eusebius and the other ancient ecclesiastical writers
bestow great praises. But that apology, and indeed all Me¬
mo’s other works are now lost.
MELITUS, a Greek orator and poet, the accuser of So¬
crates. The Athenians, after the death of Socrates, hav¬
ing discovered the iniquity of the sentence which they had
jiassed against that great philosopher, put Melitus to death,
400 b.c.
MELKAPOOR, a town of Hindustan in the Nizam’s
territories, in the province of Berar, twenty-eight miles
south-east from Boorhanpour. Long. 76.39. E. lat.21.4.N.
MELKSHAM, a town of the county of Wilts, in the
hundred of the same name, ninety-nine miles from London,
and situated on one of the great roads to Bath. It is a well
MEL
Melle
built town, chiefly inhabited by persons employed in mak-
Melmotb. cloths and cassimeres. It has a cattle market, which
>. | ^ held on alternate X hursdays? but none for provisions is
regularly held. The inhabitants were in 1801, 4030: in
1811, 4110; in 1821, 4765 ; and in 1831, 4722.
MELLE, an arrondisement of the department of the two
Sevres in France, extending over 573 square miles. It
contains seven cantons, divided into ninety-eight communes
and is inhabited by 63,800 persons. The capital is the city
ol the same name, situated on the river Beronne. It con¬
tains 300 houses, and 1890 inhabitants.
MELMOTH, William, a learned member of Lincoln’s
Inn, was born in the year 1666. In conjunction with Mr.
Peere Williams, Mr. Melmoth was the publisher of Vernon’s
Reports, under an order of the court of Chancery. He had
once an intention of printing his own reports, and a short
time before his death advertised them at the end of those
of his coadjutor Peere Williams, as then actually preparing
for the press. They have not yet, however, made their ap¬
pearance. But the performance for which he justly de¬
serves to be held in perpetual remembrance is, The Great
Importance of a Religious Life ; concerning which it may
be mentioned to the credit of the age, that notwithstanding
many large editions had before been circulated, 42,000 copies
of this useful treatise have been sold in the course of eight¬
een years. It is a somewhat singular circumstance, that
the real author of this most admirable treatise should never
before have been publicly known: it had been commonly
attributed to the first Earl of Egmont, particularly by Mr.
Walpole in his Catalogue ; which is the more surprising, as
the author is plainly pointed out in the short character
prefixed to the book itself. “ It may add weight, perhaps,
to the reflections contained in the following pages,” we
are told, “ to inform the reader, that the author’s life was
one uniform exemplar of those precepts which, with so ge-
neious a zeal, and such an elegant and affecting simplicity
of style, he endeavours to recommend to general practice.
He left others to contend for modes of faith, and inflame
themselves and the world with endless controversy ; it was
the wiser purpose of his more ennobled aim, to act up to
those clear rules of conduct which revelation hath gracious¬
ly prescribed. He possessed by temper every moral vir¬
tue ; by religion every Christian grace. He had a hu¬
manity that melted at every distress ; a charity which not
only thought no evil, but suspected none. He exercised
his profession with a skill and integrity which nothing could
equal but the disinterested motive that animated his la¬
bours, or the amiable modesty which accompanied all his
virtues. He employed his industry, not to gratify his own
desires ; no man indulged himself less : not to accumulate
use ess wealth ; no man more disdained so unworthy a pur¬
suit : it was for the decent advancement of his family, for
the generous assistance of his friends, for the ready relief
of the indigent. How often did he exert his distinguished
abilities, yet refuse the reward of them, in defence of the
widow, the fatherless, and him that had none to help him.
In a word, few have ever passed a more useful, not one a
more blameless life ; and his whole time was employed
either in doing good, or in meditating it. He died on the
;1 day oi April 1743, and lies buried under the cloister of
Lincoln s Inn chapel."
Melmoth, William, son of the preceding, was born in
l /10. Of his early history little is known, nor do we find
that he studied at either university, though it is probable that
he received a liberal education. He was bred to the law,
and appointed a commissioner of bankrupts in 1756 ; but
the greater part of his life was spent in retirement from pub¬
lic business, partly at Shrewsbury, and partly at Bath, where
he was not less distinguished for integrity of conduct, than
tor polished manners and elegant taste. He first appeared as
a writer about the year 1742, when, under the name ofFitzos-
M E L
borne, he published a volume of Letters, which have been
muchadmiredby some for their style, though it is overlabour¬
ed and devoid of natural fluency, and by others for the just
and liberal remarks with which they abound, on various
topics, moral and literary. In 1747, he published his trans¬
lation of the Letters of Pliny, in two vols. 8vo, which was
then and is still regarded as one of the best versions of a
Latin author that has appeared in our language. It is re¬
markable alike for elegance, precision, and correctness; the
translator enters with rare felicity into the spirit not only
of the author s ideas, but of his style, the characteristic at¬
tributes of which he has faithfully transfused; the freedom,
ease, and graceful familiarity of the epistolary style are hap¬
pily preserved; and there are few instances to be found in
any language where an original has suffered so little in pass¬
ing through the trying alembic of translation. In 1753, he
published a translation of Cicero’s Letters to several of his
friends, with remarks, in three volumes ; and he likewise
translated the treatises De Amicitia, and De Sencctute,
which were published in 1773 and 1779, and enriched with
annotations, literary and philosophical, which added greatly
to their value. In his remarks on the treatise De Amicitia,
he combated the opinion of Lord Shaftesbury, who had im¬
puted it to Christianity as a defect, that it contained no pre¬
cepts m favour of friendship; and also that of Soame Jenyns,
who had represented this very omission as aproof of its di¬
vine origin. His refutation, in both instances, rests upon solid
grounds. Lord Shaftesbury’s notion is founded on a total
misconception of the true character and aim of the Chris¬
tian leligion ; the paradox of Soame Jenyns proceeds on an
oblivion of its first and greatest precept. The same just
and orthodox spirit he had previously evinced in his reply
to Mr. Bryant, who, in his Treatise on the Truth of the
Chiistian Religion, had attacked Mr. Melmoth’s remarks on
Iiajan s persecution of the Christians in Bithynia, contained
m a note to his translation of Pliny’s Letters. The con¬
cluding work of Mr. Melmoth was a tribute of filial affec-
tion, and consisted in Memoirs of his father, published in
1/96. After a long life passed in literary pursuits, and in
the exercise of private virtue, this excellent and accom¬
plished person died at Bath on the 15th of March 1799, at
the age of eighty-nine. He had been twice married ; first,
to the daughter of Dr. King, principal of St. Mary’s Hall,
Oxford; and, secondly, to a widow lady, named Mrs. Ogle.
Mr. Melmoth was a happy example of the mild and human¬
izing influence of learning on a cultivated mind; we mean
of that learning which is described by the great Roman ora¬
tor as constituting “ the aliment of youth, and the delight and
consolation of declining years.” “ Who,” says the author
of the Pursuits of Literature, “ who would not envy this
foi tunate^ old man his most finished translation and comment
on Tally’s Cato? or rather who would not rejoice i• the
refined and mellowed pleasure of so accomplished a gentle¬
man, and so liberal a scholar ?” Dr.. Warton, in a note on
Pope’s works, mentions Melmoth’s translation of Pliny’s
Letters as “ one of the few that are better than the ori¬
ginal ; and Birch, in his Life of Tillotson, makes nearly
the same observation. Both have perhaps exceeded just
bounds in pronouncing so unqualified an eulogium; but such
an opinion deliberately expressed by such men, affords strong
presumptive evidence in support of the more limited com¬
mendation which we have above ventured to bestow ; and
there can be no doubt whatever, that Melmoth is one of the
few translators who have been successful in producing an
“ express image of their originals. Besides the works al¬
ready mentioned, Mr. Melmoth composed some poetical
pieces, which were inserted, one of them in Dodsley’s, and
three in Pearch s poems, but none of them possesses any
peculiar merit, or rises above a decent mediocrity. The
fame m Melmoth rests on his prose alone. (a.)
MELOD /, in Music, a succession of sounds ranged in
541
Melody.
542
M E L
MEL
Melody'
such a manner, according to the laws of rhythm and modu¬
lation, that it forms a sentiment agreeable to the ear. Vocal
melody is called singing; and that which is performed upon
instruments has been termed symphonic melody.
The idea of rhythmus necessarily enters into that of me¬
lody. An air is not an air but in proportion as the laws of
measure and quantity are observed. The same succession
of sounds is susceptible of as many different characters, as
many different kinds of melody, as the various ways by which
its emphatic notes, and the quantities of those which inter¬
vene, may be diversified; and the change in duration *afthe
notes alone, may disguise that very succession in such a
manner that it cannot be known. Thus, melody in itself is
nothing; it is the rhythmus or measure which determines it,
and there can be no air without time. If then we abstract
measure from both, we cannot compare melody with har¬
mony ; for to the former it is essential, but not at all to the
latter.
Melody, according to the manner in which it is consi¬
dered, has a relation to two different principles. When
regarded only as agreeable to the proportions of sound and
the rules of modulation, it has its principle in harmony;
since it is an harmonical analysis, which exhibits the differ¬
ent gradations of the scale, the chords peculiar to each mode,
and the laws of modulation, which are the sole elements
that compose an air. According to this principle, the whole
power of melody is limited to that of pleasing the ear by
agreeable sounds, as the eye may be pleased by an agreeable
assemblage of suitable colours. But when considered as an
imitative art, by which we may affect the mind with various
images, excite different emotions in the heart, inflame or
soothe the passions, and produce different effects upon our
moral faculties, which cannot be produced by the influence
of external sense alone, we must explore another principle
for melody; for in our whole internal frame there appears
to be no power upon which either harmony alone, or its
necessary results, can seize, to affect us in such a manner.
What, then, is the second principle ? It is as much found¬
ed on nature as the first; but, in order to discover its foun¬
dation in nature, it will require a more accurate though
simple observation, and a more exquisite degree of sensi¬
bility in the observer. This principle is the same which
varies the tone of the voice, when we speak, according as
we are interested in what we say, and according to the dif¬
ferent emotions which we feel in expressing it. It is the
accent of languages which determines the melody of every
nation; it is the accent which leads us to employ the em¬
phasis of speaking whilst we sing, and to speak with more
or less energy according as the language which we use is
more or less accented. That language the accents of which
are the most sensible, ought to produce the most passionate
and lively melody; that which has little accentuation, or
none at all, can only produce a cold and languid melody,
without character and without expression. These are the
true principles. In proportion as we depart from them,
w.ien we speak of the power of music upon the human heart,
we shall become unintelligible to ourselves and others; our
words will be without meaning.
Ir music does not impress the soul wfith images except by
melody, if it thence obtains its whole power, it must follow,
that all musical sounds which are not pleasing by themselves
alone, ho we ver agreeable to harmony they may be, do not form
an imitative music; and, being incapable, even with the most
beautiful chords, either of presenting the images of things,
or exciting the finer feelings, very soon cloy the ear, and
leave, always the heart in cold indifi’erence. It follows
likewise, that notwithstanding the parts which harmony has
introduced, and which the actual taste of music so wantonly
abuses, wherever two different melodies are heard at the
same time, they counteract each other, and destroy the
effects of both, however beautiful each may be when per¬
formed alone. From this it may be judged with what de- Melos
gree of taste the French composershave introduced into their ||
operas the miserable practice of accompanying one air with Melrose,
another, as well in singing, as in instrumental perform- 1
ances.
But the causes by which national melody is diversified
and characterized, are more profound and permanent than
the mere accentuation of language. This indeed may have
great influence in determining the nature of the rhythm, and
the place of emphatic notes, but very little in regulating
the nature of the emphasis and expression themselves. If
Rousseau’s principle be true in its full extent, it must of
necessity be acknowledged, that an air which was never set or
intended for words, however melodious, cannot be imitative;
that what is imitative in one nation cannot be so in ano¬
ther ; and that, upon his hypothesis, the recitative, which is
formed upon the mode of speaking, is the most forcible of
all melodies, which is absurd. But his other observations
are at once judicious and profound. Though it is impos¬
sible to exhibit the beauty and variety of harmony by play¬
ing the same melody at the same time upon different keys,
admitting those keys to form amongst themselves a perfect
chord, which will of consequence preserve all the subsequent
notes in the same intervals ; yet this perfect harmony would
by no means be uniformly pleasing to the ear. We must
therefore of necessity introduce less perfect chords to vary
and increase the pleasure, and these chords in any complex
system of music must of necessity produce dissonances. It
then becomes the business of the composer to be careful that
these discords may arise as naturally from, and return as
naturally to, perfect harmony as possible. These causes
must inevitably have the effect of varying the melody of the
different parts; but still, amidst all these difficulties, the
artist ought to be zealous in preserving the melody of each
as homogeneous with others as possible, that the result of
the whole may be in some measure uniform. Otherwise,
by counteracting each other, the parts will reciprocally de¬
stroy their effects.
MELOS, in Ancient Geography, an island situated be¬
tween Crete and Peloponnessus, about twrenty-four miles
from Scyllaeum. It is about sixty miles in circumference,
and of an oblong figure. It enjoyed its independence for
about 700 years before the time of the Peloponnesian war.
This island was originally peopled by a Lacedaemonian co¬
lony, 1116 years before the Christian era; and hence the
inhabitants refused to join the rest of the islands and the
Athenians against the Peloponnesians. But this refusal was
severely punished. The Athenians took Melos, and put to
the sword all those who were able to bear arms. The women
and children were made slaves, and the island left desolate.
An Athenian colony repeopled it, till Lysander reconquered
the island, and re-established the original inhabitants in
their possessions.
MELPOMENE, in fabulous history, one of the muses,
daughter of Jupiter and Mnemosyne, who presided over
tragedy. Horace has addressed the finest of his odes to
her, as to the patroness of lyric poetry. She was generally
represented as a young woman with a serious countenance;
her garments were splendid; she wore a buskin, and held
a dagger in one hand, with a sceptre and crown in the other.
MELROSE, a village in the parish of Melrose in Rox¬
burghshire, on the south side of the river Tweed, near the
northern base of the Eildon hills, and thirty-five miles from
Edinburgh. It is pleasantly situated in a picturesque and fer¬
tile country, the scene of many a border legend; the streets
form a kind of triangle, in the centre of which stands the
cross, a structure supposed to be coeval with the abbey it¬
self. The cross is supported by the endowment of a small
portion of land, called the Corse-rig, which the proprietor
holds upon the sole condition of “ keeping up the cross.”
Melrose Abbey must have first occasioned the rise of the
MEL
Melton village, and continues to be its chief support to the present
Mowbray. day. jt was founc}e(J by King David I. in 1136, and dedi-
“v cated to the Virgin Mary; and it was furnished with monks
of the Cistercian order from Rivale Abbey in Yorkshire.
The nave which lies due east and west is in length 258 feet,
and in breadth 79 feet; at the distance of fifty feet from the
eastern extremity it is intersected at right angles by the
transept which is 130 feet in length, and44 in breadth. The
pious founder, wdiom James VI. calls a “ sair sainct for the
croune,” conferred extensive lands and valuable privileges
on the abbot and monks of this abbey, which was one of the
most magnificent institutions of the kind in Scotland. They
held by charter the lands of Melrose, Eldun, and Dernervie,
the lands and wood of Gattonside, with the fishings of the
Tweed along the whole extent of those lands, the right of
pasturage and pannage in the king’s forests of Selkirk, Tra-
quair, and in the forest lying between the Gala and the
Leader, and also the privilege of taking wood for building
and burning, from the same forests. During the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries, the piety of princes and nobles con¬
tinued adding to the privileges and wealth of the monks of
Melrose, who accumulated vast possessions in Ayr, Dum¬
fries, Selkirk, Berwick, and other places. Monastic institu¬
tions were generally considered as sacred by contending
parties, and thus the protection afforded by the abbey of
Melrose must have been exceedingly serviceable in a district
peculiarly exposed to the marauding incursions of barbar¬
ous freebooters, and which was the field of frequent san¬
guinary conflicts, infuriated by national antipathies and per¬
sonal wrongs. Being situated, however, close by the hos¬
tile borders, it could hardly be expected that it should al¬
ways escape. In 1322 the abbey was burned by Edward
II., and several of the monks, with William de Peebles, the
abbot, were slain. It was repaired and endowed with most
munificent grants by Robert Bruce, whose heart was buried
here, after the unsuccessful attempt to have it deposited in
the holy sepulchre at Jerusalem.
During the reformation in England under Henry VIII.,
the dilapidation of the monasteries in the south of Scotland
commenced. In 1545 a great part of the ^.bbey of Melrose
wTas destroyed by Sir Ralph Eure and Sir Bryan Layton.
In the same year, Melrose, with its monastery, was again
wasted by the English army under the Earl of Hertford,
and in a few years afterwards it became the prey of the
Scotish reformers. The act of annexation first placed the
lands and revenues of this wealthy establishment in the
hands of Queen Mary ; they then passed to various favour¬
ites of royalty, until at length the abbey and a great part of
its domains were acquired by the family of Buccleuch. The
ruins of the monastery afford the finest specimens of Gothic
architecture and Gothic sculpture of which this country can
boast; and it is singularly fortunate that this is not only
one of the most exquisitely beautiful, but one of the most
•entire of the ecclesiastical ruins in Scotland. Till within
these few years the abbey was used as the parish church;
there is now, however, a church built at some distance from
it, and the abbey has been disincumbered of the clumsy and
discordant galleries or lofts erected for the accommodation
of the congregation. The rents of this abbey at the refor¬
mation were, in money, £1758 Scots; in wheat, 19 chald-
ers, 9 bolls ; in bear, 77 chalders, 3 bolls ; in oats, 47 chald-
ers, 1 boll, 2 firlots; meal, 14 chalders, with 8 chalders of
salt, 105 stones of butter, 10 dozen of capons, 26 dozen of
poultry, 376 muirfowl, and 360 loads of peats. Alexander
II. was buried beneath the great altar, and the remains of
many of the illustrious line of Douglas rest within the abbey,
which was also the place of interment of other powerful
families. The population of the village of Melrose, in 1835
amounted to 689.
MELTON MOWBRAY, a town of the county of Lei¬
cester, in the hundred of Frankland, 104 miles from Lon-
M E L 543
don. It stands on the river Eye, is well built, and has a Melun
good free school. It is celebrated on account of the various ' II
establishments for keeping hunters belonging to noblemen Melville-
and gentlemen of fortune, who repair hither to enjoy in the y^—*
highest style the amusement of fox-hunting. Two packs
of the best bred hounds are kept here by subscription. There
is a large market on Thursday. The population was, in 1801,
1766; in 1811,2145; in 1821, 2815; and in 1831, 3356.
MELUN, an arrondisement of the department of the
Seine and the Marne, in France. It extends over 442 square
miles, is divided into six cantons, and they into 107 com¬
munes, containing 54,500 inhabitants. The capital is a city
of the same name, situated on the Seine; it contains 820
houses, and 6400 inhabitants, who make cotton goods, some
glass, and carry on tanneries. Lat. 48. 59.40. N. Long. 21.
31. 25. E.
MELVILLE, Andrew, a Scotish divine of distinguish¬
ed talents and learning, was born at Baldovy in Forfarshire
on the 1st of August 1545. His father, Richard Melville,
was brother to Melville of Dysart, and was thus connected
with a family which boasted its descent from the blood royal,
although the genealogical lines do not seem to be very dis¬
tinctly traced. His mother was Giles, the daughter of
Thomas Abercromby, a burgess of Montrose. In the im¬
mediate vicinity of this town the father possessed the small
demesne of Baldovy, and might have been able to rear his
family with sufficient credit and comfort, but having been
called to arms in the ordinary course of feudal service, he
was slain at the disastrous battle of Pinkey, fought on the
10th of September 1547. Andrew, the youngest of nine
sons, had only completed the second year of his age ; and
his mother having died in the course of that year, the care
of the orphan boy devolved upon his eldest brother Richard,
who afterwards became minister of the adjacent parish of
Marytoun. The place of both parents was fully supplied by
this brother and his wife, who reared him with the most af¬
fectionate care. When he reached a mature age, he fre¬
quently recounted in terms of the warmest gratitude the
many instances of maternal tenderness and fondness which
he had experienced from his excellent sister-in-law. As
he was a sickly child, and discovered great aptitude for
learning, his guardian adopted the fortunate resolution of
securing to him all the attainable advantages of a liberal
education. He was accordingly removed to Montrose
school, of which Thomas Anderson, afterwards the protestant
minister of that parish, was at that time master. Here he
w'as instructed in the rudiments of the Latin language ; and
as bodily exercise was duly intermingled with his more se¬
dentary avocations, his constitution acquired a much firmer
tone, and he afterwards enjoyed a large share of good health.
In the year 1559 he was sent to the university of St. An¬
drews, where he became a student in St. Mary’s College,
and greatly distinguished himself by his early proficiency in
classical learning. At that period the course of literature
and philosophy chiefly consisted of lectures on Aristotle’s
logic, rhetoric, ethics, and physics ; but this course must
have been rendered very defective by the circumstance of
the professor’s being altogether unacquainted with the origi¬
nal text, and being thus reduced to the necessity of com¬
menting upon Latin translations or compendiums. Melville
was dissatisfied with this imperfect method of procedure,
and applied himself so assiduously to the study of Greek,
that he was speedily enabled to read in that language all
the texts of Aristotle to which the college lectures referred.
To what preceptor he was indebted for private instructions,
or whether he solely relied on his own exertions, we are
not sufficiently informed. It is however certain that he ac¬
quired no small reputation by his proficiency in a depart¬
ment of elegant learning which was then so little cultivated;
and it may here be recorded to the credit of his mastery,
that they warmly encouraged him to tread in a path in
544 MELVILLE
Melville, which they themselves could not lead, and in which
i'—■“V—they were scarcely prepared to follow. The provost of St.
Mary’s, John Douglas, who was likewise rector of the uni¬
versity, treated him with paternal kindness, and seems to
have entertained some anticipation of his eminence in let¬
ters. In this college there were separate classes for gram¬
mar and rhetoric ; and there were also lectures by the law
professor, which the students might attend before taking
their higher degree. Of all the public and private oppor¬
tunities of improvement Melville seems to have availed
himself to the utmost extent; and he left this university
with the reputation of “ the best philosopher, poet, and
Grecian of any young master in the land.”1 It would there¬
fore appear that he had already displayed those talents for
Latin poetry which were afterwards so conspicuous. The
unrivalled celebrity of Buchanan must have had a strong
tendency to excite the emulation of his young and ingenu¬
ous countrymen. Melville speaks of this illustrious man as
having been his preceptor ; but whether the expression is
to be understood according to its literal signification, we
cannot so easily ascertain. In 1561 Buchanan returned to
his native country, and in 1567 he became principal of St.
Leonard’s College ; but the young scholar had then quitted
the university, and could therefore receive no instructions
from him at St. Andrews.
In the autumn of 1564, when he had completed the nine¬
teenth year of his age, he proceeded to Paris with the view
of prosecuting his studies in-a place which afforded much
greater opportunities of intellectual improvement. That
university had then attained to the height of its celebrity,
and the reported number of students who frequented it seems
almost to exceed belief: Joseph Scaliger mentions, that,
during his own residence, it contained the astonishing num¬
ber of thirty thousand. Melville enjoyed the eminent ad¬
vantage of hearing the prelections of Turnebus, professor of
Greek in the Royal College. He had thus an excellent
opportunity of being initiated in the critical study of classi¬
cal authors; and under the guidance of Mercier and Quin-
quarboreus, conjunct professors of Hebrew and Chaldee,
he applied himself with equal assiduity to the acquisition of
those languages. Nor did he neglect the lectures of Ra¬
mus, royal professor of Roman eloquence ; who had greatly
distinguished himself by his strenuous opposition to the
philosophy of Aristotle, and who seems to have given a con¬
siderable impulse to the minds of his contemporaries. He
likewise studied under several other professors, whose names
are mentioned by his nephew; nor did he confine his views
to one or two departments of science or literature ; mathe¬
matics, law, and physic, all succeeded each other in due
order. Till a much later period, the civil law was not re¬
gularly and publicly taught in the university of Paris, but
a dispensation for teaching it was occasionally obtained;
and it was at that time taught by Balduinus, or Baudouin,
a very eminent civilian, who numbered this ardent youth
among his pupils. During the second year of his residence,
he had attained to such proficiency in the Greek language,
that he was able to speak it with great fluency and copi¬
ousness. Having thus made a large accession to his stock
of learning, he quitted Paris in the year 1566, and repaired
to the university of Poitiers, where he prosecuted the study
of law. Here he was appointed a regent in the College of
St. Marceon ; and though he was only twenty-one years of
age, he appears to have acquitted himself with the highest
credit. But the renew al of the civil wrars, by w hich France
was so long devastated, speedily rendered his situation un¬
certain and perilous. In the year 1568 the city was be¬
sieged by a protestant army under Coligny, and was defend¬
ed by a popish garrison under the duke of Guise. The
business of the university wras necessarily suspended, and
Melville was then engaged by a counsellor of the parlia- Melville.
ment, in the capacity of tutor to his only son. He was a v v '
boy of an amiable disposition, and of promising talents, but
the fond hopes of his parents and of his preceptor were very
suddenly blasted : he was mortally wounded by a cannon
ball, and Melville found him weltering in his blood. He
had received lessons of piety as well as literature, and with
his dying breath he testified his affection for his instructor ;
who to the latest period of his life retained a very lively and
tender recollection of his young friend, so prematurely lost.
The casualties of war were not the only dangers to w hich
he was exposed : a corporal who was stationed in the house
with a few soldiers, having observed his habits of devotion,
concluded that he must be a Huguenot, and expressed an
opinion that he might be disposed to betray the city to the
enemy ; but he had sufficient address and presence of mind
to dissipate all his suspicions, nor was he again subjected to
any similar annoyance. The siege having at length been
raised, he quitted Poitiers, after a residence of three years,
and directed his course towards Geneva. Leaving behind
him his books and other effects, and fixing a small Hebrew
Bible in his girdle, he began his journey in company with a
Frenchman. They travelled on foot, and our countryman
proceeded with great alacrity ; for, as his nephew informs
us, “ he was small and light of body, but full of spirit, vi¬
gorous and courageous.” On reaching the place of his des¬
tination, he immediately waited upon Beza; and his first
appearance made so favourable an impression, that he was
at once considered as a person well qualified to fill the hu¬
manity chair, which at that time happened to be vacant.
Within a few days after his arrival, he so ably performed the
probationary exercises in Homer and Virgil, that he was
without hesitation admitted to the professorship. A quar¬
ter’s salary, paid by advance, came very seasonably to his
aid ; for when the two travellers reached the gates of the
city, they could scarcely muster a crown between them ;
and his own necessities being thus relieved, he wras enabled
to support his less fortunate companion till he found some
more permanent provision.
Geneva was at this momentous crisis a most conspicuous
bulwark of the reformation. The territories of the state
were very circumscribed, and its resources proportionally
limited ; but the virtue of the people, with the wisdom and
energy of its rulers, secured to this little republic a more
honourable fame than power or arms could have bestowed.
It afforded an asylum to many of the persecuted protestants
who rendered its walls venerable by their piety and learn¬
ing. The academy of Geneva, which was a university
without the name, could boast of various professors of the
highest reputation. Calvin, the first professor of divinity,
was distinguished by his genius and eloquence as well as by
his learning. His chair was now occupied by Beza; who
was likewise a man of eminent talents, and who with his
profound knowledge of theology united many of the graces
of polite literature. He had been a gay and lively poet in
his early youth, nor did he discontinue his intercourse with
the Muses at a very advanced age. Melville, who had only
attained the age of twenty-five, and who was not less eager to
learn than willing to teach, became a student under this able
and venerable professor. Notwithstanding the disparity of
their years, they formed a cordial friendship with each other.
From Bertram, the professor of oriental languages, he ac¬
quired a knowledge of Syriac. The Greek professor was
Franciscus Portus, a native of Candia, who was very famili¬
arly acquainted with the ancient language of his native
country; but, like all the modern Greeks, he pronounced
it according to accent, and with a total disregard of quan¬
tity. In their friendly intercourse with each other, Melville
ventured to dispute the propriety of this practice, and some-
1 The Diary of James Melville, p. 31. Edinb. 1829, 4to.
Melville, times provoked him to exclaim, “ You Scots, you barbari-
^ arrs, will, forsooth, teach us Greeks the pronunciation of
our own language !” The professor of the civil law was
Henry Scnmger, who was greatly distinguished by his
classical learning, as well as by his knowledge of ancient
jurisprudence. He was educated at St. Andrews, Paris,
and Pourges, and after having been employed as tutor to
the sons of Bochetel, the French secretary of state, he was
engaged as private secretary to the bishop of Rennes, whom
he accompanied on his embassy to different courts of Italy.
At a subsequent period he resided at Augsburg, where he
was retained by Ulrich Fugger, a member of a family con¬
spicuous for its opulence, and for its munificent encourag-
ment of learning. He was employed in collecting rare
books and manuscripts for this gentleman’s magnificent li¬
brary. His attachment to the reformed doctrines had in¬
duced him to abandon a fair prospect of advancement in
r ranee ; and Calvin having invited him to Geneva, he was
admitted to the freedom of the city, and was appointed pro-
fessor of philosophy in the academy. After retaining the
ofhee for two years, he exchanged it for the professorship of
the civil law. This chair he filled till the time of his death,
and he left behind him the character of a very learned and
worthy man. His different employments had enabled him
to acquire considerable wealth; and at the distance of a
league from Geneva he built a neat villa, called Vilet, and
collected a valuable library, which included many ancient
manuscripts. He had earned the reputation of an excellent
Grecian, and had devoted much labour to the illustration of
Greek authors; but the only work of this denomination
which he lived to publish was an edition of the Novellae
Comtitutiones of Justinian and other emperors, elegantly
printed by his friend H. Stephanus in the year 1558. A
'• sister of Scrimger had married Melville’s eldest brother ;
and this family connexion must have had a tendency to
strengthen the attachment of two individuals wrho were
likewise mutually attracted by their common love of letters.
In the year 1572 the atrocious massacre of St. Bartho¬
lomew spread such dismay among the French protestants,
that many of them were induced to abandon their native
countiy. Geneva was crowded with these refugees ; and
at one time it contained no fewer than one hundred and
twenty French ministers. “ The academy,” as Dr. M‘Crie
has stated, “ overflowed with students, and the magistrates
were unable to provide salaries for the learned men whom
they were desirous to employ, or to find situations for such
as w ere willing to teach without receiving any remunera¬
tion.” It was at this period that Joseph Scaliger, who bears
the first name in the annals of modern erudition, was ap¬
pointed a professor of philosophy. He had paid a visit to
Geneva two years before, and Melville had then been hon¬
oured with his acquaintance. He entered upon his profess¬
orship in the month of October 1572, and resigned it after
an interval of two years. The academy derived additional
lusture from the presence of Hotman and Bonnefoy, two
very learned civilians, who had likewise fled from the dag¬
gers of the assassins, and who experienced the same cordial
reception and liberal treatment. To the former the magis¬
trates allotted a salary of 800, and to the latter a salary of
700 florins a year : Hotman lectured twice a-week on the
civil law, and Bonnefoy thrice a-week on the oriental
jurisprudence, that is, the jurisprudence, secular and eccles¬
iastical, of the Greek empire; a branch of study to which
he had devoted much attention, and which he illustrated in
a work published in the year 1573. It is expressly stated
that Melville attended the lectures of Hotman ; and, as his
excellent biographer suggests, “ there can be little doubt
MELVILLE.
545
tWheofaBlan!fIedhTf 0fthe opportunity of attending Melville
^ ^HlCh Were stm more intimately con-  
chief attention.”86 68 t0 ^ he had n°w devoted his
After having retained his professorship for five vears he
was at length induced to revisit his native country! Some
of his own relations had warmly solicited his return; and
their arguments were strenuously seconded by Andrew Pol-
warth, with whom he had been acquainted at St. Andrews
and who had now arrived at Geneva as travelling tutor to
Alexander Campbell, the youthful bishop of Brechin. The
magistrates of the city and the professors of the academv
were reluctant to be deprived of the services of a scholar
who had already afforded sufficient indications of his talents
an earning. Beza addressed to the general assembly a
letter in which he stated, that, as the greatest token of af¬
fection vyhich the church of Geneva could shew to the
church of Scotland, they had suffered themselves to be de-
pnved of Andrew Melville, in order that his native country
might be enriched by his gifts. The bishop and his fel-
low-traveners haying commenced their journey in the spring
of 15 / 4, traversed Franche Comte, and, proceeding by Lyon!
saded down the Loire to Orleans. On their arrival at Paris,
Melville, at the suggestion of Lord Ogilvy, visited the Col-
iege of the Jesuits, and was there engaged in a controversy
with James Tyne, one of the antagonists of Knox. Their
disputation was renewed for several successive days, and
might have been of longer duration, if the archbishop of
Glasgow had not used some threatening expressions which
induced the friends of Melville to hasten his departure. He
quitted the French metropolis on the 30th of May, in com¬
pany with the bishop and his tutor. Having embarked at
Dieppe they landed at Rye, and proceeded to London,
where they remained for only a short time ; and having then
purchased horses, they pursued their journey by way of Ber-
wuck, and arrived at Edinburgh in the beginning of July
Melville had already distinguished himself by his Latin
poetry, and his reputation as a man of talents had reached
his native countryJ The earl of Morton, regent of the
kingdom, was desirous of retaining him in the capacity of a
domestic chaplain ; and very soon after his arrival, Georue
Buchanan, Alexander Hay, clerk of the privy council, and
Colonel James Halyburton, were the bearers of such a pro¬
posal, which however he did not think it expedient to
accept. He had no wish to become a courtier; and he was
persuaded that his labours would be most available to his
countrymen, if he were placed in one of the universities
In the mean time, he paid a visit to his brother Richard at
Baldovy; where he devoted some portion of his time to the
instruction of his nephew James Melville, who had recently
taken Ins master’s degree at St. Andrews, but who found
that his uncle was a teacher very unlike those by whom he
had previously been trained. His services however were
speedily required in a different station. On the death of
John Douglas, who had accumulated the offices of arch¬
bishop of St. Andrews, provost of St. Mary’s College, and
rector of the university, a proposition was made for placing
him at the head of the college ; but on being very strongly
urged to accept of a similar appointment at Glasgow, he
was finally induced to give it the preference. Having- vi¬
sited the scene of his future labours, he returned to Bal¬
dovy, and again left it about the end of October. Accom¬
panied by his brother John and by his nephew, he proceed-
ed by way of Stirling, where he spent two days, and was
gratified with an opportunity of seeing the young king, then
in the ninth year of his age. Here “he conferred at
Deute™ cap mii. quod ipse moriens IsKeli
tia» carmine rediiitum. Andrea Mefrine B.aTi Tu 8,0 ““ « Jobi «*• «•
von. xxv. ’ ’
3 z
546 M E L V 1 L L E.
Melville, length” with Buchanan, the king’s preceptor, who was then
v—' engaged in writing his History of Scotland ; and here he
likewise met with Dr. MoncreifF, with whom he had been
well acquainted at Geneva. Thomas Buchanan, the nephew
of his illustrious friend, accompanied him to Glasgow; where
he was immediately installed in the office of principal, and
where he found the university in a very unprosperous con¬
dition. When he commenced his academical labours, about
the beginning of November 1574, his only coadjutor was
Peter Blackburne, who officiated as a regent, and managed
the scanty revenues of the foundation. Of the prodigious
exertions of the principal himself, the following enumera¬
tion will enable us to form a correct estimate. We are first
of all informed, that he initiated his students in the prin¬
ciples of Greek grammar. “ He then,” says Dr. M'Crie,
“ introduced them to the study of logic and rhetoric ; using
as his text-books, the Dialectics of his Parisian master,
Ramus, and the Rhetoric of Talaeus. While they were
engaged in these studies, he read with them the best classir
cal authors, as Virgil and Horace among the Latins, and
Homer, Hesiod, Theocritus, Pindar, and Isocrates, among
the Greeks ; pointing out, as he went along, their beauties*
and illustrating by them the principles of logic and rhetoric.
Proceeding to mathematics and geography, he taught the
Elements of Euclid, with the arithmetic and geometry of
Ramus, and the geography of Dionysius. And agreeably
to his plan of uniting elegant literature with philosophy, he
made the students use the Phenomena of Aratus, and the
Cosmographia of Honter. Moral philosophy formed the
next branch of study ; and on this he read Cicero’s Offices,
Pardoxes, and Tusculan Questions, the Ethics and Politics
of Aristotle, and certain of Plato’s Dialogues. In natural
philosophy he made use of Fernelius, and commented on
parts of the writings of Aristotle and Plato. To these he
added a view of universal history, with chronology and the
art of writing. Entering upon the duties of his own im¬
mediate profession, he taught the Hebrew language, first
more cursorily by going over the elementary work of Mar-
tinius, and afterwards by a more accurate examination of
its principles, accompanied with a praxis upon the Psalter
and books of Solomon. He then initiated the students into
Chaldee and Syriac; reading those parts of the books of
Ezra and Daniel that are written in Chaldee, and the epis¬
tle to the Galatians in the Syriac version. He also went
through all the common heads of divinity, according to the
order of Calvin’s Institutions, besides giving lectures on the
different books of Scripture. This course of study was com¬
pleted in six years.”2 During the second year, his nephew
became one of the regents, and instructed his pupils in
Greek, logic, and rhetoric; and in the ensuing year he taught
them mathematics and ethics. He was the-first professor
who in any of the Scotish universities had publicly read
the Greek authors in the original. Another regent was
afterwards added to this scanty establishment. In 1577
Blaise Laurie was appointed teacher of the Greek language
and of Roman eloquence ; James Melville of mathematics,
logic, and ethics ; Blackburne, who likewise held the office
of oeconomuS) of physics, and astronomy ; while the learned
principal, whose previous labours had been so multifarious,
restricted himself to divinity and oriental languages. A
separate teacher of Hebrew was appointed about the period
of his removal from Glasgow. During the year last speci¬
fied, the parsonage of Govan, situate in the immediate vi¬
cinity, was annexed to the university, and it then became
his duty as principal to officiate in the parish church.
The learning, the talents and energy of Melville speedily
raised this university from its ruinous condition, and secured
for it the reputation of being the first seminary in the king¬
dom. Before he completed his second academical year, his Melville,
celebrity as a public teacher had begun to be very widely
diffused: students were afterwards attracted from all parts
of the country, and among these were not a few graduates
from St. Andrews, who were laudably disposed to learn
what their former masters could not teach. Various indi¬
viduals who afterwards rose to eminence were here trained
under his discipline. In this catalogue we find the name of
John Spotswood, archbishop of St. Andrews, who certainly
did not regard his old master with any peculiar venera¬
tion : we likewise find the name of Andrew Knox, bishop
of the Isles, and afterwards of Raphoe, with those of Sir
Adam Newton, Sir James Fullerton, Sir Gideon Murray,
and Sir Edward Drummond, who were all more or less con¬
spicuous at court. Newton, a man of talents and learning,
was the tutor, and afterwards the secretary of Prince Henry.
Melville sustained the discipline of the university with great
vigour and address, and he was frequently placed jn situa¬
tions which required the aid of both ; for some of the stu¬
dents, connected with powerful families, were guilty of most
flagrant insubordination, and collected a mixed multitude
to overawe the principal and the rector. Two of those de¬
linquents were Mark Alexander Boyd, related to the noble
family of that name, and Alexander Cunningham, related to
the earl of Glencairn, wTho both proceeded to acts of outra¬
geous violence, and being supported by many other dis¬
orderly youths, as well as by many adherents of their re¬
spective families, were at first disposed to set all academi¬
cal authority at open defiance. Cunningham, who had as¬
saulted J. Melville writh a drawn swnrd, was finally reduced
to the necessity of making a public and humiliating apo¬
logy, with his feet as w’ell as his head uncovered. John
Maxwell, a son of Lord Herries, had likewise been impli¬
cated in some very disorderly proceedings ; but when his
father was informed of this conduct, he hastened to Glas¬
gow, and compelled him, on his knees, and in an open area
of the college, to beg the principal’s pardon.
Melville’s influence in advancing the literature of his na¬
tive country was great and lasting, nor was it less consider¬
able in improving the condition of the Scotish church. A
very motley species of episcopacy had been engrafted upon
the reformation ; and although the opulence, as well as the
idleness and profligacy of the popish prelacy, was no longer
retained, he perceived no advantage in the name and office
of a bishop, in contradistinction to the name and office of
a presbyter. The bishops of the apostolical age were pres¬
byters, and the presbyters were bishops : with a variety in
the name, there was no variety of office. He was a mem¬
ber of the general assembly convened at Edinburgh in
March, as well as of that convened at the same place in
August 1575. The lawfulness of episcopacy was debated
in this latter assembly ; and he there maintained the nega¬
tive side of the question, in a speech which, as Spotswood
admits, “ was applauded by many.” For the more mature
discussion of this subject, the assembly appointed a com¬
mittee of six ; namely, Melville, Craig, and Lawson, on the
one side, and Hay, Row, and Lindsay, on the other. After
an interval of two days, they presented a report, in which
they did not hold it expedient to answer the general ques¬
tion as to the lawfulness of such an episcopacy as was then
established ; but they declared “ that they judged the name
of a bishop to be common to all ministers that had the charge
of a particular flock ; and that by the word of God his chief
function consisted in the preaching of the word, the minis¬
tration of the sacraments, and exercise of ecclesiastical dis
cipline, with consent of his elders.” If an unfit person
should be nominated to the office of a bishop, they were of
opinion that he ought to be tried and deposed by the gene-
1 M'Crie’s Life of Andrew Melville, vol. i. p. 72. Edinb. 1819, 2 vols. 8vo.
MELVILLE.
Melville, ral assembly. They however admitted that, in addition
v—v—' to the charge of their own flocks, it might be expedient to
entrust some ministers with the power of superintending a
certain district, and there exercising a limited and defined
jurisdiction.1 The report was finally and fully approved by
the assembly held in April 1576 ; and those bishops who
had not already undertaken some parochial cure, were en¬
joined to select particular parishes for the exercise of their
pastoral functions. This was the first step towards the abo¬
lition of diocesan episcopacy, but more important measures
were yet to follow. The regent was by no means satisfied
with these proceedings ; and during the assembly of Oc¬
tober 1577, he sent for Melville with the view of remon¬
strating against some measures which were then in contem¬
plation. Finding that all other suggestions were unavail¬
ing, Morton had recourse to threats, and exclaimed, “ There
will never be quiet in this country till half a dozen of you
are hanged or banished.” The resolution of Melville was
as little to be shaken by threats as by promises; and he re¬
turned an undaunted and characteristic answer, which could
not fail to convince the noble earl that he had not selected
a proper subject for such an experiment. Of the assembly
held in Magdalene chapel at Edinburgh in the month of
April 1578, Melville was chosen moderator. The Second
Book of Discipline now received the sanction of this eccle¬
siastical judicature ; and although it was not ratified by the
privy council or parliament, it was acknowledged by the
church as exhibiting the standard of her polity. It was like¬
wise resolved that bishops should no longer be described as
lords, but should be addressed like other ministers. This
purification ot the church was completed by the assembly
of Dundee, convened in July 1580 ; when they “found and
declared the office of a bishop, as then used and commonly
understood, to be destitute of warrant from the word of
God, and a human invention tending to the great injury
of the church.” This important resolution passed without
one dissenting voice.
After a residence of six years at Glasgow, Melville was
removed to St. Andrews, where he was installed as princi¬
pal of St. Mary’s College, in the month of December 1580.
The office which he had vacated was filled by Thomas Sme-
ton, who was likewise a man of learning, and is still remem¬
bered as the author of an answer to the virulent libel of
Archibald Hamilton. The university of St. Andrews had
very recently been subjected to a salutary reform, and this
college had been appropriated to the study of divinity. The
office of primarius professor of divinity was then conjoined,
as it still continues to be, with that of principal. John Ro¬
bertson read lectures on the Greek Testament; and James
Melville, who had accompanied his uncle from Glasgow,
was appointed professor of oriental languages, and began by
initiating the students in Hebrew. The parliamentary com¬
missioners had provided for the establishment of two chairs
which however were not yet filled. A more laborious task
was thus imposed upon the principal, who not only taught
systematic theology, but likewise “ taught learnedly and
perfectly the knowledge and practice of the Hebrew, Chal¬
dee, Syriac, and rabinical languages.” In this new situation
he had to contend with new difficulties. Robert Hamilton
had been displaced to make room for Melville; some of the
other regents were likewise superseded; and the professors
of law and mathematics were removed from St. Mary’s to
St. Salvator’s College. Here were some apparent grounds
of private offence, and he had besides incurred the violent
resentment of Aristotle’s numerous friends ; but his supe¬
rior talents and learning, with the firmness and consistency
of his personal character, enabled him to overcome all the
unreasonable opposition which he had thus to encounter.
547
• i 0if.the P0 ltical events "'hich marked this period of Scot- Melville,
isa history he was not an unconcerned spectator. The ^—v—
young king had unfortunately placed himself under the sole
direction of two papists, whom he created duke of Lennox
and earl of Arran; and a design was entertained of asso¬
ciating his mother in the government, and eventually of
restoring the popish religion in the kingdom. A very gene¬
ra alarm was excited among the protestants, who, by a
solemn bond or covenant, engaged themselves to maintain
with their estates and lives the liberties of their country,
and the profession of the reformed religion. This instru¬
ment, prepared by John Craig, and dated in the year 1580
wras subscribed by the king himself, as well as by individu¬
als of all other ranks. The restoration of episcopacy was
naturally favoured by those who favoured popery and arbi¬
trary power. On the death of Archbishop Boyd, the dis¬
posal of the see of Glasgow was left to the duke of Lennox,
who made a simoniacal bargain with Robert Montgomery,
minister of Stirling. In the month of October 1581, his
case was discussed in the general assembly; and the king
having declared that it was competent to proceed against
him for personal misconduct or erroneous doctrine, Melville
rose and piesented a libel, comprehending fifteen articles of
accusation. The assembly directed the presbvtery of Stir¬
ling to investigate these charges, and to report their decision
to the synod of Lothian, which was formally authorized to
pronounce his sentence. For acting according to these in¬
structions, the members of the synod were summoned before
the privy council; where, by the mouth of Robert Pont, one
of their number, they declined the jurisdiction of that tri-
bunal, as incompetent to take cognizance of a cause strictly
ecclesiastical. An assembly was held at St. Andrews in
April 1582, and Melville was again elected moderator. On
their resuming the consideration of Montgomery’s case, the
master of requests presented a letter from the king, requir¬
ing them to desist from all further proceedings respecting
the archbishopric of Glasgow, and a messenger-at-arms soon
aftei wards delivered a more peremptory denunciation. In-
stead of being deterred by the threatened pains and penal¬
ties of rebellion, they resolved to continue the investigation,
and finally declared that the accused was liable to the sen ¬
tence of deposition and excommunication; a sentence which
it was not however necessary to pronounce, as he appeared
before the assembly, and, having withdrawn his appeal, so¬
lemnly promised to refrain from all further attempts at ob¬
taining possession ot the archbishopric. But such was the
levity of his disposition, that he speedily forgot his promise.
He was censured by the presbytery of Glasgow, and excom¬
municated by that of Edinburgh. These bold and decided
measures could not fail to incense the court: a proclama¬
tion, declaring the excommunication to be null and void,
w as issued by the privy council; such individuals as should
refuse, payment of rents /due to his see were ordered to be
committed to the castle >of Inverness; the university of
Glasgow, which had joined in the opposition to the new
archbishop, was subjected to a temporary interdict; the
ministers of Edinburgh, who had publicly animadverted on
the recent proceedings of the king and his Courtiers, w7ere
repeatedly cited before the privy council, where they were
exposed to contumelious treatment; and John Dury, one of
their number, was banished from the city, and prohibited
fiom exercising his functions. An extraordinary meetinp-
of the assembly was held in consequence of these violent
proceedings, and Melville resumed his seat as moderator.
On the occasion of their meeting he preached a sermon, in
which he inveighed against those who had introduced the
bloody knife “ of absolute power into the country, and who
sought to erect a new popedom in the person of the prince.
1 SPatswood’s History of the Church of Scotland, p. 276. M'Crie’s Life of Melville, vol. i. p, 160.
548 M E L V
Melville. The pope, he said, was the first who united the ecclesiasti-
'■'—v—-'' cal supremacy to the civil, which he had wrested from the
emperor. Since the reformation, he had, with the view of
suppressing the gospel, delegated his absolute power to the
emperor, and the kings of Spain and France; and from
France, where it had produced the horrors of St. Bartholo¬
mew, it was brought into this country.” They now pre¬
pared a remonstrance, complaining of their grievances, and
craving redress ; and a deputation of the members, with the
moderator at its head, was named for the purpose of pre¬
senting this remonstrance to his majesty, who was then re¬
siding at Perth. It was accordingly presented to the king
in council; and on its being read, the earl of Arran asked
with an angry countenance, “ Who dare subscribe these
articles ?” “We dare,” said the undaunted Melville, and
immediately signed his name ; nor did the other commis¬
sioners hesitate to follow his example. The minions of
power were overawed by their intrepidity, and dismissed
them without any formal censure.
Patrick Adamson had been appointed archbishop of St.
Andrews in the year 1576; and, as he was a man of ele¬
gant learning, and a Latin poet, there was at least one bond
of union between him and the principal of St. Mary’s. For
some time they lived on terms of good neighbourhood, and
Melville frequently preached at his request. With the as¬
sistance of his nephew, he supplied the place of a parochial
minister for a considerable period, during a long-protracted
vacancy. This vacancy continued for upwards of three
years; and although three different individuals, Pont, Sme-
ton, and Arbuthnot, were successively chosen, not one of
them was finally settled at St. Andrews. He did not fail
to make public animadversions on the conduct of those who
had laboured too successfully to prevent such a settlement ;
and he likewise augmented the number of his enemies, by
his severity in rebuking the more flagrant and prevalent
vices of the inhabitants. On one occasion, the provost of
the city abruptly quitted the church in the middle of the
sermon, not without muttering his high displeasure at the
unsparing zeal of the preacher. The gates of St. Mary’s
College exhibited placards, threatening to bastinade the
principal, to set fire to his lodgings, and to expel him from
the city. But in the midst of these excitements he con¬
tinued firm and undismayed; nor did he shrink from the
decisive measure of summoning the provost before the pres¬
bytery, for contempt of divine ordinances. He was soon
afterwards exposed to danger from another quarter. He
was cited to appear before the privy council on the 17th of
February 1584, to answer to the charge of having, on the
occasion of a fast kept during the preceding month, uttered
certain seditious and treasonable words in his sermon and
prayers. Furnished with ample testimonials of his loyalty,
he repaired to Edinburgh, and having appeared before the
council, he entered into a full explanation and defence of
the expressions which he had actually employed. They
nevertheless resolved to proceed against him, when he
stated six different grounds of objection. The most mate¬
rial of these was, that his case ought, in the first instance,
to be remitted to the ecclesiastical court, as the ordinary
and competent judicatory in all matters connected with his
conduct as a minister. The proceedings having been ad¬
journed to the following day, he then presented a written
protest, declining the jurisdiction of the privy council, and
embodying the same reasons which he had formerly urged.
Deputations from the presbytery and from the university of
St. Andrews were in attendance ; the one for the purpose
of entering a protest for saving the rights of the church,
and the other for the purpose of repledging this head of a
college to the court of the rector. They were not however
IL L E.
permitted to execute their commission; and on the reading Melville,
of Melville’s declinature, the king and his minion Arran
were roused to unseemly rage. But they had to deal with
li man whom the frowns of royalty could not intimidate, and
he pleaded his own cause with the most unshaken firmness
and resolution. In the course of his speech he appealed to
the authority of the scriptures ; and unclasping a Hebrew
Bible that was suspended at his girdle, he threw it on the
council-table, and challenged any of his judges to shew that
he had exceeded his instructions. He was repeatedly or¬
dered to withdraw, but was not permitted to hold any com¬
munication with his friends. Several witnesses were exa¬
mined, but nothing tending to criminate him could be ex¬
tracted from their evidence. He was however found guilty
of behaving irreverently before the council, and of declin-
ing its jurisdiction, and was sentenced to be imprisoned in
the castle of Edinburgh, and to be further punished in his
person and goods at the pleasure of the king. As he was
not detained in custody, he had a brief interval for deliber¬
ating as to the most advisable course to be pursued; and his
friends, as well as himself, were alarmed on ascertaining that
his place of confinement was changed to Blackness castle,
a dreary dungeon, kept by a dependant of the unscrupulous
earl of Arran. Here his life would evidently have been
exposed to danger; and finding it thus necessary to pro¬
vide for his safety by flight, he secretly withdrew from Edin¬
burgh, and next day proceeded to Berwick. This rigorous
treatment of so learned and eminent a man excited no small
degree of popular indignation. The ministers of Edinburgh
had the courage to make mention of their exiled brother in
their public prayers. With the view of removing the odi¬
um which had thus been incurred, the council issued a pro¬
clamation containing two averments that must have gained
very little credence ; namely, that he had been exposed to
no danger of severe treatment, and that his exile was to be
considered as voluntary. All these proceedings exhibit a
glaring picture of the mode in which justice was then ad¬
ministered. We are not entirely disposed to think, with
Dr. M‘Crie, that Melville urged a good and valid plea when
he averred that, in the first instance, he was only amenable
to the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical court. He was
charged with having uttered seditious and treasonable words
in the pulpit, and for such conduct he was certainly liable
to ecclesiastical censure; but was the civil judicatory to
suspend its right of investigating so grave a charge as this,
and to pause till the ecclesiastical judicatory had duly de¬
liberated whether any, and what censure was to be pro¬
nounced? . Sins, however glaring, if the law does not rank
them among crimes, may safely be left to the discipline of
the church ; but if the ecclesiastical tribunal had been found
competent to interpose in cases of sedition and treason,
what should have prevented it from interposing in cases of
robbery and murder ? It does not therefore appear to have
been so unreasonable and unjust in Dr. Robertson to iden¬
tify the plea advanced by Melville, with the claim which
the popish clergy made to exemption from the civil juris¬
diction.1 True indeed it is that he only pleaded for the ex¬
clusive competency of the ecclesiastical court to judge in
the first instance ; but it is equally true that the architects
of the canon law did not at once complete all the different
stories of their motley edifice. His declining the jurisdic¬
tion of the civil court could however constitute no crime or
misdemeanour, except in the contemplation of judges ac¬
tuated with the spirit of inquisitors ; and it was no small
aggravation of their unjust proceedings, that they altered
the terms of a sentence after it had been pronounced and
recorded.
During the absence of Melville, the presbyterian form of
Robertsons History of bcotland, vol. ii. p. 411. M‘Grie’s Life of Melville, vol. i. p. 296.
MELVILLE.
Melv'ille.
polity was again superseded, and the most arbitrary max¬
ims of civil government were now avowed and maintained
by the king and his submissive parliament. Some of the
faithful ministers were committed to prison, and a consider¬
able number sought a place of refuge in England, where
they had no reason to expect the most favourable reception.
The universities, being closely connected with the church,
did not escape the visitations of arbitrary power. Having
obtained permission to visit London, he proceeded on his
journey, bearing with him instructions from the exiled nobles
who were then residing at Berwick. During the ensuing
month of July, he paid a visit to the universities of Oxford
and Cambridge ; and “he was received at these ancient
seats of literature in a manner becoming his profession and
merits, and expressed himself much delighted with the mag¬
nificence of the colleges, the gravity of the professors, and
the courteous manners of the students.” After their arrival
in London, the noble exiles could not succeed in their ap¬
plication for the use of a separate place of worship. Bal-
canquall and Davidson, having preached on one or two oc¬
casions, were silenced by the bishop of the diocese ; but
the lieutenant of the tower invited the Scotish clergymen
to preach in his chapel, which wras exempted from the bish¬
op s jurisdiction. There Melville read a Latin lecture on
the book of Genesis; and we are informed that this lecture
attracted a considerable auditory, and was much admired,
particularly by the earl of Angus, who is said to have pos¬
sessed a more cultivated mind than any other Scotish peer
of that age. The government of James had become so
generally unpopular, that the exiles were at length embol¬
dened to revisit their native country ; where their principal
leaders were speedily joined by a military force so formid¬
able as at once to dissolve the power and influence of the
earl of Arran. After an absence of twenty months, Mel¬
ville attended the banished lords on their return, and arriv¬
ed in Scotland in the beginning of November 1585. He
lost no time in using his best endeavours for the recovery
of those liberties of which the church had recently been de¬
prived. Some dissensions had arisen among his brethren
in consequence of the defection of those who had suffered
themselves to be entangled in the trammels of episcopacy;
and as it was of no small importance to secure a general
co-operation in the attempt to procure a repeal of the laws
which had effected a change in the ecclesiastical polity, he
undertook a mission to various parts of the kingdom, for the
express purpose of securing this desirable union. A depu¬
tation of the ministers waited upon those noblemen who had
promised to use all their influence for restoring the purity
of the church ; but having received evasive and unsatisfac¬
tory answers, they were constrained to make a direct ap¬
plication to the king, who gave them a very ungracious re¬
ception : he brought a railing accusation against them,
“ and made use of expressions which were not more disre¬
spectful to them, than they were indecorous from the mouth
ot a king. The consequence was, that he was obliged to
,ar some things in reply, which were not the most grate¬
ful to his royal ears. Melville defended himself and his
brethren with spirit, and hot speeches passed between him
and his majesty at several interviews.”
In the mean time, the affairs of the university were
equally unprosperous. Thomas Buchanan, provost of Kirk-
hiil and minister of Ceres, had begun to assist James Mel¬
ville in his academical labours ; but the nephew, as well as
the uncle, having been compelled to quit his station, Ro-
oertson was the only professor who continued to reside in
St. Mary’s College. Its sole direction then devolved upon
t it archbishop* who himself undertook to read lectures on
divinity ; but as his principal topics in the chair, as well as
in the pulpit, were the supremacy of the king and the pre¬
eminence of bishops, he found so little favour with his au¬
ditors, that he speedily relinquished his thankless task. He
549
next obtained authority for converting the college into a MeiviHe.
seminary of philosophy; and Robertson, who had recom¬
mended himself by the pliancy of his conduct, was promot¬
ed to the office of principal. Finding his former station
thus occupied, Melville repaired to Glasgow, where he re¬
sided with his friend Andrew Hay, rector of the university.
Here he might have been reinstated in the principal’s chair,
which had remained vacant since the death of Smeton in
15^3 ; but he was anxious to restore the theological semi¬
nary at St. Andrews, and to that city he accordingly re¬
turned in the ensuing month of March. The college had
been placed on its former foundation, and, after an interval
of two years, he now resumed his labours. The synod of
Fife met at St. Andrews in the course of the following
month ; and in a sudden, and indeed irregular manner, the
archbishop was called to an account for having exercis¬
ed an unlawful office, and endeavoured to overthrow the
liberties of the church of Scotland. Sentence of excommu¬
nication was pronounced against him; and, in return, having
prepared a similar sentence against Melville and some of
his brethren, he directed his servants to read it in the
church. This censure of Adamson was not confirmed by
the general assembly, but he nevertheless found himself
constrained to make some abatements of his pontifical pre¬
tensions. In order to smooth the archbishop’s return to his
diocese, the king had recourse to the expedient of subject¬
ing Melville to a temporary relegation. He accordingly
received a written mandate to confine his residence to the
north side of the river Tay ; nor was it without considerable
difficulty that he at length succeeded in his attempt to pro¬
cure its revocation. Adamson had in the mean time been
-appointed to read in St. Salvator’s College a Latin lecture,
which all the members of the university were required to
attend; but he had the mortification to find his auditory
much diminished when Melville’s voice was again heard in
the divinity school; and this mortification appears to have
been not a little encreased by the reduced numbers of the
congregation when he officiated in his own church. The
chapel of St. Mary’s having attracted too many auditors, he
procured a mandate from his majesty, prohibiting the pro¬
fessors of that college from preaching in the vernacular
tongue. When Du Bartas, an envoy from the king of Na¬
varre, accompanied James to St. Andrews, they came to
hear^ a lecture from Melville, after having given him an
hour’s notice of their intention. He at first endeavoured
to excuse himself by stating that he had already delivered
his ordinary lecture, and that he was altogether unprepared
for such illustrious auditors ; but as his majesty would not
admit of such an excuse, he pronounced an extemporary
discourse, which is said to have given “ satisfaction to all
the hearers, except his majesty, who considered some parts
of it as levelled against his favourite notions of church go¬
vernment.” The king and the ambassador were on the
following day entertained by the archbishop; who, in ad¬
dition to the pontifical banquet, regaled them with an ela¬
borate defence of prelacy and the ecclesiastical supremacy
of princes. Melville, who was present, and took notes of
the principal topics, had no sooner returned to his college
than he ordered the bell to be rung, and conveyed to the
king an intimation of his intention to deliver another lec¬
ture after an interval of two hours. Although he received
two messages, partly compounded of threats and partly of
blandishments, he was not to be deterred or diverted from
his purpose : he declared that, even at the risk of his life,
he would use his best endeavours to counteract the effects
of pernicious doctrine; but so far as a sacred regard for the
cause of truth would permit, he promised to be very tender
of his majesty’s honour. This lecture attracted a very nu¬
merous auditory, and, among the rest, the king, Du Bartas,
and Adamson. With equal judgment and dexterity, he
made no formal reference to the previous speech of the
550
M E L VI L L E.
Melville, archbishop, but quoted from popish books, which he then
'-—v—-' produced, ail his leading positions and arguments relative
to episcopacy; and all these popish doctrines he refuted
with such force of reason and eloquence, that Adamson, who
had previously obtained the royal permission to defend his
own cause, is described as having been struck as dumb as
the seat on which he had placed himself. The learned
monarch was however induced to make a speech, which was
interspersed with certain scholastic distinctions, and closed
with an injunction to respect and obey the archbishop ; an
injunction which can scarcely be supposed to have fallen
upon very willing ears. lie afterwards deigned to partake
of a collation in the college, and was regaled with “ wet
and dry confections, and all sorts of wane.”
Of the general assembly held in June 1587, Melville was
elected moderator ; and he was likewise nominated one of
their commissioners for attending to the proceedings in the
ensuing session of parliament. On the 17th of May 1590,
he was present at the coronation of the queen, and then re¬
cited a Latin poem which he had composed for the occasion,
and which was immediately published.1 His antagonist
Adamson died on the 19th of February 1592, after having
been deprived of his office, together with all its emoluments.
The king, who was incapable of all generous feeling, left
him to poverty and contempt; and such were the vicissi¬
tudes of his condition, that he was at length constrained to
address a letter to Melville, which, with a profession of con¬
trition for his previous conduct, contained the sad disclosure
of his destitute situation. Melville hastened to pay him a
visit, and not only procured contributions from his friends
at St. Andrews, but even continued for several months to
support him from his private resources. The death of this
accomplished and unfortunate prelate was speedily followed
by the formal restoration of presbytery. Some progress had
been made during a former session, and in the month of
June an act of parliament ratified the government of the
church by general assemblies, provincial synods, presby¬
teries, and particular sessions. In the year 1593 St. Mary’s
College derived a considerable accession of strength from
the appointment of John Johnston to a professorship of di¬
vinity. He supplied the place of Robertson ; and in 1586
Patrick Melville had succeeded his cousin, the professor of
oriental languages, who was now minister of Kilrenny. On
the death of James Wilkie, principal of St. Leonard’s Col¬
lege, Andrew Melville had in 1590 become rector of the
university. This office, which for a series of years he con¬
tinued to hold by re-election, he discharged with his usual
energy. He was elected moderator of the general assembly
convened in May 1594, and he bore a conspicuous part in
many of the public transactions of that period. Together
with his nephewr James, and other two clergymen, he ac¬
companied the king on his expedition against the popish
lords, after the battle of Glenlivet; and his majesty, who
had requested their attendance, found him a very faithful
and able counsellor. With the view of maintaining the
rights of the church, he from time to time had various au¬
diences ; and being more distinguished by intrepid sincerity
than by smooth complacency, he could not often anticipate
a gracious reception. In the year 1596, when the design
uas ascertained of recalling the popish lords from banish¬
ment, he went to Falkland with other commissioners of the
general assembly, for the purpose of remonstrating against
a measure which they considered as so pernicious. They
wcie admitted to a private audience; but, from its com¬
mencement, the king testified the utmost impatience, and
Melville was at length elevated to the pitch of taking his
majesty by the sleeve, and calling him “ God’s silly vas¬
sal ; when he pioceeded to address him in a strain which
as Dr. M-Crie has remarked, was “ perhaps the most singu- Melville,
lar, in point of freedom, that ever saluted royal ears, or that J
ever proceeded from the mouth of a loyal subject, who would
have spilt his blood in defence of the person and honour of
his prince.” While some applaud the courage of this un¬
daunted presbyter, others may be equally disposed to con¬
demn him as guilty of unwarrantable insolence to his sove¬
reign. These opinions we shall not pause to discuss ; but
it may be proper to add, that his majesty’s passion is said to
have subsided while Melville thus continued to admonish
him of his duty. For several years ensuing, the king made
repeated attempts to regulate the church according to his
own arbitrary notions ; nor in any of those attempts did he *
meet with a more strenuous opponent than the worthy prin¬
cipal of St. Mary s. A royal visitation of the university
took place in the year 1597, when the utmost anxiety was
manifested to discover some tenable ground of accusation
against an individual so obnoxious to the court. Although
sufficiently aware of the situation in which he stood, he
sharply rebuked the king in church for having commanded
the preacher to discontinue his sermon. As the visitors
were unable to find any pretext for censuring his conduct
as a member of the university, they only ventured to de-
prive him of the office'of rector: but they had recourse to
another method of incapacitating him for opposing his ma¬
jesty’s schemes of innovation ; under the pains and penal¬
ties of treason, they prohibited all professors and regents,
not being pastors in the church, from sitting as members of
any ecclesiastical court. Disregarding this prohibition,
which proceeded from no competent authority, he did not
hesitate to take his place in the provincial synod and the
general assembly ; but when he presented himself at Dun¬
dee as a member of assembly, James was moved with vio¬
lent indignation, and commanded both him and his colleague
Johnston to quit the town. In the month of November
1599, he however bore a very conspicuous part in the con¬
ference to which the king invited the principal clergy at
Holyroodhouse. At every -step he most strenuously con¬
tended against the restoration of episcopacy. Of the as¬
sembly held at Montrose in the year 1600, he was likewise
chosen a member, but a royal mandate again prevented him
from taking his seat: he however appears to have sat in
the assembly convened at Burntisland in May 1601. In
the course of the following year, he gave great offence in a
discourse from the pulpit, by condemning the unfaithful¬
ness and secular spirit which, as he averred, had become so
common among his brethren. In order to restrain this
freedom of speech, the king, by his sole authority, com¬
manded him, under the pain of treason, to confine himself
within the walls of his own college. By the intercession of
the queen, his first sentence was so far relaxed as to permit
him to move within a circuit of six miles from St. Andrews.
James, on succeeding to the English throne, found his
hands sufficiently strengthened to complete his long-medi¬
tated changes in the Scotish church. When the parlia¬
ment met at Perth in August 1606, it was clearly under¬
stood that the episcopal office was to be restored to its former
privileges, and that the statute which had annexed to the
crown the temporalities of the sees, was to be abolished.
Melville was despatched by the presbytery of St. Andrews,
with instructions to co-operate with delegates from other
presbyteries in maintaining the liberties of the church; but,
as may easily be supposed, they travelled on a very fruitless
errand. He made an ineffectual attempt to obtain a hearing;
and they could only record their opinions in the form of a
strong and decided protest, which could not be received or
acknowledged by the house. But a desperate expedient
was at length devised for removing this scourge of episco-
Sre^cwumoi/, ad Seotue Regem, habitum in Coronatione Reginae, 17 Maii 1590, per Andream Melvinum.
Edinb. 1590, 4to.
MELVILLE.
Melville, pacy from that sphere of action, in which his opposition had
v—been found to be so formidable. He had received a letter
from the king, commanding him to repair to London before
the 15th of September, in order “ that his majesty might
treat with him and others, his brethren, of good learning,
judgment, and experience, of such things as would tend to
settle the peace of the church, and to justify to the world
the measures which his majesty, after such extraordinary
condescension, might find it necessary to adopt for re¬
pressing the obstinate and turbulent.” A similar requisition
was addressed to James Melville, and to other six clergy¬
men, namely, Scott, Carmichael, Watson, Balfour, Colt, and
Wallace. They reached the English metropolis before the
limited time; and soon after their arrival, they received in¬
vitations from the archbishops of Canterbury and York, but
did not deem it advisable to accept them. Having been
previously presented to the king, they were commanded to
attend him at Hampton Court on the 22d of September;
and were then informed that the important questions which
he wished to propose for their consideration, related to the
pretended assembly of Aberdeen, and to the best means of
restoring the tranquillity of the church. They were direct¬
ed to return next day, and then to deliver their opinions.
When they again presented themselves, they found his ma¬
jesty surrounded by the nobility of both kingdoms, and
attended by the Scotish archbishops, as well as by commis¬
sioners from the conforming section of the clergy* The
king was seated between the prince of Wales and the me¬
tropolitan of all England. The question relative to the
assembly of Aberdeen was manifestly captious, and was pro¬
posed for the sole purpose of entangling the bold and honest
presbyters in a dangerous snare. The two archbishops and
their adherents had no hesitation in condemning that as¬
sembly as unlawful, factious, and turbulent; but not one of
the faithful eight could be induced to utter a single word
tending to implicate their brethren in any measure of blame.
Melville delivered his opinion at great length, and with a
degree of fire and impetuosity which astonished the Eng¬
lish nobility and clergy. As to the other questions, relative
to the pacification of the church, all the eight replied with
one voice, that the only expedient for accomplishing that
purpose was a free assembly. “ The ministers,” as Dr.
M‘Crie has stated, “were dismissed with unequivocal marks
of approbation on the part of those who were present. The
English nobility, who had not been accustomed to see the
king addressed with such freedom, could not refrain from
expressing their admiration at the boldness with which Mel¬
ville and his associates delivered their sentiments before
such an audience, at the harmony of views which appeared
in all their speeches, and the readiness and pertinency of
the replies which they made to every objection with which
they were urged. The reports of the conference which
were circulated through the city made a strong impression
in their favour. It had the effect of dispelling the cloud of
prejudice which had been raised against them and their
brethren; and convinced the impartial that, instead of being
the turbulent and unreasonable men they had been repre¬
sented to be, they were only claiming their undoubted
rights, and standing up for the ecclesiastical liberties of their
country against the lawless encroachments of arbitrary
power.”
They were immediately followed to their lodgings at
Kingston by Alexander Hay, one of the Scotish secretaries
of state, who read to them a formal order not to return to
their own country, or to approach the court without special
permission. They were afterwards brought before the Sco¬
tish council, assembled at the earl of Dunbar’s apartments;
and various artful expedients were successively and ineffec-
551
tually tried for moving their resolution or corrupting their Melville,
integrity. One part of the discipline to which they were
subjected was that of listening to the foolishness of preach-
ing. The thiid controversial sermon wrhich they were con¬
demned to hear in the chapel royal, was preached by Dr.
Andrews, bishop of Chichester ; who from the text relative
to the silver trumpets blown by the priests at the Jewish
convocations, undertook to prove that the right of convo-
cating ecclesiastical councils properly belongs to Christian
emperors and kings. Did the bishops and deans, to whom
they were thus constrained to listen, seriously expect pres-
byterian auditors to be moved, except with derision, by such
mystical driveling as this ? On St. Michael’s day, they at¬
tended the same chapel of Hampton Court, and were not a
little scandalized at the popish appearance of what is su-
perstitiously called the altar ; which displayed two closed
books, two empty chalices, and two candlesticks with un¬
lighted tapers. The prince of Yaudemont, son to the duke
of Lorraine, was present, with other foreigners of distinc¬
tion ; and after the close of the service, he naturally enough
took occasion to observe, that he saw no reason why the
church of England should not unite with the church of
Home. One of his attendants was so strongly impressed
with the same opinion, that he exclaimed, “ Nothing but
the adoration of the host is here wanting to the mass.”
Melville returned to his lodgings, and immediately vented
his indignation in the following epigram :
Cur stant clausi Anglis libri duo regia in ara,
Lamina caeca duo, pollubra sicca duo ?
Num sensum eukumque Dei tenet Anglia clausum,
Lumine caeca suo, sorde sepulta sua ?
Romano an ritu dum regalem instruit aram,
Purpuream pingit relligiosa lupam P1
As Melville and his brethren wrere beset with spies, a copy
of this epigram was speedily conveyed to the king, who
viewed the author as guilty of a heinous offence. On the
third of November he was brought before the English coun¬
cil at Whitehall, where he boldly avowed himself as the
writer of the obnoxious verses ; nor did he hesitate to ex¬
press in plain prose his feelings of grief and indignation at
seeing the superstitions of popery retained in a church pro¬
fessing to be reformed. He however added that he had
not given any person a copy of the epigram; and that if
he had committed an offence, he was not amenable to the
English council, especially when his sovereign was not pre¬
sent. The archbishop of Canterbury then began to expa¬
tiate on the aggravated nature of his offence, which he de¬
scribed as coming within the definition of treason. “ My
lords,” he indignantly exclaimed, “ Andrew Melville was
never a traitor; but there was one Richard Bancroft (let him
be sought for), who, during the life of the late queen, wrote a
treatise against his majesty’s title to the crown of England, and
here is the book.” Bancroft, who was totally unprepared for
such an act of retaliation, sat in mute astonishment, while the
Scotish presbyter proceeded to accuse him of profaning the
sabbath, and of silencing and imprisoning faithful preachers
of the gospel for scrupling to conform to the vain and su¬
perstitious ceremonies of an antichristian hierarchy. He
gradually advanced so near this pontiff' as to shake his lawn
sleeves; and, calling them Romish rags, he thus continued
to address him : “ If you are the author of the book called
‘ England Scotfizing for Geneva Discipline,’ then I regard
you as the capital enemy of all the reformed churches in
Europe, and as such I will profess myself an enemy to you
and your proceedings, to the effusion of the last drop of my
blood ; and it grieves me that such a man should have his
majesty’s ear, and sit so high in this honourable council.”
1 Melvini Masse, p, 24. drmo 1620, 4to.
552 M E L V I L L K
Melville. Dr Barlow, bishop of Lincoln, having at length ventured to
‘V"—' interpose, was subjected to the same unceremonious treat¬
ment ; nor did his sermon on the beauties of episcopacy,
with which he had recently edified the presbyterian breth¬
ren, escape severe animadversion. Melville was finally ad¬
monished by the lord chancellor Ellesmere to add modesty
and discretion to his learning and years ; and was moreover
informed that he had been found guilty of scandalum mag-
natum, and was to be committed to the custody of the dean
of St. Paul’s till the king should signify his pleasure as to
his further punishment. In the custody of Dr. Overall he
remained till the 9th of March 1607, when he received from
the council an order to remove to the bishop of Winches¬
ter’s residence in London : but as he was not attended by
the messenger who delivered this order, he paid a visit of
several weeks to his brethren. On the 26th of April he
was again summoned before the council. The king of Great
Britain, France, and Ireland had recourse to the expedi¬
ent of stationing himself in a closet where he could hear
without being seen; and he received the appropriate re¬
ward of hearing himself mentioned with the utmost free¬
dom of speech by the most undaunted of his subjects. The
poor archbishop, the earls of Salisbury and Northampton,
with the lord treasurer, were all exposed to the reprehen¬
sions of a man who spared none of their vices, public or
private. By a most inquisitorial and iniquitous sentence,
worthy of Rome or Toledo, he wras committed as a prisoner
to the Tower. His nephew, who had written no epigram
on the superstitions of the church, was commanded to fix
his residence at Newcastle upon Tyne, and not to move
beyond a distance of ten miles from that town.1 Their
brethren were permitted to return to Scotland, but were
each of them restricted to particular limits. Such at that
period was the spirit of the English government, and such
were the unhallowed means of upholding a protestant church.
The spirit of popery is not always confined to the popedom.
Melville’s office was soon afterwards declared vacant, and
Robert Howie, a man of respectable attainments in learn¬
ing, succeeded him as principal of St. Mary’s College. For
the space of about ten months, the prisoner was subjected
to the most rigorous treatment: no person was allowed to
visit him, he was not permitted to retain a servant, and was
even denied the use of pen and ink. But his manly spirit
wras still unsubdued, and he endeavoured to amuse his soli¬
tary hours by composing Latin verses, which with the
tongue of his shoe-buckle he engraved on the walls of his
prison-house. From these unnecessary restraints he was at
length released by the intercession of some of his friends at
court, and particularly of Sir James Semple, who was him¬
self a man of learning, and an able supporter of the pres¬
byterian polity. Before the close of the year 1607, the
protestants of Rochelle endeavoured to obtain his services,
as professor of divinity in their college, but James could
not yet be induced to open the doors of his prison. After
another interval of twelve months, he was moved by the
suggestion of some person of rank to address the king in
Latin verse, but in this case verse was incapable of soothing
the ear of the royal poet. By the advice of Archbishop
Spotswood, whose sincerity he afterwards found strong rea¬
sons to distrust, he addressed to the privy council a letter
in which, without compromising his own dignity of charac¬
ter, he endeavoured to persuade them that an imprisonment
of two years wras a sufficient punishment for any offence
which he might have committed. But these unjust judges
likewise turned a deaf ear to his supplication, and he was Melville,
doomed to remain a prisoner for an additional period of two ^
years; at the expiration of which, he was released at the
intercession of the duke of Bouillon, who invited him to fill
a^ professor’s chair in the protestant university of .Sedan.
Notwithstanding his tedious confinement, he had enjoyed a
large measure of good health ; but the vigour of his consti¬
tution was at length impaired, and having been seized with
a fever, he obtained permission to leave the Tower for a few
days, but under the condition of not removing beyond the
distance of ten miles from London. His health returned,
and it became necessary to prepare for a voyage, which, it
may easily be conceived, he undertook with some degree of
reluctance. Lie was now in the sixty-sixth year of his age,
and had long filled an honourable and conspicuous station
in his native land, to which he felt that strong attachment
v/hich his countrymen so generally feel. But the wrath of
kings and bishops is sometimes not easily appeased; and
this aged, learned, and conscientious divine was compelled
to relinquish the hope of returning to the land of his nativity,
and after having so far declined into the vale of years, to
proceed in search of a new country.
9Anas (lev drjp derco nepdcTipos,
Anaaa 8e dv8pl yevvalw narpls.
On the 19th of April 1611, he embarked for France;
and having spent a few days at Rouen and Paris, he arriv¬
ed at Sedan in the course of the ensuing month. In this
university he wras associated with several of his countrymen :
the office of principal w as held by Walter Donaldson, LL.D.
who was likewise professor of natural and moral philosophy ;
and another professor of philosophy w^as John Smith. Mel¬
ville was installed as a professor of divinity, and to him w as
assigned the department of biblical literature, while his
colleague Tilenus taught systematic theology. Another
member of the theological faculty was Jacques Cappel, who
taught the Hebrew language with no small reputation.
Daniel Tilenus, a native of Silesia, was morose in his tem¬
perament, and did not prove a very desirable associate.
After having written against the opinions of Arminius, he
became an avowed convert to them ; and being refuted by
Melville in his academical lectures, he quitted the univer¬
sity of Sedan, and was afterwards conspicuous as a bitter
opponent of the opinions of Calvin. Our learned country¬
man still retained a large portion of mental vivacity, nor
were his bodily senses materially impaired: at the age of
sixty-eight, he could read the smallest Hebrew' characters
without the aid of spectacles. He was however exposed to
occasional visitations of colic, gout, and gravel; nor did he
cease to cherish some lingering, though faint, hope of being
permitted to deposit his bones in the land of his fathers.
His mortal career was however terminated at Sedan in the
year 1622, when he had attained the age of seventy-seven.
Melville was small in stature, and was alike conspicuous
for his vivacity of body and mind. His elasticity of spirit,
which he appears to have retained till the last years of his
life, was accompanied with a warm and impetuous temper¬
ament, which however w as free from all personal malignity.
W henever he engaged in any undertaking that he deemed
important, he displayed a degree of ardour and zeal which
could not fail to excite the surprize of persons more cool, as
well as more obtuse than himself. His zeal was pure and
disinterested, nor did he hesitate to endanger his liberty or
life in maintaining those principles of civil and religious
James Melville was aftervvards permitted to reside at Berwick, where he died on the 19th of January IGIL in the fifty-ninth year of
his age, and the eighth of his banishment. He was twice married, and left several children. He appears to have been an upright and dis¬
interested man : his zeal, less fiery than that of his uncle, was equally uniform and consistent, nor did the offer of a bishopric shake his at¬
tachment to presbytery. His talents were much inferior to those of his uncle. He is the author of various works in the Latin and Scot-
ish languages. His Diary, recently printed for the Bannatyne Club, contains much curious information relative to the ecclesiastical and
literary history or that age.
v_.. ‘ ,r^edom to which his heart and soul were so entirely devot¬
ed. I- rorn his early youth, he was distinguished by fervid
and consistent piety. He was a man of the most unblem¬
ished integrity, nor did his enemies, who were sufficiently
numerous, venture to charge him with sordid or selfish mo¬
tives of conduct: their accusations chiefly relate to his want
of personal reverence for the king, and to his want of ve¬
neration ior bishops, with all their Romish remnants ; and
it must indeed be admitted that, although possessed of the
most genuine loyalty, he treated his sovereign with very
little ceremony, and that he regarded1 the English and
the Romish prelacy as essentially partaking of the same
spirit. As to his personal treatment of the king, it is
without hesitation to be conceded that the reverence which
may not be due to the individual is at least due to the of-
• C6*v ui 6 0 ,er question, as to the genuine character and
inevitable tendency of a lordly prelacy, we shall here suffer
to rest on its own merits. In private life he appears to have
been very amiable and affectionate: if his indignation was
easily roused, it was also easily appeased ; and he was free
from that arrogance by which men of intellectual superi¬
ority have sometimes rendered themselves more feared than
respected. Melville was unquestionably possessed of very
uncommon talents, and he had acquired an ample and
varied store of erudition. His proficiency, not merely
in classical, but even in oriental literature, was not denied
hy such of his contemporaries as were least disposed to be¬
stow commendation which he did not undeniably merit.
tor the depth as well as the extent of his theological learn¬
ing, he was generally admired by those who had the best
opportunities of forming a correct judgment. We have
already observed that he had devoted considerable atten-
lon to the study of law, and some of his enemies represent¬
ed him as too much addicted to the study of politics, while
his friends were equally persuaded that all his talents and
all his energies were uniformly directed to the most bene¬
ficial purposes. Such was his indifference to literary repu¬
tation that although so capable of writing in prose or verse,
he committed very few works to the press.1 Durino- his
long and active life, and under all its vicissitudes, he con¬
tinued to feel the attractions of the Roman Muse. Nature
had bestowed upon him the fancy and feeling of a poet, and
his verses frequently display uncommon felicity and ele¬
gance. / \
Melville, Sir James, whose name is familiarly known
to the readers of Scotish history, was born in the year 1535
He was the third son of Sir John Melville of Raith in Fife-
slure, by his wife Helen, the eldest daughter of Sir Alex¬
ander N apier of Merchiston. At an early period the father
declared his adherence to the reformed doctrines, and thus
incurred the unrelenting hatred of an unholy priesthood.
He was accused of heresy by Archbishop Beaton, but upon
this occasion was protected by the interposition of the king.
\Vhen the war with England ensued during the minority
of the queen, all intercourse with that country was pro-
hibited under heavy penalties. His eldest son having been
sent thither for his education, Sir John addressed to him a
letter which was intercepted, and which, although soharm-
MELVILLE.
553
ess m Us tendency, was converted by Archbishop Hamilton Melville
into the instrument of his destruction : he was arrested at  ,—
the instigation of this prelate, and having been sent under
a stiong guard to Stirling, was convicted of high treason
and brought to the scaffold. Not satisfied with this atro-’
Clous act, the archbishop found means to obtain possession
of ins estate, and thus to reduce his widow and children to
a state of penury. “ But,” as we are informed, “ the Al¬
mighty ordered matters so, that all the younger children
were better provided for than they could have been by their
father d he had been alive, as Sir John himself had fore¬
told his lady to comfort her.”2 At the period of this iudi-
eial murder, his third son had attained the age of fourteen.
Jean de Monluc, bishop of Valence, had visited the Scotish
court in the capacity of an ambassador; and on his return
to his own country, the queen regent took that opportunity
of sending young Melville to be placed in her daughter’s
service as a page of honour. The bishop did not however
proceed directly to France: he had received instructions
‘°r the PurP0Se °f communicating with
O Neill, O Docherty, and other disaffected chieftains, who
had offered to transfer their allegiance to the French king.
He embarked at Irvine in the month of January 1550, and,
Tnlhf i 0UAmd c,anfcerous passage, at length reached
Lochfoyle. O Docherty conducted Monluc with his at¬
tendants to his own residence, a large and dark tower where
as it was now the season of Lent, they were regaled with
such cold cheer as herrings and biscuit. The bishop hav¬
ing discovered a too amorous partiality for the chieftain’s
daughter, two English friars, who were living in exile, de¬
vised a method for saving the honour of the O’Dochertys
and ministering to the wants of so exemplary a prelate.*
m damsel herself, who had shunned his addresses, view¬
ed Melville with more favourable eyes: she sought him
wherever he was to be found, and having brought a priest
who could speak English, she offered to marry him, and to
accompany him wherever he pleased; but he thought it
expedient to decline the honour thus intended for him, on
tne plea that he was too young, and “ had no rents.” After
remaining for several weeks in Ireland, they returned to
Scotland, and having again embarked, they sailed from Dum-
barvon, and landed at a port in Bretagne. Monluc posted
to Fans, and left the Scotish page to follow at a more lei¬
surely pace. Having met with some adventures by the
way, he reached his place of destination in the month of
iip , . blsh°Pwas soon afterwards despatched to Rome,
and left him at Paris, to learn to play on the lute, and to
write french ; and to these acquirements he added the ele¬
ments of mathematics. Before he was presented to the
queen, a curious incident brought him under the notice of
the great constable Montmorenci, who must evidently have
oeen much pleased with his appearance, for he instantly
proposed to receive him into his own service. Having pre¬
viously obtained the bishop’s consent, he accordingly en¬
tered into this service in May 1553. °
War was now raging betweeft the king of France and
the emperor of Germany, and Melville was speedily called
to attend the constable in his campaigns in France and
published “ Commentarius6 in'divhmJi^ad'i' Epistolam ad Romios^auctor11’/’ ^'mT0 accurate list vve ha™ only to add an un
of 121 leaves, trHiiscibeil with much elegance, il to 0’” ^ a small
as for many other favours of a similar kind. 1 ' Vld ■L'dlI1S:> to whom we are indebted for the use of it. as well
2 Wood’s Peerage of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 112.
that spak Englis^to lyShim fvvhi'lkharle? beingVep^quyedyrSchatber fa^lithe ^ 3 WOman
eouem hie barlettrie and his colaic in sic see! as IheTeS fled’^ «« for impatience
3 Hotter, for it was a phioll of the only maist precious balm that grew in Eo-int whilk i HSCu and auen saruandis leuch
sent to the said bischop efter he had bene twa yeares ambassadonr fnr fhp K nf * • ^°|yman the Gret Turc had geuen in a pre-
crownis.” (Melville’s Memoirs, P. 10.) 7 ““bassadour for the K. of France in Turky, and was esteamed worth twa thowsand
VOL. XIV.
4 A
MELVILLE.
554
Melville. Flanders. The kindness of ms patron procured him a pen-
sion from the king in the year 1554. In 1557 he bore arms
at the battle of St. Quentin, where the constable's army was
totally defeated, and he was himself wounded " and taken
prisoner. Melville was wounded in the head by the stroke
of a mace, and as he was unhorsed and lost his helmet, he
was exposed to no small jeopardy; but his servant remount¬
ed him upon a Scotish gelding, which carried him beyond
the reach of his assailants. Having proceeded to La Ferre,
he there met his friend Henry Killigrew, who held his
horse till he went into a barber’s shop to have his wound
dressed. He attended the constable during his captivity;
from which he was delivered by the treaty of Cateau-Cam-
bresis, concluded in the year 1559. In the course of the
same year, the king, at Montmorenci’s suggestion, sent him
on a secret mission to Scotland, where, under the pretext
of paying a visit to his relations, he was instructed to use
his best endeavours for ascertaining the real views of the
prior of St. Andrews and his adherents. Having travelled
through England, he found the queen regent residing in
the old tower of Falkland, waiting the issue of an expected
engagement between her forces and those raised by the
lords of the congregation. He easily ascertained that there
was no reason for suspecting the prior of a design to usurp
the crown. A melancholy change of affairs awaited his re¬
turn to France : the constable had the singular infelicity to
kill his sovereign Henry the Second in a tournament, and
had been commanded to withdraw from court; so that he no
longer retained the same power of rewarding or advancing
his dependants. This circumstance he regretted with tears
in his eyes. Melville, although received with the greatest
kindness, judged it expedient to try his fortune in another
country, and he now directed his views towards Germany.
To the Elector Palatine, he was furnished with letters of
recommendation by his patron, as well as by another noble¬
man. He experienced a gracious reception, and made such
progress in the elector’s favour, that in 1560, on the death
of Francis the Second, he was charged with a message of
condolence to the court of France. When he had execut¬
ed this commission, the queen mother dismissed him with
many thanks, and with a fair reward amounting to the
value of a thousand crowns. His residence in Germany
afforded him an opportunity of learning the language of that
country; an acquisition which he must have found of some
advantage to a diplomatist. In company with the elector’s
second son Casimir, he visited France during the following
year; and he there made a tender of his services to Queen
Mary, who was on the eve of returning to Scotland. She
received him very graciously, and urged him, “ when he
wes to retire him out of Germany, to com hame and serue
hir Maieste, with frendly and fauorable offers.”
The cardinal of Lorraine had projected a marriage be¬
tween Mary and the archduke Charles of Austria, the young¬
est son of the emperor Ferdinand. In 1562 Melville re¬
ceived a letter from secretary Maitland, instructing him, by
the queen’s command, to procure and transmit particular
information respecting the person, character, religion, and
revenues of this prince. The kindness of his master the
elector speedily enabled him to execute his commission.
With the emperor’s eldest son Maximilian, then king of the
Romans, he had various interviews; and was at no loss to
discover that he had no inclination to promote his brother’s
elevation to a throne. The king offered to retain him in
his own service ; but he had now formed the resolution of
returning to his native country, after he had extended his
travels to Italy. He accordingly proceeded to Venice and
Rome, and, after an interval of about two months, returned
through Switzerland to Heidelberg. The elector soon af¬
terwards employed him in a diplomatic mission to Paris;
where he found the constable again frequenting the court,
but without having recovered the influence which he once
possessed. It is another proof of Melville's courtier-like Melville,
address, that the queen mother offered to make him a gen- v—<»
tleman of the king’s chamber, “ prouydit with ane honor¬
able pension, and to be aduancit till offices and honnours as
geue he wer a Frencheman born ; and that sche wald em¬
ploy him not only in Germany, bot also in England and
Flanders.” But about this crisis he received communica¬
tions from Moray and Maitland, requiring him, in the name
of their royal mistress, to return home for the purpose of
being employed in some affairs of consequence. Having
once more repaired to Heidelberg, he took leave of the
Elector Palatine; who finally entrusted him with a com¬
mission to the queen of England, partly relating to an al¬
liance with the protestant princes of Germany, and partly
to a scheme of offering her the hand of prince Casimir. He
now proceeded to London, and, after having paid his re¬
spects to Elizabeth, directed his steps towards his native
country. On the 5th of May 1564 he presented himself
to Mary at Perth, and had every reason to be satisfied with
the mode of his reception ; but the general aspect of affairs
in Scotland was less promising than he had been led to an¬
ticipate. He was however induced to engage in her ser¬
vice, and he received a pension of a thousand marks. She
likewise offered to bestow upon him the demesne of Auch-
termuchty ; but as it was so contiguous to the royal palace
of Falkland, he expressed his unwillingness to avail himself
of her liberality, when another individual who was not so
scrupulous, made a successful application for the valuable
gift which he had declined.
After an interval of a few months, Melville was entrust¬
ed with an embassy to the queen of England. Of his
proceedings on this occasion, he has given a circumstantial
and characteristic account, in which the vanity, coquetry,
and insincerity of Elizabeth are very prominently displayed.
On my return to Edinburgh, he states, “ efter that hir Ma¬
ieste had vnderstand at gret lenth all my handling and
prooeadingis in England, sche inquyrit whither I thocht that
quen menit trewly towardis hir asweill inwartly in hir hart,
as sche apperit to do outwardly be hir speach. I said, in
my jugement, that ther was nather plain dealing nor vp-
rycht meanyng, bot gret dissimulation, emulation, and fear
that hir princely qualites suld ouer schone, chaise hir out,
and displace hir from the kingdome ; as having alredy hen-
drit hir mariage with the Archeduc Charles of Austria, and
now offering vnto hir my L. of Leycester, whom sche wald
be laith as then to want.” He continued his attendance at
court after the queen’s marriage with Darnley, and must
sometimes have had a difficult and delicate part to perform.
On the birth of a prince, 19 June 1566, he was instantly
despatched to convey the intelligence to Elizabeth. He
found her at Greenwich ; “ wher hir Maieste was in gret
merines, and dancing efter supper, but sa schone as the se¬
cretary Cicill roundit the newes in hir ear of the prince
birth, all merines was layed asyd for thatnycht; euery ane
that wer present marueling what mycht moue sa sodane a
chengement; for the quen sat down with hir hand vpon hir
haffet, and boursting out to some of hir ladies, how that the
quen of Scotlandis was leichter of a faire sonne, and that
sche was bot a barren stok.” During the following year,
when Mary was intercepted by the earl of Bothwell, he was
among her other attendants, and along with her was con¬
ducted to Dunbar castle, but was only detained for a single
day. He was seized by Captain Blackader, who “ allegit #
that it was with the quenis awen consent.” From this pe¬
riod he did not so regularly attend the court, but he hap¬
pened to be present at her scandalous nuptials with the
murderer of her former husband. During the civil com¬
motions which succeeded, he did not remain entirely inac¬
tive :.he appears to have pursued a prudent and cautious
tenor of conduct, and to have abstained from involving
himself too deeply with either of the adverse factions. He
MEL
Melville, had adhered to the queen till she was committed to Loch-
v 1 leven castle ; but he undertook to be the bearer of a mes¬
sage from the lords who entertained the design of crowning
the infant prince, to the chief supporters of the mother’s
cause, who were then convened at Hamilton; and, about
the same crisis, when the earl of Moray returned from France
to assume the office of regent, he was delegated by the same
party to meet him at Berwick. To the next regent, the
earl of Lennox, he of his own accord presented himself at
the same place; and, under his administration, as well as
that of his successors Mar and Morton, he had some con¬
cern in public affairs. After the king received the reins of
government into his own hands, he was appointed a gentle¬
man of the bedchamber, and a member of the privy council.
In 1582 he was nominated, along with Lord Newbattle,
David Macgill, and John Sharp, to hold in Edinburgh
justice eyres for the county of Linlithgow. The enterprize
commonly described as the Raid of Ruthven speedily followed.
While the king still continued under restraint, he sent a
message to Melville, requiring his attendance at Falkland.
I his summons he immediately obeyed, and, according to
his own narrative, he had a principal share in effecting his
Majesty s liberation. He was not however acceptable to
James’s unworthy favourite the earl of Arran, through
whose influence his name was in 1584 expunged from the
list of privy councillors. He did not entirely lose the king’s
favour, but was soon afterwards consulted on various occa¬
sions. When the ambassadors arrived from Denmark in
1585, he was appointed to “ entertain them, and bear them
company.” With some part of the treatment which they
experienced at the Scotish court, these ambassadors had no
great reason to be satisfied; and it required all Melville’s
talents and address to prevent them from returning to their
own country in a very vindictive mood. When the king
afterwards proposed to send him as one of his ambassadors to
Denmark, he thought it advisable to decline this honour.
On the establishment of the queen’s household in the year
1590, James placed him there as a councillor, and in that
capacity he continued for several years ; “ keping somc-
tymes the consaill dayes, and sometymes assisting vpon the
chekker, when ther Maiesteis wer togither, bot w'hen they
wer sindrie, he awated only vpon the quen.” At the bap¬
tism of prince Henry, he was called to assist in the splen¬
did ceremonial; he was stationed behind the queen, and
aided her in receiving the presents offered by the ambas¬
sadors of different states. \
When the king succeeded to the crown of England, as
we are informed by Melville’s grandson, he “would gladly
iiave taken him along with him thither, offering him con-
siderable advancements there : but being now stricken in
years, and desirous to retreat from the troubles of the world,
to spend the remainder of his days in contemplation, [he]
begged his Majesties permission thereto. However, after
the king s going for London, he found himself in duty en-
gag d once to wait upon his Majesty in that kingdom, and
accordingly went thither, and was graciously received ; and
having attended there some weeks, humbly giving his Ma¬
jesty his best advice, no court allurements (whereof he had
great store) could prevail with him to alter his former re¬
solutions of privacy.” He died on the 13th of November
V; at the mature age of eighty-two. By his wife,
Christian, the daughter of David Boswell of Balmuto, he
left several children. The estate of Hallhill in Fifeshire
descended to his son James. His daughter Elizabeth was
married to John Lord Colville of Culross; and she is well
known as the pious and ingenious author of a poem common-
y described as Lady Culross’s Dream. Margaret, another
daughter, became the second wife of Sir John Scott of
MEL 555
Scotstarvet. From the eldest brother of Sir James Mel- Melville
ville is descended the noble family of Leven and Melville* II
Melville employed some portion of his declining age in Memel.
writing Memoirs of his public life; and the work was pub- v‘u““ -r
lished by his grandson, George Scott of Pitlochie, sixty-six
yeais after the death of the author. “ The Memoires of Sir
James Melvil of Hal-hill; containing an impartial Account of
the most remarkable Affairs of State during the last Age,
not mention’d by other historians, more particularly relat¬
ing to the Kingdoms of England and Scotland, under the
Reigns of Queen Elizabeth, Mary Queen of Scots, and
King James 5 in all which transactions the author was per¬
sonally and publickly concern’d. Now published from the
original manuscript, by George Scott, Gent.” London, 1683,
fol. Edinburgh, 1735,8vo. Glasgow, 1751,12mo. A French
translation, in 2 vols. 8vo., appeared at the Hague in 1694,
was reprinted at Lyon in 1695, and at Amsterdam in
1704. A new version, or the same remodelled, was publish¬
ed in 1 / 45 in 3 vols. 8vo., bearing the imprint, “ a Edim-
bourg, chez Barrows et Young.” “The work,” as Mr.
Thomson states, “ was evidently printed abroad. The ad¬
ditions, which fill the third volume, consist of letters, writ¬
ten chiefly by Queen Mary, selected from various printed
works.” These various editions of the Memoirs afford suf-
ficient evidence that the book had excited no small degree
of interest on the continent, as well as in our own country.
Bishop Burnet, to whom it had been communicated in
manuscript, described it as “ one of the best and perfectest
pieces of that nature that he had seen.” It was originally
published in that unfaithful and injudicious manner, in
w hich the editors of a former age were too apt to suppose
themselves entitled to exercise their functions: so violent
an attempt was made to reduce the phraseology to the
English standard, and so many interpolations were admit¬
ted, that in not a few instances it is extremely difficult to
recognize the general texture of Melville’s own narrative.
The fidelity of the editor was therefore liable to strong sus¬
picion, which was naturally augmented by the consideration
that no early copy of the Memoirs could be traced in any
public or private library. But a manuscript, apparently in
the handwriting of the author, was at length discovered in
the collection bequeathed to Mr. Rose by the Earl of
Marchmont, and since inherited by Sir George H. Rose.
From this manuscript the work has recently been printed
for the Bannatyne Club, under the able superintendence of
Thomas Thomson, Esq. “ Memoirs of his own Life by Sir
James Melville of Halhill. m.d.xlix.—m.d.xciii. From
the original manuscript.” Edinb. 1827, 4to. Melville’s
Memoirs, in this authentic form, are a most valuable acces¬
sion to the stock of original materials for Scotish history.
MELVILLE BAY, a harbour on the north coast of New
Holland, at the wrest entrance into the Gulf of Carpentaria,
visited by Captain Flinders, and found to be the best har¬
bour in the gulf. Long, of Point Dundas, at the entrance
of the bay, 136. 41. 40. E. Lat. 12. 13. 0. S. There is an
island of the same name at the entrance into this gulf, on
the west side, and about five miles long. Long. 136. 52. E.
Lat. 12. 8. S.
MEMEL, a city of the province of East Prussia, in the
government of Konigsberg. It is the capital of a circle of
the same name, which extends over 621 square miles, and
contains, besides the city, five parishes, with 33,600 inha¬
bitants. The city is situated on a peninsula at the mouth
of the Curish Half, on the river Dange, which empties itself
into the Baltic Sea. The harbour is partly in the river and
partly in an extensive basin, and both are capable of re¬
ceiving more than 700 large ships, such as are required for
the timber trade, which is the principal commerce of the
an cvlut vvlii!• h''h\^laS state<^ t^at l‘e was “ 14 years past *’ when he was committed to the charge of Monluc;
t which happened 111 the year 1549. He must therefore have been bom in 1535, and have lived to the age of eighty-two.
556 M E M
Memmin. place, and for which it is advantageously situated. The
&®n city is strongly fortified, and forms the chief defence of the fron-
Memoirs ^er towar<^s Russia. It is divided into the old city, the
.^ ^ Fredrick’s city, and the suburbs. It has a citadel, two Lu-
tlieran churches, one reformed, and one Catholic, an hospital
and school of industry, and 680 houses, mostly large, with
about 10,000 inhabitants. Besides the trade in timber al¬
ready noticed, much corn, flax, hemp, and potash is export¬
ed. There are some linen and several leather manufac¬
tories, several breweries and distilleries, and many mills
for sawing timber. The chief exports are to England and
Holland, whence are derived the supplies of sugar and other
colonial articles. Lat. 55.42.15. N. Long. 21.1. 0. E.
MEMMINGEN, a city of Bavaria, in the circle of the
Upper Danube, and the capital of the courts of law of the
several bailiwicks. It is situated in a pleasant district, on the
river Ach, and contains three Lutheran and three Catholic
churches, 1150 houses, and 6640 inhabitants. It is an old
town, surrounded with walls, and some large antique public
buildings. It has become a place of considerable manufac¬
turing industry in linen and cotton goods, and has some trade
in corn, hops, wool, wine, and ironmongery. Lat. 47. 59-
40. N. Long. 10. 5. 2. E. *
MEMNON, a name given by the Greeks to various per¬
sonages ; as to a fabulous king of Ethiopia, who is said to
have gone to the assistance of King Priam, during the Tro¬
ian war, with a body of ten thousand men; and also to seve¬
ral kings of Egypt, whose era and dynasty are involved in
impenetrable obscurity. The word, in fact, seems to be a
distinctive or qualifying epithet, rather than a proper name ;
an abbreviated form of Mei-amun, “ beloved of Ammon?
which the Greeks, who were unacquainted with the Egyptian
language, naturally enough converted into Memnon ; and
hence it may have been applied to any or every king who was
conceived to be, in an especial manner, favoured or protected
by Ammon, the supreme head of the Egyptian Pantheon.
But there is one Pharaoh, in particular, called Memnon by
the Greek writers, in honour of whom the Egyptians are
supposed to have erected that celebrated statue, which is
alleged to have possessed the wonderful property of uttering
a sound every morning at sunrise, resembling that which is
produced by the sudden breaking of the string of a harp from
excessive tension. This subject is discussed at length in
the article Egypt, (vol. viij, p. 536), to which, accordingly,
the reader is referred. It is sufficient to observe here that
the idea of a colossal statue of hard reddish sandstone being
in any way affected by the morning rays of the sun, is too
absurd to deserve serious refutation. But as the ancient
Greek writers, and the numerous inscriptions upon the legs
and feet of the vocal colossus, all bear testimony to the fact,
that some sound of the kind or description mentioned was
given out by the statue ; and as Strabo the geographer dis¬
tinctly states that he had himself heard it, though he could
not say with certainty whence the sound proceeded; the
most probable hypothesis is, that it was produced by artifi¬
cial means, as by striking a smart blow on some sonorous
material concealed within the colossus.
There were other persons of the name of Memnon, be¬
sides the Egyptian king ; as, first, a general of Darius, who,
when Alexander invaded Asia, distinguished himself alike
by his sagacity in council and his gallant bearing in the
field ; secondly, a governor of Thrace appointed by Alex¬
ander, on account of his tried fidelity and experience; and,
thirdly, the author of a history of Heraclea in Pontus,
written in the age of Augustus. (a.)
MEMOIRS, in literature, a species of history, written by
persons who had some share in the transactions they relate,
and answering to what the Homans called Commentarii.
The journals of the proceedings of a literary society, or a
collection of the matters therein transacted, are likewise
called Memoirs.
M E N
MEMORY, a faculty of the mind, which presents to us Memory
ideas or notions of what is past, accompanied with a persua- II
sion that the things themselves were formerly real and pre- Menanca-
sent. What we distinctly remember to have perceived, we bow'
believe as firmly to have happened, as that which is now ^ ^ ^ /
present to our senses. See Metaphysics.
MEMPHIS, the second capital of Egypt, situated on the
western bank of the Nile, above the Delta, was scarcely in¬
ferior to Thebes in the extent and magnificence of its sacred
edifices, and even in the time of Strabo was second only to
Alexandria in point of size and population. The site and
name of this ancient city were well known in the twelfth
and thirteenth centuries, as appears from the account of it
given by El-Idrisi. By the Arabian geographer it is men¬
tioned under the name of Menph or Memph, which is merely
an abbreviation of the Egyptian name of Memphi or Mem-
phe; the hieroglyphic name,being Ma-m-piitha, the sacred
place, or temple of Phtha or Vulcan. Before the time of
the Ptolemies, the place had apparently assumed the syno¬
nymous appellation of Panouph or Panouphis, the Noph
of the Hebrews, which signifies the temple of the good god.
One of the most remarkable structures in Memphis was the
temple dedicated to Phtha, the patron divinity of the place ;
of this, however, nothing but the debris remains. The
same fate has overtaken the temple of Osiris, in which the
sacred bull Apis was kept; another consecrated to Hath or,
or Venus ; and a third dedicated to Serapis, all adjoining to
the great temple of Phtha. Of the wonderful Labyrinth,
which, according to Herodotus, exceeded all description, not
so much as a vestige or trace remains. Indeed, so rapidly
has the work of destruction proceeded, especially since the
fourteenth century, that few points have been more debated
in modern times than the site of this celebrated city ; and,
excepting its pyramids, and the great plain of mummies
which attest the vicinity of the spot whereon stood the se¬
cond capital of Egypt, it might almost be said of it, Etiam
periere ruince. But its distance from the pyramids and the
apex of the Delta, two fixed points, having been clearly
pointed out by Strabo, Pococke and Bruce were thereby
led to fix upon the neighbourhood of Mokhnan and Monyet-
Rahineh, two villages on the left or western bank of the
Nile, as the ground upon which Memphis had once stood;
and the opinion of these travellers was completely confirm¬
ed by the French during their military occupation of Egypt.
In fact, after'the successive generations of Greeks, Romans,
and Arabians had plundered Memphis, in the wantonness of
victory, or for the purpose of transferring its monuments to
Alexandria or Cairo, we may well wonder that, exclusively
of those eternal structures the pyramids, enough should still
remain to enable us to fix the probable site of the second
capital of the Pharaohs. (See the article Egypt, vol. viii.
p. 546.) (a )
MENANCABOW. This state or empire is situated in
the centre of the island of Sumatra, immediately under the
equinoctial line. Its dominion was formerly very exten¬
sive, comprehending the whole island. When the island
of Sumatra was first visited by Europeans, this state was on
the decline. In more modern times it was included be¬
tween the river Palemburg and that of Siak, on the eastern
side of the island; and on the western side, between those
of Manjuta (now Indrapur) and Singkel, where it borders
on the independent country of the Battas. The present
seat of the government is inland of the settlement of Pa-
dang, at the back of a mountainous district. The country
is described as a large plain, surrounded with hills produc¬
ing much gold, and as clear of wood and comparatively well
cultivated ; the people being far more advanced in the arts
than any of the other natives in Sumatra. They manufacture
gold and silver filagree, and have manufactured from the
earliest times arms for their own use, and for exportation to
the northern parts of the island. They have other weapons,
men
namely, swords and spears, a stiletto, chiefly used for assas-
v—^ oination, and the fatal hr is, a well known species of dagger
in eastern countries. The government is founded upon feu-
t al principles, like that of most other eastern states. The
sultan is despotic, though he is controled by the aristo¬
cracy ; and the people are slaves.
thpMcENif nDEuu a Cellbtrted c0mic poet of Athens, was
the son of Dmpithes and Hegisistrate, and belonged to the
demus of Cephissia. His family was of considerable emin-
ence at Athens, as we find his father commanding the
Athenian forces on the Hellespont in the war with Philip
of Macedonia, b.c. 342. (Dionys. Binarch. p. 666.) Menam
der was born b.c. 342, the year before the birth of Epicurus,
and he died b.c. -91. At the time that Menander was born,
emosthenes was forty years of age, and /Eschines forty-
seven. Of his private history the few facts that have been
i * ,S™lttedfare .of llt.tIe moment. He was the nephew of the
poet Alexis to whom he was indebted for his education; (Suid.
XuXX^ though he also belied under
the philosopher Theophrastus, fDiog. Laert. Theophr.) As
early as his twenty-first year he exhibited his first play, en-
itled Opyrj, and gained a prize. (Aristoph. 1. c. Euseb. 01.
1 4. 4.) Authors are not agreed as to the number of plays
whmh he composed ; some say 109, others 108, (Suid.) and
Apollodorus 105. (Gell.) Athenaeus mentions the titles of
p^y. plays- Menander wrote also letters addressed to king
Ptolemaeus Soter (306-283 B.c.), and several orations in
prose. Only eight of his plays were thought worthy by
the Athenian judges of receiving the crown of victory; but
as Euripides was even still more unsuccessful we must not
consider tins as a decisive proof of their inferiority. So
much indeed did the poet feel the injustice of this treatment
and the unworthmess of some of those who were the suc¬
cessful competitors, that on meeting Philemon he inquired
of him whether he did not blush when he heard himself de¬
clared victor. (Gell. xvii. 4.) Menander was accused by
the ancients of plagiarism, and the grammarian Cratinus
composed a work in six books on the thefts of Menander,
but this accusation appears to have been dictated by envy.
Menander is said to have been a great admirer of the fe¬
male sex; hence Ovid (Trist. xi. 370.) has remarked that
there is no comedy of Menander in which love is notintro-
dncecl, and yet that the manners are sufficiently pure to allow
a mother to place these dramas in the hands of her daughter
On this point we may remark that the manners of the Greeks
differed much from those of the present day, and we can
have no doubt that the subjects of many of them were such as
would exclude them from our drawing-rooms. The titles of
tliree of his plays, Thais, Glycerium, and Nannion, shew
that they treated of ladies of not the most reputable charac-
ters. It is well known that Terence carried his imitation
of Menander so far as sometimes merely to translate his plays,
and hence Caesar calls him Dimidiate Menander. (Ejrinr.
ap. Donat. Vit. Terent.) It is much to be regretted that
the whole of his works have perished, with the exception of
a lew fragments which have been preserved by different
grammarians and philosophers. Menander was the founder
of tne new comedy, in which vices were censured without
reference to particular facts, and in which the action of the
play was not impeded by the presence and declamation of
a chorus. It must have differed little from a modern comedy
except in being somewhat less pure in manners. Plutarch
has drawn a parallel between Menander and Aristophanes, in
which he thus expresses his opinion of the former: “Menander
can adapt his style so as to suit any character; he never
lo^s sight of nature, is always equal to himself, and always
different, according as the subject requires a change of man¬
ner ; hke to a limpid stream which, flowing between un¬
equal banks, assumes all its forms without losing any of its
purity. He is made to be read, represented, learned by heart,
to please in every place, and every time.” Quintilian says,
MEN
557
the pictxur,e of human life most accu- Menandri-
^ j , s> mven ion is fruitful, his eloquence powerflil, his ans
characters,passions, and manners, proper and natural.” (x. 1.) II
it is said that Menander was drowned whilst he was bath- Mendeli.
mg m the Piraeus at Athens; (Schol. Ovid. 593.) and the ^
Athenians erected a tomb to his honour not far from that
of Euripides (Pausan i. 6.) The fragments of Menander
bee” collected in the Poetce GrceciMinores, Cambridge,
1652. I he most complete edition is that by Leclerc Am¬
sterdam, 1709. (See Menandri et Philemonii Reliquicc,
edited by Memeke, Berlin, 1823.) *
. MEN ANDRIANS, the most ancient branch of the Gnos¬
tics, who were so called from Menander their chief, said by
some, though without sufficient foundation, to have been
a disciple of Simon Magus, and himself a reputed magician.
He taught, that no person could be saved, unless he were
baptised in his name ; and that he conferred a peculiar sort
of baptism, which would render those who received it im-
mortal in the next world; exhibiting himself to the world
with tlie frenzy of a lunatic rather than as the founder of a
sect, or as a promised saviour. It appears by the testi¬
monies oflrenaeus, Justin, and Tertuilian, that he pretended
o be one of the aeons sent from the pleroma, or ecclesias¬
tical regions, to succour the souls which lay groaning under
bodilyoppressionand servitude,and to maintain themagainst
e violence and stratagems of the daemons who hold the
reins of empire in this sublunary world. As this doctrine
was placed upon the same foundation with that of Simon
Magus, the ancient writers looked upon that personage as
the instructor of Menander. 6
. MENAJSSEH, Ben Israel, a celebrated rabbi,was bom
in Portugal about the year 1604. He was the son of Joseph
Ben Israel, and followed his father into Holland, where he
was educated by Rabbi Isaac Uziel, under whom he in a short
time made so great progress in the Hebrew tongue, that at
eighteen years of age he succeeded his instructor in the syna-
gogueof Amsterdam. Inthisposthe continued several years,
and married Rachel, of the family of the Abarbanels, whom
tlie Jews believe to be descended from King David. He
afterwards went to his brother Ephraim, a rich merchant,
who had settled at Basil, and by whose advice he entered
mto trade. Some time afterwards, the hopes of a more
agreeable settlement induced him to visit England, then
under the protectorship of Cromwell, who gave him a very
favourable reception, and one day entertained him at his
table with several other learned divines. However, he soon
afterwards passed into Zealand, and died at Middleburg
about the year 1657. The Jews of Amsterdam obtained
ms body, and interred it at their own expense. He was of
the sect of the Pharisees, and possessed lively wit, solid judg¬
ment, and great learning, with all the virtues which adorn
private life. He wrote many works in Hebrew, Latin, Span¬
ish, and English. I he principal of those published in Latin
aie, 1. His Conciliatory a learned and curious work, in
which he endeavours to reconcile those passages of Scrio-
ture which seem to contradict each other; 2. Be Resur-
rectione Mortuorum; 3. Be Termino Vita>; 4. Dissertatw
de Fragilitate Humana ex lapsu Adami, deque Divino in
bono opere Auxilio; and, 5. Spes Israel. Dr. Thomas Po-
cocke has written his life in English.
MENDE, an arrondisement of the department of the
Lozere in France, 731 square miles in extent. It contains
seven cantons, divided into sixty-two communes, contain¬
ing 48,250 inhabitants. The chief city of the same name
is situated on a hill on the left bank of the Lot. It is ill-
built, with narrow and crooked streets, and poor old houses.
I here is a cathedral with two towers, one of great singu-
larity of architecture. It contains 910 houses, 5100 in¬
habitants, who make some few coarse cloths. Lat. 44. 20
47. N. Long. 3. 24. 27. E.
MENDELI, a considerable town of Irak Arabia, on the
558
MEN
MEN
Mendel- Persian side, near the Turkish frontier. There is a moun-
sohn tain of Naphtha about thirty miles NE. of Bagdad.
H MENDELSOHN, Moses, a Jew of Berlin, and one
Mendez. Gf the most celebrated writers of Germany, who died in that
city in the year 1785, at the age of fifty-seven. His first
attempt as an author was soon after 1767, when he published
a work entitled Jerusalem, in which, besides other bold and
unjustifiable opinions, he maintains, that the Jews have a re¬
vealed law but not a revealed religion ; that opinions are not
subjects of revelation; and that the only religion of the Jewish
nation is that of nature. He acquired great reputation by
his Phcedon, or Discourses on the Immateriality and Immor¬
tality of the Soul, (translated into French 1773,8vo.), in which
he unfolds this important truth, which is the great foundation
of all morality, with the wisdom of an enlightened phi¬
losopher united to the attractions of an elegant writer. In
consequence of this excellent work, he was styled, by some
of the periodical writers, the Jewish Socrates; but he want¬
ed the firmness and the courage of the Grecian philosopher.
His timidity, and even pusillanimity, defects too common in
speculative men, prevented him from being of any essential
service to his nation, of which he might have become the
benefactor by being the reformer; whilst the pliancy of
his character, and his modest, obliging disposition, gained
him the esteem alike of the superstitious and the incredu¬
lous. After all, he could never procure admission into Berlin
society, or access to the conversation of the king of Prussia.
At his death he received from his nation those honours which
are commonly paid to their most eminent rabbin. Though
Mendelsohn was descended from a respectable family, he
was very poor. In early life he entered into a counting-
house of his own nation, in which he greatly recommended
himself by his capacity and integrity in business; but phi¬
losophy and literature soon became his principal occupa¬
tion ; and to the famous Lessing he was indebted for coun¬
sels which, without diverting his attention from those pur¬
suits that were necessary to his subsistence, accelerated his
progress in his literary career. Even after the death of his
benefactor, Mendelsohn retained for him the most sincere re¬
gard and the most lively gratitude. But notwithstanding
die very strict regimen which he observed, he survived him
only a few years, his feeble frame and weak constitution
having been gi’adually undermined by intense application
to study.
MENDEZ Pinto, Ferdinand, was born at Monte-mor-
o-velho in Portugal, and was at first servant to a Portuguese
gentleman. In expectation of making a fortune, he embarked
for India in the year 1537. But his vessel being taken by
the Turks on his passage out, he was carried to Mokkha, and
sold to a Greek renegade, and afterwards to a Jew, in whose
possession he continued till he was redeemed by the gover¬
nor of Ormus, who procured him an opportunity of proceeding
out to India, agreeably to his original design. During a resi¬
dence of twenty-one years in that country, he was an eye¬
witness of many important transactions, and experienced
many singular adventures. He returned in 1558, to Por¬
tugal, where he enjoyed the reward of his labours, after
having been thirteen times a slave and sixteen times sold.
A very curious account of his travels was written by him¬
self, and published at Lisbon, in 1614, folio. This work was
translated into French by Bernard Figuier, a Portuguese
gentleman, and printed at Paris, in 1654,4to. It is written
in a very interesting manner and in a style more elegant
than might have been expected from a man whose whole life
had been spent in the camp and in slavery. It elucidates a
great variety of particulars relating to the geography, his¬
tory, and manners of the inhabitants of China, Japan, Pegu,
Siam, Achem, Java, and other countries. But his name, like
that of Munchausen, has unfortunately become the synonym
of an imaginative romancer who sacrifices to a love of the
marvellous or the incredible not only truth but probability.
MENDICANTS, or Begging Friars, several orders ofMendtcanis
religious, who, having no settled revenues, are supported by v—'
the charitable contributions they receive from others. This
sort of society began in the thirteenth century; and the mem¬
bers of it, by the tenor of their institution, were destined tore-
main entirely destitute of all fixed revenues and possessions ;
though in process of time their number became a heavy tax
upon the people. Innocent III. was the first of the popes
who perceived the necessity of instituting such an order:
and accordingly he conferred on those monastic societies, who
made a profession of poverty, the most distinguishing marks
of his protection and favour. They were also encouraged
and patronized by the succeeding pontiffs, after experience
had demonstrated their public and extensive usefulness.
But when it became generally known, that they had such
a peculiar place in the esteem and protection of the rulers
of the church, their number increased to such a degree that
they became a burden, not only to the people, but even to the
church itself. The great inconvenience which arose from the
excessive multiplication of the mendicant orders was reme¬
died by Gregory X. in a general council, which he assem¬
bled at Lyons in the year 1272. Here all the religious orders
which had sprung up after the council held at Rome in 1215,
under the pontificate of Innocent III. were suppressed; and
the disproportionate number of mendicants was reduced
to four societies or denominations; namely, those of the
Dominicans, Franciscans, Carmeeites, and Augusti-
nians or hermits of St. Augustin,
As the pontiffs allowed these four mendicant orders the
liberty of travelling wherever they thought proper, of con¬
versing with persons of every rank, of instructing the youth
and the multitude wherever they went; and as those monks ex¬
hibited, in their outward appearance and manner of life,
more striking marks of gravity and holiness than were ob¬
servable in the other monastic societies; they rose all at
once to the very summit of fame, and were regarded with
the utmost esteem and veneration throughout every coun¬
try of Europe. The enthusiastic attachment to these sanc¬
timonious beggars went so far, indeed, that, as we learn from
authentic records, several cities were divided or cantoned
out into four parts, with a view to provide for the orders in
question; the first part being assigned to the Dominicans, the
second to the Franciscans, the third to the Carmelites, and
the fourth to the Augustinians. The people were unwilling
to receive the sacraments from any other hands than from
those of the mendicants, to whose churches they crowded to
perform their devotions, whilst living, and where they were
also extrerfiely desirous that their remains should be depo¬
sited after death. Nor did the influence and credit of the
mendicants end here. For we find in the history of this and
of the succeeding ages, that they were employed not only
in spiritual matters, but also in temporal and political affairs
of the greatest consequence ; in composing the differences
of princes, concluding treaties of peace, concerting allian¬
ces, presiding in cabinet councils, governing courts, levying
taxes, and in other occupations, not only remote from, but
altogether inconsistent with, the monastic, character and
profession. However, the power of the Dominicans and
Franciscans greatly surpassed that of the other two orders:
insomuch that before the Reformation, they were what the
Jesuits have since been, namely, the very soul of the hierar¬
chy, the prime engine of the state, the secret spring of all
the motions of each, and the authors and directors of every
important event, both in the religious and political world.
By a natural progression their pride and confidence arriv¬
ed at such a pitch, that they had the presumption to declare
publicly, that they had a divine impulse and commission to
illustrate and maintain the religion of Jesus ; they treated
with the utmost insolence and contempt all the different or¬
ders of the priesthood ; they even affirmed, without a blush,
that the true method of obtaining salvation was revealed to
MEN
Mendicity them alone; they proclaimed, with ostentation, the superior
efficacy and virtue of their indulgences; and they vaunted
beyond measure their interest at the court of heaven, and
their familiar connexions with the Supreme Being, the Vir¬
gin Mary, and the saints in glory. By these impious pre¬
tensions, they so deluded and captivated the miserable, and
blinded the multitude, that the latter would not entrust any
other but the mendicants with the care of their souls. To¬
wards the close of the fourteenth century, they retained their
credit and influence to such a degree, that great numbers of
both sexes, some in health, others in a state of infirmity, and
a third class at the point of death, earnestly desired to be ad¬
mitted into the mendicant order, which they looked upon
as a sure and infallible method of rendering heaven propi¬
tious. Many made it an essential part of their testaments,
that their bodies after death should be wrapped in old rag¬
ged Dominican or Franciscan habits, and interred amongst
the mendicants ; for such were the superstition and ignor¬
ance of this age, that people universally believed they wmuld
the more readily obtain mercy from Christ, at the day of
judgment, if they appeared before his great tribunal associ¬
ated with the mendicant friars.
About this time, however, the mendicants fell into uni¬
versal disrepute; but being resolutely protected against all
opposition, whether open or secret, by the popes, who re¬
garded them as their best friends and most effectual sup¬
porters, they suffered little or nothing from the efforts of
their numerous adversaries. In the fifteenth century, be¬
sides then arrogance, which had grown excessive, a quarrel¬
some and litigious spirit prevailed amongst them, and drew
upon them the just displeasure and indignation of many. At
this time, by affording refuge in their order to the Beguines,
they became offensive to the bishops, and were thereby in¬
volved in difficulties and perplexities of various kinds. They
lost their credit in the sixteenth century by their rustic im¬
pudence, their ridiculous superstitions, their ignorance, their
signal cruelty, and their brutish manners. They discovered
the most barbarous aversion to the arts and sciences, and ex¬
pressed a similar abhorrence of certain eminent and learned
men, who endeavoured to open the paths of science to the
pursuits of studious youth, recommended the cultivation of
the mind, and attacked the barbarism of the age in their
writings and discourses. In a word their general character,
together with other circumstances, concurred to render a re¬
formation desirable, and to bring about that happy event.
Amongst the number of mendicants are also ranked the
Capuchins, Recollects, Minims, and others.
MENDICITY. This subject will be treated of in con¬
nection with the general subject of Pauperism. See Poor
Laws.
MENDRISIO, a town of Switzerland, the capital of a
district of the same name, in the canton of Tesino. It con-
tains 1550 inhabitants,who are active and intelligent, and carry
on much silk spinning. Being situated on the southern decli¬
vity of the Alps, the climate and productions resemble more
those of Italy than the rest of Switzerland. It is only three
miles from Lugarno, and nine from the lake of Como, and
yields excellent wheat, wine, tobacco, and silk. It consists
chiefly of one long street, with a collegiate church, a Capu¬
chin convent, and a nunnery of Ursulines.
MENDT GHAUT., a town of Hindustan, in the province
of Agra, situated on the west side of the Ganges, sixty miles
W. by N. from Lucknow; it is enclosed by a mud wall, and
MEN
559
Men in.
tw'o small rivulets. Long. 79. 57. E. Lat. 27. 3. N.
MENE, a Chaldaic word, which signifies “ he has num¬
bered or counted, being one of the three words which were
written upon the wall by the hand that appeared to Bel¬
shazzar, the last king of Babylon, the night on which he
was put to death. See Belshazzar.
MENECRATES, a physician of Syracuse, who flourish¬
ed about 360 before Christ, was famous for his skill in his
profession, but much more for his vanity. He was always Menede-
attended by some of the patients he had cured, and with n‘"*
whom he previously stipulated that they should follow him "
whithersoever he went. One appeared with the attributes of,
Hercules, another with those of Apollo, and others again
with those of Mercury or Tlsculapius ; whilst he, clad In a
purple robe, with a golden crown on his head, and a sceptre
m his hand, presented himself, to the admiration of the pub¬
lic, under the name of Jupiter, and travelled through differ¬
ent countries escorted by these counterfeit deities*
MENEDEMUS, a Greek philosopher, was a native of
Eretria, the chief city of Euboea. He was the son of Clis-
thenes, a man of noble birth but in poor circumstances. In
his youth Menedemus is said to have been employed in sewing
the canvass of tents. The precise period of his birth and
death is unknown to us, but he was the contemporary of
Aretus, Lycophron, and Antagoras of Rhodes. He therefore
flourished probably from aboutB.c. 300 to 279. Menedemus
having been sent with a body of troops to the assistance of
Megara, seems to have there studied philosophy under Stil-
po, and then proceeded to Elis, which was distinguished for
the Eliac sect, founded by Phaedo. It was afterwards calle<l
the Eretnan school, from Menedemus, who taught the same
doctrines. On his return to his native place, he began to
give lesions in philosophy, and was distinguished for the
aignified character of his eloquence, and the gravity of his
deportment. He was remarkable for his temperate mode
of living, which his friend Lycophron (see Lycophron) sa¬
tirized in a poem entitled Menedemus. He was employed
by his countrymen in the highest offices of the state; but
having been accused of favouring the cause of the Macedon¬
ians, he was obliged to leave his country, and proceed to
Antigonus Gonatas. In this situation, he tried to rescue
his ungrateful country from slavery, but Antigonus refused
to listen to his petition, upon which Menedemus ended his life
by abstinence from food for seven days. The life of Mene¬
demus is written by Diogenes Laertius.
MENEHOUD, St., an arrondisement of the department
of the Marne in France. It extends over 476 square miles
and contains 32,500 inhabitants. It is divided into three
cantons, and subdivided into fifty-two communes. The
capital, of the same name, stands on an island of the river
Aisme, where the smaller river Auve falls into it. It con¬
tains 750 houses and 3600 inhabitants, who make some
thread lace, and trade extensively in fire-wood. This place
has become celebrated from its being the spot where the un¬
ited armies of Austria and Prussia received the first check,
when invading France in the autumn of the year 1792. *
MENELAUS, the son of Atreus, and the brother of Ag¬
amemnon, was the reigning king of Sparta, when Paris depriv¬
ed him of his wife Helen. This rape occasioned the famous
war of Troy.
MENES, born at a town of Thebais or Said, in Upper
Egypt, was the founder of the Egyptian empire. He had
three sons; Athotis,who ruled after him at This and Thebes;
Curudes, who in Lower Egypt founded the kingdom of Heli¬
opolis, which was afterwards the kingdom of the Diospoli-
tans; and Necherophes, who reigned at Memphis. It is
believed that this Menes reigned 117 years after the birth
of Phaleg, son of Heber, which took place in the very year
of the dispersion of mankind throughout the whole earth.
In building Memphis, he stopped the Nile near it, by the
construction of a causeway one hundred furlongs broad,
which he caused to run through the mountains.
MENIALS, domestic or household servants, who live
under their lord or master’s roof.
MENIN, a city of the Netherlands, in the province of
West Flanders, and arrondisement of Courtray. It is situ
ated on the river Lys, which is the boundary towards France.
It is strongly fortifled, and contains 4560 inhabitants, who
manufacture linen, woollen, and cotton goods, lace, paper,
560
MEN
M E N
Mennonites
Memppean leather, and snuff, and carry on a considerable trade in com,
cattle, and flax. Lat. 50. 49. N. Long. 2.59. E.
MENIPPEAN (Satira Menippea), a kind of satire con¬
sisting of prose and verse intermixed. It is so called from
Menippus, a Cynic philosopher, who delighted in composing
satirical letters in this style. In imitation of him Varro also
wrote satires under the title of Satirce Menippece; and hence
this sort of composition is also denominated Varroman sa¬
tire. Amongst the moderns there is a celebrated piece un¬
der this title, which was first published in 1594, against the
chiefs of the league, called also the Catholicon of Spain. It
is esteemed a masterpiece for the time.
MENIPPUS, a Cynic philosopher, with whose private
history we are but very slightly acquainted. Neither his
birth-place nor the time during which he flourished, are known
with any degree of precision. It is supposed that he was a
native of Gadara,asmall village of Phoenicia, (Strab.xvi.759),
and that he lived before the year 200 b.c., as he is spoken of
by Hermippus, according to Diogenes Laertius. He was
originally a slave, but having purchased his liberty, he set¬
tled at Thebes, where he obtained the rights and privileges
of a citizen. He devoted himself to usury, and amassed a
considerable sum of money, but having been robbed, he
fell into such despair that he hanged himself. This is the
statement of Diogenes Laertius, but the character left of
him by the ancients does not agree with it. He was a
follower of the Cynic philosophy, and regarded with con¬
tempt the luxuries of life. Lucian, in his Dialogues of the
Dead, makes Diogenes describe him as “ old, bald-headed,
wearing a threadbare cloak, with abundance of apertures
in it, pervious to every wind, and patched with rags of all
possible colours; and as laughing incessantly at those conceit¬
ed pedants, the philosophers, who are generally the objects
of his derision.” Lucian has introduced Menippus in many
of his dialogues, and always as a man despising the perish¬
able things of this life. Varro, in his Satires, imitated the
style of Menippus, so that they were called Satirce Menip-
pece. (Cic. 1, 2. Gell. xi. 18., xiii. 30.)
MENNONITES, a sect in the United Provinces, and in
most respects the same with those who were, in other places,
called Anabaptists. They had their rise in 1536, when
Menno Simon, a native of Friesland, who had been a Catho¬
lic priest, and a notorious profligate, resigned his rank and
office in the Catholic church, and publicly embraced the com¬
munion of the Anabaptists.
Menno was born at Witmarsum, a village in the neigh¬
bourhood of Bolswert in Friesland, in the year 1505, and
died in 1561 in the duchy of Holstein, at the country-seat
of a certain nobleman not far from the city of Oldesloe,
who, moved with compassion by a view of the perils to which
Menno was exposed, and the snares which were daily laid
for his ruin, took him with certain of his associates under
his protection, and gave them an asylum. The writings of
Menno, which are almost all composed in the Dutch lan¬
guage, were published in folio at Amsterdam in the year
1651. About the year 1537, Menno was earnestly solicited
by many of the sect with which he connected himself, to
assume amongst them the rank and functions of a public
teacher ; and hence he looked upon the persons who made
this proposal as exempt from the fanatical frenzy of their
brethren at Munster, though according to other accounts,
they were originally of the same stamp, only rendered some¬
what wiser by their sufferings, he yielded to their entrea¬
ties. From this period to the end of his life, he travelled
from one country to another with his wife and children,
exercising his ministry, under difficulties and calamities of
various kinds, and constantly exposed to the danger of fall¬
ing a victim to the severity of the laws. East and West
Friesland, together with the province of Groningen, were
first visited by the zealous apostle of the Anabaptists ; from
thence he directed his course towards Holland, G-uelderland,
Brabant, and Westphalia, continued it throughout the Ger-Mennonites
man provinces situated on the coasts of the Baltic Sea, and
penetrated as far as Livonia. In all these places his min¬
isterial labours wrere attended with remarkable success, and
added to his sect a prodigious number of followers. Hence
he is deservedly considered as the common chief of almost
all the Anabaptists, and the parent of the sect which still
subsists under that denomination. Menno was a man of
genius, undirected by sound judgment. He possessed a na¬
tural and persuasive eloquence, and such a degree of learn¬
ing as made him pass for an oracle in the estimation of the
multitude. He appears, moreover, to have been a man of
probity, of a meek and tractable spirit, gentle in his man¬
ners, pliable and obsequious in his commerce with persons
of all ranks and characters, and extremely zealous in pro¬
moting practical religion and virtue, which he recommended
by his example as well as by his precepts. The plan of
doctrine and discipline drawn up by Menno was of a much
more mild and moderate nature than that of the furious and
fanatical Anabaptists, whose tumultuous proceedings have
been recited under that article, but somewhat more severe,
though more clear and consistent than the doctrine of the
wiser branches of that sect, w ho aimed at nothing more
than the restoration of the Christian church to its primitive
purity. Accordingly he condemned the plan of ecclesias¬
tical discipline which was founded on the prospect of a new
kingdom, to be miraculously established by Jesus Christ
upon the ruins of civil government and the destruction of
human rulers, and which had proved the fatal source of
dreadful commotions, frequent rebellions, and enormous
crimes. He declared publicly his dislike of that doctrine,
which pointed out the approach of a marvellous reforma¬
tion in the church by the means of a new and extraordin¬
ary effusion of the Holy Spirit. He expressed his abhor¬
rence of the licentious tenets, which several of the Anabap¬
tists had maintained, with respect to the lawfulness of poly¬
gamy and divorce; and finally, he considered as unworthy of
toleration those fanatics who were of opinion that the Holy
Ghost continued to descend into the minds of many chosen
believers, in as extraordinary a manner as he did at the first
establishment of the Christian church, and that he testified
this peculiar presence to several of the faithful by miracles,
predictions, dreams and visions of various kinds. He re¬
tained, indeed, the doctrines commonly received amongst
the Anabaptists, in relation to the baptism of infants, the
millennium or reign of Christ upon earth for a thousand
years, the exclusion of magistrates from the Christian church,
the-abolition of war, the prohibition of oaths enjoined by
our Saviour, and the vanity as well as the pernicious effects
of human science. But whilst Menno retained these doc¬
trines in a general sense, he explained and modified them
in such a manner as made them resemble the religious tenets
which were universally received in the Protestant church¬
es ; and this rendered them agreeable to many, and made
them appear inoffensive even to numbers who had no in¬
clination to embrace them. It happened, however, that the
nature of the doctrines considered in themselves, the elo¬
quence of Menno which set them off to such advantage, and
the circumstances of the times, gave a high degree of credit
to the religious system of this famous teacher amongst the
Anabaptists, so that it made rapid progress in various parts.
And thus it wras in consequence of the ministry of Menno,
that the different sorts of Anabaptists agreed together in
excluding from their communion the fanatics who dishon¬
oured it, and in renouncing all tenets that were detrimental
to the authority of civil government; and by an unexpected
coalition they formed themselves into one community.
Though the Mennonites usually pass for a sect of Ana¬
baptists, yet Mr. Herman Schyn, a Mennonite minister, who
has published their history and apology, maintains, that they
are not Anabaptists either in principle or in origin. No-
MEN
Mennonites thing, however, can be more certain than this fact, that the
first Mennonite congregations were composed of the differ¬
ent sorts of Anabaptists, of those who had been always in¬
offensive and upright, and of those who, before their con¬
version by the ministry of Menno, had been seditious fana¬
tics.. Besides, it is alleged that the Mennonites do actually
retain, even at this day, some of those opinions and doctrines,
which led the seditious and turbulent Anabaptists of old to
the commission of so many enormous crimes ; such particu¬
larly is the doctrine concerning the nature of Christ’s king¬
dom, or the church of the New Testament, though modified
so as to have lost its noxious qualities, and to be no longer
pernicious in its influence. 43
. '^^.e Mennonites are subdivided into several sects, the two
principal of which are the F landmans or Flemingians, and
the Watereandians. The opinions, says Mosheim, that
are held in common by the Menonnites, seem to be all de¬
rived from this fundamental principle, that the kingdom
which Christ established upon earth is a visible church or
community, into which the holy and just alone are to be
admitted, and which is consequently exempt from all those
constitutions and rules of discipline that have been invented
by human wisdom, for the correction and reformation of
the wicked. This principle, indeed, was avowed by the
ancient Mennonites, but it is now almost wholly renounced ;
nevertheless, from this ancient doctrine, many of the re¬
ligious opinions that distinguish the Mennonites from all
other Christian communities, seem to be derived. In con¬
sequence of this doctrine, they admit none to the sacrament
of baptism but persons who are come to the full use of their
leason ; they neither admit civil rulers into their commu¬
nion, nor allow any of their members to perform the func¬
tions of magistracy ; they deny the lawfulness of repelling
force by force, and consider war, in all its shapes, as un¬
christian and unjust; they entertain the utmost aversion to
the execution of justice, and more especially to capital punish¬
ments ; and they also refuse to confirm their testimony by
an oath. 1 he particular sentiments which divided the more
considerable societies of the Mennonites are the following:
The rigid Mennonites, called the Flemingians, maintain
with various degrees of rigour, the opinions of their founder
Menno, as to the human nature of Christ, alleging that it
was produced in the womb of the Virgin by the creatine
power of the Holy Ghost: the obligation that binds us to
wash the feet of strangers, in consequence of our Saviour’s
command ; the necessity of excommunicating and avoiding,
as one would do the plague, not only avowed sinners, but
M E N
561
a s,o ail those who depart, even in some slight instances per- Menology
taming to diess, &c. from the simplicity of their ancestors; li
the contempt due to human learning, and other matters of Mensura-
less moment. However, this austere system declines, and tion‘
the rigid Mennonites are gradually approaching towards the " v  
opinions and discipline of the more moderate or Waterlan-
dians.
The first settlement of the Mennonites in the United
Provinces, was granted them by William Prince of Orano-e,
towards the close of the sixteenth century ; but it was not
before the following century that their liberty and tranquil-
lity ^ eie fixed upon solid foundations, when, by a confession
of faith published in the year 1626, they cleared themselves
from the imputations of those pernicious and detestable
errors that had been laid to their charge. In order to ap¬
pease their intestine discords, a considerable part of the
anabaptists of Flanders, Germany, and Friesland, concluded
their debates in a conference held at Amsterdam, in the
year 1630, and entered into the bonds of fraternal commu¬
nion, each reserving to themselves a liberty of retaining
certain opinions, d his association was renewnd and con¬
firmed by new resolutions, in the year 1649; in consequence
of which, the rigorous laws of Menno and his successors
were, in various respects, mitigated and corrected.
MENOLOGY, Menologium, (from month, and
Aoyoy, discourse), is much the some as martyrology, or ca¬
lendar, in the Latin. The Greek menologium is divided
into the several months in the year, and contains an abridg¬
ment of the lives of the saints, with a bare enumeration of
the names of those whose lives were never written. The
Greeks have various menologies; and the Romans tax them
with inserting divers heretics in their menologies as saints.
MENS A, in law books, a term which includes in it all pa¬
trimony, and necessaries for livelihood.
MENSALS, Mens alia, in church history, such livings
as were formerly united to the tables of religious houses,
and hence called mensal benefices.
MENS ORES, amongst the Romans, were harbingers,
whose business it was to go before the emperor, and fix
upon lodgings for him when he travelled into any of the
provinces. They also marked out encampments, and as¬
signed every regiment its post.
Mensores were likewise land-surveyors, architects, or ap¬
praisers of houses and public buildings. The distributors
of provisions in the army were called mensores frumentarii;
and the appellation of mensores wras also applied to servants
who waited at table.
MENSURATION.
Evert branch of the mathematics which has for its object
the. comparison of geometrical quantities, and the determi¬
nation of their proportions to each other, may be compre¬
hended under the general name Mensuration. So that,
taking the term in its most extensive sense, whatever is de¬
livered in this work under the titles Geometry, Trigono-
metrv, Conic Sections, part of Algebra, and a very
considerable portion of Fluxions, may be considered as
constituting particular branches of this general theory.
The term mensuration, however, is also frequently used
in a less extensive sense, and is applied to a system of rules
and methods by whicn numerical measures of geometrical
quantities are obtained. And it is to this limited view of
the subject that we propose to confine our attention in the
present treatise. In general, it will only be necessary to
VOL. XIV.
give the practical rules, as we have already explained their
foundation when treating of Geometry, Conic Sections,
and Fluxions ; but, in addition to the rules, in a few in¬
stances, we shall give their demonstrations.
In all practical applications of mathematics it is neces-
sary to express magnitudes of every kind by numbers. For
this purpose a line of some determinate length, as one inch,
one foot, &c., is assumed as the measuring unit of lines,
and the number expressing how often this unit is contain¬
ed in any line, is the numerical value or measure of that
line.
A surface of some determinate figure and magnitude is
assumed as the measuring unit of surfaces, and the number
of units contained in any surface is the numerical measure
of that surface, and is called its area. It is usual to as-
4 B
562
MENSURATION.
Table of same, as the measuring unit of surfaces, a square, whose side
measures. js t}ie measuring unit of lines.
v-—^ A solid of a determinate figure and magnitude is in like
manner assumed as the measuring unit of solids, and the
number of units contained in any solid is its solidity or con¬
tent. The unit of solids is a cube, each of whose edges is
the measuring unit of lines, and consequently each of its
faces the measuring unit of surfaces.
A right angle is conceived to be divided into ninety equal
angles ; and one of these, called an angle of one degree, is
assumed as the measuring unit of angles.
The measures generally employed in the application of
mensuration to the common affairs of life, and their propor¬
tions to each other, are expressed in the following tables:
Note 1. To convert Scotch acres into Imperial, to the Right lines
number' of Scotch acres add its ^th, also its ^th ; and in anfl angles,
addition to these, if accuracy be required, the i^th part of
the tjfith. Suppose, for example, 100,000 Scotch acres are
to be converted into Imperial acres:
To 100,000
add £ of 100,000 = 25,000
of 100,000 = 1,111
X5(5 of 1111= 7
100,000 Scotch acres =: 126,118 Imperial.
2. The same rule will apply to the conversion of rent or
value, and produce of Scotch acres.
Table of Imperial Lineal Measure.
1 Foot =12 Inches.
1 Yard = 3 Feet.
1 Pole or Perch = 5-| Yards.
1 Furlong = 40 Poles or Perches.
1 Mile ' = 8 Furlongs.
1 Link = 7*92 Inches.
1 Chain =. 100 Links=4 Poles=66 Feet.
1 Furlong = 10 Chains.
1 Mile = 80 Chains.
These measures were recognised and established by an
act of Parliament in 1825 ; but they were the measures in
common use before that time. The length of the standard
yard is the distance betw een two points marked on a straight
rod of brass commonly called Birds Standard Yard of
1760. The length of the yard is to that of a pendulum vibrat¬
ing seconds of mean time in the latitude of London, in a va¬
cuum at the level of the sea, as 36 to 39-1393, the tempera¬
ture of the brass rod being 62° of Fahrenheit’s thermometer.
Table of Imperial Superficial Measure.
1 Square Foot =144 Square Inches.
1 Square Yard = 9 Square Feet.
1 Sq. Pole or Perch = 30^ Square Yards.
1 Square Chain = 16 Sq.Poles= 10,000 Sq. Links.
1 Rood = 40 Sq. Poles=2^ Sq. Chains.
1 Acre = 4 Roods=10 Sq. Chains.
Table of Scottish Lineal Measure,
Derived from the Scottish Standard Ell, in the custody of
the town of Edinburgh.
1 Scotch Link = 8*89435 1
1 — Foot = 12*0194 [-Imperial Inches.
1 — Ell = 37*0598)
1 — Fall = 6 Scotch Ells.
1 — Chain = 100 — Links=74T 196 Imp. Ft.
1 — Furlong = 1000 — Links.
1 — Mile = 1976*522 Imperial Yards.
Note. We have given these Scottish measures for the
purpose of comparison with Imperial measure, by which the
Scottish measures, being now set aside, will be gradually
superseded.
Table of Scottish Superficial Measure.
1 Square Fall = 36 Square Ells.
1 Rood = 40 Square Falls.
1 Acre = 4 Roods.
1 Scotch Acre = 1*26118345
1 _ Rood = 0*3153
1 _ Fall = 0*007882
1 — Ell = 0*000219
l
J
Imp. Acres.
Table of Imperial Liquid and Dry Measures.
1 Pint
1 Quart*
1 Pottle
1 Gallon
1 Peck
1 Bushel
1 Coomb
1 Quarter
Gills.
Pints.
Quarts.
Pottles.
Gallons.
Pecks.
Bushels,
Coombs.
1 Old English Wine Gallon = 231 Cubic Inches.
1 Imperial Wine Gallon = 277*274 do.
The Imperial gallon is the space occupied by 10 lbs. of
water, weighing 70,000 grains.
1 Old English Ale Gallon = 282 Cubic Inches.
The Imperial ale gallon is now the same as the Imperial
wine gallon.
The Winchester bushel measure is a cylinder 18^ inches
wide, and eight inches deep, and contains 2150.4252 cubic
inches.
The Imperial bushel contains 2218*191 cubic inches.
Table of Scottish Liquid Measure.
1 Mutchkin = 4 Gills.
1 Choppin = 2 Mutchkins.
1 Pint = 2 Choppins.
1 Gallon = 8 Pints.
The Standard Pint is the Stirling Jug, which contains
104*2034 cubic inches, and holds 26,306*982 grains of dis¬
tilled water, at 62° of Fahrenheit’s thermometer, the height
of the barometer being 30 inches.
The Scotch Gallon = 3*0065122 Imperial Gallons.
Table of Scottish Dry Measure.
1 Peck = 4 Lippies or Forpets.
1 Firlot = 4 Pecks.
1 Boll = 4 Firlots.
1 Chalder =16 Bolls.
The Linlithgow Wheat Firlot is to the Imperial Stand¬
ard Bushel as 0*998256 to 1. This is not far from a ratio of
equality, so that the Scotch Standard Wheat Boll, Firlot,
Peck, and Lippie nearly correspond with the Imperial
Coomb and its submultiples, the Bushel, Peck, and Pottle.
The Linlithgow Barley Firlot is to the Imperial Standard
Bushel as 1*4562794 to 1.
SECTION I.—OF THE MENSURATION OF RIGHT LINES AND
ANGLES.
The rules by which certain of the sides or angles of a
triangle are to be found, when other sides and angles are
1
MENSURATION.
563
Right lines given, might be considered as belonging to this part of
and angles, mensuration. But as these are fully investigated and ex-
plained in the article Plane Trigonometry, it is not ne¬
cessary to deliver them also here. Referring therefore to
that article, we shall employ the remainder of this section
in the application of trigonometry to the mensuration of
heights and distances.
Mensuration of Heights and Distances.
By the application of geometry the measurement of lines,
which, on account of their position or other circumstances,
are inaccessible, is reduced to the determination of angles,
and of other lines which are accessible, and admit of being
measured by methods sufficiently obvious.
A line considered as traced on the ground may be mea¬
sured with rods or a Gunter’s chain of sixty-six feet; but
more expeditiously with measuring tapes of fifty or one hun¬
dred feet. By these, if the ground be tolerably even, and
the direction of the line be traced pretty correctly, a dis¬
tance may, by using proper care, be measured within about
three inches of the truth in every fifty feet, so that the error
may not exceed the 200th part of the whole line.
Vertical angles may be measured with a quadrant furnish¬
ed with a plummet and sights
in the manner indicated by
the annexed figures. Ifan an-
gle of elevation is to be mea- /
sured, as the angle contained
by a horizontal line AC, (fig. /
1,) and a line drawn from A
to B the top of a tower, hill, or
other eminence ; or to a ce¬
lestial body, as a star, &c.; K<
the centre of the quadrant
must be fixed at A, and the
instrument moved about A,
in the vertical plane, till to
an eye placed at G, the ob¬
ject B be seen through the
two sights D, d. Then will
the arch EF, cut off by the (
plumb-line AF, be the
measure of the angle CAB.
An angle of depression CAB (fig. 2), is to be measured
exactly in the same manner, except that here the eye is to
be placed at A the centre of the instrument, and the mea¬
sure of the angle is the arch EF.
PI. cccxin BtU the most convenient instrument for measuring angles,
ig. 1. whether vertical or horizontal, is the Theodolite. This in¬
strument has undergone various alterations and improve¬
ments since it was described (we believe, for the first time)
by Sisson. Its principal parts are,
1. The horizontal limb. This consists of two circular
plates AA, the upper or vernier plate, and BB, the gradu¬
ated limb. The former moves freely above the latter,
without actual contact, and both have a horizontal motion
about a vertical axis C, which consists of two parts, one
external, fixed to the graduated limb B, and another internal,
fixed to the vernier plate A. Their form is conical, and they
are ground and accurately fitted into each other, so as to
have a perfectly steady motion. The external centre also
fits into a ball at D, and the parts are held together by a
screw at the lower end of the internal axis.
The lower plate is broader than the upper, and its edge
is chamfered off and covered with silver to receive the gra-
duations.
2. The verniers. These are short scales on the upper
plate, and on opposite sides of it, or 180° asunder. They
are chamfered, so as to form with the chamfered edge of
the lower plate a continued conical surface, and are cov¬
ered with silver, and graduated in such a manner as to sub¬
divide the divisions of the lower plate into minutes. By Right lines
means of microscopes which are generally fixed over thea?ld angles,
verniers, the half or even the fourth of a minute may be'
estimated.
3. The parallel plates F and G. These serve for levelling
the instrument, and are held together by a ball and socket at
D. Four milled-headed screws H, H, &c., enter and work
in the lower plate, while their upper ends press against the
lower side of the upper plate ; and being set in pairs op¬
posite to each other, they act in contrary directions, and by
this means the instrument is set up level for observation.
Beneath the parallel plates is a female screw adapted to
the staff-head, which is united by brass joints to three ma¬
hogany legs, so constructed, that when shut up they form
one round staff, and are secured in that form by rings put
on them. When opened out they make a very firm stand,
and the parallel plates may be made horizontal, although
the ground may be uneven.
The lower plate of the horizontal limb can be fixed in any
position by tightening the clamping screw I, which causes
the collar K to embrace the axis C, and prevents its mov¬
ing; but the final adjustment is to be given by means of the
slow-motion tangent screw L which is attached to the upper
parallel plate. In like manner the upper or vernier plate
can be fixed to the lower by a clamp M, which is also fur¬
nished with a slow motion, produced by a tangent screw.
4. Spirit levels N, N. There are two of these at right
angles to each other, with proper adjusting screws, on the
plane of the vernier plate. Their use is to determine when
the horizontal limb is set truly level.
5. The compass. This is on the middle of the vernier
plate, but of course it cannot be shewn in a side view of the
instrument. .
6. The vertical arc and telescope. The arc is placed on
a horizontal axis, the ends of which are supported by two
frames, (only one of which can be shewn in the figure.) At
one end of the axis is an arm 11, with a clamping screw S,
by which the axis is held when the telescope is nearly
in the proper position : and there is a tangent screw T,
by which a slow angular motion is given to the vertical
arc and telescope to direct the latter accurately to an
object. One side of the vertical arc is inlaid with silver,
and by means of its vernier V can be read off to single mi¬
nutes. The other side shews the difference between the
hypothenuse and the base of a right angled triangle, or the
number of links to be deducted from each chain length to
reduce hypothenusal to horizontal lines.
The level which is shewn under, and parallel to, the
telescope is attached to it at one end by a joint, and at the
other by a capstan headed screw for raising or lowering that
end : there is another screw at the jointed end for lateral
adjustment: by their united action the level is placed paral¬
lel to the optical axis or line of collimation of the telescope.
The telescope has two collars or rings of : bell metal,
ground truly cylindrical, on which it rests on its supports
X, X, called Y’s; and it is confined in its place by the clips
Z, Z, which may be opened by removing the pins Y, Y, for
the purpose of reversing the telescope or allowing it a cir¬
cular motion round the axis during the adjustment.
In the focus of the eye glass are placed three lines formed
of spider’s w eb, one horizontal and two crossing it obliquely
at equal angles so as to include a small angle between them.
These are preferable to a single perpendicular wire, because
a station staff at a distance can be made to bisect the angle
formed by the oblique w ires with more certainty than the
staff can be bisected by a vertical wire.
Three of the four screws for adjusting the cross-wires are
shewn at a, a, a, two of which are placed at right angles to
the other two, so that by easing one of each pair and tight¬
ening the other opposite to it, the intersection of the wires
may be placed exactly in the line of collimation.
564 MENSURATION.
Right lines The object glass of the telescope is fixed in a tube which
and angles, slides within the outer tube, and may be thrust out or drawn
v ^ ' backward by turning the milled head b on the side of the
telescope. By this motion the optical image of any object
to which the telescope is directed may be brought to the
intersection of the cross wires.
Before the theodolite can be applied to accurate practice
its parts must be adapted to each other by means of the
clamps and screws and levels. The operations by which
this is performed are called adjustments.
The first adjustment is that of the line of collimation,
which must coincide with the axis of the cylindrical rings on
the telescope, and pass through the intersection of the cross
wires. The second places the level attached to the teles¬
cope parallel to the rectified line of collimation. The third
makes the axis of the horizontal limb truly vertical by means
of the telescope level, which is most to be depended on;
and then the levels on the vernier plate are adjusted by their
screws so that their air bubbles may remain at rest in the
middle of their tubes while it makes a complete revolution
on its axis. When these adjustments are perfect the ver¬
nier of the vertical arc must be set so that its index may
point to zero on the arc; or else its deviation from zero
must be noted and applied as an index error.
Problem I.
To determine the height of an object, the bottom of
which is accessible.
Plate Example. Having measured AE, a distance of 200
cccliii. feet in a direct horizontal line from the bottom of a tower,
Fig. 2. the angle BCD, contained by the horizontal line CD : and
a line drawn from C to the top of the tower, was measured
by a quadrant, or theodolite placed at C, and found to be
47° 30'. The centre C of the instrument was five feet
above the line AE at its extremity E. It is required hence
to determine AB the height of the tower.
In the right-angled triangle CBD we have given the
side CD —200 feet, and the angle C—47° 30'. And since
by the rules of Plane Trigonometry,
rad. : tan. BCD :: DC : DB;
By employing logarithmic tables and proceeding as is taught
in Plane Trigonometry, we shall find DB—218.3
feet. To which add DA=EC=5 feet, the height of the
instrument, andw'e have AB—223.3 feet, the height of the
tower.
Problem II.
To determine the height and distance of an object when
the bottom or point directly under it is inaccessible.
Fig. 3. Ex. 1. Suppose a small cloud, or balloon C, is seen at the
same time by two observers at A and B, and that these sta¬
tions are in the same vertical plane with the object C, and on
the same side of it. Also suppose that its angles of eleva¬
tion, viz. the angles A and B are 35° and 64°, and that AB,
the distance between the observers, is 880 feet. It is re¬
quired hence to determine CD the height of the object,
also AC, BC its distances from the two observers.
In the triangle CAB there are given the outward angle
CBD=640, and one of the inward angles A=:350 ; hence
the other inward angle ACB, which is their difference, is
given, and =64° —350=29°.
Now in the triangle CAB
Sin. ACB : sin. A :: AB : BC,
and sin. ACB : sin. B :: AB : AC.
From these proportions, by actual calculation, BC will be
found = 1041 feet, and AC=l631 feet.
Again, in the right-angled triangle BCD
rad. : sin. B :: BC : CD.
Hence CD will be found z=.936 feet.
Fig. 4. _ Ex. 2. To measure the height of an obelisk CD, stand¬
ing on the top of a declivity, two stations at A and B were
taken, one at the distance of forty, and the other at the Right lines
distance of one hundred feet from the centre of its base, and angles.
which was in a straight line with the stations. At the v 
nearer station A, a line drawn from it to the top of the obe¬
lisk was found to make an angle of 41° with the plane of
the declivity; and at B, the more remote station, the like
angle was found to be 23° 45'. Hence it is required to
find the height of the obelisk.
From the angle CAD=41°, subtract the angle B=23°
45', and there remains the angle BCA=17° 15C
In the triangle BCA,
Sin. BCA : sin. B :: AB : AC. Hence AC=:81.49 feet.
And in the triangle ACD,
AC-j-AD : AC—AD :: tan. ^ (D-J-C) : tan. ^ (D—C).
Hence -g- (D—C) = 40° 24'-k, which, subtracted from
MD+c,) gives the angle ACD=27° 5'^.
Lastly, in the triangle ACD,
Sin. ACD : sin. A :: AD : DC.
Hence DC, the height required, will be found to be 57-62
feet.
Ex. 3. At B the top of a tower which stood on a hill near Fig. 5>
the sea shore, the angle of depression of a ship at anchor
(viz. the angle HBS), was 4° 52'; and at R, the bottom of
the tower, its depression (namely, the angle NRS) was 4°
2'. Required AS the horizontal distance of the vessel:
and also RA, the height of the bottom of the tower above
the level of the sea, supposing RB the height of the tower
itself to be 54 feet.
From the angle BSA—HBS=40 52', subtract the angle
RSA=NRS=4° 2', and there remains the angle BRSr=
50'. Also, from the angle HBA=90° subtract HBSr^d^
52', and there remains SBR=85° 8'.
In the triangle SBR,
Sin. BSR : sin. SBR :: BR : SR;
Hence SR is found. Again, in the triangle SRA,
rad. : sin. RSA :: SR : AR,
and rad. : cos. RSA :: SR : AS.
From the first of these proportions we find AR=260 feet;
and from the second, AS=3690 feet.
Problem HI.
To find the distance of an object from either of two given
stations : also from a line joining them, when each station
and the object can be seen from the other station.
Ex. 1. Wanting to know the breadth CD of a river, Fig. 6.
and also the distance of an object A close by its side from
another object C on its opposite side, a base AB of 400 yards
w'as measured along the bank. Then, by meaus of a theo¬
dolite, the angles CBA and CAB were measured, and found
to be 37° 40' and 59° 15' respectively. It is required
thence to determine the breadth CD, and the distance AC
between the objects A and C.
This problem differs from the last only by the given
angles, and distances required, lying in a horizontal instead
of a vertical plane.
In the triangle ABC we have the base AB, also the angles
A and B, and consequently the angle C given. And by
Plane Trigonometry,
Sin. ACB : sin. B :: AB : AC.
lienee AC is found to be 246.2 yards.
Also, in the right-angled triangle ACD,
rad. : sin. A :: AC : CD.
Hence CD is found to be 211.6 yards.
Ex. 2. From a ship at sea a point of land wras observed Fig. 7.
to bear E. by S.; and after sailing N. E. twelve miles, the
same point was found to bear S. E. by E. How far w as
the last observation made from the point of land ?
Let A be the first position of the ship, B the second, and
C the point of land. In the triangle ABC we have given
the angle A=5 points or 56° 15', the angle B=9 points, or
1
MENSURATION.
565
Right lines 101° 15', and the angle C=2 points or 22° 30'. Also the
and angles.ABrrl2 miles. Hence (by Trigon.) the side BC is
readily found to be 26.073 miles.
» Problem IV.
To determine the distance between two inaccessible ob¬
jects, which can be seen from tw o given stations at a known
distance from each other, supposing them all in the same
plane.
Fig. 8. .Zfr. Wanting to know the distance between two inac¬
cessible objects H and M, a base AB of 670 yards was
measured in the same plane with the objects, and the fol¬
lowing angles were taken at its extremities.
. J BAM =40° 16' T, f ABH=42° 22'
A [ MAH=57 40 15 t HBM=71 7
Hence it is required to determine HM, the distance be¬
tween the objects.
In the triangle HAB we have the angle HBA=42° 22',
the angle HAB (=.HAM-f-MAB)=97° 56', and therefore
the remaining angle AHB = 39° 42'. We have also the
side AB=670 yards. Hence, by this proportion,
Sin. AHB : sin. HBA :: AB : AH,
we find AH=706-8 yards.
Again, in the triangle MAB we have the angle MAB
=40° 16', the angle ABM (=ABH + HBM)=113° 29',
and therefore the angle AMB=26° 15'. Hence from the
proportion,
Sin. AMB : sin. ABM :: AB : AM,
we get AM=1389’4.
In the triangle HAM, besides the angle HAM=57° 40'
we have now the sides AH=706,8, and AM= 1389*4 yards,
to find the remaining side HM. Therefore, proceeding ac¬
cording to the rules of trigonometry, we state this propor¬
tion,
AM + AH : AM—AH :: tan. 1 (AHM+AMH) :
tan. 1 (AHM—AMH).
Hence we find half the difference of the angles AHM and
AMH to be 30° 36', which taken from 61° 10', half the
sum, leaves 30° 34' for AMH the least of the two angles.
Lastly, from the proportion
Sin. PIMA : sin. HAM :: HA : HM,
we get HM=1174 yards, the answer to the question.
Problem V.
The mutual distances of three remote objects being given,
and the angles which these distances subtend at a station,
in their plane, to find the position of the station.
Example. There are three objects, A, B, C, whose distan¬
ces asunder are known to be as
follows : namely, from A to B
106^-, from A to C 202, and
from B to C 131 fathoms.
Now to determine the dis¬
tance of D a fourth object,
or station, from each of the
other three, the angle ADB
was measured with a theodo¬
lite, or other suitable instru¬
ment, and found tube 13° 30',
and the angle CDB was found
29° 50'. Hence it is required
to determine the distances DA, DB, and DC, supposing DB
the least of the three.
Let a circle be described through the points A, D, and C ;
and let DB be produced to meet the circle again in E, and
draw AE, CE.
In the triangle AEC there are given the side AC=202
fathoms, the angle ACE (=ADE. Geom. Sect. II. Theor.
15.) =13° 30', and the angle CAE (=CDE) 29° 50'. Plane
Hence (by Trigon.) we shall have AE=68*7l6 fathoms. %ures-
In the triangle ABC, all its sides are given, and hence
the angle BAG will be found=35° 35' 54" ; to this, add the
angle CAE, and the sum is the angle EAB=65° 25' 54".
In the triangle ABE, we have given AB= 106*5, AE
=68*716, the angle BAE=65° 25'54"; hence we shall
have the angle ABE=38® 43' 41", and the angle AEB=
75° 51' 25".
In the triangle ADE we have the side AE=68*7l6, the
angle ADE=13°^30', and the angle AED=75° 51' 25".
Hence we have AD = 285.43 fathoms, wdiich is one of the
distances required.
In the triangle ABDwe have AB=106*5, the angle ADB,
= 13° 30', the angle DAB (=ABE-^ADB) 25° 13' 45".
Hence BD, another of the distances sought, will be found
= 194.45 fathoms.
Lastly, In the triangle ADC, there is given AC=202,
the angle ADC (=ADB + BDC) =43° 20', the angle
DCA(=DEA)=75° 15' 25". Hence we get DC=256*97
fathoms, which is the remaining distance sought.
There are various other instruments and methods by
which the heights or distances of
objects may be found. One of the
most simple instruments, both in
respect of its construction and ap¬
plication, is a square, ABCD, made
of some solid material, and furnish¬
ed with two sights on AB, one of
its edges, and a plummet fastened
to A, one of its angles, and having
the two sides BC, CD, which con¬
tain the opposite angle divided
into 10, or 100, or 1000 equal
parts.
To measure any altitude HK
with this instrument. Let it be held in such a position that
K, the top of the object may be seen through the sights on
its edge AB, while its plane is perpendicular to the horizon;
then the plummet will cut off from the square a triangle
similar to that formed by the horizontal line AI, the vertical
line IK, and the line AK drawn from the eye to the top o*
the object.
If the line of the plummet pass through D the opposite
angle of the square, then the height KI will be equal to AI,
the distance of the eye from the vertical line to be mea¬
sured. If it meet AD, the side of the square next the eye,
in some point E between A and D, then the triangles ABE,
AIK, being similar, and the angle ABE equal to the angle
AKI, we have AE : AB :: AI : IK. Let us now suppose
AD=AB to be divided into 1000 equal parts; then the
length of AE will be expressed by a certain number of these
parts ; thus the proportion of AE to AB, and consequently
that of AI to IK will be given ; therefore if AI be deter¬
mined by actual measurement, we may from the above pro¬
portion immediately find IK.
If again the line of the plummet meet DC the side of the
566 MENSURATION.
Plane square opposite to the sights, in F, then, in the similar tri-
v ,. Su'e''angles AIK, BCF, the angle AKI is equal to BFC ; thus
we have BC : CF :: AX : IK. Hence IK is determined as
before, and in each case by adding HI the height of the eye,
we shall have HK the whole height required.
SECTION II. MENSURATION OF PLANE FIOxURES.
Problem I.
To find the area of a parallelogram, whether it be a square,
a rectangle, a rhombus, or a rhomboid.
Rule I.
Multiply the length by the perpCndi- ^
cular breadth, and the product will be '
the area.
This rule is demonstrated in Geome¬
try, sect. iv. theor. 5.
Ex. 1. Required the area of a square
ABCD, whose side AB is 10|- inches.
Here
101
101
X 101 or 10-5 X 10-5 =
110’25 squai'e inches is the area requir- Jk-
ed.
Ex. 2. Required the area of a
rectangle EFGH, whose length
EF is 13-75 chains, and breadth
FG is 9*5 chains.
Here 13-75 x 9-5 =130-625
square chains is the area, which,
when reduced to acres, &c. is 13 ac. 0 ro. 10 po.
Ex. 3. Required the area
of a parallelogram KLMN,
whose length KL is 37 feet,
and perpendicular breadth
NO is 5J or 5-25 feet.
In this example the area
is 37 X 5-25=194-25 square
feet, or 21-583 square
yards.
Rule II.
As radius,
To the sine of any angle of the parallelogram,
So is the product of the sides including the angle,
To the area of the parallelogram.
To see the reason of this rule it is only necessary to ob¬
serve, that in the parallelogram KLMN, the perpendicular
breadth NO is a fourth proportional to radius, sine of the
angle K, and the oblique line KN, (Trigonometry,) and
is therefore equal to
sin. K
rad.
- X KN ; therefore the area
of the figure is
sin. K
rad.
X KN x KL, which expression is
the same as the result obtained by the above rule.
Ex. Suppose the sides KL and KN are 36 feet, and 25-5
feet, and the angle K is 58°, required the area.
Here it will be convenient to employ a table of logar¬
ithms. The operation may stand thus,'
log. rad.
log. sin. 58°
log. (36 x 25-5)=log. 36 +log. 25-5.
log. of area
area=778.5 square feet.
Problem II.
Having given any two sides of a right angled triangle, to
find the remaining side.
10-00000
9-92842
2-96284
2-89126
Rule.
1. When the sides about the right angle are given, to
find the hypothenuse.
Add together the squares of the sides about the right
angle, and the square root of the sum will be the hypothe¬
nuse.
2. When the hypothenuse and one of the sides about the
right angle is given, to find the other side.
From the square of the hypothenuse subtract the square
of the given side, and the square root of the remainder will
be the other side. b
This rule is deduced from
theor. 13. sect. iv. Geometry.
Ex. 1. In a right-angled tri¬
angle ABC, the sides AB and
AC, about the right angle, are
33 feet and 56 feet; what is the
length of the hypothenuse BC?
Here 332+562 = 3136+1089=4225,
and ^/(4225)=65 feet, =the hypothenuse BC.
Ex. 2. Suppose the hypothenuse BC to be 65 feet, and
AB one of the sides about the right angle to be 33 feet;
what is the length of AC the other side ?
Here 652—332=4225—1089=3136 ;
and \/(33l6)=56 feet=the side AC.
Problem III.
To find the area of a triangle.
Rule I.
Multiply any one of its sides by the perpendicular let fall
upon it from the opposite angle, and half the product will
be the area.
The truth of this rule is proved in Geometry, Part I.
sect. iv. theor. 6.
Example. What is the area of a triangle ABC, whose
base AC is 40, and perpen- 3
dicular BD is 14-52 chains?
The product of the base
by the perpendicular, or
40 x 14-52, is 580-8 square
chains, the half of which,
or 290-4 sq. ch.=29 ac. 0
r. 6-4 po. is the area of the
triangle.
Rule II.
As radius,
To the sine of any angle of a triangle,
So is the product of the sides including the angle,
To twice the area of the triangle.
This rule follows immediately from the second rule ot
Prob. L, by considering that the triangle KNL is half the
parallelogram KNML.
Example. What is the area of a triangle ABC, whose twm
sides AB and AC are 30 and 40, and the included angle A
is 28° 57'?
Operation by Logarithms.
10-00000
3-07918
9-68489
2-76407
log. rad.
log. (30 X 40)=log. 30+log. 40.
log. sin. 28° 57'
log. of twice area
twice area=580-85
area 290-42
Rule III.
When the three sides are given, add together the three
sides, and take half the sum. Next, subtract each side se¬
verally from the said half sum, thus obtaining three remain-
Plane
figures.
1
MENSURATION.
Plane
figures.
ders. Lastly, multiply the said half sum, and those three
t remainders all together, and extract the square root of the
last product for the area of the triangle.
This practical rule is deduced from the following geome¬
trical theorem. The area of a triangle is a mean propor¬
tional between two rectangles, one of which is contained by
half the perimeter of the triangle, and the excess of half the
perimeter above any one of its sides; and the other is con¬
tained by the excesses of half the perimeter above each of
the other two sides. As this theorem is not only remark¬
able, but also of great utility in mensuration, we shall here
give its demonstration.
567
be equal to the angle BCD, (Geometry, Part I. sect. i.
tlieor. 21), that is, to the angle BDC or ADC, (sect. i. theor.
11); and hence AErrAD, (sect. i. theor. 12); and in like
manner, because the angle Aed is equal to the angle BCc/,
that is, to the angle BriC, or Ade, therefore Ae=Ad.
On A as a centre, at the distance AD or AE, describe
a circle meeting AC in F and G; and on the same centre,
with the distance Ad or Ae, describe another circle meet¬
ing AC in/and g, and draw BH and B/i perpendicular to
CD and Cr/. Then, because BD, BC, Bd are equal, the
point C is in the circumference of a circle, of which Dc? is
the diameter, therefore CD and (Id are bisected at H and
h, (sect. ii. theor. 6), and the angle DCYi is a right angle,
(sect. ii. theor. 17), and hence the figure CUBA is a rect¬
angle, so that BA=CH=^ CD, and BH=CA=i Q/.
Join BE, and Be, then the triangle BAG is equal to each
of the triangles BEC, BeC, (sect. iv. theor. 2, cor. 2); but
the triangle BEC is equal to \ EC x BH, (sect. iv. theor. 2),
that is, to j EC X Cd; and in like manner the triangle BeC
is equal to ^ e C X BA, that is, to ^ e C X CD, therefore the
triangle ABC is equal to i EC x Cd, and also to i eC X
CD.
Now, if it be considered that the radius of the circle gde is
AB—BC, it will readily appear that, putting 2 s for the pe¬
rimeter of the triangle ABC, we have
EC (=AB +
CG (=AB-i-
/C(=AC+
BC + AC) = 2 s
BC — AC) = 2 s—2 AC,
-BC
g C (z=AC-
-BC
I 2 s—2 BC,
})=
2 .v—2 AB.
A. E
Plane
figures.
| AB-
| AB-
Put now a, b, c for the sides AC, BC, and AB respectively,
then ^ F C~s, ^ GC —.y—a, jtfC—s—A, ^ Cg~s—c; thus
the last proportion becomes
—a) : trian. ABC :: trian. ABC : (.v—h) X (s c),
which conclusion, when expressed in words at length, is
evidently the proposition to be demonstrated.
And as a mean proportional between two quantities is
found by taking the square root of the product, it follows
that the area of the triangle ABC, which is a mean between
* X f—a) and (s—b) x {s—c), is equal to
^ j s X {s—a) x ($—b) x (.v—c) |
which formula, when expressed in words at length, gives the
preceding rule.
Example. Required the area of a triangle whose three
sides are 24, 36, and 48 chains respectively.
Here 24-{-36-{-48=:108~the sum of the three sides,
108
And =54z=half that sum ;
Also 54—24=30, the first remainder; 54—36=18, the se¬
cond remainder ; and 54—48=6, the third remainder.
The product of the half sum and remainders is
54x30x 18x6=174960.
And the square root of this product is
v/174960)=418-28 sq. ch. the area required.
Probeem IV.
To find the area of a trapezoid.
Ruee.
Add together the two parallel sides, then multiply their
sum by the perpendicular breadth, or distance between
them, and half the product will be the area.
TMs rule is demonstrated in Geometry, Part I. sect.iv.
theor. 7.
Example. Required the area of the trapezoid AB CD,
whose parallel sides AB and DC
are 7*5 and 12-25 chains and per- b;
pendicular breadth DE is 15-4
chains.
The sum of the parallel sides is
7*5-J-l 2-25=19'75; which multipli-j
ed by the breadth, is
19-75xl5-4=304-15;
and half this product is
304-15
—  =152-075 sq. ch,= 15 ae. 33-2 po.
Now since CD : Ce?:: CE x CD : CE X Ce?J sect. iv. ^
and also CD : Ce?:: Ce X CD ; Ce xCd ( theor. 3. j"
Therefore CE X CD : CE xCd:: Ce x CD : Ce x Ce?; that
is, because CE x CD=FC X CG, and Ce X C<A=/C xCg,
(sect. iv. corollaries to theor. 28 and 29).
FCxCG : CExCrf:: CexCD :/CxC^;
which last proportion (by taking one fourth of each of its
terms, and substituting the triangle ABC for its equivalent
values ^ CE X Cd and £ Ce x CD) gives us
^ FCx^CG : trian. ABC :: trian. ABC : ^/CXs C^.
the area required.
Problem V.
To find the area of any trapezium.
Ruee.
Divide the trapezium into two triangles by a diagonal,
then find the areas of these triangles, and add them to¬
gether.
Note. If two perpendiculars be let fall on either diagonal
from the other two opposite angles, the sum of these per-
568
MENSURATION.
Plane
figv.res.
pendiculars being multiplied by the diagonal, half the pro¬
duct will be the area of the trapezium. The reason of this
rule is sufficiently obvious.
Example. In the trapezium
ABCD the diagonal AC is 42,
and the two perpendiculars BE,
DF are 16 and 18: What is its
area ?
Here the sum of the perp. is
16-{-18=34, which multiplied
by 42, and divided by 2, gives
34x42
=714, the area.
As 22 is to 7, so is the circumference to the diameter, Plane
nearly. figures.
Rule II.
As 113 is to 355, so is the diameter to the circumference,
nearly.
As 355 is to 113, so is the circumference to the diameter,
nearly.
Rule III.
As 1 is to 3T416, so is the diameter to the circumfer-*
ence, nearly.
As 3T416 is to 1, so is the circumference to the diame¬
ter, nearly.
Problem VI.
To find the area of an irregular polygon.
Rule.
Draw diagonals dividing the proposed polygon into tra¬
peziums and triangles; then find the areas of all these se¬
parately, and add them together for the content of the whole
polygon. The reason of this rule, and the manner of ap¬
plying it, are sufficiently obvious.
Problem VII.
To find the area of a regular polygon.
Note. The result obtained by the first rule, which is the
least accurate of the three, will not differ from the true an¬
swer by so much as its 2400th part. But that obtained by
the second rule, which is the most accurate, will not differ
by so much as its 10,000,000th part.
The proportion of the diameter of a circle to its circum¬
ference, is investigated in Algebra, art. 273, and in Geo¬
metry, Part I. sect. vi. prop. 6. Also in Fluxions, sect.
38 and sect. 139. The manner of finding the first and second
rules, and others of the same kind, is explained in Algebra,
sect. xxi. But it is impossible to express exactly, by finite
numbers, the proportion of the diameter of the circle to its
circumference.
Rule.
Multiply the perimeter of the polygon, or sum of its
sides, by the perpendicular drawn from its centre on one of
its sides, and take half the product for the area.
This ride is only in effect resolving the polygon into as
many triangles as it has sides, by
drawing lines from its centre to
all its angles, then taking the sum
of their areas for the area of the
figure.
Example. Required the area
of a regular pentagon ABCDE,
whose side AB or BC, &c., is 25
feet, and perpendicular HK is
17-2 feet.
Here 25 X 5 = 125 = the perimeter,
And 125=17-2=2150,
y And its half 1075 = the area required.
Note. If only the side of the polygon be given, Its perpen¬
dicular may be found by the following proportion:
As radius,
To the tan. of half the angle of the polygon,
So is half the side of the polygon,
To the perpendicular.
And here, as well as in all other trigonometrical calcula¬
tions, we may employ a table of logarithmic sines and tan¬
gents.
1 he angle of the polygon, that is, the angle contained by
any two of its adjacent sides, will be found from this theorem.
The sum of all its interior angles is equal to twice as many
right angles, wanting four, as it has sides, which is demon¬
strated in Geometry, Part I. sect. i. theor. 25.
Problem VIII.
To find the diameter and circumference of a circle, the one
from the other.
Rule I.
As 7 is to 22, so is the diameter to the circumference,
nearly.
Example 1. To find the circumference of a circle whose
diameter is 20.
By the first rule,
20 v. 22
7 : 22 :: 20 : —=—=62|. the answer.
7 7
Or by the third rule, 3-1416 x 20=62-832 the answer.
Ex. 2. The circumference of a circle is 10 feet, what is
its diamdter ?
By the second rule,
113 v 10
355 : 113 :: 10 : ^—=3-1831 the answer.
355
Problem IX.
To find the length of any arch of a circle.
Rule I.
As 180 is to the number of degrees in the arch, so is
3-1416 times the radius to its length.
To see the reason of this rule it is only necessary to con¬
sider, that 3-1416 times the radius is (by last rule) equal to
half the circumference, or to an arch of 180°, and that the
length of an arch is proportional to the number of degrees
it contains.
Example. Required the length of the arch AEB, whose
chord AB is 6, the radius AC or CB
being 9. Draw CD perpendicular to
the chord, then CD will bisect the
chord in D, and the arch in E. Now
in the right-angled triangle ACD, there
is given the hypothenuse AC=9, and
the side AD=3; hence, by trigono¬
metry, the angle ACE will be found
to contain 19° 28'^5=19*471 degrees.
The double of this, or 38-942, is the number of degree^
in the whole arch AEB. Then, by the rule,
180: 38-942:: 9X3-1416 :
9x3-1416x38.942
=6-11701
the answer.
180
MENSURATION.
Plane
figures
Rule II.
^ As six times the distance of any chord from the centre
together with nine times the radius of the circle, is to that
distance together with fourteen times the radius ; so is the
chord to the arc nearly.
The investigation of this rule is as follows :
Let a denote any arc of a circle of which the radius=l.
Putting A, B, C for indeterminate quantities, assume
1+A cos. a a
B + C cos. a sin. a *
Then, observing that sin. a cos. a—\ sin. 2 a, we have
sin. a+1 A sin. 2 az=.a B + a C, cos. a. (1.)
Now, by formulae investigated in Algebra, art. 286,
cv ^ a5
hm. a=a -4   &c.
1-2-3 M-2-3-4-5
„ , <& > a*
Cos. a~\ — 4- ————&c.
1’2 ‘ 1-2-3-4
Therefore we have for sin. a, l sin. 2 « cos. a; these
approximate values, which include the fifth power of the
arc,
Sin. a—a-
2 sin. 2 a—ci— ~
o
T+120 nearly,
4 a3 16 a5
+ 1W nearly,
a cos. a—a—
3 a3 5 «5
6
+ ^0 nearly.
Hence substituting these values in equation (1.) and di¬
viding by a we obtain
(1+A)—(1 +4 A)^ + (1 +16 A) + C—3 4 +
5 C
120
569
Problem X.
To find a straight line nearly equal to a given arc of a
circle.
Plane
figures.
The formula
form
14 + cos. a a
9+6 cos. a sin. a
may be put under this
15—(1—cos, a) a
10 + 5 cos. a—(1 —cos. a) sin. a
3—} ver. sin, a a
’ 2 + cos. a—i ver. sin. a ~ sin. a
Hence we obtain the following simple geometrical con¬
struction for finding a straight line nearly equal to a given
arc of a circle :
In DL produced take LH equal to the radius, and HK
from H towards the
centre equal to one fifth
part of the versed sine
DE: From K draw KF,
KG through A and B
the extremities of the
arc AB to meet the tan¬
gent at the middle point
of the arc in F and G:
The intercepted por¬
tion FG of the tangent
is equal to the arc AB nearly.
Problem XL »
To find the area of a circle.
Rule I.
Multiply half the circumference by half the diameter, and
the product will be the area.
Rule II.
Making now the coefficients of like terms on each side of
this equation equal, we have
1+A=B + C, 1+4 A=3C, 1 + 16 A=5 C;
and hence, A=^, B=z^-, C=-^.
These values being substituted for A, B, C in the as¬
sumed equation, the result after reduction is
14 + cos.a
9+6 cos.a~ sin. a
Hence the rule.
Ex. 1. Required the length of ^th of the circumference
of a circle whose radius is 10?
In this case the chord AB is equal to the radius AC=
10; and the perpendicular CD=y'(CAJ—AB2)=
v/(100—25)=x/75"= 8.660254: hence 6 CD + 9 AC=
141'96l524, and CD +14 AC=148-660254. Wenowstate
tliis proportion,
141-961524 : 148-660254 :: 10 : 10-47l87=arc AEB.
This is a near approximation to the length of the arc :
its true value is 10-471976, &c.
Ex. 2. It is known that an arc of 57° 17' 44//-8 is very
nearly equal to the radius. Now, let it be proposed to find
its approximate length by the formula, the radius being
supposed equal to 1 mile.
In this case by the Trigonometrical Tables the chord
=-958851: its distance from the centre=-8775826. There¬
fore the proportion is
14-2654956 : 14-8775826=-958851 : -9999922.
The error of the approximation is -0000078 of a mile, which
is equal to about half an i«ch.
VOL. XIV.
Multiply the square of the diameter by -7854, and the
product will be the area.
The first of these rules has been demonstrated in Geo¬
metry, sect. vi. prop. 3. And the second rule is deduced
from the first, as follows. It appears from prop. 6. sect. vi.
Geometry, that the diameter of a circle being unity, its
circumference is 3-1416 nearly ; therefore, by the first rule,
its area is 1 X 3-14l6-^4~7854. But circles are to one
another as the squares of their diameters, (prop. 4.) there¬
fore, putting d for the diameter of any circle, 1 : dl::
*7854 : -7854 cZ2=the area of the circle whose diameter is d.
Example. What is the area of a circle whose diameter
is 7.
By the second rule 7x7 X•7854=38*4846 the area.
By the first rule 7 x3T4l6 = the circumference.
7 x 3-1416 v7
Then  — =7 x7 X'7854=38-4846 the area,
the same as before.
Problem XII.
To find the area of any sector of a circle.
Rule I.
Multiply the radius by half the arch of the sector, and the
product will be the area, as in the whole circle.
Rule II.
As 360 is to the degrees in the arc of the sector, so is
the area of the whole circle to the area of the sector.
The first of these rules follows easily from the rule for
the whole area, by considering that the whole circumfer¬
ence is to the arch of the sector, as the whole area to the
area of the sector, that is,
4 c
570
Plane
figures.
MENSURATION.
circum. : arch of sect.
circum. : area of sect.
25  
The second rule is too obvious to need any formal proof.
Example. To find the area of a circular sector ACB
whose arch AEB contains 18 degrees, the diameter being
3 feet, (See fig. to prob. ix.)
1. By the first rule.
First 3-1416 X 3=9*4248 the circum.
And 360 : 18 :: 9*4248 : *47124 the arch of sect.
Then *47124 x 3-i-4=*35343 the area.
2. By the second rule.
First *7854 X 32=7*0686 the area of the circle.
Then 360 : 18 :: 7*0686 : *35343 the area.
Problem XIII.
To find the area of a segment of a circle.
Rule.
Find the area of the sector having the same arch with
the segment by the last problem. Find also the area con¬
tained by the chord of the segment and the two radii of the
sector. Then take the sum of these two for the answer
when the segment is greater than a semicircle, or take their
difference when it is less than a semicircle. As is evident
by inspection of the figure of a segment. (Fig. to prob. ix.)
Example. To find the area of the segment AEBDA,
its chord AB being 12, and the radius AC or BC 10.
First, as AC : AD :: rad. : sin. 36° 52'1=36*87 degrees,
the degrees in the angle ACE or arch AE. And their
double or 73*74=the degrees in the whole arch AEB.
Now *7854 X400=3l4*l6 the area of the whole circle.
Therefore 360° : 73*74 :: 314*16 : 64*3504=;area of the
sector CAEB.
Again >/ (CA2—AD2) (100—36) = a/ 64 = 8 =
DC.
Therefore AD x DC=6 x 8=48 =area of the triangle.
Hence sector ACB A—triangle ACB= 16*3504 the area of
seg. AEBDA.
Problem XIV.
To find the area of any segment of a parabola, that is the
space included by any arch of a parabola, and the straight
line joining its extremities.
Rule.
Multiply the base of the segment by its height, and take
§ of the product for the area.
This rule is demonstrated in Conic Sections, part iv.
sect. iii. prop. 2.
Example. The base AB of
a parabolic segment ACB is 10,
and its altitude CD, (that is, the
greatest line that can be drawn A
in the segment perpendicular to
the base AB) is 4 : What is its area ?
80
Here 10x4 X#=—=26| the area
Problem XV.
To find the area of an ellipse.
Rule.
Multiply the product of the two axes by the number
•7854 for the area of the ellipse.
For the area ofan ellipse is equal to the area of a circle whose
diameter is a mean proportional between the axes of the ellipse,
(as is easily deduced from Conic Sections, cor. i. prop. 3. sect,
iii. part iv.) that is, to the area ofa circle, the square of whose di¬
ameter is equal to the product of the axes. But by prob. x. the -f- a! V) BA
area of a circle is equal to the
square of the diameter multiplied
by *7854; therefore the area
of an ellipse is equal to the pro- A
duct of the axes multiplied by
the same number *7854.
Example. If the axes of an
ellipse, ABCD, be 35 and 25. What is the area ?
35 X 25 X •7854=687*225 the area.
Note. As to hyperbolic areas, the reader will find for¬
mulas for their exact mensuration in Fluxions, § 156. Ex.
4 and 5.
Problem XVI.
To find nearly the area of a figure bounded by any curve
line A a a' a", &c. P, the straight line BQ,, and AB,
PQ two other straight lines drawn from the extremities
of the curve perpendicular to BQ.
Rule.
Let BQ, the base of the figure, be divided into any even
number of equal
parts by the per¬
pendiculars ba,
b'a’, b" a", &c.c
which meet the
curve in the
points «, a', a",
&c.
Let F and L 18
denote the first and last perpendiculars AB and PQ.
Let E denote the sum of all the remaining even perpen¬
diculars, viz. a b, a" b", aiv Av, the second, fourth, sixth, &c.
Let R denote the sum of the remaining perpendiculars,
viz. a! b', a'" b"', &c.
And put D for B b, or bb\ &c. the common distance be¬
tween the perpendiculars.
Then the area of the figure will be nearly equal to
^D x (F-f-L-f-4 E-f-2R) ;
and the approximation will be so much the more accurate
according as the number of perpendiculars is the greater.
Demonstration. Join the tops of the first and third per¬
pendiculars by the line A a' meeting the second perpendi¬
cular in E, and draw CD through a so as to form the paral¬
lelogram A a' DC ; then the space bounded by the curve
line A a a' and the three straight lines AB, B b', b' a'
will be made up of the trapezoid AB b' a', and the space
bounded by the arch A a a' and its chord A a'. Now if
the arch A a a' be small, this last space will be nearly two
thirds of the parallelogram AD, for it will be nearly equal
to the area contained by the straight line A a!, and an arch
of a parabola passing through the points A, a, a', and hav¬
ing a b for a diameter, which area is § of its circumscribing
parallelogram. (Conic Sections, park iv. sect. iii. prop. 2).
Therefore the space Aaa' b' BA will be nearly equal to the
sum of the trapezoid AB 5' a' and § of the parallelogram AD,
which sum is evidently equal to ^ of the trapezoid AB b' a',
together with § of the trapezoid CB 1/ D. Now the area
AB-J-a' b'
of the ti’apezoid AB b' a' is   X B5' (Geometry,
Plane
figures.
AB 4- arb'
sect. iv. theor. 7.) =• ^ X2B5; and in like man-
ner the area of the trapezoid CB Z»'D is - x BA=
X 2B5 ; therefore the area of the figure A a a' 5' B is
. AB + a'A
nearly ^x —- X 2B5 + | x ab X 2BA=i(AB-j-4a5
MENSURATION.
Plane
figures.
sessions,
ziv biy) i
) )
In the very same way it may be shewn that the area of
the figure a' a" a"’ b"' b' is nearly
' £(«' 6'+ 4 a" 6" + a'" b,,,) x B5,
and that the area of the figure a'" au Pdi'" is nearly
^{a'" 6/" + 4«iv ^iv+PQ) xB6.
Therefore, the area of the whole figure bounded by the
curve line AP, and the straight lines AB, BQ, QP, is .nearly
equal to the sum of these three expressions, namely, to
( AB+PQ
-] +4(« b+a" b" + a}
( +2(a' b'+a'" b"')
as was to be demonstrated.
Example 1. Let it be required to
find the area of the quadrant ABC,
whereof the radius AC=1.
Let AC be bisected by the per¬
pendicular DE, and let CD be di¬
vided into four equal parts by the per¬
pendiculars mn, pq, rs. Now be¬
cause CA=1, therefore CD—1, Cr
=|, Q»=l, Cm=l. Hence DE= A
\/(EC2—CD2)= ^(1—3; andin like manner
s'**/55, pq—\sj 1 63. Therefore,
F+L=l+ix/r= 1-8660
4 E=iV55+W63 = 7-6767
= 1-9365
2 R=i>/l5
The sum
Multiply by ^ D=
11-4792
.4783
.2165
.2618
.7854
The product is *
Subtract the triangle CDE
There remains the sector CBErr
The triple of which is the quadrant ABC=
Ex. 2. To find the area of the hyperbola EDM, of which
the absciss FMnlO, the u
semiordinate MD=12, and
semitransverse CF=15.
Let FM be divided into
five equal parts by the semi¬
ordinates HI, mn, pq, rs.
ThusCH=17, Cm—19, Cp c     _
= 21, Cr=23, CM—25. irn™ r * m
Now, since from the nature of the curve,
<v/(CM2—CF2): MD :: ^/(CH2—CF2): HI (Conic Sec¬
tions, part iii. prop. 22. andGEOM.part i. sect, iv.theor. 12,)
that is, in numbers, 20 : 12 :: 8 : HI, therefore HI=2j4.
In like manner we find mrt=z§^Si,pq=1Is/^/6,andrs=z\2
v/l~9- Therefore
F+L(=HI + MD) = 16-8
< 4E(=4mw-j-4r^) = 68-8399
2R(=2p^) = 17-6363
The figure PIIDM = 103-2762 x §=68-8508.
to which adding FIH, considered as a portion of a para¬
bola, we have 75-245 for the area of the hyperbola.
may be drawn on the paper in the direction of any object
in the field, and with scales of equal parts by which such
lines may be made proportional to the distances of the ob¬
jects from the plane table when measured by the chain, and
its frame is divided into degrees for observing angles.
The cross consists of two pair of sights set at right angles
to each other upon a staff having a pike at the bottom to
stick into the ground. Its use is to determine the points
where a perpendicular drawn from any object to a line will
meet that line ; and this is effected by finding by trials a
point in the line, such that the cross being fixed over it so
that one pair of the sights may be in the direction of the
line, the object from which the perpendicular is to be drawn
may be seen through the other pair ; then the point thus
found will be the bottom of the perpendicular, as is evident.
A theodolite may also be applied with great advantage
to land-surveying, more especially when the ground to be
measured is of great extent.
In addition to these, there are other instruments employed
in surveying, as the perambulator, which is used for mea¬
suring roads and other great distances. Levels, with teles¬
copic or other sights, which are used to determine how much
one place is higher or lower than another. An ofsett-staff
for measuring the ofsets and other short distances. Ten
small arrows, or rods of iron or wood, which are used to
mark the end of every chain length. Pickets or staves with
flags to be set up as marks or objects of direction; and,
lastly, scales, compasses, &c. for protracting and measuring
the plan upon paper.
The observations and measurements ’are to be regularly
entered as they are taken, in a book which is called the field
book, and which serves as a register of all that is done or
occurs in the course of the survey.
To Measure a Field by the Chain.
Let AmQCnDq represent a field to be measured. Let it
be resolved into the triangles
AmB, ABD, BCD, AqD.
Let all the sides of the large
triangles ABD, BCD, and
the perpendiculars of the
small ones AmB, A§D from
their vertices m, q, be mea¬
sured by the chain, and the
areas calculated by the rules
delivered in this section, and
their amount is the area of
the whole. But if, on ac¬
count of the curvature of its sides the field cannot be wholly
resolved into triangles, then, either a straight line may be
drawn over the curve side, so that the parts cut off from the
field, and those added to it may be nearly equal; or, with¬
out going beyond the bounds of the field, the curvilineal
spaces may be measured by the rule given in prob. xvi. of
this section.
To Measure a Field with the Plane Table.
571
Plane
figures-
OF LAND-SURVEYING.
The instruments most commonly employed in land-sur¬
veying, are the Chain, the Plane Table, and Cross.
A statute acre of land being 160 square poles, the chain
is made four poles, or sixty-six feet in length, that ten square
chains, or 100,000 square links) may be equal to an acre.
Hence each link is 7'92 inches in length.
The plane table is used for drawing a plan of a field, and
taking such angles as are necessary to calculate its area. It
is of a rectangular form, and is surrounded by a moveable
frame, by means of which a sheet of paper may be fixed to
its surface. It is furnished with an index by which a line
Let the plane table be fixed at F, about the middle of
the field ABCDE, and its dis¬
tances FA, FB, FC, &c. from the
several corners of the field mea¬
sured by the chain. Let the
index be directed from any point
assumed on the paper to the
points A, B, C, D, &c., succes¬
sively, and the lines Fa, Fb,
Fc,&c., drawn in these dh’ections.
Let the angles contained by these lines be observed, and the
lines themselves made proportional to the distances measured.
Then their extremities being joined, there will be formed
Problem II.
MENSURATION.
olids.
a figure abode similar to that of the field ; and the area
of the field may be found by calculating the areas of the
several triangles of which it consists.
To Plan a Field from a given Base Line.
To find the surface of a right pyramid or cone.
Rule.
Solids.
Let two stations A, B be taken within the field, but not
in the same straight line
with any of its corners; and
let their distance be mea¬
sured. Then the plane
table being fixed at A, and
the point a assumed on its
surface directly above A,
let its index be directed
to B, and the straight line
a b drawn along the side of
it to represent AB. Also, let the index be directed from
a to an object at the corner C, and an indefinite straight
line drawn in that direction, and so of every other corner
successively. Next, let the plane table be set at B, so that
b may be directly over B, and Z> a in the same direction
with BA, and let a straight line be drawn from b in the
direction BC. The intersection of this line with the former,
it is evident will determine the point C, and the triangle
a, b c on the paper will be similar to ABC in the field. In
this manner all the other points are to be determined, and
these being joined there will be an exact representation of
the field.
If the angles at both stations were observed, as the dis¬
tance between them is given, the area of the field might be
calculated from these data, but the operation is too tedious
for practice. It is usual therefore to measure such lines
in the figure that has been constructed as will render the
calculation easy.
SECTION III MENSURATION OF SOLIDS.
Problem I.
To find the surface of a right prism, or cylinder.
Rule.
Multiply the perimeter of the end by the length or height
of the solid, and the product will be the surface of all its
sides; to which add also the area of the two ends of the
prism when required.
The truth of this rule will be evident, if it be considered
that the sides of a right prism are rectangles, whose com¬
mon length is the same as the length of the solid, and their
breadths taken altogether make up the perimeter of the ends
of the prism. And as a cylinder may be considered as the
limit of all the prisms which can be inscribed in or circum¬
scribed about its base, so the surface of the cylinder will be
the limit of the surfaces of these prisms, and the expression
for that limit is evidently the pro¬
duct of the circular base by its
height. Or a cylinder may be con-E
sidered as a prism of an indefinitely
great number of sides.
Ex. 1. What is the surface of a
cube, the length of its side AB being
20 feet ?
Here 4 x 20= 80 the perim. of end.
And 80x20=1600 the four sides.
And 2 x 20 x 20= 800 thetop and bottom.
The sum 2400=theareaor surface.
Ex. 2 What is the convex surface of
a cylinder whose length AB is 20 feet,
and the circumference of its base 3 feet ?
Here 3 x 20=60 feet, the answer.
Multiply the perimeter of the base by the slant height or
length of the side, and half the product will evidently be
the surface of the sides, or the sum of the areas of all the
triangles which form it. To which add
the area of the end or base, if required.
Note. Here a cone is 'considered as
a pyramid of an indefinitely great num¬
ber of sides.
Ex. 1. What is the upright surface of
a triangular pyramid, A BCD, the slant
height AE, being 20 feet, and each side
of the base 3 feet ? e
Here
3x3x20
=90 feet, the surface.
Ex. 2. Required the convex surface
of a cone, the slant height AB being
50 feet, and the diameter of its base 8%
feet.
Here 8-5 X 3-1416 = circum. of base.
"And
8-5x3-1416x50
2
=6667-59, the
■answer.
Problem HI.
To find the surface of the frustum of a right pyramid or
cone, being the lower part, when the top is cut off by a
plane parallel to the base.
Rule.
Add together the perimeters of the two ends, and multi¬
ply their sum by the slant height, and take half the product
for the answer.
I he truth of this rule will be evident if it be considered
that the sides of the frustum are trapezoids, whose parallel
sides bound its top and base, and whose common breadth is
its slant height.
Example. How many square feet are in the surface of a
frustum AG of a square pyramid, (see fig. to prob. vi.) whose
slant height RE is 10 feet; also each side of the greater
end AC is 3 feet 4 inches, and each side of tlie lesser end
EG 2 feet 2 inches?
Here 3^x4= 13^ the per. of gr. end.
And 2^ x 4=8| the per. of less end.
And their sum is 22 feet.
22 x 10
Therefore —^—=110 feet, is the answer.
Problem IV.
To find the solid content of any prism or cylinder.
Rule.
Find the area of the base or end of the figure, and mul¬
tiply it by the height or length,, and the product will be the
area.
This rule follows immediately from theor. 11, and theor.
2, part ii. sect. iii. Geometry.
Ex. 1. What is the solid content of a cube AG, the length
of whose sides is 24 inches ?
Here 24 X 24=576 sq. inches, the area of the end.
And 576 x 24=13824 cub. inches is the solidity.
Ex. 2. Required the content of a triangular prism, w hose
Solids
MENSURATION.
length AD is 20 feet, and the "sides of its triangular base
’ ABC, are 3, 4, and 5 feet.
First, the area of the triangular
base is found by Rule iii. of Prob. 3,
sect. ii. to be
v^(6 X 3 X 2 X 1)=6 sq. feet.
Therefore 6x20=120 cub. feet,
the solidity.
Ex. 3. The Winchester bushel is
a cylinder 18^ inches in diameter, and  
eight inches deep. How many cubic inches does it contain?
By prop. 10 of sect. ii. the area of its base is
■7854 x 18,53=268’803 sq. inches ;
Therefore 268-803 x 8=2150-424 is the solid content.
Problem V.
To find the solid content of any pyramid or cone.
Rule.
Find the area of the base, and multiply that area by the
height, and one-third of the product will be the content of
the solid.
This rule is demonstrated in Geometry, part ii. sect. ii.
prop. xvii. cor. 1, and sect. iii. theor. 3.
Ex. 1. What is the content of a triangular pyramid
ABCD, whose perpendicular height AF is 30 feet, and
each side of its base BCD is three feet ? (See fig. in prob.
ii. sect, iii.)
First, the area of the base, as found by rule iii. of prob.
3, sect. ii. is
\/(4-5 X 1-5 x P5 x 1-5)=3-89711.
_ „ 3-89711 x30
Therefore ^ =38-9/11 cub. feet is the solid con¬
tent.
Ex. 2. What is the solid content of a cone, the radius BC
of its base being nine inches, and its height AC 15 feet? (See
fig. in prob. ii. sect, iii.)
32
Here *7854 X 1*76715 is the area of the base in square
feet.
And
1-76715x15
=8-8357 cub. feet is the solid content.
Problem VI.
To find the solidity of the frustum of a cone or pyramid.
Rule.
Add into one sum the areas of the two ends, and the
mean proportional between them, that is, the square root of
their product, and one-third of that sum will be a mean
area, which being multiplied by the perpendicular height
or length of the frustum will give the content.
Demonstration. LetPABCD be any pyramid, and AG a
frustum of it contained between
ABCD its base, and EFGH, a
plane parallel to the base. Put a
for the side of a square equal to A C
the base of the frustum ; b for the
side of a square equal to EG its
top; h for LM the height of the
frustum, and c for PL the height
of the part of the pyramid above
the frustum. Then a2 is the area
of the base of the frustum ; b'2 is
the area of its top ; ^ a2 (A-f-c) is the solid content of the
whole pyramid, (Geom. part ii. sect. ii. theor. 17), ^ A2 c is the
content of its upper part; and therefore
i|«2(A-|-c)_A2c]-
r
is the solid content of the frustum itself. Now the base
and top of the frustum being similar figures, (Geom. part ii.
sect. 11. theor. 13), their areas are to one another as the
squares of AB and EF, their homologous sides, (part i.
sect. iv. theor. 27). But AB : EF :: BP • PF (sect iv
theor. 2°.) :: PM : PL; therefore the area of the base
of the frustum is to the area of its top as PM2: PL2, that is,
2 : A2 :: (A -j- c)2: c2, and consequently a:b :: A-fc : c;
hence a c=A A + A c, and c=—A-, and A + c=-^A. Let
a—b a—A
these values of c and A-f-cbe now substituted in the pre¬
ceding expression for the content of the frustum, and it will
become by proper reduction,
, a3—A3
3 h a—b'
Let the numerator of the fractional part of this formula be
actually divided by its denominator, and we shall obtain for
the area of the frustum this more simple expression,
^ A (a2-Ea A-f-A2),
which formula, when expressed in words, is the rule. And
as a cone may be considered as the limit of all the pyra¬
mids that can be inscribed in it, when the number of sides
is conceived indefinitely increased, it is evident that the
rule will apply alike to the cone and pyramid.
Ex. 1. Required the solidity of the frustum of a hexa¬
gonal pyramid, the side of whose greater end is four feet,
and that of its lesser end is three feet, and its height nine
feet.
First, by prob. 7, sect. ii. the area of the base of the frus¬
tum is found to be 41-569, and the area of its lesser end
23-383 square feet. And the mean proportional between
these is
a/ (41-569 X23-383)=31-177.
Hence the mean area is
£ (23-383 + 41 -569 + 31-177)=32-043.
And the solid content of the frustum is
32-043 x 9=288-387 cubic feet.
Ex. 2. What is the solidity of the frustum of a cone, the
diameter of the greater end being five feet, that of the lesser
end three feet, and the altitude nine feet ?
Here the area of the greater end is (by prob. 10, sect, ii.)
52 X -7854, and the area of the lesser end is 32 X -7854, and
the mean proportional between them is a/(52 X 32 X t78542l
=5x3x*7854; therefore the mean area is
^^X(52+32+5x3)=12-8282.
And the content of the frustum
12-8282 x 9=115-4538 cub. feet.
Problem VII
To find the surface of a sphere, or of any segment or zone
of it.
Rule.
Multiply the circumference of the sphere by the height
of the part required, and the product will be the curve sur¬
face, whether it be a segment, a zone, or the whole sphere.
Note. The height of the whole sphere is its diameter.
The truth of this rule has been already shown in the
article Fluxions, sect.
165. It may, however,
be deduced from prin¬
ciples more elementary,
by reasoning as follows:
Let PCQ be a semi¬
circle, and AB, BC,CD,
&c., several successive
sides of a regular poly¬
gon inscribed in it. Con-
573
Solids.
574
MENSURATION.
Solids.
ceive the semicircle to revolve about the diameter PQ. as an
axis, then the arch ABCDE will generate a portion of the
surface of a sphere, and the chords AB, BC, CD, &c., will
generate the surfaces of frustums of cones ; and it is easy
to see that the number of chords may be so great that
the surface which they generate shall differ from the sur¬
face generated by the arch ACE by a quantity which
is less than any assigned quantity. Bisect AB inL, and draw
AF, LM, BG, CH, &c., perpendicular to PQ. For the sake
of brevity, let circ. AF denote the circumference of a circle
whose radius is AF. Then because AF, BG, LM, are
to each other respectively as circ. AF, circ. BG, circ. LM,
(Geom. part i. sect. vi. prop. 4. cor. i.), and because ^ (AF
-{-BG)=:LM, therefore ^ (circ. AF -f- circ. BG)=c?rc. LM.
Now the area of the surface generated by the chord AB
is ^ (circ. AF + circ. BG) X AB, (prob. 3), therefore the
same area is also equal to (circ. LM) x AB. Draw AO pa¬
rallel to FG, and draw LN to the centre of the circle. Then
the triangles AOB, LMN are manifestly similar; therefore
AB : AO :: NL : LM :: circ. NL : circ. LM; and hence AO
X circ. NL=AB X circ. LM. But this last quantity has
been proved equal to the surface generated by AB, there¬
fore the same surface is equal to AO X circ. NL, or to FG
Xcirc. NL, that is, to the rectangle contained by FG and
the circumference of a circle inscribed in the polygon. In
the same way it may be shown that the surfaces generated
by BC, CD, DE, are respectively equal to GH X circ. LN,
HI X circ. LN, IK X circ. LN. Therefore the whole sur¬
face generated by the chords AB, BC, CD, DE, &c., is equal
to (FG+GH + HI + IK) x circ. LN=rFK Xcfrc.LN. Con¬
ceive now the number of chords between A and E to be
indefinitely increased; then, observing that the limit of the
surface generated by the chords is the surface generated by
the arch ABCDE, and that the limit of NL is NP, the ra¬
dius of the generating circle, it follows that the spherical
surface or zone generated by the arch ACE is equal to the
product of the circumference of the sphere by FK the
height of the zone.
hx 1. \\ hat is the superficies of a globe whose diameter
is 17 inches ?
First 17x3T416=53-4072 inches=the circum.
Ihen 53"4072 x 17=907,9224 sq. inches=6,305 sq. feet,
the answer.
Ex. 2. What is the convex surface of a segment eight
inches in height cut off from the same globe ?
Here 53-4072 x 8=42/’25/6 sq. inches=2-967 sq. feet, the
answer.
Problem VIII.
To find the solidity of a sphere.
Rule I.
Multiply the area of a great circle of the sphere by its
diameter, and take § of the product for the content.
Rule II.
Multiply the cube of the diameter by the decimal -5236
for the content.
The first of these rules is demonstrated in Geometry,
part i. sect. iii. theor. 6. And the second is deduced from the
first, thus : put d for the diameter of the sphere, then d* X
•7854 if ^ area of a g^at circle of the sphere, and by the
first rule fdx d2 X ’7854=^ X*5236 is its content.
Example. What is the content of a sphere whose diame¬
ter is six feet ?
Answer 65 x -5236= 113-0976 cub. feet.
Problem IX.
To find the solid content ol a spherical segment.
Rule.
From three times the diameter of the sphere take double '
the height of the segment, then multiply the remainder by
the square of the height, and the product by the decimal
•5236 for the content.
This rule has been investigated in Fluxions, sect. 163.
But it may be proved in a more elementary manner by
means of the following axiom. If two solids be contained
between two parallel planes, and if the sections of these so¬
lids by a third plane parallel to the other two, at any alti¬
tude, be always equal to one another, then the solids them¬
selves are equal. Or more generally thus. If two solids
between two parallel planes be such, that any sections of
them by a third plane parallel to the other two have always
to each other the same given ratio, then the solids them¬
selves are to one another in that ratio. We have given
this proposition in the form of an axiom, for the sake of
brevity, but its truth may be strictly demonstrated, as has
been done when treating of pyramids and the sphere, in
Geometry, part ii. sect. ii. and iii.
Let us now suppose ABE to be a quadrant, C the centre
of the circle, AFEC a square de¬
scribed about the quadrant, and
CF the diagonal of the square.
Suppose the figures to revolve
about AC as an axis, then the
quadrant will generate a hemis¬
phere, the triangle ACE will ge¬
nerate a cone, and the square
AE a cylinder. Let these three
solids be cut by a plane perpen¬
dicular to the axis, and meeting
the plane of the square, in the line DHBG, and join CB.
Then because CDB is a right-angled triangle, a circle de¬
scribed with C B as a radius is equal to two circles described
with CD and DB as radii. (Geom. part i. sect. vi. prop. 4,
cor. 2). But CB=DG, and since CArrAF, therefore
( D —DH ? therefore the circle described with the radius
DG, is equal to the sum of the circles described with the
radii DH, DB; that is, the section of the cylinder at any
altitude, is equal to the corresponding sections of the sphere
and cone taken together. Consequently, by the foregoing
axiom, the cylinder is equal to the hemisphere and cone
taken together, and also the segment of the cylinder be¬
tween the planes AF, DG is equal to the sum of the seg¬
ments of the hemisphere and cone contained between the
same planes. Put 2 CE, or 2 AF, the diameter of the
circm, ~d, and AD, the height ot the spherical segment,
—h. Then AC=i d and 2 CA—2 AD=2 CD=d_2//.
Let n denote the number •7*854. Then the area of the base
common to the conic frustum AH, and cylinder AG, is
n d2, (sect. ii. prob. 10), and the area of the top of the frus¬
tum is n (d—2 hf, and the mean proportional between
these areas is n (d—2 h) d. Therefore the solid content of
the frustum is (by prob. 6 of this sect.)
i { nd^n{d—ilhy^nd{d—(lli) j xA
—n dQ h—2 rc c?A24-4 njp%
Now the solid content of the cylinder is n d* h: (prob. 1).
sforc the solid content of the spherical segment, (which
is equal to the difference between the cylinder AG and
the conic frustum AH), is equal to
n d* h—(n d* h—2 ndh* + in A3),
that is, to 2nd A2—^ n A3, or to
2 n ,
~ (3 d—2 A) A2,
which expression, if it be considered that — or 2X‘7854
3 3
Solids.
Solids.
MENSURATION.
is equal to *5236, is evidently the same as that given by the
rule.
Example. In a sphere whose diameter is 21, what is the
solidity of a segment whose height is 4-5 inches ?
First 3 X 21—2 x 4-5=r54.
4 hen 54 x 4‘5 x 4'5 x '5236=572,5566 inches, the solidity
required.
Problem X.
I o find the solid content of a paraboloid, or solid, produced
by the rotation of a parabola about its axis.
i(A h-\-a A)=l4(A + a), Solids,
and hence is derived the rule. v»—v—
Example. Required the solidity of the frustum of a pa¬
raboloid, the diameter of the greater end being 58, and that
of the lesser end 30, and the height 18.
First, (by prob. 10, sect, ii.) we find the areas of the ends
to be 58- X‘i854, and 302 X'7854; therefore their sum is
(5b2 4-30-) x' / 854—4264 X ' / 854 ; and the content of the
figure is i x 4264 x '7854 x 18=03140-5104, the answer.
Problem XL
Rule.
Multiply the area of the base by the height, and take half
the product for the content.
To demonstrate this rule, let AGC and BHD be two
equal semi-parabolas lying in con- i>
trary directions, and having their
vertices at the extremity of the ^
line AB. Let AD, BC be ordi¬
nates to the curves. Complete the
rectangle ABCD, and conceive it
to revolve about AB as an axis; c
then the rectangle will generate a cylinder, the radius of
whose base will be AD, and the two semi-parabolas will
generate two equal paraboloids having the same base and
altitude as the cylinder. Let a plane be drawn perpen¬
dicular to the axis, and let FHGE be the common section
of this plane and the generating figure. Let P denote the
parameter of the axis. Then since
EG2=PXAE,
and EH2 = PXEB,
EG2 + EH2=PxAB=CB2
Hence it appears, as in the demonstration of the preceding
rule, that of the solids described by ADCB, ACB, ADB
between the same parallel planes, the section of the cylin¬
der at any altitude is equal to the corresponding sections of
the paraboloids taken together. Consequently (by the
axiom) the cylinder is equal to both the paraboloids taken
together; hence each is half a cylinder of the same base and
altitude agreeing with the ride.
The same thing is also proved in Fluxions, sect. 163.
Example. If the diameter of the base of a paraboloid be
10 and its height 12 feet, what is its content ?
Here 10 x‘7854=7-854 the area of the base.
And ^ x 7*854 x 12=47-124 cub. feet is the solidity.
Problem XL
To find the solid content of a frustum of a paraboloid.
Rule.
To find the solid content
of a parabolic spindle or
solid generated by the
rotation of AEB an arc
of a parabola, about A B
an ordinate to the axis.
Rule.
Multiply the area of the middle section by the length,
and take of the product for the content of the solid.
bor the investigation of this rule we must refer the read¬
er to Fluxions, § 163. Ex. 4.
Example. The length of the parabolic spindle AEBeA
is 60, and the middle diameter E e 34 ; what is the soli¬
dity ?
Here 342x-7854 is area of the middle section.
Therefore 342x-7854x60xIfV=29053-5l68 is the so¬
lidity required.
Problem XII.
To find the solid content of the frustum of a parabolic spin¬
dle, one of the ends of the frustum passing through the
centre of the spindle.
Rule.
Add into one sum eight times the square of the diameter
of the greater end, and three times the square of the lesser
end, and four times the product of the diameters ; multiply
the sum by the length, and the product multiplied bv
•05236, or TV of-7854, will be the content.
For, referring the reader to Fluxions, § 163. Ex. 4. as
before, and substituting It for AC=i 6, but, in other re¬
spects, retaining the figure and notation, we have this ge¬
neral expression for the segment AP p,
r>3 f ^ Jp ^y,2\
7T X"
3
Stt/i5
hx -j-
->
which, when x=zh gives —, for the value of the semi-
x o cc
Add together the areas of the circular ends, then multi¬
ply that sum by the height of the frustum, and take half
the product for its solid content.
To prove this rule put A and a for the greater and lesser
ends of the frustum, and h for its height; also let c denote
the height of the portion cut off from the complete parabo¬
loid, so as to form the frustum. Then, by the last problem,
the content of the complete paraboloid is l A (h-\-c), and
the content of the part cut off is ^ a c, therefore the content
of the frustum is
spindle. From this quantity let the former be subtracted,
and there will remain
Snh5 7t x3/4 h2 x2\
TSa2 Iz2 \ 3 hx+~5j
for the content of the frustum. In this expression let z be
put instead of h—x or CD, and, denoting CE the radius of
A2
the greater end of the spindle by d, let —- be substituted
A (A + c)—a c) = l | A A4-c(A—a) |
But from the nature of the parabola, c : A -f- e :: a : A; hence
A c—a h-\-a c and c= ^ ^ -.
A—a
Let this value of c be substituted instead of it in the
above expression for the content of the frustum, and it be¬
comes
instead of its value a. Then we shall have the content of
the frustum otherwise expressed by
TV d2 z (
~~h~\
Id—
2h2 z^
~Z~ +
z*
~5
}
which value, by putting Ay'^L^
its two last terms iiu
stead of z, is changed to
576
MENSURATION.
Solids.
7TZX
8 d* yJf.SyZ.
15 ’
and hence is derived the preceding rule.
Example. Suppose the diameter of the greater end to be
8, and the diameter of the lesser end 6, and the length 10,
required the content ?
First 8x8 +3 x 62+4 x 8 x 6=812.
Then, 812 x 10 x ■05236=425T632, the content.
Problem XIII.
To find the solid content of a spheroid, or solid generated
by the rotation of an ellipse about either axis.
Rule.
Multiply continually together the fixed axis, and the
square of the revolving axis, and the number '5236 or ^ of
3T416, and the last product will be the solidity.
For, let the semiellipse ADB, and semicircle AEB, re¬
volve about the same fixed axis
AB, and thus generate a spheroid JC
and sphere. Let CD the revolv¬
ing semiaxis of the ellipse meet
the circle in E, and draw QP any
ordinate to the fixed axis meeting
the circle in II. Then, from the
nature of the ellipse PQ,2 : PR2
:: CD2 : CE2 or CA2 (Conic
Sections, part ii. prop. 13, cor. 3.) Hence it follows,
(Geom. part i. sect. vi. prop. 4.), that every section of the
spheroid is to the corresponding section of the sphere in the
same given ratio, namely, that of the square of the revolv¬
ing axis to the square of the fixed axis; therefore (Axiom
in the dem. of prob. 9-) the whole spheroid is to the whole
sphere in the same ratio. That is, (because the content of
the sphere is AB3x*5236) AB2 : (2CD2) :: AB3 x'5236":
(the cont. of spheroid.) Hence the content of the spheroid
is AB x (2CD)2 x '5236.
Ex. 1. W hat is the solid content of an oblong spheroid,
or solid generated by the rotation of an ellipse about its
greater axis, the axes being 50, and 30 ?
Here 50 x 302 x '5236=23562, the content.
Ex. AVhat is the solid content of an oblate spheroid, or
soliu generated by the rotation of an ellipse about its lesser
axis, the two axes being as before ?
Here 30 x 502 X '5236=39270 the answer.
Problem XIV.
To find the solid content of the frustum of a spheroid, its
ends being perpendicular to the fixed axis, and one of
them passing through the centre.
Rule.
To the area of the less end add twice that of the greater,
multiply the sum by the altitude of the frustum, and 4- of
the product will be the content.
JSote. Ihis rule will also apply to the sphere.
Demonstration. Let ABE be a quadrant of an ellipse?
C its centre, CAFE its circumscribed
rectangle, and CF its diagonal. Draw
any straight line DG parallel to CE,
meeting AC, CF, ABE and EF in
D, H, B, and G. Then by Conlc
Sections, part ii. prop. 13.
Hence DB2 +DH2=AF2=DG2.
Conceive now the figure to revolve about AC as an axis,
so that the elliptic quadrant may generate the half of a
spheroid, the rectangle AE a cylinder, and the triangle
ACF a cone ; then it is evident (as was shewn in the case
of the sphere in prob. 9.) that every section of the first
of these solids by a plane perpendicular to the axis is equal
to the difference of the sections of the other two, and con¬
sequently that the frustum of the spheroid between CE and
DG is equal to the difference between the cylinder having
DG or CE for the radius of its base, and CD for its alti¬
tude, and the cone having DFI for the radius of its base,
and DC for its altitude.
Put n for the number 3T416, then (prob. 4.) the content
of the cylinder is 4 w x DG2 X CD, and (prob. 5.) the con-
tent?of the cone is | ra x DH2 x CD, and therefore the con¬
tent of the frustum of the spheroid is
4 w x CD (DG2—i DH2).
But it was shewn that DH2=DG2—DB2 ; therefore
the content of the frustum is also CE2 equal to
f wxCD (2CE2 + DB2),
and hence is derived the rule.
Ex. Suppose the greater end of the frustum to be 15,
the less end 9, and the length 10 inches, required the con¬
tent ?
The area of the greater end is 15 2 X'7854, and the area
of the less Q2 X '7854, therefore the content is
*7854 (92-j-2x 152) X13fi=1390T58 cubic inches.
Problem XV.
To find the solid content of a hyperboloid, or'solid gener¬
ated by the rotation of a hyperbola about its transverse axis.
Solids.
-CD2,
CE2 or AF2 : DB2 :: CA2 : CA2-
and by sim. tr. AF2 : DH2 :: CA2 : CD2.
Therefore (Geometry, part i. sect. iii. theor. 10.),
AF2 : DB2-f DH2 :: CA2 CA2;
Rule.
As the sum of the transverse axis and the height of the
solid is to the sum of the said transverse axis and -| of the
height so is half the cylinder of the same base and altitude
to the solidity of the hyperboloid.
Demonstration. Let B A6 be a hyperbola, Aa its trans¬
verse axis, C its centre,
CF, C/its asymptotes, FA/
a tangent at its vertex.
Draw FE parallel to CA,
and draw any straight line
parallel to Ff, meeting the
asymptotes in H and /«,
the curve in B and b, the
axis in D, and the line FE
in G. Then, because AF2
=BHx/*B (Conic Sec¬
tions, part iii. prop. 16, cor.
4), and HB x AB=DH2—
DB2 (Geom. part i. sect. iv. theor. 12), therefore AF2=
DH2—DB2, and DB2=HD2—DG2. Hence it appears,
that if the figure be conceived to revolve about CA as an
axis, so that the hyperbolic arc AB may generate a hyper¬
boloid, the triangle DCH a cone, and the rectangle DAFG
a cylinder, any section of the first of these solids by a plane
H h, perpendicular to the axis, will be equal to the differ¬
ence of the sections of the other two by the same plane.
Therefore the hyperboloid BA A is equal to the difference
between the conic frustum FHA/and the cylinder FG gf.
Let A a, the transverse axisj be denoted by p, Ff= its con¬
jugate axis by q, AD the height of the solid by h, B b its
base by b. Then, because by similar triangles, &c.
CA : CD : : F/: H /i : : F/- : F/X H h,
therefore F/X H = ~ X F ^ +
2 kg'*
P
\P
1
MENSURATION.
Gauging* NowF/2=g2, and H7i2 (==B/^ + F/2)=52 + ^2j there.
v ■ 7 fore putting for ’7854, we have (by prob. 6.) the content
of the conic frustum FHA/’equal to
+ +^)=^(3?* + J*+^!) ;
•577
3 \ F / ^ \ ^ ‘ .
from this subtract n h q*, the expression for the content
of the cylinder VGgf, and there will remain
—f b® 4- 2hq*\
3\ + p /
for the content of the hyperboloid. But from the nature
the hyperbola
A «2 : F/2 ADxD a :’BD2,
that is, jo2 : q2 :: (p + h) h*: \b2 ;
2%2 pb2
FG, the bung diameter, (see fig. next page) H for AH the Gauging,
head diameter, and L for AD, the length of the cask, then “v—■/
(by prob. 14.) the content of the cask is f2B24-H2')L
•7854 , . , , \ -r J
X-w-, which being divided by 277-274 (the cubic
3
inches in an imperial gallon)
•0009442, or (2B2 + H2)Lx
imperial gallons.
gives
 ! 
1059-098
(2B2+H2) Lx
for the content in
therefore
and hence the content of the
nhb2 +
^ p+h
p 2 (^-p/i)
hyperbola is also equal to
U-
3 V ‘2 (p+K)) 2
Now if it be considered that the quantity nhb2 is the ex¬
pression for the content of a cylinder whose base is b and
height h, it will appear evident, that this last formula is the
same as would result from the foregoing rule.
Lx. Suppose the height of the hyperboloid to be 10, the
radius of its base 12, and its transverse axis 30. What is
its content ?
1. Because a cylinder of the same base and altitude is
242 x-7854 x 10, therefore, we have the proportion,
^.110 242x-7854x10
' 3 ” 2
242x‘7854x10x110
Ex. Suppose the bung and head diameters to be 32 and
24, and the length 40 inches. Required the content?
Here (2 X 322 + 242) X 40 x -0009442=99-103 imperial
gallons.
Problem II.
To find the content of a cask of the second, or parabolic
spindle form.
Rule.
To the square of the head diameter add double that of
the bung diameter, and from the sum take f, or yL of the
square of the difference of the said diameters. Then mul¬
tiply the remainder by the length, and the product multi¬
plied, or divided by the same number as in the rule to last
problem, will give the content.
For by problem 12, the content in inches is
8 B*+4 BH + 3 Hl „
   X ‘7854 L ;
15
40 X 3 X 2
as required.
=2073-456, the content of the solid
OF GUAGING.
Guagixg treats of the measuring of casks, and other
things falling under the cognizance of the officers of the
excise, and it has received its name from a guage or rod
used by the practitioners of the art.
From the way in which casks are constructed, they are
evidently solids of no determinate geometrical figure. It
is, however, usual to consider them as having one or other
of the four following forms :
1. The middle frustum of a spheroid.
2. The middle frustum of a parabolic spindle.
3. The two equal frustums of a paraboloid.
4. The two equal frustums of a cone.
We have already given rules by which the content of
each of these solids may be found in cubic feet, inches, &c.
But as it is usual to express the contents of casks in gal¬
lons, we shall give the rules again in a form suited to that
mode of estimating capacity. Observing that in each case
the lineal dimensions of the cask are supposed to be taken
in inches.
Problem I.
To find the content of a cask of the first, or spheroidal
variety.
Rule.
and this formula may be otherwise expressed thus,
( 2 B3-|-He—| jx'^XL,
and hence is derived the rule, the multiplier or divisor being
evidently the same as in last problem.
Ex. The dimensions of a cask being the same as in last
problem ; required the contents ?
Ans. (2x322 + 242--f x82)X40x-0009442=98-136,
the content in imperial gallons.
Problem HI.
To find the content of a cask of the third or paraboloidal
variety.
Rule.
To the square of the bung diameter add the square of the
head diameter, and multiply the sum by the length ; then,
if the product be multiplied by -001416, or divided by 706-2,*
the result will be the content in imperial gallons.
For by problem 10, the content in inches is i(B2-{-H2)
X'7854 L ; and this expression being divided by 277-274
gives (B2 + H1)x-001416 L, or (B2 + H2) x —^ X L
n , . . 706-2
for the content in imperial gallons.
Ex. Suppose the dimensions of a cask, as before; required
the content ?
Ans. (322 + 242)x 40 x-001416=90-62, the content in
imperial gallons.
Problem IV.
To find the content of a cask of the fourth or conical va¬
riety.
Rule.
To the square of the head diameter add double the square
of the bung diameter, and multiply the sum by the length To three times the square of the sum of the diameters
llnnoLo ‘ u- ^ , Product he multiplied by add the square of the difference of the diameters ; multiply
( 0^44r °X (liy.ldfd by,1050-1 for imperial gallons. the sum by the length ; and multiply the result by .00236
le ru io tns ru e may be pioved thus. Put B for or divide it by 4237"3, for the content in imperial gallons.
VOL. XIV. - Id
578 M E N
MEN
Menstrual For by problem 6, the content in inches is }
II 4-Hs) V‘7854 L, which expression is equivalent to
Mental ^ f 1 , .7854T
Diseases. v 3 (B + H)2+(B—H)2
*7QKA 1
Now divided by 277-274 gives -000236=^23>3
the multiplier for imperial gallons.
Ex. Supposing the dimensions of a cask as before ; what
is its contents ?
Ans. (3 x 562 + 82) X 40 X *000236—89.415 the con¬
tent in imperial gallons.
As these four forms of casks are merely hypothetical, it
may be expected that some uncertainty will attend the ap¬
plication of the rules to actual measurement. The follow¬
ing rule, however, given by Dr. Hutton in his Treatise 071
Mensuration, will apply equally to any cask whatever ; and
as its truth had been proved by several casks which have
been actually filled with a true gallon measure, after their
contents were computed by it, we presume it is more to be
depended upon than the others.
Rule.
Add into one sum thirty-nine times the square of the
bung diameter, twenty-five times the square of the head
diameter, and twenty-six times the product of the diame¬
ters ; multiply the sum by the length, and the product by
•00003147; the last result gives the content in Imperial
gallons.
In investigating this rule the author assumed as a hypo¬
thesis, that one-third of a cask at each end is nearly the
frustum of a cone, and that the middle part may be taken
as the middle frustum of a parabolic spindle. This being
supposed, let AB and CD be the two right-lined parts
and BC the parabolic part;
produce AB and DC to
meet in E, and draw lines
as in the figure. Let L, B,
and H denote the same as
before. Then, since AB
has the same direction as
EB at B, ABE will be a
tangent to a parabola BE,
and therefore FI=.^ EL
But BI —^ AK, and hence, by sim. triangles, EI:r^ EK;
consequently FI=lEI=:^EK=iFK=:TJc (B—H); so that
the common diameter BLrrFG—2 FI=B i(B H)=
K4 + which call C. Now by the rules of parabolic
spindles and conic frustums we obtain (putting w for-7854),
8 B2 -f 4 BC -f- 3 C 2 Ln_ 328 B2 + 44 BH + 3 Ha
15 X 3 “ 25x45
C2 -4- CH |
X L n for the parabolic or middle part; and ——  
• O
Mentha
II
Mental
2Ln__ 160 B2 x 280 BH + 310 H2
X L w for the two
3 25x45
ends, and the sum of these two gives, after proper reduc-
T. -J?
tion, (39B24-26BH-j-25H2) x nearly, for the content
in inches.
And the quantity
n
90
•7854 .
0r -gg- bemg
divided by
277-274 gives *00003147, the multiplier for converting'the
inches into Imperial gallons.
Ex. Suppose a cask to have the same dimensions as in
the four former rules ; required the content.
Here (39 X 322 -f 26 X 32 x 24 + 25 X 242) X 40 X
•00003147 gives 93-5 Imperial gallons for the content re¬
quired.
ind
ij
Pri
MENSTRUAL, or Menstruous, in Physiology, is ap¬
plied to the blood which flows from women at certain pe¬
riods.
MENSTRUUM, in Chemistry, is any body which either
in a fluid or subtilized state is capable of interposing its small
parts between those of other bodies, so as to divide them
subtly, and form a new uniform compound of the two.
MENTHA, Mint, a genus of plants belonging to the
didynamia class, and in the natural method ranked under
the forty-second order, Verticillatce.
MENTAL DISEASES.
Diversity MENTAL DISEASES, morhi mentales of Linnaeus ;
of names, alienatio mentis of Platerus, paranoiee of Vogel, vesanice
of Cullen, ecphronice of Good, folie of Esquirol, and others ;
madness, in common language ; also unsoundness or disor¬
der of mind, loss of reason, derangement, lunacy, &c. Such
a diversity of terms, by no means synonymous, denotes varie¬
ty of character as well as of hypothesis. The affections in
question are, in reality, exceedingly numerous and com¬
plex ; and considering the causes, known or supposed, by
which they are produced, much contrariety of opinion maybe
expected to prevail amongst those who treat of them.
Difficulty On tbe same ground we may account for the controversy
of the sub- respecting a proper definition of these diseases, and their
ject. arrangement into species. The whole subject, whether
considered theoretically or practically, is beset with diffi¬
culties ; and hence it is equally easy to understand how there
should prevail so great misapprehensions respecting insani¬
ty, and, to perceive the necessity for the exercise of that
prudence which an experienced writer enjoins upon his pro¬
fessional brethren, when they happen to be examined as wit¬
nesses in courts of law. “I have felt,” says he, “something
akin to shame, when I have heard men of education not only
delivering the most conflicting testimony, but supporting dis¬
tinctions that never had existence, except in their own inven¬
tive imaginations.” The same writer mentions that, having
been asked, on one occasion, to define unsoundness of mind,
he refused compliance, stating as his reason for doing so,
that he had heard the question frequently put to medical
men of the greatest eminence, but never knew an instance
where one of them had made the subject clearer by his ex- H
planation. In like manner Dr. Prichard, considers all at- !MU
tempts at a definition of insanity as unavailing, and states 1
that the advantages thereby aimed at can only be attained
by stating what the disturbances- are to which the mental
operations have been subjected.
Both of these writers, confirmed by others, agree further Genera
in suggesting the respective duties of the legal and medical ^®egrvft
professions, concerning questions of insanity. “ Lawyers,”
says Dr Burrows, “ are commonly fond of indulging in me¬
taphysical theories on the nature of the human mind
MENTAL DISEASES.
Questions
[ndicated
y Dr.
’richard.
Mental whilst, unfortunately, all their information regarding men-
Diseases. tal derangement is, according to him, derived either from
certain great legal authorities, or from medical writers, who
are “ as much inclined to theories as themselves.” In this
manner,he conceives, that their “naturalfondness to involve
questions of sanity or insanity in subtleties is encouraged.”
The counsel, in truth, cares not a straw for the definition ;
but in proportion to the clearness of the testimony against
his client, he is anxious to get the witness entangled in a
labyrinth, and eventually discredited. On the other hand,
the physician, not perceiving any such design, and either too
confident of his own powers, or “ from the vanity of display,”
falls into the snare, and “ becomes perfectly unintelligible,
which is exactly what the counsel desires.” Instead of
thus exposing himself, a physician should only mention
what he has observed as to the existence of some delusions,
noticed in conversation with the lunatic, and, if practicable,
should exemplify or illustrate them by corresponding actions.
This kind of evidence is not only good in itself, but cannot
be easily set aside. *
Dr. Prichard having characterised mental unsoundness as
a defective condition, which, by the disturbance or impe¬
diment of the operations of mind, renders a person unfit
for various duties, and impairs or altogether abrogates his
responsibility, mentions several questions connected wdth it,
in the solution of which both lawyers and physicians are
equally concerned. “ It belongs to the latter, as observers
of nature, to take note of the phenomena displayed by the
human constitution under disease, and from the relation of
them to deduce such results as common sense, aided by the
habit of reflecting on similar subjects, may enable them
satisfactorily to establish. On these results, which are the
conditions given, legal regulations are to be constructed.
They must be made to accommodate themselves to the con¬
ditions, and they will doubtless be so accommodated, when
the latter shall have been set forth in a manner unexcep¬
tionable, and commanding general assent. These arrange¬
ments, and the elucidation of their principles, belong to
lawyers and the framers of law. Physicians are expected
to supply them with information as to the nature of those
causes on which unsoundness of mind depends, as to their
extent and duration, their distinguishing characters, and ul¬
timate results.” The precedence thus awarded to medical
men, has undoubtedly been sustained in the face of many
difficulties, and seems to indicate the propriety, or rather the
expediency, of certain changes in the administration of our
laws. This is more especially applicable to cases of what
has been called moral insanity ; namely, a disorder of the
propensities and affections, with little or no error of the under¬
standing. To the actual existence of this kind of derange¬
ment, legal functionaries have not by any means been suf¬
ficiently attentive; whilst, unhappily, medical men them¬
selves are still far from approaching the “ general assent”
which is necessary towards the discovery of a suitable re¬
medy. Examples, such as Dr. Prichard has mentioned, of
“victims to ignorance,” of sacrifices to a mistaken sense
of justice, occur almost daily ; and they will not cease, un¬
til the information which physicians have supplied, or which
they can supply, be deemed as imperative as it is valuable
and disinterested.
If, after what has been said, a definition of mental dis¬
eases w'ere insisted on, they might be described as “devia¬
tions from sound health, involving some of the functions
of mind ;” and this, although not according to strict logic,
might pass unchallenged,.provided a qualification or expla¬
nation were added. In one sense, accordingly, every mor¬
bid state may be called mental, inasmuch as matter, how¬
ever organised, or supposed to be organised, is unsusceptible
of pain, suffering, or disease. On the other hand, the term
mind admits of a signification which precludes the idea of
injury, aberration, or decay. Thus, according to Raleigh,
579
-I'finition
•mental
cease.
“ it is a part or particle of the soul, whereby it doth under- Mental
stand, not depending upon matter, nor needing any organ ; Diseases.
free from passion, coming from without, and apt to be dis- '   
severed, as eternal, from that which is mortal.”
With the controversy which has been maintained on this Mind and
subject between the materialists and their opponents, we matter,
have on the present occasion no concern whatever; and any
discussion respecting the nature of the union which subsists
between mind and matter, is equally remote from the pur¬
pose of this article. We assume the distinction as recog¬
nised and undeniable; but, at the same time, we proceed on
the fact, that the states and operations of the mind are only
manifested and discoverable by certain conditions and ap¬
pearances in its material associate. Their connection, in
fact, limits as well as suggests the researches of physiolo¬
gists. “ I consider,” says Boyle, “ the chief thing that in¬
quisitive naturalists should look after, in the explicating of
difficult phenomena, is not so much what the agent is or
does, as what changes are made in the patient, to bring it to
exhibit the phenomena that are proposed, and after what
manner these changes are effected.” Such must be the
defence of the pathologist, whose duty it is, after certain
relations of structure and function have been discovered in
the state of health, to explore and point out the transitions
and correspondences of both when that state is subverted.
Lord Bacon expressly sanctioned this procedure, in regard
to mental diseases ; for in alluding to them, he remarks that
their absolute source, “if ever fully developed, will be found
to exist in corporeal changes, or the effects of external agents
on the gross machine, and not primarily on the immaterial
principle, as has, unfortunately for the subjects of disease,
been too commonly apprehended.” But notwithstanding
this great authority, which points out the true and only
mode of investigating the causes of insanity, viz., by studying
its phenomena in the living, and seeking them by anatomi¬
cal inspection in the dead ; yet were the latter neglected in
this country for nearly two centuries after the decease of
this illustrious philosopher.
Supposing that excess of passion or derangement affects Excess of
the moral constitution of our species no less than the intel-Passl°n> or
lectual, the eldest son of Adam was the first maniac ; and ^eranSe-
the malady may be said to have prevailed, when the Al-ment'
mighty declared “ that the wickedness of man was great in
the earth, and that every imagination of the thought of his
heart was only evil continually.” In the restored world, again,
Noah soon gave a temporary example of it, after an indul¬
gence which millions have since practised with similar re¬
sults. Passing over numerous other indications, we find,
amongst the threatenings against disobedience of the divine
laws, “ madness, and blindness, and astonishment of heart.”
(Deut. xxviii. 28.) At a subsequent period, frequent men- *
tion is made of “ the spirit of the Lord” as leading men to
courage, wisdom, and true predictions, in opposition to “ an
evil spirit,” “the spirit of Belial,” whose influences are de¬
scribed as dangerous, malignant, and inconsistent with truth.
The Hebrew writers, canonical and rabbinical, abound in
evidences respecting what was held by them to be superna¬
tural agency in both these kinds ; and, in relating various
instances, they throw light on a subject which often engaged
attention amongst heathen authors. We allude to divination,
real or supposed; the descriptions of which, though occa¬
sionally explicable upon the principle of fraud, are not rarely
characteristics of insanity. Thus, Maimonides having de¬
scribed the intellectual and imaginative faculties as liable to
such influences, separately or conjunctly, pourtrays some
cases of a third or inferior class, where the patients are sub¬
ject to conceits, dreams, and ecstacies, astonishing to the
individuals themselves. In like manner, Albo, another Jew,.
speaks of some in whom the imagination was too strong, as
amongst witches and those who professed to commune with
familiar spirits. Both concur in believing in the reality of
580 MENTAL
Mental divination; whereas Plato regarded the apparent symptoms
Diseases. 0f art as chiefly or altogether natural. “No sober man,”
'"""'v'"—^ says he, “ is afflicted with this, except in sleep, when reason
is bound, or when he suffers alienation of mind, in conse¬
quence of sickness or enthusiasm.” Again, limiting alleged
divination to the consequences of a disturbed mind and
melancholy imagination, he deduces the word, whence we
have obtained our term mania, from an expression denoting
rage and fury, such as are sometimes exhibited in disease.
In fact, insanity is more frequent, and therefore more to be
presumed, than inspiration; and, in the class of cases to
which we allude, knavery is more probable than insanity.
“ The fewest lunatics in all communities,” says Dr. Burrows,
“ will be found among the truly virtuous.”
Historical We may pass over the mythological ages of Egypt and
retrospect. Greece, with a slight allusion to the monopoly of medicine
by their priests, as sufficiently accounting for the use of in¬
cantations and idolatrous rites when their scanty pharmaco¬
poeia failed. Thus, Melampus, a soothsayer and physician, is
said to have performed a cure by means of hellebore on the
two daughters of Proetus, king of Argos, who, for preferring
their own beauty to that of Juno, were afflicted with a madness,
under which they imagined themselves transformed into cows.
If Pythagoras maintained, as has been alleged, that the
brain is the seat of the reasoning faculty, he made a material
advance towards the knowledge of insanity as dependent on
the lesion or disease of that organ. Plato, adopting the doc-,
trine of Socrates, imputed one species of derangement to
bodily causes, and another to attacks from the invisible
world, more especially by the Eumenides, who had power to
excite remorse of conscience, and otherwise to inflict the
divine vengeance on earth. Aristotle, his pupil and the son
of a physician, besides being a diligent cultivator of com¬
parative anatomy, and master of all the learning of his time,
in some of his metaphysical speculations threw an incidental
light on the symptoms, if not the sources, of this disease,
which received further elucidation from his remarks on the
nervous system. He was indebted for part of his knowledge
of the subject to the writings of Hippocrates ; who, how¬
ever, added less to anatomical and physiological science
than to the symptomatology of disease. This diligent ob¬
server reckoned the brain of great consequence in the animal
economy, but had imperfect notions of its structure. In
the Alexandrian school ot medicine, the nervous system was
studied by Herophilus and Erasistratus, who anticipated the
course followed by subsequent inquirers. But, unfortunately,
all that is known of their early labours can only be gleaned
from sources which render it difficult to estimate their true
merit.
The establishment of almost universal empire by the Ro¬
mans was favourable to the extension of science, but, on
the whole, little creditable to their intellectual character,
as they depended chiefly on aliens or captives for those arts
which either adorn life or succour its calamities. Such was
the case of medicine. Asclepiades, a Bythinian, divided
diseases into acute and chronic, since adhered to in treat¬
ing of mental derangement; and Themison, of Laodicea,
who simplified some of his general views, shared with him the
praise awarded by Celsus, that “ per hos maxime viros salu-
taris ista nobis professio increvit.” Celsus repeatedly alludes
to the former in his chapter, De Tribus Itisanice Generibus,
an essay still valuable as a description, and also for some of
its precepts, io Ccelius Aurelianus, a Numidian, we owe
various hints on the disease, together with much information
respecting the practice of his contemporaries. Aretaeus, a
Capadocian, resident at Rome, merits regard as an observer
of insanity, and for an attempt, by no means injudicious, to
explain its mysteries; but the exclusive eulogium pronounced
upon him by Dr. Ferriar of Manchester, is rather fanciful
than just.
But with the exception of Hippocrates, all these medical
DISEASES.
writers were surpassed by Galen, whose works, extraordin- Mental
ary and profound on other topics, demand careful study in |Diseases.
respect to madness. He deemed the brain the great organ '''—'v—'
of intellect. The nerves proceeding from it are, according
to him, the instruments both of sensation and of voluntary
motion, but require for their efficiency what he styled the
pneuma, or animal spirit; an agent of unknown nature, con¬
tained primarily in the ventricles of the brain, and sent forth
thence, as occasions required, to various members of the
body. We have here a mixture of truth and of hypothesis,
which may equally bear on insanity, or tend to distract atten¬
tion from its actual phenomena. But, whatever may have
been his errors in physiology, and however defective his pa¬
thology of derangement, he must be exempted from a charge
which more successful researches of a similar kind have
encountered in modern times. No one, who credits his dis¬
avowal of the animal spirit being either the essence or the
habitation of the soul, can charge him with materialism;
whilst he was at pains to set forth the goodness and wisdom
of God in adjusting the members of animals to the purposes
for which they were destined.
A neat abstract of Galen’s views, relative to the brain
and nerves, was given by Oribasius, a physician of Alexan¬
dria. Not long afterwards, JEtius, who studied there, be¬
sides compiling from other writers, made original observa¬
tions on the same system. He was followed by Trallianus,
signalized for particular attention to one species of insanity.
These and other authors adhered in general to the doctrines
of Galen, whose influence may be discerned throughout the
medical productions of many centuries, having survived the
extinction of the Greek schools, pervaded the writings of
the Arabians, and sprung up afresh on the restoration of
learning in Europe. In the fifteenth century, one eminent
anatomist, Vesalius, thought proper to attack it with great
keenness and no small effect. But even he adopted certain
portions of his doctrines, more especially regarding the phy¬
siology of the nervous system. The brain was considered
by him as the seat of the rational soul, which he believed
to act on the sentient and moving frame through the nerves;
in the distribution of which, particularly as far as the lower
animals are concerned, he admitted the substantial accuracy
of the master whom he chose to assail. Galen soon found
an able advocate in Laurentius. The history of anatomy
by this author, has a value distinct from a defence of Galen,
whom he occasionally opposes; particularly in denying that
the nerves of sensation arise from the brain, and those of
motion from the spinal chord. One passage in it has been
thought remarkable : “ Uni versa Arabum schola mansiones
multas in cerebro statuit et singulis facultatibus singulas
sedes adsignat.”
Passing by inferior authors, who treated incidentally of
mental disorders, subsequently to the time of Laurentius,
we ought to mention the services rendered to the physio¬
logical department by Willis, whom Dr. F riend rather strange¬
ly styled, “ the first inventor of the nervous system ;” by
Vieussens, a labourer in the same field ; and by Baglivi, an
extensive practitioner as well as skilful anatomist. But the
doctrines of Stahl are curious and widely influential. Adopt¬
ing the early opinion, namely, that matter is incapable of
moving or of being moved, without the agency of mind,
whilst he conceived the brain to be the organ of the soul,
his speculative genius led him to ascribe all corporeal opera¬
tions to the animating principle; regardless of various func¬
tions in which the laws of mechanics and chemistry are
concerned, and of common language, which he either aban¬
doned or employed without sanction. Thus, his favourite
term, rational soul, had a meaning more extensive than its
casual import, and comprehended the entire vital pheno¬
mena, as well as those faculties which are deemed purely
intellectual. His theory of health and of disease followed ;
the former being the right course of the functions under the
MENTAL DISEASES.
581
r Mental guidance of the rational soul, and the latter the efforts at
Diseases, redress made by the same power. According to this view
might be inferred, that, though styled a disorder, madness
itself is salutary or remedial, and may be said to have “ me¬
thod in it,” medically as well as poetically.
Hoffman, the colleague of Stahl at Jena, differed from him
in several respects ; particularly in distinguishing between
phenomena dependent on mechanical and chemical laws,
those which he ascribed to the sentient soul, as perception, me¬
mory, desire, and the like; and, lastly, those ofthe rational soul,
the peculiar characteristic of our species, by which we com¬
pare and judge of ideas. Besides much that is luminous and ex¬
plicit in his general doctrines, Hoffman, by his remarks on
the nervous system, gave immense aid to the student of in¬
sanity. It is a proof of his merit, that Cullen took him as a
guide in this province of pathology, notwithstanding the
claims of Boerhaave, whose comparative inattention to the
vital powers in health, impaired or vitiated his explanation
of the departures from the state of sanity. To a certain
extent, however, this great physician made up for this defi¬
ciency by an investigation of the mental faculties, and an
exposition of some phenomena of the senses, with a success
which might have been sufficient to direct subsequent re¬
searches concerning the nature of disease. Two of his pu¬
pils, Gaubius and Haller, signalized themselves partly in
this line of inquiry, but still more in advancing physiology
to the rank of a science. Regarding our subject as con¬
nected with the structure and functions of the nervous sys¬
tem, we may also mention the names Red, Prochaska, Riche-
rand, Bichat, Le Gallois, Flourens, Bellingeri, Majendie,
Brodie, Bell, Philip Watson, Marshall Hall, Mayo, Macart¬
ney, Treviranus, Brachet, and Tiedemann, all labourers,
more or less successful, in developing this portion of the ani¬
mal economy. A brief sketch of some of their discoveries
and views may now be offered in elucidation of our subject.
Modem Living animals exhibit great differences of structure and
esearches. functions, admitting classification into genera and species;
distinctions probably coeval with the dawn of philosophy.
In considering them, we perceive gradations of endowment,
from the merest indication of a vital principle to the display
of intellectual and moral powers, such as are found in our
own race ; and there exists, we know not how, a corres¬
pondence between these and the varieties of bodily mechan¬
ism, or the material constitution of the beings themselves.
Like the elements of which his frame is a compound, he
is subjected to mechanical and chemical laws ; and also,
like the lower animals, he depends on a systematic assem¬
blage or series of agencies, for those properties which he
has in common with them; whilst his superiority can neither
be possessed nor exercised without visible and palpable or¬
gans suitable for its maintenance. So far, therefore, from
denying or lightly esteeming this mysterious union, he ought
to study it as a proof of divine wisdom and beneficence,
accomplishing the kindest designs by the best arrangements.
Supposing, with Sir John Herschel, that there is a well-
grounded expectation, “not only of constant increase in the
physical resources of mankind, and the consequent improve¬
ment of their condition, but of continual accessions to our
power of penetrating into the arcana of nature, and becom¬
ing acquainted with her highest laws,” the conclusion thence
deducible in regard to mind is, “ that it is the fittest agent
which could have been employed for working upon matter
and, in regard to matter, “ that it is the fittest instrument
which could have been placed under the disposal of mind.”
The science of both, considered in this relation, may conse¬
quently be prosecuted without any apprehension of danger,
or rather with the hope of advantage ; and, on the same
principle, legitimate comparisons of our species with other
living beings may be deemed as safe as they are felt to be
interesting. If there be truth in the opinion of Hall, him¬
self a sufferer under this malady, that, though inferior in the
perfection of several of his senses to different parts of the Mental
brute creation, the superiority ot man over all of them con- diseases,
sists in his power ot multiplying bv new combinations his ~,l“-
mental perceptions, and thereby creating to himself resources
of happiness separate from external sensation ; we may be
assured, that neither its value nor its beauty will be impaired
by our discovering a portion of organized matter subservient
either to the greater acquisition, or to an excellence, differ¬
ing in kind no less than degree, in which man has no com¬
petitor on earth.
Keeping in view, then, particular no less than general Internal
differences amongst animals, but passing over their outward structure,
forms and members, we might appeal to their internal struc- a.nd func-
tures, with the corresponding functions, as ample proof oftlons*
adaptation. Thus, provision is made in all for nutrition or
the assimilation of food; connected with this are secretion,
excretion, &c.; then come circulation by means of a heart
and blood-vessels, with respiration by the trachea and lungs,
processes somewhat higher in mechanism ; next the faculty
of locomotion, in all its diversities ; and, lastly, that by which
the continuance, or rather the reproduction of beings, is se¬
cured. This is but an outline, and requires much filling
up, with many qualifications. It shows complexity, how¬
ever, and suggests the possibility of such occurrences as
constitute errors or derangement, especially when, besides
the numbers of parts and operations concerned, we take
into account the intimate relations in which they stand
to each other. Madness is obviously a departure from the
harmony of health.
With respect to this influence, we must in every case
have recourse to structure. It is maintained, we cannot
tell how, by an apparatus widely diffused throughout ani¬
mals, and endowed with very peculiar powers or virtues, to
which all the changes in the living body must in greater
or less degree be referred. The laws of mechanics and
of chemistry may, and do go far to solve some of the phe¬
nomena above mentioned ; but they have hitherto failed,
and ever will fail, to explain the whole of them; whilst,
beyond all question, there is a region to which they are
entirely inapplicable, a region with affinities and repulsions
ot its own, displaying an infinitude of actions or events not
less curious and intricate than liable to irregularities. It
need scarcely be said that we allude to the nervous system,
a portion or modification of which is possessed apparently
by all animals, and to their peculiar share in which our own
species is indebted for its superiority over them.
In certain animals, the existence of a nervous system is Nervous
hardly demonstrable, but may be inferred ; in a grade some- system,
what higher, we find several whitish lines or masses (some
more easily discernible than others) connected with the
apparatus for digestion ; ascending, there may be observed
a double chord between the head and posterior extremity,
occasionally expanding into knots or ganglia ; still proceed¬
ing upwards, we perceive a large and peculiar portion of
the nervous system enclosed and defended by a series of
hard, nicely-adjusted, and slightly moveable joints, (verte¬
bra;), and terminating at one extremity in a bony cell or re¬
ceptacle, {cranium), in which also there is a mass of simi¬
lar pulpy matter ; whilst, from the great trunk thus envelop¬
ed proceed numerous filaments of the same substance towards
the muscles, viscera, organs of sense, and in short every por¬
tion of the body susceptible of feeling, motion, or other vital
power. Amongst the animals of this last kind, comprehend¬
ing fishes, reptiles, birds, and the mammalia, the distribu¬
tion of nerves, whether issuing from the vertebrated column,
or belonging to a separate assemblage called ganglionia,
bears relation to their diversity of functions, and may thus
be said to establish their respective ranks. In other words,
they seem to be endowed with powers proportional to the
extent and complication of the system; and there is reason
to believe, proportional to the development of that part which
582
MENTAL DISEASES.
Mental terminates in or is connected with the cranium. All of them
^Diseases. have at ieast five senseS) with various propensities, whether
instinctive or acquired ; certain percipient faculties ; and a
measure of what may be denominated intelligence. At the
head of the list is man, who, besides a nervous system re¬
sembling that of inferior animals, and destined to similar
purposes, possesses a brain more diversified and complex
than any of them, and which may be presumed from analogy
to be connected with, if not essential to, his supremacy in
intellect of moral affections. “ Of the general position,”
says Dr. Kidd, “ that the brain is the instrument of intelli¬
gence, and that the degree of intelligence characteristic of
different classes of animals is proportioned to the approxi¬
mation of their structure to that of man, it may for the pre¬
sent be presumed that no one doubts.” Again, having
noticed a modern theory which ascribes peculiar mental
functions to special localities in the brain, he observes;
“ There are many phenomena, connected with the moral
and intellectual faculties of man, both in a healthy and dis¬
eased state, which, by shewing the reciprocal influence of
the two distinct parts of our nature, the soul and the body,
render it probable that the energies of the former, although
it be itself immaterial, may be manifested by means of a ma¬
terial instrument.” Lastly, the same author admits, in
concert with all sound physiologists that, whether the brain
act as one simple organ, by the simultaneous operation of
all its parts, or whether these act separately and indepen¬
dently in the production of specific effects, it is undeniably
the instrument by which, principally, if not exclusively,
the well-known communication is maintained between the
external world and the intelligent soul. Assuming these
premises as incontrovertible, we only require other decisive
observations to establish a basis on which many of the phe¬
nomena of insanity must depend. The powers of the mind,
like those of the body, may be strengthened by exercise;
they are also liable to injury from a variety of causes ; and,
as they gradually advance to maturity from the period of birth,
so, in the order of nature, there in them is a tendency to¬
wards weakness and apparent decay or extinction, when the
corporeal frame itself is about to separate into its physical
elements.
Province of tlie sou1 in its uncombined state, the pure physiologist
the physi- can take no cognizance. His only legitimate method termi-
oiogist. nates w ith the physical phenomena; all beyond or above per¬
taining to the speculations of moralists and the disclosures of
revelation, to which he may freely have recourse when his own
science fails. “ Laissons parler de fame ceux a qui appartient
f explication des doctrines religieuses,” says Guislain; “unis-
sons ce principe au corps, puisqu’on letrouvepartout en con¬
nexion avec le corps, et envisageons tout simplementle moral
tie fhomme comme une fonction: nous pouvons le faire, sans
enfreindre ce que nous devons a la science divine, et a nous
memes.”1 One of our objects in this article is an attempt to
reconcile the truths of science. We conceive the living
body to be the theatre of various combinations and of events
which are not explicable by mechanical and chemical
agents, but which acknowledge a power vested in the ner-
chus system ; in other words, that apart from physics and
voemistry, there is a vital force in this portion of the ani¬
mal economy, by which many if not most of its actions are
governed in the state of health, and to the derangements of
which certain morbid symptoms must be ascribed. In point
of fact, the formation of this system precedes the construc¬
tion of all the organs designed for specific purposes, and
appears essential to them. Thus Tiedemann found that,
in the case of acephalous monsters, the deficiency of parts
bore relation to the want of those nerves which are distributed
to them in the rightly-constituted fetus; that, if the spinal
chord be perfect, certain parts/corresponding with it, are also Mental
complete; that a similar remark applies to the nervous diseases,
trunks issuing from the brain, in connection with other parts
to which they are respectively distributed; and that, on the
contrary, if either the spinal chord or the brain be imper¬
fectly developed, or altogether absent, the organs dependent
on them are proportionally deficient or altogether wanting.
We must believe, therefore, that the perfection of the ner¬
vous system is essential to the harmony of the whole frame
with its corresponding functions, whilst each portion of it
has its peculiar endowment, which is not transferable to or
capable of being ministered by another. Impressions on
the nerve of the eye, accordingly, excite ideas of vision;
on the nerve of the ear, those of hearing; but we are
quite at a loss to point out any peculiarity of organization fit¬
ted to account for the differences in function, or to trace the
manner in which affections of these nerves are transmitted
to the common sensorium. “ To the most minute examina¬
tion,” says Sir Charles Bell, “the nerves, in all their course,
and where they are expanded into the external organs ofsense,
seem the same in substance and in structure. The disturb¬
ance of the extremity of the nerve, the vibrations upon it,
or the image painted upon its surface, cannot be transmitted
to the brain according to any physical laws that we are ac¬
quainted with. The impressions of the nerve can have no
resemblance to the idea suggested in the mind. All that
we can say is, that the agitations of the nerves of the out¬
ward senses are the signals, which the Author of nature has
made the means of correspondence with the realities.” A
again, “ Even the determined relations which are establish¬
ed, in a common act of perception, have no more actual
resemblance. How the consent, which is so precise and
constant,#is established, can neither be explained by ana¬
tomy nor by physiology, nor by any mode of physical in¬
quiry whatever.” May we not then affirm that there is a
thinking and sentient substance diffused over and intimately
united with the whole material frame, capable of acting on
it in a variety of ways, and of being as variously reacted on,
yet that, though this be no less incontestible than any truth
in science, the human faculties cannot possibly discover
the grounds or nature of their relationship ?
But whilst our ignorance to this extent must be acknow- Classifica-
ledged, and even in regard to functions not involving con- tion of the
sciousness or intellect, there are grounds for classifying the phenomena
phenomena of the nervous system in connexion with its
distribution in point of structure. These have generally been
arranged in two large portions, called the cerebro-spinal and
the sympathetic or ganglionic; to which, a recent author,
Dr. Marshall Hall, proposes adding a third division, under
the name of true spinal or excito-motory. According to this
view, which may be safely assumed without controversy on
the present occasion, we have, in a tabular form, exclusive
of details,
The Cerebral, or Sentient and Voluntary System, Cerebral
divisible into, I. The Cerebrum, comprehending its cortical system,
and medullary substances, the hemispheres, anterior lobes,
corpora striata, thalami, and tuber annulare. II. The Cere¬
bral nerves, divisible into two classes, the sentient and the
voluntary, the former of which we have examples of in the
olfactory, optic, and auditory nerves; and of the latter in
the oculo-motory, the masticatory, and myo-glossal. HI. The
Cerebellum, comprehending its middle and lateral lobes. The
first great division, therefore, comprehends the whole of
that part of the nervous system which relates to sensation
and volition in all their diversities. The centre thereof is
the cerebrum and cerebellum. The sentient nerves run from
the organs of sense and external surfaces, first without the
cranium or spine, and then within both, to that centre;
1 Traite sur lAlienation Mentale, p. 35.
MENTAL DISEASES.
583
tem
Mental whereas, the voluntary nerves take the reverse course, name-
Diseases. ly, from that centre to the muscles of voluntary motion.
The True Spinal or Excito-Motory System.-—This
Spinal sys.jg divisible into the true medulla and the true spinal nerves.
Under the former we have, the tubercula quadrigemina,
medulla oblongata, and medulla spinalis ; under the latter
are, the excitor and the reflex or motor branches, both being
exemplified in nerves distributed to the eye-lid, nostril, fau¬
ces, larynx, pharynx, stomach, vesicse, and other parts, and
having the respective or relative offices implied in their ge¬
neric titles. Speaking of this division, Dr. Hall says, “ The
first, or the excitor nerves, pursue their course principally
from internal surfaces, characterised by peculiar suscepti¬
bilities, to the true medulla oblongata and spinalis ; the se¬
cond, or the motor nerves, pursue a reflex course from, that
medulla to muscles having peculiar actions concerned prin¬
cipally in ingestion and egestion. The motions connected
with the cerebral subdivision are sometimes, nay frequently,
spontaneous; those connected with the true spinal are, I
believe, always excited.” Considering, lastly, the fifth and
the posterior spinal nerves as allotted to the nutrition, &c.,
of organs, this gentleman subdivides the third great divi¬
sion, or ganglionic, into the internal, comprising the sym¬
pathetic and pneumogastric; and the external, comprising
the above mentioned portions.1 His conclusions, as there
represented, in regard to sympathies, and the influence of the
ganglionic nerves on them, a subject very intimately con¬
nected with certain alleged causes, and therefore with the
nature, of insanity, may be briefly stated. “ 1. When the
action of the organ primarily excited, and that of the or¬
gan secondarily implicated, both depend upon the cerebral
nervous system, the communication takes place through
the medium of cerebral nerves, and the sympathy is cere¬
bral, whatever be the cerebral sensation or muscular move¬
ments which residt. 2. When both actions depend upon
the ganglionic system, be they secretion, exhalation, in¬
flammation, &c., the ganglionic nerves are necessarily the
medium of communication, and the sympathy is ganglionic.
3. When one of the actions depends upon the cerebral, and
the other upon the ganglionic system, the sympathy is of a
mixed nature. 4. When the primary excitement is applied
to the cerebral system, and the sympathetic affection de¬
pends upon the ganglionic, the communication begins w ith
the cerebro-spinal, and is transmitted to the ganglionic sys¬
tem by some of their numerous anastomoses, and the sym¬
pathy may be termed cerebro-ganglionic, and vice versa”
In the opinion of this author, the ganglionic system has no
influence on the passions, excepting in as far as it reflects on
the brain those impressions which are received from the
viscera.
The preceding statement shews the extreme intricacy
of the nervous system, and its wonderfxd subserviency to
t the ner- ap fr,e phenomena discoverable amongst animals. One por-
sfs- tion of this system, namely, the ganglionic, exists also in the
vegetable world. In fact, the functions performed by the
nervous system are obviously twofold; one class minister¬
ing, to consciousness, and the other being that by which nu¬
trition, secretion, and involuntary muscular action in all its
forms, are regulated. The former are simply channels of
communication, or media of transmission, between the ex¬
ternal world and the sentient intelligent principle ; the lat¬
ter, besides conveying impressions, are endowed with powers
by which specific effects are produced, independently of any
direct agency in the brain and spinal chord. Admitting
the entire and harmonious state of both to be requisite to
perfect health of body and mind, the first class is more
particularly concerned in any theoretical view of insanity,
and consequently demands our special attention.
Extreme
ntrieacy
ous
em.
Being divisible into sentient and voluntary, as already Mental
she wn, they are sometimes separate in their course to or from Diseases-
yai ious members and organs,but more often bound up togethert <
in one investing sheath. The division, alteration or lesion Dws'on>
of the nerves, by any means whatever, suppresses or im- nr Wnn^’f
pairs their functions beyond the point at which the injury nerves,
is applied. The effects and symptoms of disturbance in their
functions, however produced, are of at least two kinds ;
namely, those of depression and excitement, to which may
be added vitiation or change, not referable to either of these
two. Injuries of the nerves are characterised by different
features or consequents, according to the nature of the of¬
fending causes. These remarks apply, with some modifica¬
tions, to the spinal chord and to the contents of the ence¬
phalon. The former, like the nerves, ministers to con¬
sciousness, and has at the same time an influence on anato¬
mic life. It has distinct fasciculi, destined to subserve sen¬
sation and volition ; in a certain degree it is an organ of
transmission to, and for the exercise of its functions, partly
dependent on, the mass within the cranium ; and like the
nerves, it is liable to various morbid affections, denoted by
corresponding symptoms, as loss of power, or sensation, or
both, beyond the seat of injury.
Our information concerning the encephalic portion of the Encephalic
system is by no means satisfactory. Of the medulla oblong- portion of
ata, however, we may observe that, besides giving rise totlle system*
nerves, in the same manner as the spinal chord, and proving
the channel of communication between it and the brain, it
seems immediately to connect the bodily frame with the sen¬
tient principle; and, hence, the entire obliteration of con¬
sciousness follows the separation of this organ at a particular
point. That the cerebellum, again, is of material importance,
not only in the physical economy, but also in regard to cer¬
tain affections of mind, can hardly be doubted, though its
physiology is exceedingly obscure. We are inclined to be¬
lieve that it is subservient to volition though in a manner
quite inexplicable ; and, upon this hypothesis we should ven¬
ture to reconcile numerous experiments and observations
to which it has been subjected. Of the cerebrum, which
is still more complex, we have already stated all that seems
to be necessary ; concurring as we do in the opinion, that whilst
it ministers to other purposes, it is the organ instrumental
to various affections of mind, moral and intellectual. As
in the case of individual nerves, so in that of the whole
encephalic contents, structure throws no light upon the
offices performed; and hence we can point out no peculi¬
arity which fits any one portion for a distinct and specific
function. In truth, the most minute and correct observa¬
tions, aided by such experiments as were found practicable,
have merely traced an alliance between numerous phenome¬
na and conditions of structure, leaving the rationale or the
modus operandi as much in the dark as ever. If this then
be the fact, in respect to the state of health, we need scarce¬
ly wonder at the existence of similar or greater obscurity
regarding the causes of disease. For obvious reasons, they
may altogether elude our researches ; whilst, even if dis¬
covered, they may afford no explanation. Sound philoso¬
phy must have anticipated this conclusion. It holds good
in all physical science, where we discover only facts them¬
selves, and observe these following one another in a certain
sequence or order, which, however, does not even imply
their invariable far less their necessary connection. In
that still higher science, again, the phenomena of which are
characteristic of intellectual and moral power, the idea of cau¬
sation by material agency, illogical in the former case, is ren¬
dered obviously absurd by the existence of a principle devoid
of all the qualities which are amenable to the laws of che¬
mistry, of mechanics, or even of organic life.
1 For a valuable abstract of Bracket’s Experimental Inquiries into the functions of this third system, agreeing occasionally with Dr. Hall’s
views, but differing in arrangement, we wrould refer to the Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal, Nos. 126 and 129.
584
MENTAL DISEASES.
Mental Accordingly, an able pathologist, Mayo, having discussed
Diseases- various affections of the nerves depending on, or resulting
from, changes of structure, thinks it necessary to give up
in the ce attemPtinfer tlie arrangement of disorders in the cerebral func-
rebral tions on anatomical grounds; contenting himself, in the first
functions, instance, with grouping them in natural families, and leav¬
ing for future examination those conditions of the brain
with which they are associated. Amongst these he mentions
derangement, which, according to him, “ is either more a
mental than a corporeal disease, or else has to do with finer
shades of alteration of structure than anatomists can yet ap¬
preciate.” The remark appears to be perfectly just. What¬
ever may be the features of the malady,.the appearances on
dissection are often very trivial, and may be paralleled in
other cases where no similar morbid symptoms were atten¬
dant. Moreover, they may have been the effects, not the
causes. In no way, perhaps, are they properly, or at all
essential, precursors of the symptoms ; indeed, the actual
morbid state or organic lesion, on which these depend, may
have vanished with them at death, or subsequently. Lastly,
there is reason to believe that madness, though often, per¬
haps generally, if not always, a disease of the brain as re¬
gards function, has occasionally its source in some other vis-
cus. Les alterations organiques du cerveau,” says Guislain,
“ sont, parfois, une cause manifesto de folie; parfois, elles
sont 1’effet de cette derniere ; et il y a des cas ou il est dif¬
ficile, meme impossible, d’en determiner la vraie origine.”
Innumerable are the examples of errors or delusions, am-
mounting to positive and hopeless derangement; errors in
sensation, perception, propensity, affection, judgment, in
fact, in every department, for the solution or locality of
which we shall vainly employ the scalpel, syringe, or micro¬
scope of the dissecting room. But, notwithstanding the
disappointment thus to be expected, and the limits set to
our researches, there is much in the sentiments expressed
by the same writer. “ Je crois que la folie est une maladie
dont le siege est dans le cerveau ; mais quand je la place dans
cet organe, j’entends parler du mal meme, et non de sa cause.
(Test sur ce point que un grand nombre d’auteurs se sont ex-
pliques avec une obscurite impenetrable. On a dit: le siege
de la folie est peut-etre dans le foie, dans le cceur ou dans
tout autre organe ; mais, est-ce bien la que reside la maladie?
n’est-ce pas une cause de la folie qu’on y trouve ? Etre en
etat de folie c’est, en effet, avoir fentendement trouble ; et
jamais on ne placera fesprit dans la poitrine, ou dans le
ventre ; mais ce sont les parties organiques renfermees dans
ces cavites, qui peuvent devenir le foyer de quelque altera¬
tion, de quelque modification, que re-agisse sur le cerveau,
en causant la folie. Je dis, done, que falienation men tale
est toujours une maladie du cerveau, mais qu’elle peut avoir
pour cause 1’anomalie de quelque autre organe.”1 The ana-
logy of dyspepsia will at once occur here as an illustration;
because it is a disease, the seat of which we must assign to
the stomach, even although we should fail to discover its
cause in that organ.
Insanity; As to the precise condition of the part, or the nature of
opinions as the lesion, on which insanity depends, there is some differ-
to the con-ence of opinion amongst those who agree respecting its lo-
fesiorT'or^ Guislain conceives it to be a kind of sanguineous
which it de- orSasm or erethism, meaning thereby a sudden injection of
pends. blood-vessels, nearly allied to what is called nervous ex¬
citement or irritation. M. Georget deems it an ideopathic
inflammation of the brain, whilst the disorders of functions
and parts remote from that organ are only incidental con¬
sequences. Jacobi considers the cerebral affection as ra-
ther secondary, or of least importance in the series of mor¬
bid changes; madness, according to him, being to certain
visceial diseases what delirium is to fevers arising from some
visceral inflammation. In our judgment, each of these views Mental
seems partially correct, that is, it may be supported by a Diseases,
limited number of cases ; and the error of the theorists con-
sists in the exclusion of facts equally cogentwith those which
are produced and founded on. “ On examining the brains
of those who have died insane,” says Mayo, “ no constant
appearance is met with. When the complaint has not been
of long standing, or modified by phrenetic attacks, no change
at all is observed. The commonest appearance, after con¬
tinued mania, is thickening of the arachnoid ; this is indi¬
cative of former vascular action, which, however, has not
attended the ordinary course, but the occasional pyrexial ex¬
acerbation of the malady. The more rare appearances, such
as cysts and tumours of various kinds, may be viewed rather
as causes which have disposed the brain to the disease, ren¬
dering it unusually irritable, than as themselves the sources
of it. Or, in a brain disposed by other circumstances to
insanity, it is possible that these may act as exciting causes.”
We are inclined to generalize this last remark, on the ground
that, in peculiar constitutions, and possibly in all, under
peculiar circumstances, there needs only irritation in certain
portions of the nervous system, especially within the crani¬
um, to bring on insanity; but we at the same time admit,
that every one of the appearances enumerated by Mayo,
has been met with in brains the possessors of which never
shewed any symptoms of the disease. It may be thought
that the fact of the brain being a double organ, or consisting
of two hemispheres, each of which has similar functions,
is sufficient to account for such absence, where the appear¬
ance has been confined to one side only; the healthy, per¬
haps even the increased activity of the other, subduing or
concealing the tendency to morbid manifestation. But ad¬
mitting this idea as perfectly probable, we recur to the for¬
mer position, that the change of structure is often an effect
or incidental consequence of insanity, not its cause; and
we are convinced that, in the present state of physiological
and pathological science, the phenomena of insanity, like the
creations of poetry or the visions of a dream, which they
somewhat resemble, must often be studied without the hope
of deriving aid from the material system.
Without altogether coinciding with Heinroth, who seems
to regard moral depravity as the essential cause of insanity,
or of Mayo, who thinks “ it is practically more useful to
view this disease as a disease of the mind,” we are never¬
theless satisfied that logic, ethics, and religion, as well as
anatomy, pathology, and medicine, must be had recourse
to in developing and treating its phenomena. The best
known exciting or productive causes of the malady shew
the expediency of admitting both of the systems of interpre¬
tation thus briefly stated, more especially if taken in con¬
junction with circumstances which may be deemed ante¬
cedents or predisposing causes.
On whatever insanity depends, it prevails in particular Prevalence
families to a degree that warrants the title of hereditary; pf insanity
whilst, throughout many generations, not an example 0f itinsome ta‘
has been met with in others. In the former there are pe- milles
culiarities of constitution, habits, and tendencies to the dis¬
ease, which may be said to form a predisposition. Apart
from connate aptitude, another species originates with indivi¬
duals, from vicious indulgences, excessive occupation, ne¬
glect of general health, want of due mental training, er¬
rors in opinion and belief wilfully or carelessly entertained,
relinquishment of business or pursuits which afforded salu¬
tary exercise of thought, the adoption of modes of life in¬
compatible with previous tastes and propensities, and sub¬
jection to whatever excites or debilitates the nervous system
above or below a certain point. Any of these circumstan¬
ces may operate so as to occasion a susceptibility of the dis •
J
dii
Infli
ieii
it a
| Obit
1 use
’1 ich
u :e i
J
1 Guislain, sur VAlienation Mentale, p. 59, et seq.
MENTAL
Mental ease, which, again, may directly result from them as pro¬
diseases. ductive causes. In some states, there needs only a sudden
-''or a strong impression, to upset the reason, and bring on
decided madness; and it even appears, that, whether from
irritation, or some incomprehensible principle of mental con¬
tagion, this malady, like a plague or other pestilence, has often
in rapid succession, visited a number of persons who were
placed in similar circumstances^
ifluenceof As to the influence of sex, viewed in the light of a pre-
x’ disposition, we are inclined to believe, that the difference be-
laition. ’ fcween male and female is trivial, if at all discernible, as af-
' fecting the number or proportion of the insane, though by
no means immaterial in modifying the kind or the form of the
disease. But, in considering this point, attention must be
paid to the relative frequency or dominion of the different
predisposing and productive causes respectively operating
upon men and women. Insanity is very rare before puberty ;
the period in which its visitations are most frequent is be¬
tween twenty-five and sixty; but cases of it occur at seventy
and upwards. What is called temperament seems rather to
qualify the type, than to be of much consequence as to the
amount of persons attacked. A predisposition arises from
the malady itself, so that where it has once occurred, there
is an increased liability to attack. Comparing barbarous
and civilized countries, insanity prevails more in the latter,
and is scarcely known amongst purely savage tribes ; but,
whilst society unquestionably multiplies its causes, we are
unable to detect in the improvement of our species any ab¬
stract reason for greater proclivity. Upon the same prin¬
ciple, we ought to discriminate between education, taken
inj'general, and those misguided systems to which fashion,
caprice, vanity, and avarice often lend a currency. Precor
city of talent or genius, the idol of foolish parents, is a com-
rnon enough source of imbecility, and madness, and early
death. It requires anxious solicitude, but is not a theme
for boasting. Mysterious as the fact may appear, there is
a convertibility between derangement and some other mor¬
bid affections, so that the same individual may be subjected
to them alternately or in succession, and this frequently
throughout a long period of life ; and there are cases equally
marvellous, but more consolatory, in which, when an acute
disease has inflicted torture on the bodily frame, the mind
which for years did not emulate childhood, or was the vic¬
tim of despair, becomes disenthralled, and asserts the dig¬
nity of human nature.
— The productive causes of insanity are usually divided into
ch pro- physical and moral. Amongst the former, are injuries of
dre insan-the head, the abuse of stimulants, sensual vices, irritation of
the intestinal canal, and morbid affections of the uterine
system. The catalogue of the latter embraces all agencies
operating directly upon the mind, and its own states or com
ditions. “ Duplex est vis animorum atque naturae. Una
pars in appetitu posita est, quae est cpfirj Greece, quae ho-
minem' hue et illuc rapit; altera in ratione, quae docet et
explanat, quid faciendum fugiendumque sit: ita fit, ut ratio
praesit, appetites ob temper et.”1 Authors dispute as to the
comparative influence of these two classes, some ascribing
most to physical, and others to moral causes ; but, whilst the
distinction itself cannot always be nicely drawn, the calcu¬
lations of observers, are greatly at variance. We allude
particularly to Pinel, Esquirol, and Guislain, the discrepan¬
cies of whose statements, preclude any great confidence in
the speculative conclusions deduced from them. What,
then, shall be said of the doctrine maintained by Heinroth,
according to whom, “ il n’y a qu’une cause de trouble in-
tellectuel, et elle reside dans une predisposition de Tame
meme: un moral deprave; I’habitude des crimes ?” To this
the best answer, perhaps, may be given in the words of Guis-
DISEASES.
lain : “ Le systeme de Heinroth, envisage dans ses details,
n est pas tout-a-fait denue de verite ; car, si nous jetons un
COUD Q fPlI SllV 1 PC f] ifforOTVO  1,  1
585
Mental
diseases.
Qises
... 4 , '-til ? iiuua JCLUliO Ull
coup cl ceil surles differenscaracteresdeshommes, nous y ren-
controns, a chaque moment, cette predisposition.” “ Si Hein-
’ie adds, “avait ete moins general dans ses conclusions,
s ileut envisage le moral sous le rapport qu’il aavec les fonc-
txons du corps, sa theorie aurait, peut-etre, pu mener a
d heureux resultats: au reste, cet auteur est abstrait et hypo-
thetique, dans tout ce qu’il avance sur les alienations men-
tales ; il se livre, par fois, a des raisonnemens qu’on croirait
a peine etre fait par un medecin.” Dr. Prichard also ad¬
mits that the system has a partial foundation in truth, but
adds that “ a great proportion of the cases of insanity which
occur arise from causes independent of any moral weakness
or defect.” Insanity by no means stands alone in the pre¬
dicament of transgression; for the reasoning of Heinroth
might equally apply to fever, rheumatism, and many other
diseases. Vv e can trace this disease, where the supposition
of immorality would be as absurd as it is uncharitable. Ja¬
cobi, animadverting on Heinroth’s speculations, relates the
case of an amiable woman, who, after years of most vir¬
tuous conduct, and active benevolence, especially towards
insane persons, became deranged, but recovered befoi’e death.
I\ow let Professor Heinroth,” says he, “direct his atten¬
tion to the character of this excellent individual, and from
the point of view which he assumes, explain how the state
of mental darkness to which she was reduced can be re¬
garded as the result of guilt and evil conscience, connected
as it was with long-continued ill health, and in all proba¬
bility depending on a chronic bodily disease under wdiich
she had for a long time laboured.” Every one must have
heard of similar instances. For our own part, we should
deem the authenticated accounts of violent madness arising
solely from the want of food, and, still more of w7ater, dur¬
ing shipwreck, conclusive against the doctrine, to the ex¬
tent of its discarding physical causes.
Enough has been said to point out the sources of those
numerous diversities in the forms and symptoms, of in¬
sanity which engage the medical practitioner, and to which,
at the expense of very little genius or learning, the prin¬
ciples of classification and nomenclature have been- applied.
Were either physiology or metaphysics perfect, an arrange¬
ment of the entire phenomena presented by the disease, to¬
gether with suitable titles, would be comparatively an easy
task. But despairing of this, we content ourselves, with di-
visionsand terms, which, though objectionable on the ground
of logic, or not comprehensive of every peculiarity, are con¬
venient in the w7ay of reference and description. For our
purpose, two plans, having different characters, may be set
down as contrasts ; one aiming simply at utility to the phy¬
sician ; the other claiming dignity in alliance with mental
philosophy.
Dr. Prichard, availing himself of preceding systems and Dr. Prieh-
his ow n experience, distinguishes four principal forms of ard’s divi-
this malady, namely : 1. Moral insanity, being a perversion sio*1-
of the feelings, affections, inclinations, temper, habits, &c.,
without any remarkable disorder or defect of intellect, and
without illusion or hallucination. 2. Monomania, or partial
insanity, consisting in the influence or dominion of some spe¬
cial illusion, which generates one train of thought, or fixes
attention to a single object; whereas, when otherwise di¬
rected, the intellectual powers seem unimpaired. 3. Mania,
or raving madness, denoted by general derangement of the
understanding ; the reasoning faculty being either entirely
lost, or disturbed throughout all its exercises, and the pa¬
tient, consequently talking absurdly on all subjects to which
his thoughts may be directed. 4. Dementia, or incoherence,
characterised by rapid succession of ideas and emotions, hav-
*1 E
VOE. XIV.
1 Cicero de, Off. i. 28.
586 MENTAL DISEASES.
Mental ing little or no connection with forgetfulness; diminished
diseases, attention, and loss of judgment. Assuming that all the va-
rieties of madness may thus be classified, Dr. Prichard
thinks that it may be described as a chronic disease, manifest¬
ed by deviations from the natural and healthy state of the
mind; these “ consisting either in a moral perversion, or
a disorder of the feelings, &c., or intellectual derangement,
partial or general, or, lastly, confounding or destroying the
connexions or associations of ideas.”
Heinrotk’s Heinroth’s method proceeds on a three-fold division of
me'hod. the mental operations, accordingly as those relate to feel-
ing or sentiment, understanding, and wdll. Hence, we have,
for the principal modifications : I. Disorders of the moral
dispositions: 1. Exultation or excessive intensity, of feelings,
passions, and emotions; and, 2. Depression, including simple
melancholy, dejection without illusion. II. Disorders of
understanding, or the intellectual faculties: 1. Exaltation,
undue intensity of imagination, producing illusions ; and,
2. Depression, feebleness of conception, imbecility of judg¬
ment. III. Disorders of the voluntary powers : 1. Exalta¬
tion, violence of will and propensities ; and, 2. Depression,
weakness or incapacity of will, moral imbecility.
Instead of commenting on these or other schemes of
arrangement, we shall merely remark, that, in practice,
the same case frequently displays considerable variety,
so as to run through nearly any system of classification ;
that, in general, it is more expedient to consider special
errors and defects in relation to the mind taken as a whole,
than as restricted to one or other of its supposed compart¬
ments or provinces that, in whatever manner we view or
divide the mental operations, it is advisable to regard their
apparent perversion, as a modification distinct from either
their excitement above or dimunition below what constitutes
the healthy state ; and that, whilst physiology assures us
there are numerous diversities of functions, each of which
has its allotted instrument, it is consistent equally with our
know ledge and our ignorance to detect and specify the pre¬
cise symptoms of their diseases rather than to find “ a local
habitation and a name” for them in any metaphysical no¬
sology.
The sub-- The subject of treatment is too technical, for a summary
ject of like the present; but a few observations thereon may never-
tieatment. j]ieiess pe hazarded. As the brain and nervous system,
form an important part of the animal economy, and as
they are affected by all the laws which regulate it, their
morbid conditions must be treated according to those prin¬
ciples and plans which have been found expedient and
serviceable in the maladies of other portions. The pecu¬
liar functions with which these parts are endowed, under¬
go changes which may afford corresponding indications of
cure; but the latter cannot be fulfilled by agents pos¬
sessing specific virtues, nor by any exclusive procedure.
For unsound minds, as for fractured limbs, the boldness
of quackery has hitherto announced few sovereign reme¬
dies ; and, believing that there is really none such, ex¬
perienced physicians have recourse to measures ordinarily
available in their profession. They endeavour, accord¬
ing to circumstances, to subdue inflammation, to allay ex¬
citement, to remove irritating causes, to counteract depres¬
sion, to promote digestive action, to regulate the secretions,
and excretions, to promote or maintain strength; in short,
to establish good physical health, as a requisite (sometimes
the only one) to the acquisition and enjoyment of mental
sanity. Attention to these points must commence and ter¬
minate with the case, which, howTever obstinate, or seemingly
hopeless, ought never to be entirely abandoned, or left to
the nostrums of unscientific keepers. Much more, not of
a medical character, is frequently necessary, and can only
be supplied in appropriate asylums. The benefits to be de¬
rived from these are immense, and cannot be too highly
estimated. Contrary to a vulgar and unjust prejudice, the
features by which they are best known most powerfully re- Mental
commend them. They offer greater safety than can be diseases,
secured amidst the erroneous tenderness, the injudiciousN'—
efforts, the distraction, and often the dreadful apprehensions,
of relations and friends;—the retirement and seclusion,
which they immediately accomplish, are proved by innumer¬
able undoubted testimonies to be not only conducive, but,
in certain cases, necessary, to allay irritability, destroy de¬
lusions, and give full effect to professional skill;—whilst, in
the control which they exercise, the self-restraint which they
cherish, the regularity of habits which they are calculated to
generate, the occupation afforded to the strong, the repose
and solace to the feeble, the direct supervision and prompt
help to all, there is a combination of positive and negative
advantages,wrhich not only divests insanity of much of its hor¬
rors, by concealing or subduing them, but actually obtains
a victory over it scarcely equalled by medicine in any other
formidable disease. In some establishments of the kind, the
average of recoveries is from sixty to eighty, and even ninety
per cent.; that of thirty or forty being reckoned small in
our day. Any of these results is gratifying to humanity.
As a knowledge of the nature and seat of disease is es- Errors that
sential to the adoption of a right method of cure, we can prevailed in
make large allowance for errors which long prevailed in the the treat-
treatment of insanity. In truth, the works professedly wTrit-1116111 in-
ten on this branch of medicine were few ; and, before the sanlt' ‘
middle of last century, it obtained comparatively little at¬
tention. The remedial measures were at first nearly alto¬
gether superstitious. For a long time they seem to have
been mostly empirical, or suggested by incidental circum¬
stances. In many instances they must be charged with
cruelty, or at least gross want of sympathy ; and very few
of them, indeed, can be traced to any thing like a just theory
either of mind or of the corporeal frame. Convincing proofs
of these remarks will be found in the Traite du Delire, by
Fodere, to which the reader is referred. Amongst the writ¬
ers enumerated by this author as deserving of notice, are
Coelius Aurelianus, who reprobated severity, and prescrib¬
ed on the whole a gentle treatment, both medical and mo¬
ral ; Avicenna, whose employment of emetics, purgatives,
bleeding, bathing, and the like, had an appearance of mo¬
deration, not a little contrasted, unhappily, by the use of the
actual cautery and other harsh measures; Savanarola, a
physician of the sixteenth century, remarkable for inculcat¬
ing a judicious moral procedure, yet practising sundry modes
of castigation to an extent scarcely consistent with human¬
ity ; Plater, Riviere, Sennertus, and others in the seventeenth
century, diligent but rather indiscriminate advocates of what
has been styled the antiphlogistic system; Mathiolus and
Etmiiller, who introduced certain preparations of antimony,
with a view to the evacuation of black bile, which was long
supposed to be materially concerned in one species of de¬
rangement ; Wepfer, no less strenuous in his admiration of
mercury, which he used with a liberal hand, sometimes-com¬
bined with opium; and Sydenham, the Hippocrates of Eng¬
land, whose sagacity in detecting diversities of madness was
equalled by the appropriateness of his therapeutic efforts,
but who does not seem to have had employment enough in
this department of his profession to do more than point out
the expediency of improvement. This may be said to have
been effected gradually, by Mead, Morton, Wedel, Camera-
rius, Vogel, Lorry, Stoll, and other practitioners, till we
reach the days of Willis in England, who, though not a phy¬
sician, delighted his countrymen and astonished the world
by his triumph over this malady, especially in the case of
George III., at a period when, judging from prevalent opi¬
nions, the idea of success was regarded as almost visionary.
His assertion, that nine persons out of ten had recovered,
when placed under his care within three months from the at¬
tack, excited nearly universal scepticism ; and, in allowing
his majesty to make use of a razor, whilst he himself stood
MENTAL
Mental by as a spectator, a great part of the nation, besides being
diseases. alarmed, saw ground for doubt whether the royal patient or
his attendant were the more insane. From this event, though
the proportion of cures may have rarely been such as Willis
declared, it is certain that medicine has acquired a decided
mastery over the class of mental diseases. In proof of what
is here stated, we might appeal to the results of practice
in numerous establishments, or disclosed by various indivi¬
duals through the medium of the press; but, instead of
naming the most eminent of those who have thus promoted
science, we deem it better to narrate an occurrence of high
interest, which, in addition to the personal virtue it displays,
sets forth the nature of an improvement in which humanity
must ever rejoice.
Final’s me- In the year 1792, when a system of most barbarous coer-
liod. cion prevailed almost universally in the prisons of maniacs,
the elder Pinel, after repeatedly, but vainly, urging that his
government would permit the unchaining of patients in the
Bicetre, made personal application to certain authorities for
this purpose, and eventually, though with much difficulty,
succeeded. He was accompanied in his benevolent visit by
Couthon, a member of the commune, who seems to have
been rather forced than persuaded into the measure, and
whose reluctance was increased when he encountered the
horrid noises and wild aspect of the miserable beings upon
whom the experiment was about to be performed. “ Do
with them what you please,” said he to Pinel, “but I
fear you will be their victim.” The only reply was a com¬
mencement of the operation, by preparing as many strong
waistcoats as might be required instead of the chains
hitherto used. Twelve patients being selected for the trial,
one of these, reckoned equal to any in ferocity, was an
English officer, the particulars of whose history were un¬
known, save that he had been in fetters forty years, and
that in a fit of frenzy he had inflicted a fatal blow on his
keeper; a deed which, of course, led to greater i-estraint,
and justified much caution in approaching him. Entering
his cell without attendants, and speaking gently, “ Captain,”
said Pinel, “ I will order your chains to be taken off and
give you leave to walk in the court, if you will promise to
behave well, and not to injure any person.” “ Yes, I pro¬
mise,” was the answer, “ but you only laugh ; you are all
too much afraid of me.” “ There are six men at my com¬
mand, if necessary,” rejoined Pinel, “ but believe my word,
I will give you liberty, provided you put on this waistcoat.”
The offer was silently but cheerfully accepted, the keepers
retired, and the door of the cell was left open. After se¬
veral attempts to raise himself from a position which had
so long cramped his limbs, and having partly succeeded in
managing his equilibrium, the captain at length tottered
into the free air, when, looking up to the sky, he cried out
with enthusiastic delight, “ How beautiful!” During the
rest of the day he moved about constantly, often expressing
the pleasure he experienced ; in the evening he went vo¬
luntarily to his own cell, where a better couch than he had
been accustomed to was prepared for him ; and during two
years afterwards, he was not only undisturbed by such par¬
oxysms as he had formerly exhibited, but rendered him¬
self serviceable in the management of other patients.
The next subject of experiment proved to be a soldier of
the guards, had who been in chains for ten years, and whose
case had also called for extraordinary vigilance. Pinel,
thoroughly acquainted with his delusions and character,
promised the same relief; adding, by way of encouragement,
that he should be employed in setting others at liberty, and,
on good behaviour, taken into service. The desired effect
was realized. Upon being set free, the poor fellow shewed
at once his gratitude and obliging disposition; following
Pinel with an anxious eye, performing every order given
to him, and speaking reasonably as well as kindly to the
patients. During the rest of his life, this man continued de-
DISEASES. 58:
votedly attached to Pinel, whose son, the narrator of these Mental
affecting incidents, speaks of him with tenderness as a part- diseases,
ner in his own childish games. «*.
In the cases ot three Prussian soldiers, who had been
chained for many years, though in general calm and inoffen¬
sive, the experiment seems to have given them alarm, lest
new severities were to be inflicted, and it proved ineffica¬
cious, as the patients, either worn out by grief, or having
become quite imbecile, were insensible of the blessing con¬
ferred upon them. In the instance of a priest, advanced in
life, who had displayed religious excitement in one of its
most imposing forms, the release from chains, accompanied
by a judicious order on the part of Pinel, proved very satis¬
factory. That able physician directed the attendants, instead
of speaking to the patient, to practise his own exalted re¬
serve. The result was such as imprisonment and fetters never
did nor could produce. Gradually humbled and brought
down to a level with mankind, he mixed in the society of
other patients, and, ere a twelvemonth had expired, he was
dismissed from the Bicetre.
Such are a few particulars of a plan of treatment pursued
in regard to more than fifty maniacs, of different coun¬
tries and various conditions, with a success which at once
surpassed hope, put the opposite method to shame, and, by
its soothing influence, gave to other remedial measures a
chance of operating beneficially. We should decline pre¬
senting a contrast to the picture, by adducing the horrid
disclosures made in England, at a subsequent period by a
parliamentary committee, were there not a good purpose to
be served by keeping the memory of them alive, as an incen¬
tive and admonition.
The report to the House of Commons, dated the 11th of Report of
July 1815, commences by stating how sensible the members the com-
of the committee were of the importance of the matter en- mittee of
trusted to them, and their earnestness in performing the181°*
duty which they had undertaken, assigning the mass of evi¬
dence collected as a proof that their inquiries had been ex¬
tensive. Then follows a sentence which may be liable to
animadversion. “ It was their intention to make observa¬
tions in detail on the several heads of the examination taken
before them, and on the several public and private estab¬
lishments for the reception of insane persons ; but, on re¬
considering the whole subject, they have thought it advis¬
able, in the first instance, to make their report more gene¬
ral.” This determination was more prudent than wise ; for
it may be remarked, first, that the primary intention, if car¬
ried into effect, would have been more satisfactory than the
course actually adopted ; and, secondly, that the reasons for
the latter are by no means distinctly specified. The com¬
mittee were very probably restrained by the consideration
that the length of the inquiry had prevented a bill on the sub¬
ject from being passed during that session. But, be this as it
may, the report proceeds thus: “Your committee cannot hesi¬
tate to suggest, with the utmost confidence, from the
evidence they now offer to the house, that some new pro¬
vision of law is indispensably necessary for insuring better
care being taken of insane persons, both in England and
Ireland, than they have hitherto experienced, the number
of whom appears to be very considerable, as the inquiries of
the committee have convinced them that there are not in
the country a set of beings more immediately requiring the
protection of the legislature than the persons in this state,
a very large proportion of whom are entirely neglected by
their relations and friends. If the treatment of those in the
middling or in the lower classes of life, shut up in hospitals,
private mad-houses, or parish workhouses, is looked at, your
committee are persuaded that a case cannot be found where
the necessity for a remedy is more urgent.” After alluding
to some houses, (a few only), in which the arrangement was
comparatively good, and the treatment kind, the report pro¬
ceeds : “ But it is in proof, that there is just and great cause
588 MENTAL DISEASES.
Mental of complaint against by far the greater part of the houses of
diseases, tpjg description, which have hardly, in any instance, been
— ^ built for the purpose, and are incapable of being conveni¬
ently adapted to itthe favourable examples, only four in
number, being specified by the committee.
Observa- The observations of the committee in support of their
committee6 Senera^ allegation, are then classed under nine heads, as
i ommi ee. f0pows? j« Keepers of houses receiving a much great¬
er number of persons in them than they are calculated for;
and the consequent want of accommodation for the patients,
which greatly retards recovery. They are, indeed, repre¬
sented by the president of the College of Physicians, and
the physician acting as secretary to the visiting commission¬
ers, who must be considered as the most competent judges
on the subject, to be better calculated for the imprisonment
than the cure of patients.” 2. “ The insufficiency of the
number of keepers, in proportion to that of patients, which
unavoidably leads to a proportionably greater degree of re-
straint than they would otherwise be under.” 3. “ Mixing
patients who are outrageous with those who are quiet and
inoffensive; and those who are insensible to the calls of
nature with the cleanly.” 4. “ The want of medical assist¬
ance applied to the malady, a point worthy of the most se¬
rious attention, as the practice very generally is to confine
medical aid to corporeal complaints; which circumstance
the committee are the more desirous of enforcing on the
house, as an opinion has been given by a respectable phy¬
sician and another person of great experience, that when
the mental faculties are only partially affected, medical as¬
sistance is of the highest importance.” 5. “ Restraint of
persons much beyond what is necessary, certainly retarding
recovery, even beyond what is occasioned by the crowded
state of the house.” Of this many instances are given by the
committee. 6. I his article relates to the situation of parish
paupers confined in workhouses, regarding whom the com¬
mittee made some inquiries, “as connected with the matter
before them, although not expressly included in the refer¬
ence to them.” 7. “ Detention of persons, the state of whose
minds did not require confinement. On this ground of com¬
plaint the committee had very slender means of informa¬
tion.” 8. “ Insufficiency of certificates on which patients are
received into mad-houses.” 9- “ The defective visitation of
private mad-houses, under the provisions of the 14 Geo. III.
c.49”
Suggestions After this enumeration, the committee refer to Ireland, as
of the com-demanding even more urgently than England some further
mntee. provision for the safety and welfare of insane persons; and,
having adverted to other topics, they express themselves as
persuaded “ that when the extent of the evil pointed out
in this report shall be generally known, the visiting physi¬
cians in London and its neighbourhood will, as far as the
professional calls upon them will permit, give additional
attention to the duty they have been desirous of discharg¬
ing.” The committee-also trusted that justices of the peace
would “ watch as narrowly as circumstances would admit,
oyer the conduct of the keepers of houses;” and that ma¬
gistrates generally throughout the kingdom would think the
condition of insane persons worthy- of their attention, and
convey information to the Secretary of State, if in any
case of abuse a prosecution might be deemed requisite.”
The committee concluded byresolving, “ that the chairman
be directed to move the house, that leave be given to bring
in a bill to amend and enforce the provisions of the act of
the 14th Geo. III. c. 49, intituled, “ an act for regulating
mad-houses.”
mmkT11 ^ Ever>r one who. Peruses the evidence produced upon this
occasion, must think the report itself less impressive than
it might have been made, without any other labour than
that of condensing statements and arranging facts. Mem¬
bers of the house, having access to copies, and taking in- ^Iental
terest in the subject, could no doubt supply its deficiency. dlseases-
by the exercise of their own judgment, but at this period the
public at large needed to be directly and powerfully roused.
Looking, moi cover, to the almost total absence of any strong
public feeling of indignation regarding flagrant instances of
cruelty and systematic mal-administration, one might be
tempted to imagine that the committee either had not them¬
selves been convinced by the testimonies before them, or
were apprehensive of producing a dangerous excitement
throughout the country. The discoveries at York alone,
indeed, were enough to inflame one province. But what was
the ultimate result ? We answer in the words of a journal,’
which lent its powerful aid in diffusing both knowledge and
right feeling over society Under their tranquil but
steady guidance, (alluding to the Society of Friends, and to
events long previous to the committee’s inquiry), a new
establishment was formed, that began the great revolution
upon this subject, which we trust the provisions of parlia¬
ment will complete. Their institution, by gentle methods,’
&c., achieved what all the talents and public spirit of Mason
and his friends had failed to accomplish. It had still better
effects,—the complete overthrow of the old system.”1 Nay,
what was the immediate effect of the appointment of the
committee, and the anxiety it displayed ? Decided advan¬
tage to many sufferers. A speech of Lord Robert Seymour
in the House of Commons, penetrated Bethlem Hospital,
and produced reformation. But there remained much to
be done elsewhere ; and the fate of a bill for the better
regulation of mad-houses, presented by the committee,
showed how difficult was the task to secure complete relief.
It passed the Commons, but got no further. It was again
brought forward next session, and lost in the Upper House,
Or, more properly speaking, only postponed, with a view to
the rectification of defects then suggested; and, even at the
distance of several years, though the legislature interfered,
there existed, in various establishments, abuses sufficient
to justify the severe reprehensions of another committee.
Meanwhile, Scotland and Ireland, at different periods and
in various ways, received the attention of the legislature.andIre and
We cannot afford space to treat of what relates to both, or
enter upon details respecting either. It is sufficient to say,
that an act to regulate madhouses in the former was passed
during 1815, and, inter alia empowered Sheriff’s-depute to
make inspections throughout their jurisdictions, and to send
reports thereof to two bodies, the Court of Justiciary, and
the College of Physicians of Edinburgh ; that the" duty
thus enjoined has ever since been performed with unques¬
tionable benefit, though scarcely known to the public; but
that, notwithstanding the good intended or affected by it,
one great class of society, in the most unhappy of all circum¬
stances, (namely, pauper lunatics,) is left without adequate
provision. The opposition to the bill, proposed for their
relief by Lord Haddington, entailed a stigma upon this coun¬
try, which nothing but the most strenuous exertions, and
unwonted liberality, will ever obliterate. Scotland, edu¬
cated, and enlightened as she pretends to be, and with some
justice, is disgraced by the absence of national or pro¬
vincial asylums for these unfortunates; and, in regard to
institutions of the kind, which approximate to a really
public character, the metropolis is actually inferior to many
of the provincial towns, to Glasgow, Dundee, Perth, Aber¬
deen, Dumfries, and some others. Of late, however, efforts
have been made, by several benevolent individuals to wipe
off this reproach ; the subject has been examined in all its
details ; and as inquiry is the certain precursor of improve¬
ment, there can be little doubt, we should think, that the
principal evils felt and complained of will, ere long, be, in a
great measure, corrected. , (K. k. k. k.)
1 See Edinburgh Review, vol. xxviii.
MEN
Mentor MENTOR, in fabulous history, a faithful friend of Uiys-
U ses, a son of Hercules, a king of Sidonia, who revolted
Menzikoff. aga;nst Artaxerses Ochus, and afterwards was restored to
favour by his treachery to his allies. (Diod. 16.) An
excellent artist in polishing cups and engraving flowers on
them. (Plin. 33, c. 11; Mart. 9, ep. 60, v. 16.)
MENTZ, a considerable town of Germany, in the circle
of the Lower Rhine, and capital of the late electorate of
the same name, is situated on the Rhine near its confluence
with the Maine, twenty miles north-west of Worms, fifteen
west of Francfort, and seventy-five east of Triers, in E.
long. 8. 20. N. lat. 40. 51.
Mentz, called by the Germans Mainz or Maynz, and by
the French Mayence, is a city in the Rhenish province
of Hesse-Darmstadt, but is garrisoned and ruled, as far as
regards military affairs, by the German confederation. It
is situated on the left bank of the Rhine, over which there is
abridge of boats 1720 feet long, connecting it with the for¬
tifications of Cassel. It is one of the most powerful defences
of Germany on the side towards France, for besides its walls,
it has a citadel and several strong forts, with no less than
twenty-seven bastions. It is an ancient city, the Mogun-
tium of the Romans; but though well built in some parts,
it is in others in a ruinous state. It is the see of a Catholic
bishop, whose cathedral is a very striking object, both from
its size and the monuments and other antiquities. It con¬
tains eleven other churches, and several public buildings
remarkable for their antiquity rather than their beauty. The
city contains 2165 houses, and about 25,000 civil inhabi¬
tants, of whom one-third are said to be in a state of great
destitution. There are a few manufactures on a small scale,
but a considerable trade in wine, timber, and other goods,
is carried on by the Rhine. The vicinity is fruitful in
corn, and produces excellent wine. Lat. 49- 59.50. N. Long.
7.35.40. E.
MENTZEL, Christian, born at Frustenwall in the
Mittel-mark, is celebrated for his skill in medicine and bo-
tany, in pursuit of which he travelled through many coun¬
tries, and had correspondents in the most distant parts of the
world. He died in the year 1701, in about the seventieth
year of his age. He was a member of the academy of the Cu-
rieux de la Nature. His works are, \. Index NominumPlan-
tarum, printed at Berlin, folio, in 1696, and reprinted, with
additions, in 1715, under the title of Lexicon Plantarum
Polyglotton Universale ; 2. A Chronology of China, in Ger¬
man, printed at Berlin, in 1696, 4to. The following manu¬
scripts of his composition are preserved in the royal library
at Berlin, viz., 1. Sur Vllistoire Naturelle du Brasil, in 4
vols. folio; 2. Sur les Fleurs et les Plantes du Japan, with
coloured plates, 2 vols. folio.
MENUGAT, a smalltown of Asiatic Turkey, in Cara-
mania. It is situated on a river of the same name, which
hills into the Gulf of Satalia, and it is twenty-one miles west
of Alanieh.
MENZIKOFF, Alexander, was originally an appren¬
tice to a pastry-cook near the palace of Moscow, but by a
fortunate circumstance was drawn from that situation in
early life, and placed in the household of Peter the Great.
Having made himself master of several languages, and being
formed for war and for business, he first rendered himself
agreeable, and afterwards became necessary to his master.
He assisted Peter in all his projects, and was rewarded for
his services with the government of Ingria, the rank of
prince, and the title of major-general. He signalized him¬
self in Poland in 1708 and 1709; but in 1713 he was ac¬
cused of embezzling the public money, and fined in three
hundred thousand crowns. The Czar remitted the fine;
and having restored him to favour, gave him the command
of an army in Ukraine in 1719, and sent him as his ambas¬
sador into Poland in 1722. Being constantly occupied with
the means of preserving his influence after the death of his
M E Q 589
master, who was then evidently on the decline, Menz.ikoff Meotis
discovered the person to whom the Czar intended to leave II.
the succession. The emperor was highly offended, and his
penetration cost him the principality of Plescoff. Under y
the Czarina Catherine, however, he rose higher in favour
than ever, because, upon the death of the Czar in 1725, he
was active in bringing different parties in Russia to agree to
her succession. 1 his princess was not ungrateful. In ap¬
pointing her son-in-law Peter II. as her successoi', she com¬
manded him to marry the daughter of Menzikoff, and gave
the Czar’s sister to his son. The parties were actually be¬
trothed, and Menzikoff was made Duke of Cozel and grand
steward to the Czar. But this elevation was the prelude to
his fall. The Dolgoroukis, favourites of the Czar, had in¬
fluence enough to procure his banishment, together with
that of his family, to one of his own estates, at the distance
of two hundred and fifty leagues from Moscow. Having
had the imprudence to leave the capital with the splendour
and magnificence of a governor going to take possession of
his province, his enemies took advantage of this circum¬
stance to inflame the indignation of the Czar. At some dis¬
tance from Moscow, he was overtaken by a detachment of
soldiers, and the officer who commanded them having made
him alight from his chariot, which he sent back to Moscow,
placed him and his whole family in covered waggons, to be
conducted into Siberia, in the habit of peasants. When he
arrived at the place of his destination, he was presented with
cows and sheep big with young, and poultry, without know¬
ing from whom he received the favour. His house was a
simple cottage, and his employment was to cultivate the
ground, or to superintend its cultivation. New causes of
sorrow were added to the severities of exile. His wife had
died on the journey; he had also the misfortune to lose one of
his daughters by the small-pox; and his other two children
were seized with the same disease, but recovered. He sunk
under his misfortunes on the 2d of November 1729, and
was buried beside his daughter, in. a little chapel which he
had built. His misfortunes inspired him with sentiments
of devotion, which, amidst the splendour of his former situ¬
ation, he had altogether neglected.
MEOTIS, or Pales Masotis, the sea of Azof, which di¬
vides Europe from Asia, extending from the Crimea to the
mouth of the river Don or Tanais.
MEPHITIC, a name expressing any kind of noxious
exhalation, but generally applied to that species of vapour
called fixed air.
MEPHITIS Fanum, a temple erected near the Lacus
Amsancti, to the goddess Mephitis, who was also worshipped
at Cremona. Figuratively, Mephitis denotes a noisome or
pestilential exhalation.
MEQUINEZ, or Miquinez, the northern capital of the
empire of Morocco, stands at the extremity of the province
of Beni Hassan, eighty leagues north from the city of Mo¬
rocco (which is the southern imperial city), and twenty to
the east of Sallee and the ocean. Maknassa, its founder,
built it first at the bottom of a valley; but Muley Ismael ex¬
tended it considerably over the plain which lies to the west
of the valley. It is surrounded with well cultivated fields
and hills, adorned with gardens and olive plantations, and
abundantly watered with rivulets. The fruitfulness of the
soil, and the temperature of the climate, seem to produce
even a superior urbanity in the inhabitants. The winter,
indeed, is very inconvenient, on account of the dirtiness of the
town, the streets not being paved, and the soil being slimy.
Mequinez is surrounded with walls; and the palace is forti¬
fied with two bastions, on which some small guns were for¬
merly mounted. In this city Muley Ismael and Muley Ab¬
dallah often resisted the efforts of the Brebers, the sworn ene¬
mies of their tyranny. To the west are seen some walls of
circumvallation, six feet in height, which were probably
mere intrenchments for the infantry, the attacks of the
590 M E R
*v^er Rrebers being only sudden and momentary inroads, which
Mercantile n0t re(lu^re a long defence. The houses are neater
law. than those of Morocco, and here, as at Morocco, there is
walled and guarded suburb for the Jews, who are more
numerous, and can turn their industry to greater account,
than those of the northern capital. Near the Jewry there
is another inclosed and separate quarter, called the negro
town. It was built by Muley Ismael, for the accommoda¬
tion of those black families which composed his soldiery,
but it is now uninhabited.
At the south-east extremity of the city stands the palace
of the emperor, which was built by Muley Ismael. The
space occupied by this palace is very great; it includes se¬
veral gardens, elegantly disposed, and wTell wTatered. There
is a large garden in the centre, surrounded by a vast and
pretty regular gallery resting on columns, which communi¬
cates with the apartments. Those of the women are very
spacious, and have a communication with a large chamber
which looks into the garden. As you pass from one apart¬
ment to another, you find at intervals regular courts paved
with square pieces of black and white marble; in the mid¬
dle of these courts is a marble basin, from the centre of
which rises Sijetd’eau, and the waterfalls down into this basin.
These fountains are numerous in the palace ; they are use¬
ful for domestic purposes, and they serve for the ablutions,
w hich the scruples of the Mahommedans have exceedingly
multiplied. The palaces of the Moorish kings are large,
because they are composed only of one range of apartments,
which are long and narrow, and from eighteen to twenty feet
in height; they have few ornaments, and receive the light
by two large folding doors, which are opened more or less, as
occasion requires. The rooms are always lighted from a
square court in the centre, which is generally encompassed
with a colonnade.
The Moors here are more courteous than those in the
southern parts ; they are civil to strangers, and invite them
into their gardens, which are very neat. The women are
beautiful, and have a fair complexion, with fine black eyes,
and white teeth. They are sometimes seen taking the air on
the terraces ; they do not hide themselves from Europeans,
but retire very quickly on the appearance of a Moor.
MER, a town of Hindustan, in the Gulf of Cutch, on the
I'oad from Luckput Bunder to Mardanie, The longitude
has not been ascertained. Lat. 23. 32. N.
MER AT, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Delhi,
situated upon the western bank of the Calcerundy. It has
been fi-om ancient times a place of considerable consequence,
and is mentioned amongst the early conquests of Mahmoud
of Ghizni, in the year 1018. In 1399 it was taken and de¬
stroyed by Tamerlane. It was afterwards rebuilt, and when
this part of the province came into the possession of the
British, it was fixed upon as the capital of one of the dis¬
tricts into which the British possessions in the Doab of the
Ganges and Jumna were subdivided. In 1809 it wrasmade
one of the principal military stations under the Bengal pre¬
sidency ; it is thirty-two miles N.E. from Delhi. Long. 77.
33. E. Lat. 29. 1. N.
MERBAT, a town of Lladramaut, .in Arabia, w hich car¬
ries on a trade in incense; it is thirty-two miles north of Darfur.
MERCANTILE LAW. Amongst the ancient Romans,
trade and manufactures were accounted degrading and
dishonourable employments; and what was done in that
way was performed by slaves. None who had been em¬
ployed in trade, or whose father had been a slave, could be
chosen into the senate ; and no senator, or father of a sena¬
tor, could by law keep a bark above a certain small burthen,
in order no doubt to prevent his engaging in commerce.
The canonists likewise despised trade ; and at the council
of Melfi it was solemnly determined that none could exer¬
cise any traffic, nor follow the profession of the law, with a
safe conscience.
MER
These notions, however, w ere singular, and very different Mercantile
from the policy which has ever prevailed in this country, law.
According to a law of Athelstan, if any merchant made v'“—' "
three voyages on his own account beyond the British chan¬
nel, or narrow seas, he was entitled to the privileges of a
Thane ; and it is specially provided by Magna Charta, (c.
30), that all merchants, unless publicly prohibited before¬
hand, shall have safe conduct to depart from, to come into,
or to tarry in and go through the realm, for the exercise of
merchandise, without any unreasonable imposts, except in
time of war; and that if a war breaks out between us and
another country, the merchants of that place shall be at¬
tached, but in their person only, till the king is informed
how our merchants are treated in the land with which we
are at war, and if our merchants are secure theirs shall be
so too. Upon this Montesquieu remarks with admiration,
that the English have made the protection of foreign mer¬
chants one of the articles of their national liberty; and also
that the English know much better than any other people
on earth how to value at the same time these three things,
religion, liberty, and commerce. These, indeed, are die
common rights of mankind. They are also inseparably
connected together; and as liberty is the life of commerce,
so commerce is in its turn the parent of many advantages,
moral and physical, personal and political. Its protection
and encouragement are now, therefore, an established prin¬
ciple of the law of nations.
Trade and commerce being thus the immediate offspring
of natural liberty, the lex mercatoria, or the law of merchants,
is less a branch of this or that system of municipal law, than
of the law of nations, or that universal law which reason
teaches all men. It is, if one may so call it, an ambulatory
system of civil law, not confined to any one place or local¬
ity, but attaching to the persons of men in all their com¬
mercial transactions throughout the world; the custom of
merchants being every where acknowledged, as their persons
and property are by the law of nations every where pro¬
tected.
Thus, not to enter here at large into all the details of
mercantile law, which will be found in other parts of this
work, divers sorts of writings used amongst merchants and
trading people in commercial transactions, are sustained in
our courts, after the example of other states, although not
executed with all the formalities of common deeds. Mis¬
sive letters, in re mercatoria, are valid although not holo¬
graph, and commissions from merchant to merchant, though
not signed before witnesses; nor do fitted accounts amongst
merchants, in mercantile matters, require the writer’s name
or witnesses. But of all obligations, bills of exchange, which
owe their origin to merchants, are the most favoured. The
risks and accidents of trade have also caused particular fa¬
vour to be extended to persons engaged therein, who have
fallen into bankruptcy; provision being made by statute for
their entire discharge, on their surrendering their effects to
their creditors.
M e find also in many parts of Europe merchant courts
or judicatories vested in merchants chosen for that purpose
to decide and determine in a summary way their peculiar
differences. Of this sort are the guildry courts of the Scot¬
tish burghs, which are particularly approved of by statute,
1593, c. 184, as a speedy method of determining all ques¬
tions between merchant and merchant, and between mer¬
chant and mariner, and are declared to have “full strength,
force, and effect, according to the lovable form of judgment
used in all gude towns of France and Flanders, where bur¬
ses are erected, and specially in Paris, Roan, Bourdeaux,
and Rochelle.” Particular attention, indeed, seems to have
been paid in Scotland in early times, to the regulation of
trade. Before the close of the twelfth century, William
the Lion granted to the burgesses of Aberdeen, and the
burgesses of Moray, and all his burgesses dwelling north of
HER
Mercator the Grampians, the privilege of a free hanse, or mercantile
II. association, as fully and completely as they had enjoyed the
same in time past. In the southern part of the kingdonf the
court of four burghs had met annually from a remote time;
but ill addition to this, deputies from the royal burghs
south of the Spey were in 1405 appointed to meet in con¬
vention with the court of four burghs, to treat, ordain, and
determine in all things concerning the utility of the com¬
monweal of the burghs, their liberties and court. The dis¬
advantage, however, of two contemporary assemblies in a
country so limited in extent as Scotland, which had also
now become a consolidated kingdom, with one common in¬
terest, appears to have been quickly felt; for by statute 1487,
c. Ill, deputies from all the royal burghs, “baith south
and north,” were appointed to meet in convention, not with
the court of four burghs, as before, but by themselves, yearly,
to commune and treat upon the welfare of merchandise, the
good rule and statutes for the common profit of the burghs,
and to provide remedy for all skaith and injury sustained
within burghs. Since this enactment, the burghal parlia¬
ment, or convention of burghs, has continued to our own
time.
MERCATOR, Gerard, one of the most celebrated geo¬
graphers of his time, was born at Ruremonde in 1512. He
applied himself with such industry to geography and mathe¬
matics, that he is said to have frequently forgotten to eat and
drink. The emperor Charles V. had a particular esteem
for him, and the Duke de Juliers made him his cosmogra-
pher. He composed a chronology, some geographical tables,
and an atlas, having engraved and coloured the maps himself.
He died in 1594. His method of laying down charts is still
used, and bears the name of Mercator's charts.
Mercator, Nicholas, an eminent mathematician of the
seventeenth century, was born at Holstein in Denmark, and
came about the time of the Restoration to England, where
he lived many years. He was admitted a fellow of the Royal
Society, and endeavoured to reduce astrology to rational prin¬
ciples. He published several works, particularly Cosmogra-
phia. He also gave the quadrature of the hyperbola by an
infinite series, which was the first instance in the learned
world of a series of this sort derived from the particular na¬
ture of the curve, and that in a manner equally new and
refined.
Mercator’s Sailing is that which is performed by Mer¬
cator’s chart.
MERCATORUM Festum, was a festival kept by the
Roman merchants on the 15th of May, in honour of Mer¬
cury, who presided over merchandise. A sow was sacri¬
ficed on the occasion, and the people present sprinkled them¬
selves with water brought from the fountain called aqua
Mercurii; the whole concluding with prayers to the god
for the prosperity of trade.
MERCHANT, a person who buys and sells commodities
in gross, or deals in exchanges; or one who traffics in the
way of commerce, either by importation or exportation.
MERCHET (Merchetum), a fine or composition paid
by inferior tenants to the lord, for liberty to dispose of their
daughters in marriage. No baron, nor military tenant, could
marry his sole daughter and heir without such leave pur¬
chased from the king pro maritanda filia; and many of our
servile tenants could neither send their sons to school, nor
give their daughters in marriage, without express leave from
the superior lord. According to Mr. Astle, the merchetum
was a compact between the lord and his vassal for the re¬
demption of an offence committed by the vassal’s unmarried
daughter ; and also a fine paid by a sokeman or a villain to
his lord for permission to marry his daughter to a free man;
but in cases where the vassal gave away his daughter with¬
out having obtained this license, he subjected himself to a
heavier fine.
MERCIA, thenameof one of the seven kingdoms founded
M E R 591
in England by the Saxons. Though the latest formed, it Mercia,
was the largest of them all, and grew by degrees to be by ''-■-v—
far the most powerful. On the north it was bounded by the
Humber and the Mersey, which separated it from the king¬
dom of Northumberland; on the east by the sea, and the
territories of the East Angles and Saxons; on the south by
the river Thames; and on the west by the rivers Severn
and Dee. It comprehended nearly seventeen of our mo¬
dern counties. Penda is regarded as its first monarch; and
the kingdom is thought to have derived its name from the
Saxon, word mere, which signifies a march, boundary, or
limit, because the other kingdoms bordered upon it on every
side, and not from the river Mersey, as some would per¬
suade us. Penda assumed the regal title in 626, and was of
the age of fifty at the time of his accession; after which he
reigned nearly thirty years. He was of a most furious and
turbulent temper, breaking at different times with almost
all his neighbours, calling in the Britons to his assistance,
and shedding more Saxon blood than had as yet been spilled
in all their intestine quarrels. He killed two kings of Nor¬
thumberland, three of the East Angles, and compelled Ken-
wall, king of the West Saxons, to quit his dominions. Pie
was at length slain, with most of the princes of his family,
and a multitude of his subjects, in a battle fought not far
from Leeds, by Oswy king of Northumberland. This bat¬
tle, which the Saxon chronicle tells us was fought at Win-
widfield in 655, made a great change in the Saxon affairs,
which the unbridled fury of Penda had thrown into com¬
plete confusion. He had the year before killed in battle An¬
na, the king of the East Angles, whose brother Ethelred
notwithstanding took part with Penda. On the other hand,
Penda, the eldest son of Penda, to whom his father had given
the ancient kingdom of the Mid Angles, had two years be¬
fore married the natural daughter of king Oswy, and had
been baptised at his court. It should seem that at that
time Oswy and Penda were upon good terms; but after the
latter had conquered the East Angles, he resolved to turn
his arms against the kingdom of Northumberland. Oswy
had not provoked this rupture; on the contrary Bede tells
us that he offered large sums of money, and jewels of great
value, to purchase peace; but these offers were rejected, and
he was reduced to the necessity of deciding the quarrel by
the sword. The river near which the battle was fought
having overflowed, there were more drowned than killed.
Amongst these, as the Saxon chronicle says, there were
thirty princes of the royal line, some of whom bore the title
of kings ; and also Ethelred, king of the East Angles, who
fought on the side of Penda against his family and country.
His son Penda, who married the daughter of that con¬
queror, became a Christian, and was not long afterwards
murdered, as is stated, by the malice of his mother. His
brother Wolfher becoming king of Mercia, embraced in
process of time the faith of the gospel, and proved a victo¬
rious and powerful monarch; he is commonly styled king
of the Anglo-Saxons, though neither he nor his immediate
successors are owned in that quality by the Saxon chron¬
icle. But although possibly none of them might enjoy this
honour, they were undoubtedly puissant princes, maintain¬
ing frequent wars, and obtaining many advantages over the
sovereigns of other Saxon states, more especially the East
Angles, whom they reduced. The extent of the Mercian
territories was so ample as to admit, and so situated as to
require the appointment of subordinate rulers in several
provinces, to whom, especially if they were of the royal line,
they gave the title of kings. Besides establishing episco¬
pal sees and convents, the Saxon monarchs took other me¬
thods for improving and adorning their dominions; and as
Mercia was the largest, so these methods were most con¬
spicuous in that kingdom. Coventry, as being situated in
the centre, was usually, but not always, the royal residence.
Penda, who being almost continually in a state of war, lived
592
M E R
Mercury.
Mercura as his military operations directed, in some town upon the
frontiers. Wolf her built a castle or fortified palace for his
;own residence, which bore his name. OfFa kept his court
at Sutton Walls, near Hereford.
In each of the provinces there resided a chief magistrate;
and if he was of the royal blood, he had usually the title of
king. Penda, at the time he married Oswy’s daughter, had
the title of “ king of Leicester.” Ethelred made his brother
Merowald king of Hereford, and the latter, dying without
issue, bequeathed it to his younger brother Mercelm. Si¬
milar honours were sometimes conferred upon the prin¬
cesses ; and hence, in Mercia especially, we occasionally
read of “ vice-queens.” By these means the laws were
better executed, the obedience of the subjects more effectr
ually secured, and the splendour of the royal residences
constantly kept up and augmented.
At length the crown devolving sometimes on minors and
sometimes on weak princes, intestine factions prevailed, and
the force of this hitherto mighty kingdom began sensibly to
decline. Such being the state of matters in the days of
Egbert, the most prudent as well as the most potent mo¬
narch of the West Saxons, he took advantage of these cir¬
cumstances ; and having encouraged the East Angles to
make an attempt for the recovery of their independence,
he, at a favourable conjuncture, broke with the Mercians,
and after a short war obliged them to submit. But this
was not an absolute conquest, the kings of Mercia being al¬
lowed by him and his successors to retain their titles and
dominions, till the invasion of the Danes put an end to their
rule, after this kingdom, had subsisted above 250 years.
When the Danes were afterwards expelled by the West
Saxons, it sunk into a province or rather was divided into
many.
MERCURA, a town and fortress of Hindustan in the
south of India, province of Mysore, and district of Coorg,
of which it is the capital. It was built by Hyder Ally in
the year 1773, after he had conquered the country. It is se¬
venty-two miles east from Seringapatam. Long. 75. 58. E.
Lat. 12. 30. N.
MERCURY, in the heathen mythology. (See Hermes.)
Most of the actions and inventions of the Egyptian Mer¬
cury have likewfise been attributed to the Grecian, who was
said to be the son of Jupiter and Maia, the daughter of
Atlas. No one of all the heathen divinities had so many
functions allotted to him as this god. He had constant em¬
ployment both day and night, having been the common
minister and messenger of the whole Pantheon; particu¬
larly of his father Jupiter, whom he served with indefati¬
gable labour, and sometimes, indeed, in a capacity of no
very honourable kind. Lucian is very pleasant upon the
multitude of his avocations ; and according to the confes¬
sion of the Emperor Julian, Mercury was no hero, but one
who inspired mankind with wit, learning, and the orna¬
mental arts of life, rather than with courage. The pious em¬
peror, however, omits some of his attributes ; for this god
was not only the patron of trade, but also of theft and fraud.
His most magnificent temple stood upon Mount Cylene, in
Arcadia. He is described by the poets as a fair beardless
youth, with flaxen hair, lively blue eyes, and a smiling
countenance. He has wings fixed to his cap and sandals,
and holds the caduceus (or staff, surrounded with serpents,
with two wings on the top,) in his hand; and is frequently
represented with a purse, to show that he was the god of
gain. The animals sacred to him, were the dog, the goat,
and the cock. In all the sacrifices offered to him, the tongues
of the victims were burnt; and those who escaped imminent
danger sacrified to him a calf with milk and honey.
Mercury, § in Astronomy* (See Astronomy.) This
planet is brightest between his elongations and superior con¬
junction, very near to which last he can generally be seen.
He becomes invisible soon after he has found his elonga-
M E E
tion, going towards his inferior conjunction, and becomes Mercury
visible again a few days before his next elongation. The II
brightness of this planet alters sometimes very considerably Mere,
in twenty-four hours. It has been observed when less than's^*Y^'
three degrees distant from the sun, and may, perhaps, some¬
times be seen even in conjunction with it. Mercury and
Venus appear brightest and most beautiful in the opposite
parts of their orbits; the former between his elongations
and superior conjunction, and the latter betwreen her elonga¬
tions and inferior conjunction. Therefore, Venus is seen in
great perfection as a crescent, particularly in her inferior
conjunction, whilst Mercury is seldom seen in such perfect
phases. Mercury should be alw ays observed on or near the
meridian. When farthest from the sun, he always appears
w ith a very faint light; and when he has a great south de¬
clination, or the atmosphere is not perfectly clear, he can
seldom be seen in those parts of his orbit, w here he only
begins to recover his brightness, or where it is much df-
minished. He has frequently been seen on the meridian
even with a telescope of small power ; and it appears from
the above statement that he may be obscured in a clear
day rather more than half his orbit, or nearly one hundred and
fourscore days in the year.
Mercury, in Heraldry, a term used in blazoning by
planets, for the purple colour used in the arms of sovereign
princes.
Mercury Bay, situated upon the north-east coast of the
northernmost island of New Zealand, so called by Captain
Cook who here observed the transit of Mercury over the
sun in 1769. Long. 184. 4. N. Lat. 36. 48. S.
MERCY-SEAT, or Propitiatory, in Jewish antiquity,
the covering of the ark of the covenant. The Hebrew
name of this cover, which we translate mercy-seat, is Cap-
poreth, (Exod. xxv. 17, 22,) from cappor, which signi¬
fies to cover, to shut up, to expiate, or to pay. This cover
wTas of gold, and at its two ends were fixed the two cheru¬
bim of the same metal, which, by their wings extended for¬
wards, seemed to form a throne for the majesty of God*
who in Scripture is represented to us as sitting between the
cherubim, with the ark itself forming as it were his foot¬
stool. It was hence that God issued his oracles to Moses,
or to the high priest who consulted him, (Exod. xxv. 22.
Numb. vii. 89.)
MERDIN, a city of Diarbekir in Asiatic Turkey, situ¬
ated upon the top of one of the lofty heights of a mountain¬
ous ridge, and commanded by a castle which crowns the
summit of the rock. From its situation it is very difficult
of access. On the northern side the access is by a narrow
pathway which winds amidst rocks and precipices. On the
south the road is somewhat better but still very steep, and
about a mile and a half in length. The houses are all built
of fine hewn stone, and are very old, appearing from the
position of the town in a declivity, to rise successively one
on the top of another. The works are kept in tolerable re¬
pair ; but the castle which has a few old pieces of cannon
mounted on its towers, is now in a very dilapidated state,
having never been completely repaired since the place was
taken by Timour. Notwithstanding the elevated situation
of the city it has a plentiful supply of the finest water. In
the recesses of the mountains the vine is cultivated with
success, and wine and considerable quantities of brandy are
made by the Armenians. The population of Merdin amounts
to 11,000, of which 1500 are Armenians, 200 Jews, the re¬
mainder Turks, Arabs, and Kurds. Merdin is the frontier
town of the pashalik of Bagdad towards Constantinople,
and under the government of an officer appointed by the
pasha ; it is forty-five miles south from Diarbekir.
MERE a town of the county of Wilts in the hundred of
the same name, 102 miles from London. It stands in an
angle of the county running into Somersetshire, near a lake
or merse, from which its name is derived. It is ill-built,
*
M E R
Meretrix but has an ancient cross which stands in the market-place.
Merida fhe river St°ur rises near it* The market is held onThurs-
,^-^day. The population amounted in 1801 to 753 ; in 1811
to 972; in 1821 to 1151 ; and in 1831 to 1289.
MERETRIX, amongst the Romans, differed from pros-
tibula. The prostibuhe were common courtesans, with bills
over their doors, signifying their profession, and were ready
at all times to entertain customers; the meretrices enter¬
tained none but at night. The meretrices differed in their
dress from the matrons. The former wore the toga and short
tunics, like those of the men ; the latter wore thepalla and
the stola of such a length as to reach to their feet.
MERIDA, a city of Spain in the province of Estrema-
dura. It is situated on the south side of the river Guadiana,
in a strong situation, but by no means in a fruitful country.
It was a place of great importance during the prevalence of
the power of the Romans in Spain. The monuments left
of that people now claim the admiration of all travellers,
fhe circus, the theatres, and a bridge of fifty arches, are still
in tolerable preservation, and numerous interesting inscrip¬
tions have been discovered amongst the ruins. It contains
six monasteries, and 4500 inhabitants.
Merida, a province of Colombia in South America. It
is bounded on the south by Pamplona and Uarinas; on
the north by the lake of Maracaybo ; on the west by the
province of Maracaybo; and on the east by Truxillo. This
province, although in some parts mountainous, and in others
unhealthy, has many vallies and plains of extraordinary rich¬
ness and fertility, yielding in abundance the choicest pro¬
ductions of Colombia. Merida the capital is situated about
one hundred and sixty leagues from Caracas, and about one
hundred and fifty leagues from Bogota. It stands upon an
elevated table land, three leagues in length and one in
breadth, is surrounded by three rivers, and unites a fertile
sod and temperate climate, with remarkable beauty of situ¬
ation. It was founded in 1558 under the name of Santiago
de los Caballeros de Merida, and was once by far the larg¬
est city in Venezuela next to Caracas, but having been re¬
peatedly destroyed by earthquakes, it has greatly declined.
It is regularly laid out like all the Spanish towns, the streets
intersecting each other at right angles, and having each in the
centre a clear stream of running water. Being an episcopal
city it possesses a cathedral, and there are likewise a convent
of nuns, an hospital, a college and other public institutions.
By an earthquake which overwhelmed it in 1812, several
convents and churches were destroyed, together with a con¬
siderable portion of the other buildings. Many of the in¬
habitants perished in the ruins, nor has Merida entirely re¬
covered from the calamity which then overtook it. The
population prior to 1812 amounted to 12,000, but it is now
reduced below one-half of that number. Within view of
the city the land yields cocoa, coffee, cotton, maize, plan¬
tains, and the tropical fruits ; together with wheat, barley,
and potatoes. In the valley of the Chama, at the foot of
the mountains, the temperature is betw een 89° and 90° of
Fahrenheit, whilst immediately fronting the town, the moun¬
tains rise into the regions of perpetual snow. The mean
temperature of the city is from 67° to 70°, but the vicis¬
situdes of a single day are extreme. The ascent to the city
from the valley is by a very steep and narrow pass, and
above the plateau on which the city stands, lofty chains of
mountains are seen towering on every side. Those to the
south are the highest, and their snowy summits are seen
rising out of a zone of dark green forests. The number of
mountain rivulets affords abundance of water-power for
machinery; and should it be found practicable to render
the Chama navigable, Merida, from its vicinity to the lake of
Maracaybo, would enjoy almost the advantages of a maritime
situation. But the excessive insalubrity of that part of
the lake where the Chama falls into it is assigned as the
reason why the difficulties of the river navigation have
VOL. XIV.
M E R 593
not been obviated. In the vicinity of Merida there are Meriden
said to be mines of gold, but they are not worked. The IJ
exceeding fertility of the surrounding country, however, in- Merioneth-
dependently of the precious metals, might raise Merida into sbire‘
a place of importance did not its liability to earthquakes'-^^'
prevent its being settled to an extent commensurate with
its natural resources. The population of the whole province
has been estimated at 50,000.
MERIDEN, a town of the county of Warwick, situated
m the hundred of Hemlingford, and ninety-seven miles from
London. It is a great posting place, and near to it is the
fine house and park of the Earls of Aylesford. The in¬
habitants were in 1801, 821 ; in 1811, 817 ; in 1821, 927*
and in 1831, 892.
MERIDIAN, in Geography, a great circle supposed to
be drawn through any part of the surface of the earth, and
the two poles, and to which the sun is always perpendicu¬
lar at noon. In astronomy, this circle is supposed to be in
the heavens, and exactly perpendicular to the terrestrial one.
MERIDIANI, in antiquity, a name which the Romans
gave to a kind of gladiators, who entered the arena about
noon after the bestiarii (who fought in the morning against
beasts) had finished. They were so called from meridies,
noon, the time when they exhibited their shows. The meri-
diani wTere a sort of artless combatants, who fought man to
man, swwd in hand. Hence Seneca observes, that the
combats of the morning were full of humanity compared
with those which followed.
MERIDIONAL distance, in Navigation, is the same
with departure, or easting and westing, being the difference
of longitude between the meridian under which the ship
now is, and any other meridian which she was under before.
Meridional parts, miles, or minutes, in Navigation, are
the parts by which the meridians in a Mercator’s chart in¬
crease, as the parallels of latitude decrease.
MERIONETHSHIRE, a maritime county of North
Wales. It is bounded on the north by Carnarvonshire and
Denbighshire, on the east by the latter county and Mont¬
gomeryshire, on the south by Cardiganshire, and on the
west by the Irish Channel. It is of a triangular shape,
contracting towards the south. Its length from north to
south is thirty-six, and its greatest breadth thirty-four miles.
Its area is estimated at 691 miles.
There are few parts of the British Islands in which the
scenery is more varied, the surface more irregular, or the
prospects more romantic. Many of the peaks of the lofty
mountains are near to each other, with deep valleys, or ra¬
ther chasms between; and in other parts, the variety of ob¬
jects forming striking contrasts with the vicinity of the sea.
give a most picturesque collection of pleasing, though some¬
times terrific views. The principal mountains, and their
heights above the level of the sea, are Cader Idris, 2914
feet, Arran Rowdy, 2955 feet, Arrening, 2809 feet, Cader
Ferwyn, 2563 feet, and Pengarn, 1510 feet. These moun¬
tains consist principally of granite, porphyry, and other un¬
stratified rocks, whilst the secondary hills are composed of
different kinds of schistus.
The principal rivers are the Dee, which runs through
this county, and after passing the beautiful town of Corwin,
enters Denbighshire ; the Maw or Mawddach, which rises
in the middle of the county, and empties itself into the
Irish Channel; the Dovy, which rises near a pass in the
mountains leading to Montgomeryshire, and forming at last
a large estuary, enters the sea at Aberdovy ; and the Gleslyn
and Dwyrid, which unite their streams before entering the
ocean. 1 hese rivers receive the waiters of numerous brooks
and rivulets which trickle from the mountains, and in their
course fertilise the valleys through which they run. There
are several lakes, of which the most considerable for extent,
as well as for beauty, is Llyn Tegid, near Bala, sometimes
called Pimblemere. It is about four miles in length, and
4 F
594 M E R
Merioneth- three quarters of a mile in breadth ; and its banks are most
shire, beautifully adorned with slopes, partly covered with woods,
and partly exhibiting verdant pastures. Lynn Talyllin, at
the foot of Cader Idris, is less extensive, but scarcely less
beautiful. Some fine cataracts add their beauty to the
other romantic scenery of this county ; of these Ilhaidr
Dhu and the fall of the Glyn near Port Lyn Dyffws are the
most remarkable ; but several smaller ones will reward the
labour of the traveller who delights in the picturesque.
The agriculture of the county is in a very imperfect state,
though the spirited exertions of some large proprietors have
recently exhibited specimens of great improvement. Near¬
ly three-fourths of the county is uninclosed, and much even
of that part is unproductive waste. Large portions of the
marsh lands on the coast have, by inclosing, embanking,
and draining, been converted into rich pasture, and much
more requires only the application of capital to bring it into
the same state. Very little of the land is adapted to the
plough, and the principal pursuit of the farmers is breeding
and rearing cattle. The heifers from this county are sent
in droves to the fairs in the south of England, and when
improved by good pasture, are found very valuable beasts.
The sheep are of small size, the flesh of them being highly
prized, and their wool forms the material for the domestic
manufactures.
There are scarcely any manufactures that can be notic¬
ed, excepting a few coarse woollens ; the females of all the
families, however, employ themselves in knitting hosiery
goods from the native wool. These furnish considerable
quantities of the caps called Welsh wigs; and gloves, and
stockings, the only goods that are sent out of the county,
and the annual value of which is estimated at £25,000. The
only trade is from the harbour of Barmouth, situated on a
small arm of the sea, into which several rivulets empty
themselves. The port is difficult of entrance, and but little
frequented. It is chiefly devoted to the coasting trade; ex¬
porting oats, barley, butter, cheese, oak-bark, and timber,
and importing coals, culm, and groceries. On account of the
excellence of the beach, and the romantic beauties of the
surrounding country, it has been much frequented of late
years for sea-bathing.
The number of the inhabitants at the several decennial
enumerations has been found to stand thus: in 1801, 27,500 ;
in 1811,30,924; in 1821,34,362; andin 1831, 35,315. At
this last period the males were 17,194, and the females
18,121. In the year 1830 the baptisms were of males 254,
and of females 284, being a total of 538. The burials of
the same year were of males 275 and of females 277, being
a total of552. The marriages were 255. The illegitimate
births were of males, eight, and of females thirteen. The fa¬
milies were 7358, of whom 3583 were chiefly employed in ag¬
riculture, 1815 in trade, manufactures and handicraft, and 1960
were not comprehended in either of the preceding classes.
The males twenty years of age were 8879- The occupiers
of land employing labourers were 1112 and those not em¬
ploying labourers were 1246. The labourers were 2601.
The persons employed in manufactures or in making manu¬
facturing machinery were 194 ; those engaged in retail
trade or in handicraft as masters or workmen were 1761 ;
the capitalists, bankers, professional, or other educated per¬
sons, were 146 ; and the labourers employed in other than
agricultural labour were 738, and the other males twenty
years of age were 998. The male servants were 131, and
the female 2222. The annual value of the real property
of the county, as assessed for the purpose of the income tax
in 1815, was £111,436.
The towns of most consideration are Dolgelly, where the
assizes are held with 4087 inhabitants ; Llanghill, with
2359 ; Corwen, with 1980 ; and Festeniog, with 1648. The
most remarkable seats are those of Sir Robert Williams
Vaughan, at Nannau; of Mr. Oakley, at Tany Bwlch Hall;
M E R,
Sir Thomas Mostyns, at Cors y Gedel, and Mr. Corbet at Merlin
Ynysymaengwyn. One member is returned to parliament U
for the county. ^ Meroe.
MERLIN, Ambrose, a famous English poet and reput< “ 'r~~‘
ed prophet, who flourished at the end of the fifth century.
Many surprising and ridiculous things are related of him,
and several English authors have represented him as hav¬
ing transported from Ireland to England the great stones
which form Stonehenge on Salisbury plain. Extravagant
prophecies have also been attributed to him.
MERMAID, or Merman, a sea-creature frequently
talked of and supposed to be half human half fish. How¬
ever naturalists may doubt of the existence of mermen or
mermaids, there is abundance of testimony in its favour ;
but the authenticity and value of that testimony presents
a different question. In the year 1187, Lary informs us that
such a monster was fished up in the county of Suffolk, and kept
by the governor for six months. It bore so near a conformity
to man, that nothing seemed wanting to it but speech. One
day it took the opportunity ofmaking its escape; and plunging
into the sea, was never more heard of. {Hist. d’Angleterre,
p. i. p. 403.) In the year 1430, after a huge tempest, which
broke down the dykes in Holland, and made way for the
sea into the meadows, some girls of the town of Edam in
West Friesland, having gone in a boat to milk the cows, per¬
ceived a mermaid embarrassed in the mud, with very little
water. They took it into their boat, and brought it with
them to Edam, dressed it in woman’s apparel, and taught it
to spin. It fed like one of them, but could never be brought
to attempt speech. Some time afterwards it was brought to
Haerlem, where it lived for some years, although still shew¬
ing an inclination to the water. {Helices de Hollande.')
In Pontopidan’s Natural History of Norway, we have also
accounts of mermaids, but not more I'emarkable nor any
way better attested than the above, to which we have given
a place, merely to shew how far the folly and extravagance
of credulity have sometimes been carried by weak minds.
MERNITCH, a town of Hindustan in the province of
Bejapoor, situated on the banks of the Krishna, and formerly
the capital of a Hindu principality, and afterwards the capi¬
tal of different Mahratta chieftains. It was taken by Hyder
in 1778. Long. 75. E. lat. 16. 56. N.
MERNS, Mearns, or Kincardineshire, a county of
Scotland. See Kincardineshire.
MERODACH, an ancient king of Babylon, who was
placed amongst the gods, and worshipped by the Babylonians.
MEROE, the name of an island included between the
main branch of the Nile and the Astaboras or Tacazze, and
also that of the capital of Ethiopia, (see Ethiopia), which
was situated in this island. Agatharcides, Strabo, Diodo-
i'us, and others make mention of Meroe, and communicate
several particulars respecting it. The island is stated by
Diodorus to be 375 miles in length, and 125 miles in breadth.
The exact distance of Meroe from Syene or Assouan, ap¬
pears to have been a subject of dispute even in Pliny’s time,
notwithstanding that a number of travellers had already vi¬
sited and even penetrated beyond the capital of Ethiopia.
Delion is mentioned as having travelled far beyond Meroe,
which was afterwards visited by Aristocreon, Bion, Basilis,
and Simonides the younger, who is said to have written an
account of the city. Timosthenes spent sixty days in mak¬
ing the journey by water ; Eratosthenes reckoned the dis¬
tance 625,000, and Artemidorus 600,000 paces ; Bion gives
a list of towns but no distances. The sixty days’ journey
or sail by water, however, is too indefinite a datum to be of
any use, although it agrees tolerably well with the account
given by Herodotus. But the 625,000 paces of Eratos¬
thenes are about the length of the direct caravan route;
and the 600,000 paces of Artemidorus, agree still more
closely with the ascertained length of that route, across
the Great Desert by Korosko and Abu-Hammed, which is
1
M E R
Meroe. 560 miles. According to Pliny, the dispute concerning the
—■%< ‘ distance from Syene to Meroe was finally settled by the
pretorians and tribune sent by Nero to explore the country,
and who calculated it at 876,000 paces, and on the sup-
sition that these men followed the sinuosities of the river, in
order to observe the towns, and report upon the resources
of the country, this is pretty near to the truth. Pliny com¬
putes the distance from Napata to the island of Meroe at
360,000 paces, and further states that, from the commence¬
ment of the island to the site of the town, it is 70,000 paces,
the actual distance being about 60 miles. The difficulty here,
however, is to ascertain the position of the ancient Nap¬
ata, which has been fixed by some at Gibel-el-Birkel, and
by others at Old Dongola, whilst Ptolemy places it much far¬
ther to the north. In fact, Gibel-el-Birkel is nearer to Me¬
roe than the ancient Napata by about 100 miles, that is,
reckoning from Pliny’s computation of the distance of
the latter as compared with that of the former place,
which has been ascertained by modern travellers ; and
hence the presumption is in favour of the accuracy of
Ptolemy, who, as we have just mentioned, places the site
of Napata farther to the north. That geographer, more¬
over, places the capital of Ethiopia in latitude 16° 26', which
differs only by 30' from the latitude as determined by the
observations of Caillaud. All that remains of ancient Me¬
roe is its magnificent necropolis, as it has been called, crowd¬
ed with pyramids, of which a very full and interesting ac¬
count is given in Hoskins’s Travels in Ethiopia. “ The
pyramids of Djizeh are magnificent,” says this traveller,
“ wonderful from their stupendous magnitude ; but for pic¬
turesque effect and elegance of architectural design, I in¬
finitely prefer those of Meroe. I expected to find few re¬
mains here, and certainly nothing so imposing, so interest¬
ing as these sepulchres doubtless of the kings and queens
of Ethiopia. I stood for some time lost in admiration.
From every point of view, I saw magnificent groups, pyra¬
mid rising behind pyramid, while the dilapidated state of
many did not render them less interesting, though less
beautiful as works of art.” From motives of curiosity or
perhaps avarice, attempts have been made to open many of
the pyramids, but without success. In those which had
been partially broken into Mr. Hoskins did not perceive the
slightest indication that any of them contained galleries ; a
circumstance which does not appear to favour his opinion
that they were places of sepulture. There is no doubt, how¬
ever, that these pyramids belong to a very remote age, and
form a subject of interesting investigation, with reference
to the question whether the Ethiopians derived their know¬
ledge of the arts from the Egyptians, or the Egyptians from
the Ethiopians. (See Ethiopian Nations.) The hiero¬
glyphics are much defaced, and inferior in grouping or ar¬
rangement to those in the Egyptian inscriptions, being, ac¬
cording to the view which may be taken of the course of
civilization, either a corruption of the Egyptian style, or
the source whence it was originally derived. As to the
city of Meroe itself, with its temples and palaces, scarcely
a trace or vestige remains. A large space about 2000 feet
in length, and at the same distance from the river, being
strewed with burned bricks, some fragments of walls and
stones similar to those used in the construction of the py¬
ramids, is supposed to have formed part of the site of the
capital; and this idea is strengthened by the remark of
Strabo, that the walls of the habitations were built of bricks.
As at Memphis, however, scarcely a trace of a palace or
temple is to be seen, the very ruins of these edihces hav¬
ing perished. This once populous plain is now occupied
only by herds of timid gazelles, whilst hyenas and wolves
abound in the neighbouring hills. For an account of the
history, arts, and commerce of Meroe, see the article Ethi¬
opian Nations, and also Hoskins’s Travels, (chapters xix,
xx, xxi, and xxii.)
M E R
MEROPE, in Fabulous History, one of the Atlantides,
who married Sisyphus the son of /Eolus, and like her sisters
was changed into a constellation after death.
MEROf S, in Tabulous History, a king of the island of
Cos, who married Clymene, one of the Oceanides. He was
changed into an eagle, and placed amongst the constella¬
tions. A celebrated soothsayer of Percosus in Troas, also
bore the name of Merops.
MERS or Meuse, a county of Scotland, called also Ber-
wickshire. This last name it derives from the town of Ber¬
wick, which was the head of the shire before it fell into the
hands of the English, and obtained the appellation oiMers
oi March, because it was one of the borders towards Eng¬
land. See Berwickshire.
MERSEBURG, one of the departments into which the
Prussian government of Saxony is divided. It is formed
out of a part of the dominion of the kingdom of Saxony,
and several divisions which, before the late war, belonged
to Prussia, and is now a compact territory, though some
portions of the country of Saxe-Weimer and of Bernburg
are mixeu with and surrounded by it. The extent of the
government is 4114 square miles, and in 1826 it contain-
eu 565,63^ inhabitants, in sixty-nine cities or walled towns,
eleven market towns, and 1648 villages and hamlets. It
is divided into seventeen circles, one of which is of the same
name as the government, and contains the capital and the
district around it. This capital is situated upon the river
Saal, at the point where the Geisalbach falls into that stream;
it is surrounded with walls, and though old is well built.
The dome, or cathedral church, is celebrated as the burial-
place of the Emperor Rudolph of Swabia, of Bishop Ditt-
mar, one of the oldest of the German authors, and other
eminent persons ; and also on account of an organ of great
power, with 4000 pipes. There are three parochial church¬
es, an orphan house, workhouse and hospital, 1895 dwell¬
ings, and 8056 inhabitants. There are also several institu¬
tions for education, especially an endowed grammar school.
It contains some cloth manufactories, some tanneries, and
extensive distilleries. Eat. 51. 21. 35. N. Lonp-. 11.54
15. E. 6
MERSENNE, Marin, a learned French author, born at
Oyse, in the province of Maine, in the year 1588. Fie
studied at La Fleche at the same time with'Descartes, with
whom he contracted an intimate friendship, which lasted till
death. He afterwards went to Paris, and studied at the
Sorbonne ; but in 1611 he entered himself amongst the
Minims, and became well skilled in Hebrew, philosophy, and
mathematics. He was of a tranquil, sincere, and engaging
temper ; and was universally esteemed by persons illustri¬
ous for their birth, their dignity, and their learning. He
taught philosophy and divinity in the convent of Nevers, and
at length became superior of that establishment; but being
anxious to apply himself with more freedom to study, he
resigned all the posts he enjoyed in his order, and travelled
into Germany, Italy, and the Netherlands. He wrote a
great number of excellent works, the principal of which are,
1. Questiones celeb err imas in Genesim ; 2.1Harmonicorum
libri; 3. De Sonorum natura, causis, et effectibus ; 4. Cogi-
tataphysico-mathematica; 5. La Yerite desSciences; 6. Les
Questions inouies. He died at Paris in 1648. He had the
reputation of being one of the best men of his age. No
person was more curious in penetrating into the secrets of
nature, and carrying all the arts and sciences to their ut¬
most perfection. He was in a manner the centre of all the
men of learning, by means of the correspondence which he
carried on with them. He omitted no means of engaging
them to publish their works ; and the world is obliged to
him for several excellent discoveries, which, had it not been
for him, would perhaps have been lost.
MERSEY, a river of England, which runs through the
counties of Lancaster, York, and Chester, and empties itself
595
596 M E R
Mersey into the Irish Sea at Liverpool. By means of inland navi-
II. gation, it has communication with the rivers Dee, Kibble,
Merrille. ousej Trent, Derwent, Severn, Humber, Thames, Avon,
&c.; a navigation which, including its windings, extends
above 500 miles, in the counties of Lincoln, Nottingham,
York, Lancaster, Westmoreland, Chester, Stafford, War¬
wick, Liecester, Oxford, Worcester, &c.
Mersey Island, an island of Essex, at the mouth of the
Coin, south of Colchester. It was seized by the Danes in
the reign of king Alfred, for their winter quarters. It had
eight parishes, which are now reduced to two, viz. East
and West Mersey.
MERTHYR TYDVIL, a large town of the county of
Glamorgan and hundred of Narberth, in South Wales, 184
miles from London, and 24 from Cardiff. From a small
village it has, in a few years, since a canal navigation has
been opened with the sea at Cardiff, risen from a small vil¬
lage to a large and populous town. This progress has been
made by the great improvement which has been intro¬
duced in the fabrication of iron, the ore of which, as well
as abundance of coal, is found in vast quantities. The ma¬
chinery of the principal works, especially the overshed
wheels, is of stupendous powder, and one is turned by a
stream of water brought by artificial means from hills at
five miles distance. The cast and forged iron that is made
in this place amount to many hundred tons weekly, and
with the contingent occupations gives employment to thou¬
sands of individuals. It has wrell supplied markets on Wed¬
nesday and Saturday. From its population and wealth it
has by the Reform Act acquired the privilege of returning
one member to the House of Commons. The population
in 1801 amounted to 7,705 ; in 1811 to 11,104; in 1821 to
17,404 ; and in 1831 to 22,083.
MERTON, a town in the county of Surrey and hundred
of Brixton, seven miles from London. It is situated on the
river Wandle and celebrated for its calico printing, which is
considered as the most perfect both in design and execution
of any produced in England. The college of the same
name at Oxford was originally founded here and removed
to that city in 1274, at the end of ten years. The great
Lord Nelson was a resident of this place. The population
in 1801 amounted to 813; in 1811 to 905; in 1821 to
1177 ; and in 1831 to 1447.
MERUD, also named Amrarati, a large town of Hin¬
dustan in the province of Bejapoor, inclosed with a high
wall, and commanded by a fort. It is forty-four miles south¬
east from Poonah. Long. 74. 86 E. Eat. 18. 15. N.
MERIT SHAH TEH AIN, a city of Khorassan in Persia,
capital of Murgiana, founded by Alexander the Great, and
afterwards embellished by Antiochus Nicator, who gave it
the name of Antiochia. It is situated on the river Mur-
gab, the waters of which w ere raised by a dyke for the sup¬
ply of the city. It w as one of the four imperial cities of
Khorassan, and was long the seat of many of the sultans
of Persia, particularly of three of the Seljukian dynasty.
The walls were at that time surrounded on all sides with
stately palaces, groves, and gardens ; and the fruits were
reckoned superior to those of any other place. Alp Arslan
the most powerful prince of his time, reigned here in all
the splendour of oriental magnificence. This great capital
wrs taken and pillaged by the Usbecks about the year
1 / 93, since which time it has been gradually declining; and
its inhabitants do not amount to more than 3000, under the
rule of an independent chief, the brother of the ruler of
Bokhara, whose territories extend several days’ journey round.
It is 130 miles N.E. of Meshed.
MERVILE, a city of the department of the north and
the arrondisement of Hazebrouch in France. It is situated
on the left bank of the river Lys and contains 700 houses,
5700 inhabitants, who refine salt, prepare snuff, and make
some cloths.
M E S
MESCLITSCIIOW SK, a circle of the Russian province Meschtsch-
of Kaluga, extending over 684 square miles, and containing owsk
78,600 inhabitants. The capital is a town of the same II
name, 648 miles from St. Petersburg, on the river Tureja, ”esopota'
with 360 houses, and 1830 inhabitants. Lat. 44. 22. N. v
Long. 34. 55. E. ” v~"“>
MESEN, a circle in the Russian province of Archangel,
extending from 63. 2. to 68. 10. N. lat., and from 37. to 44.
25. E. long. Except in the southernmost part it is very
little capable of cultivation, and contains but a very thin
population, in a rude state of bare existence. The capital
is a city of the same name, situated at the mouth of the
river Mesen, which forms a convenient harbour, in lat. 65.
16. 30. N., and long. 44. 18.55. E. It contains 1850 inha¬
bitants, chiefly employed in the fisheries.
MESFAGNA, a town of the province of Otranto, in the
kingdom of Naples, the capital of a district of the same
name, between Taranto and Brindisi, on the great road. It
contains 5200 inhabitants.
MESFIED Aei, or Nesjiff, a celebrated town of
Irak Arabi, and a holy city, the supposed burying place of
the caliph Ali, situated on a hill at the bottom of an artifi¬
cial lake, twenty-five miles from Hilleh and four miles from
Kufa. This city was founded by Alexander the Great and
for a long time bore the name of Alexandria which was af¬
terwards changed into that of Hira, when it became the
residence of an Arabian dynasty of princes, w ho fought un¬
der the Parthian banners against the emperors of Rome.
It was governed by Christian princes till the year 632, when
it was taken by Kaled the Saracen general, who put to death
the last of the race. It is a well built town, defended by a
good wall, deep ditch, and lofty towers, which were renew¬
ed in consequence of the dread of an attack from the Wa-
habbees. The tomb of Ali, which fills an ample space in
the middle of the city, is a monstrous structure, encircled
by a high wall, within which it is death for an infidel to
penetrate. The dome is light and elegant and was gilded by
order of Nadir Shah. The town is supported by an influx
of pilgrims who come to adore at the shrine of Ali. The
environs are arid and barren, and are rendered still more
gloomy by the numerous graves of Persian fanatics who
order their remains to be transported hither from the most
remote parts of Persia. The town was formerly supplied
with water by an aqueduct which was destroyed by the
Wahabbees; so that Colonel Kinneir, w ho was here in 1808,
mentions that a supply of water had to be brought to the
city from a distance of three miles in sheep skins. It is 90
miles south of Bagdad.
MESN, or Mesne, a term in law, signifying him who is
lord of a manor, and so has tenants holding of him, wdfilst he
himself holds of a superior lord. The word is properly de¬
rived from maisne, quasi minor natu, because his tenure
is derived from another, from whom he holds-
MESOCHORI , were musicians amongst the ancients, who
presided in concerts, and by beating a wooden desk regu¬
larly with their feet, directed the measure of the music.
For the purpose of beating time they wore wooden clogs,
called by the ancients crupezia, which caused the sound to
be better heard.
MESOPORPHYRON, a name given by the Greeks to
the Roman laticlave, because that garment being edged on
each side, where it opened before, with purple, appeared
when closed with two purple stripes dowm the middle. The
same term was also applied to the augusticlave.
MESOPOTAMIA, the ancient name of the province of
Diarbeck, in Asiatic Turkey. It is situated between the
rivers Euphrates and Tigris, having Assyria on the east,
Armenia on the north, Syria on the west, and Arabia De-
serta, with Babylonia, on the south. The Hebrews called
it Padan-aram, and Aram Naharaim, or Aram of the two
rivers, because it was first peopled by Aram father of the
M E S
Mesopte-
rycius
Syrians, and is situated between the two rivers already men¬
tioned. This country is much celebrated in Scripture, as
Messiah being the first dwelling of men both before and after the
and because it gave birth toPhaleg, Heber, Terah,
Abraham, Nahor, Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Leah, and to
the sons of Jacob. Babylon was in the ancient Mesopo¬
tamia, until, by vast labour and industry, the two rivers of
the Tigris and the Euphrates were united into one channel.
The plains of Shinar were in the same country. They often
gave it the name of Mesopotamia, and sometimes that of
Syria, (Hosea xii. 12).
MESOPTERYCIUS, a term applied to such fishes as
have only one back-fin, which is situated in the middle of
the back.
MESPILUS, the Medlar, a genus of plants, belonging
to the icosandria class, and in the natural method ranking
under the thirty-sixth order, Pomacece. See Botany.
MESS, in a military sense, implies a number of soldiers,
who, by laying up a certain pi'oportion of their pay towards
provisions, mess together. Experience proves that nothing
contributes more to the health of a soldier than a regular
and well chosen diet, and his being obliged every day to
boil the pot. It corrects drunkenness, and in a great mea¬
sure prevents gaming and desertion.
MESSALtNA, Valeria, a daughter of Messala Barba-
tus. She married the emperor Claudius, and disgraced
herself by her cruelty and incontinence. Her husband’s
palace was not the only seat of her lasciviousness, but she
prostituted herself in the public streets, and few men there
were at Rome who could not boast of having enjoyed the
favours of the impure Messalina. Her extravagancies at
last irritated her husband, who commanded her to appear
and answer all the accusations which wTere brought against
her. Upon this she attempted to destroy herself; and
when her courage failed, one of the tribunes who had been
sent to her despatched her with his sword. It is in speak¬
ing of her lewdness and debaucheries that Juvenal says,
Et lassata viris, necdum satiata, recessit.
Her name has become a common appellation to denote a
woman of shameless and inordinate profligacy.
MESS AN A, in Ancient Geography, the first town of
Sicily on crossing over from Italy; it is situated on the
strait now called the Faro.
MESSENA, or Messene, an inland town, the capital of
Messenia, a country of Peloponnesus, erroneously placed
by Ptolemy on the coast. It was built by Epaminondas, who
recalled all the Messenian exiles, and gave to the town the
name of Messene, a place vying in point of strength and
situation with Corinth ; and hence Demetrius Phalereus
advised Philip, father of Perseus, if he wanted to have the
Peloponnesus in his power, to make himself master of these
two towns, and thus he would have the ox by both horns.
MESSENIA, a country in the south of Peloponnesus,
mostly maritime, being situated between Elea to the west,
and Laconia to the east. This country is famous in his¬
tory, on account of the resistance made by the Messenians
against the Spartans, and the exploits of their hero Aristo-
menes.
MESSIAH, a word signifying one “ anointed,” or in¬
stalled into an office by “ unction.” It was usual amongst
the Jewrs to anoint kings, high priests, and sometimes pro¬
phets, at their designation or installment, to signify emble¬
matically the mental qualifications necessary for discharging
those offices. Saul, David, Solomon, and Joash, kings of
Judah, received the royal unction ; Aaron and his sons re¬
ceived the sacerdotal, and Elisha the disciple of Elijah, re¬
ceived the prophetic unction. The name Messiah, Anoint¬
ed, or Christ (Xpcaros), was given to the kings and high priests
of the Jews. The patriarchs and prophets are also called
by the name of Messiahs, or the Lord’s anointed. (See 1
Sam. xii. 3, 5. 1 Chron. xvi. 22. Ps. cv. 15.)
M E 3
597
But this name Messiah wrs principally and by way of Messier
eminence, given by the Jews to their expected deliverer
whose coming they still wait, and is a name which the Chris-
tians apply to Jesus Christ, in whom the prophecies relating
to the Messiah were accomplished. The sum of these pro*
p ernes is, that there should be a glorious person named
Messiah descended from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who
should be born at Bethlehem, of a virgin of the family of
David, then in its decline, before the Jews ceased to be a
people, whilst the second temple was standing, and about
five hundred years after Ezra’s time, and who, though ap¬
pearing in mean circumstances, should be introduced by a
i emarkable forerunner, whose business it would be to
awaken the attention and expectation of the people. That
this illustrious person called Messiah should himself be emi¬
nent for the piety, wisdom, and benevolence of his charac-
tei, and the miraculous works he should perform ; yet that,
notwithstanding all this, he should be rejected and put to
death by the Jews, but should afterwards be raised from
i mi aiK exabed t0 a glorious throne, upon which he
should through all generations continue to rule, at the same
time making intercession for sinners. That great calami¬
ties should tor the present be brought upon the Jews for
rejecting him, whereas the kingdom of God should by his
means be erected amongst the Gentiles, and disperse itself
even unto the ends of the earth, destroying idolatry, and
establishing true religion and righteousness. In a word,
that this glorious person should be regarded by all who be-
lieved in him as a divine teacher, an atoning sacrifice, and
a royal governor, by means of whom God would make a
covenant with his people, very different from that which he
had made with Israel of old, and in consequence of which they
should be restored to, and established in, the divine favour,
and fixed in a state of perpetual happiness. (See Jesus
Christ.)
The Jews, as was already observed, still wait for the com¬
ing of the Messiah, being impressed with the notion of a
temporal Messiah, who is to be a mighty conqueror, and
to subdue all the world. Most of the modern rabbin, ac¬
cording to Buxtorf, believe that the Messiah has already
come, but that he keeps himself concealed, and will not
manifest himself because of the sins of the Jews. Some of
the Jews, however, in order to reconcile those prophecies
which seem to contradict each other as to the character and
condition of the Messiah, have had recourse to the hypo¬
thesis of two Messiahs, who are yet to succeed each other;
one in a state of humiliation and suffering, and the other in
a state of glory, splendour, and power. The first, they say,
is to proceed from the tribe of Ephraim, who is to fight
against Gog, and to be slain by Annillus, (Zech. xii. 10.)
The second is to be of the tribe of Judah, and lineage of
David, who is to conquer and kill Annillus, and restore the
kingdom of Israel, reigning over it in the highest glory and
felicity.
MESSIER, Charles, a celebrated astronomer, born at
Radon viller, in Lorraine, on the 26th of June 1730. He was
the tenth of twelve children, and lost his father when he wrs
eleven years old. He came to Paris at twenty, and had
then to seek his fortune, having only learned to write a good
hand, and to draw. Delisle employed him as a copyist in
the observatory. Libour, his secretary, taught him to make
use of the common instruments of astronomy, to observe
eclipses, and to look out for comets ; and this was the prin¬
cipal business of his subsequent life, for he was never much
of a theoretical or philosophical astronomer. Delisle ob¬
tained for him an appointment as clerk in the Hydrographi¬
cal Department of the Navy, and gave him his board and
lodging in his own house ; and he claimed in return the
singular gratification of keeping all Messier’s observations
of comets secret for his own private amusement, until their
novelty was completely lost.
598 M E S
Messier. Messier had already discovered twelve comets when he
'**~^/~*>*S lost his wife ; his attendance on her sick-bed prevented his
discovering a thirteenth; and it is said that the circum¬
stance added not a little to his grief for her loss. He after¬
wards became Astronomer to the Navy, instead of being
only a clerk in the department. He obtained a seat in the
Academy with some difficulty, and not till 1770, being con¬
sidered as too mechanical an observer to have a very strong
claim to that distinction. He was fond of drawing charts
of the paths of comets, and of other astronomical pheno¬
mena. One of these procured him the honour of being made
an Academician of Berlin, and another, with Laharpe’s in¬
terest, obtained him the same distinction from Petersburg.
He was also made a Fellow of the Royal Society of Lon¬
don, in 1764. The highest compliment that he ever re¬
ceived was paid him, perhaps without sufficient reason, by
Lalande, who inserted, in his celestial globe of 1775, a con¬
stellation with the name of Messier, or Messium custos, The
Harvest Man, in the neighbourhood of Cepheus. When
Herschel had discovered the Georgian planet, he was very
diligently engaged in observing its motions; but, in the
meantime, his studies were interrupted by an unfortunate
accident. He fell into an ice-house, in a garden, which he
mistook for a part of a grotto, and fractured an arm and a
thigh. He was long in recovering, and he obtained a small
pension on the occasion, from the royal bounty, by the so¬
licitations of M. Sage and some others of his friends, who
had interest; of this, however, he was soon after deprived
by the Revolution. Messier was in some measure com¬
pensated for his pecuniary losses by being made a Member
of the Institute, of the Bureau des Longitudes, and of the
Legion of Llonour. He lived to be near eighty-seven, and
died of a dropsy, or probably rather of old age, on the 11th
of April 1817. The following is a list of his works :—
1. A variety of his observations, especially of Comets, are
published in the Memoires des Savans etrangers, v. vi.
2. After his admission into the Academy, he was a constant
contributor to its Memoirs from 1771 to 1790. His papers
consist almost entirely of Observations of comets and eclipses,
with some Accounts of Aurorae Boreales. There is also a
Catalogue of Nebulae in 1771 ; An A ccount of points of
light seen on Saturn's ring in 1774 ; and of An apparent
fall of globules over the sun's disc, 1777. 3. In the Con-
naisance des Temps there is a collection of his Observations
of the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites. 4. He contributed
some articles to the Astronomical Ephemerides, of Profes¬
sor Hell, published at Vienna. 5. The Voyage de Cour-
tanvauz surlafregatte VAurore, Paris, 1768, in 4to. was writ¬
ten by Pingre; the observations are Messier’s. 6. His only
separate publication, (the genuineness of which, however,
is doubted,) was entitled Grande Comete qui a paru a la
naissance de Napoleon le Grand, Paris, 1808, in 4to. 7. De-
lambre was in possession of a number of his unpublished ob¬
servations of the solar spots ; but he found their results
when computed, somewhat unsatisfactory.
MESSINA, an intendancy or province of the island of
Sicily, including the northern part of the Val de Demone,
extending to the foot of Mount TEtna. It is bounded on the
north and the east by the sea, on the south by the province
of Catania, and on the west by that of Palermo. It is di¬
vided into four provinces, viz., Messina, Castroreale, Mis-
tretta, and Patti, and contains 326,674 inhabitants. The
capital is the city of the same name, situated partly on a
plain, and partly on the side of a hill overlooking the nar¬
row Faro of Messina, and the province of Calabria on the
continent. The harbour is capable of containing one thou¬
sand sail of vessels ; and as the entrance is narrow, and pro¬
tected by strong batteries, it was found an admirable posi¬
tion for a British force, whilst the opposite continent was
M E T
in possession of the enemy. The city is surrounded by an Messuage
old and irregular wall. It contains a fine Gothic cathedral, |j
and many other churches, and several monasteries. Within Metaphrast
the walls the houses are 9000, with 61,000 inhabitants, but^-^^
including the several villages adjoining, the population is
73,000. It has some considerable manufactures of silk
goods and an export trade in silk, oranges, citrons, oil, wine,
and silk stuffs.
MESSUAGE, Messuagium, in Laic, a. dwelling-house,
with some land adjoining assigned for its use. Under the
name of messuage may be included a garden, shop, mill,
cottage, chamber, cellar, or the like. In Scotland, messuage
denotes what is called in England the manor-house, or the
principal dwelling-house within any barony.
MESTRE, a market town, the chief place of a district in
the delegation of Venice, in Italy. It stands on the Mar-
cenigo, contains many small houses, inhabited by 5320 per¬
sons, who are mostly carriers or gondoliers. It is in lat.
45. 29- 6. N. Long. 11. 44.40. E.
META, in the Roman circus, was a pile of stones of a
pyramidical form, intended as the boundary of the stadium, or
chariot course. When the meta had been passed the seventh
time, the race was concluded. The greatest art and man¬
agement wTere required in avoiding the meta, and yet going
as near it as possible. If they w ent too near, they were in
the greatest danger of breaking the- chariot to pieces ; and
if they took too large a circuit in the turn, they gave their
rivals an opportunity of getting within them, besides los¬
ing a great deal of ground. The metre at Rome were first
of wood, and afterwards of stone ; but the emperor Claudi¬
us made them of gold, or rather gilded them. In the Ro¬
man circus there wTere twTo metce, one at the entrance of the
course, and the other at the end of it. An egg was placed
upon the top of each of the metee.
METAGITNION, the second month of the Athenian
year, answ'ering to the latter part of our July and the be¬
ginning of August, and so called from metagitnia, a festival
in honour of Apollo, which was observed in that month.
METAL is a substance which is distinguished from
others by its ductility, malleability, tenacity, &c.
METALLURGY, in a general sense, comprehends the
whole art of working metals : and in this acceptation, essay¬
ing, smelting, refining, parting, smithery, gilding, and so
forth, are only branches of metallurgy. But in a more li¬
mited sense it includes only the operations which are follow¬
ed in separating metals from their ores.
METAMORPHOSIS, in general, denotes the changing
of something into a different form. In this sense it in¬
cludes the transformation of insects, as well as the mytho¬
logical changes related by the ancient poets.
METAPHOR. In poetry a metaphor differs from a
simile in form only not in substance. In a simile the two
subjects are kept distinct in the expression, as well as in
the thought; in a metaphor, the two subjects are kept dis¬
tinct in the thought only, not in the expression. An al¬
legory differs from a metaphor ; and & figure of speech dif-
ers from both. An allegory is one thing figured to be
another; it consists in choosing a subject having proper¬
ties or circumstances resembling those of the principal sub¬
ject ; and the former is described in such a manner as to
represent the latter. In & figure of speech, there is no fic¬
tion of the imagination employed, as in a metaphor ; nor
a representative subject introduced, as in an allegory. It
regards the expression only, not the thought, and may be
defined, the using a word in a sense different from what is
proper to it.
METAPHRAST, a translator, or a person who renders
an author word for word into another form or another lan¬
guage.
<1
599
metaphysics.
Definition. Metaphysics has been defined, by a writer deeply versed
Mn the ancient philosophy, “ the science of the principles
and causes of all things existing.” This definition we think
extremely proper; and hence it is, that mind or intelli¬
gence, and especially the Supreme Intelligence, which is
the cause of the universe, and of every thing which it con¬
tains, is the principal subject of this science ; and hence,
too, the science itself has received its name. Aristotle, in¬
deed, who, of all the ancient metaphysicians whose works
have come down to us, was unquestionably the greatest,
calls this science the First Philosophy, as being not only
superior, but also prior in the order of nature, to5the whole
circle of the arts and sciences. But what is first in na¬
ture is not first to man. Nature begins with causes, which
produce effects. Man begins with effects, and by them
ascends to causes. Thus all human study and investiga¬
tion proceed of necessity in the reverse of the natural
order of things, from sensible to intelligible, from body the
effect, to mind, which is both the first and the final cause.
Now Physics being the name given by the Stagyrite to the
philosophy of body, some of his interpreters, from this ne¬
cessary course of human studies, called that of mind Meta¬
physics ; implying by that term not only that its subject is
more sublime and difficult, but also that the study of it
would be most properly and successfully entered upon after
that of physics, i o this name, which, though it has some¬
times been treated with ridicule, is abundantly significant,
the followers of Aristotle were led by their master, who, to
the books in which he pretends to elevate the mind above
things corporeal to the contemplation of God and things
spiritual, prefixed the Greek words /Asra ra. pua'/xa.
Division The science of Metaphysics has been divided, according
ence6 SC1" t0,the objects which considers, into six principal parts,
which are denominated, i. Ontology; 2. Cosmology; 3.
Anthroposophy ; 4. Psychology; 5. Pneumatology ; and, 6.
Metaphysical Theology.
Ontology. That part of the science which is named Ontology in¬
vestigates and explains the nature and essence of all be-
ings, as well as the qualities and attributes which essentially
pertain to them. Hence it has been said that ontology
should proceed in its operations from the most simple ideas ;
such as do not admit of any other qualities of which they
may be compounded. These simple ideas are, those of being,
of essence, of substance, of mode, of existence as well with
regard to time as place, of a necessary cause of unity; the
idea of negation; the difference between a being that is
simple or compound, necessary or accidental, finite or in¬
finite ; the ideas of essential and abstract properties, such
as of the greatness, perfection, and goodness of beings, &c.
1 he business, therefore, of ontology is to make us acquaint¬
ed with every kind of being in its nature and essential qua¬
lities, by which it is distinguished from all other beings.
This knowledge being once established on simple principles,
mst consequences may thence be drawn, and those things
proved into which the metaphysician inquires, and which it Divisions
is the business of his science to prove. of the
It is easy to conceive, that even a clear knowledge of Science-
beings, and their essential properties, would be still defec-
tiye and useless to man, ir he did not know how to deter¬
mine and fix his ideas by proper denominations, and con¬
sequently to communicate his perceptions to those whom
he would instruct, or against whom he is obliged to dis¬
pute. I o render our ideas intelligible to others, therefore,
we must have determinate words or denominations for each
eing, and the qualities of each being ; and ontology teaches
us those terms which are so necessary to fix our ideas, and
to give them the requisite perspicuity and precision, that
when we endeavour to extend the sphere of our knowledge,
we may not waste our time in disputes about words.
Metaphysics having, in as solid a manner as possible, ex- Cosmo-
plained and established the principles above mentioned,
continues its inquiries into the second part, which is called
Cosmology, and examines into the essence of the world and
all that it contains ; its eternal laws ; the nature of matter
and of motion ; the nature of tangible bodies, their attri¬
butes and adjuncts ; and all that can be known by reasoning
and expeiience. It is also in cosmology that the metaphysi-
cians of this school examine the Leibnitzian system ; that
is, whether God, in creating the world, must necessarily
have cieated the best world ; and if this world be so in fact.
In this manner they pursue the argument, from consequence
to consequence, to its last resort, frequently with very little
advantage to truth and science.
Anthroposophy, or the knowledge of man, forms the third Antliro-
blanch of metaphysics. It is subdivided into two parts.Posophy*
The fiist, which consists in the knowledge of the exterior
parts of the human frame, belongs not to this science, but
to anatomy and physiology, ihe busifiess of the metaphy¬
sician is here to ascertain the nature of those powers by
which all the motions essential to life are produced; and
to discover, if possible, whether they be corporeal or spiri¬
tual. This inquiry leads at the same time to psychology.
Psychology consists in the knowledge of the intellectual Psycho¬
soul in particular; concerning which the most profound, the logy,
most subtile, and most abstract researches have been made
that human reason is capable of; and concerning the sub ¬
stance of which, in spite of all these efforts, it is yet ex¬
tremely difficult to support any positive opinion with con¬
clusive or probable arguments.
The fifth part,'of metaphysics is called Pneumatology. Prunmia-
By this term, which has not been long in use, metaphysi-tology.
cians mean the knowledge of all spirits, angels, &c. It is
easy to conceive what infinite art is necessary to give an
account of that of which nothing positive can ever be
known in the present state of human existence. But the
metaphysician of this school readily offers to show us what
is the idea of a spirit, and the effective existence of a spirit;
what are its general qualities and properties; that there
♦i * 3i?1S t.reatise] was written for and published in the third edition of this work. Though the greater part of it is, notwithstanding
tlie title, devoted to the Philosophy of the Mind, it does not adequately appreciate or discuss the doctrines of the Scottish School 
that School in which this important branch of Philosophy has been, as we think, most soundly and persuasively taught, and best il-
lustrated. It however presents a collection and collation of opinions so extensive and elaborate as fully to justify its republication. It
had the ^disadvantage, we may observe, of having been at least partly written before the publication of even the first volume of Mr
Stewart’s invaluable Elements of the Philosophy of the Mind. Had circumstances permitted the change, we should have separated this
subject from Metaphysics, confining the article on the latter to that science alone, in as far as any appropriate or definite meaning can
now be assigned to its name, and discussing the former, of new, under its proper head. But not being able, consistently with other
considerations, to accomplish this, we here reprint the Treatise nearly as it originally appeared. The reader will be the better able
to judge of its compass by being informed, that it not only includes a view of the principal speculations respecting the Intellectual
1 owers, and respecting Body or Matter and its adjuncts, but also discusses some fundamental portions of Moral Philosophy and Na¬
tural Religion,;—such as Liberty and Necessity, the Immateriality and Immortality of the Soul, and the Existence and Attributes
of the Deity. ''
600 METAPHYSICS.
Divisions are rational spirits, and that these rational spirits have qua-
of the lities which are founded in the moral attributes of God; for
^ Science, is jn go many WOrds what is attempted to be taught in
Y pneumatology.
Metaphy- Metaphysical Theology, which Leibnitz and some others
sical theo- ca]} Theodicy, is the sixth and last branch of the science of
10n>’ metaphysics. It teaches us the knowledge of the existence
of God ; to make the most rational suppositions concern¬
ing his divine essence ; to form a just idea of his attri¬
butes and perfections, and to demonstrate them by abstract
reasoning. Theodicy differs from natural theology, inas¬
much as this last borrows, in fact, from theodicy, proofs and
demonstrations to confirm the existence of a Supreme Be¬
ing ; but after having solidly established that great truth,
natural theology, by extending its consequences, teaches us
what are the relations and connexions which subsist between
the Supreme Being and men, and what are the duties which
result from these relations.
This divi- We have briefly mentioned these divisions of the science,
sion use- because they were once prevalent in the schools. The
less and greater part 0f them, however, appears to us to be not only
1 ' superfluous, but such as can serve no other purpose than to
perplex the mind. The only beings of which we know any
thing are mind and body ; and we have no reason to think
that there are any other beings in the universe. Of bodies
indeed there are various kinds, endowed with different
properties ; and it is also extremely probable, that, of minds
endowed with different powers, the variety may be equally
great. Our own minds we know to be united in one sys¬
tem with bodies by w-hich they perform all their opera¬
tions ; and we can demonstrate that there is another mind,
which is independent of all body, and is the cause of all
things. Between these there may be numberless orders of
minds ; but their energies are wholly unknown to us, and
therefore they can never become the objects of science.
Mind and body, therefore, that is, the minds and bodies
wdiich we know to exist, together with their powers and
properties, essential and accidental, can alone be the sub¬
jects of rational inquiry. We may inquire into the essence
of mind and the essence of body, and endeavour to ascer¬
tain in what respects they differ ; we may examine the
nature of different bodies, in order to discover whether all
bodies, however modified, have not something in common ;
and we may consider the properties, relations, and ad¬
juncts of bodies, and endeavour to distinguish those which
are accidental from such as appear to be so necessary that
without them body itself could not exist. But of minds we
cannot make the same comparison. In this part of the
science we have not sufficient data for an accurate and
complete induction. We can only examine the powers of
our own mind, and by probable analogy make some esti¬
mate of the powers of superior minds, as observation will
help us to guess at the powers of those which are placed
beneath us in the scale of existence.
If this be so, cosmology, as distinguished from ontology,
cannot properly be a branch of metaphysics ; for if mind
and body, with their several powers, properties, and ad¬
juncts, compose the universe, it is obvious, that when we
have ascertained, as well as we are able, the essence of
mind and the essence of body, together with the powers
and properties of each, and have traced them all to the
first cause, we have done every thing in the science of the
universe, if we may use the expression, which belongs to
the province of the metaphysician. The particular laws
of motion on the earth and in the planetary system belong
to the natural philosopher and the astronomer.
In like manner, anthroposophy, psychology, or pneuma¬
tology, if these be not words expressive of distinctions Divisions
where there is no difference, appear to be at least very of the
needlessly disjoined from one another. Of the nature of Science,
spirits we can know nothing but from contemplating the
powers of our own minds ; and the body of man is in the
province, not of the metaphysician, but of the anatomist
and physiologist. Anthroposophy, psychology, and pneu¬
matology, if they be used to denote our knowledge of all
minds except the Supreme, are words of the same import;
for of no created minds except our own can we acquire
such knowledge as deserves the name of science.
Ontology has sometimes been defined the science of
being in the abstract ; but in the course of our inquiries it
will be seen, that bemg in the abstract is a phrase without
meaning. Considered as the science of real beings and
their properties, ontology is a very significant word, of the
same import with metaphysics, and comprehending in it¬
self the knowledge of the nature of all things existing. Or
if it be thought proper to make a distinction between on¬
tology and theology, the former branch of the science will
teach the knowledge of body and created minds, whilst
it is the province of the latter to demonstrate the exist¬
ence and attributes of that mind which is uncreated.
Body and mind, therefore, with their properties, ad- Another
juncts, and powers, comprehend the whole subject of the division
science of metaphysics; and as we are more early acquaint-l,roPosed*
ed with body than with mind, the natural order of con¬
ducting our inquiries seems to be, to begin with the former,
and thence proceed to the latter. It is obvious, however,
that if we would pursue these inquiries with any hopes of
success, we must first trace human knowledge from its
source ; ascertain the nature of truth ; and show what kind
of evidence on each topic to be treated ought to enforce
conviction. In this view of the science, metaphysics ap¬
pears to be divided into three parts ; the first treating of
Human Understanding; the second of Body, with its ad¬
juncts ; and the third of Mind, with its powers.
Previously to entering upon such inquiries, some phi-idea and
losophers of great merit have thought it expedient to ex-notion ex¬
plain the terms which they might have occasion to use. p'iaineT
Their conduct is judicious, and worthy of imitation; for
the objects of metaphysics being, for the most part, such
as do not fall under the cognizance of the senses, are li¬
able to be differently apprehended by different men, if the
meanings of the words by which they are expressed be not
ascertained with the utmost precision. We intend, how¬
ever, to use very few words except in the common accep¬
tation ; and we therefore hope, that as terms of science are
explained under different words in the dictionary, to which
references are made, we shall have little or no occasion
for swelling the article by previous definitions. There are
indeed two words which have given rise to much useless
disputation, which yet cannot be banished from specula¬
tive philosophy, and which it will therefore be proper here
to define. The words to which we allude are idea and
notion. These are very generally considered as synony¬
mous ; but we think that much logomachy might have
been avoided by assigning to each a determinate signifi¬
cation. We know not any philosopher who made much
use of the wrord fc/eabefore Plato; but with his mysterious
doctrine concerning ideas we have here nothing to do.
Our present business is to ascertain the precise meaning
of the word, which is evidently derived from l/3w, to see,
as the word notion is from “ nosco, novi, notum,,> and that
from yivucrxcd, to know or understand} In the original sense
of the twro words, therefore, notion is more comprehensive
than idea, because we know many things which cannot be
1 The metaphysical student will do well to peruse the learned observations on the history and fortune of the word Idea, contained
in an article on the Philosophy of Perception, in the fifty-second volume of the Edinburgh Review, page 182 Note to the present
Edition.
1
METAPHYSICS.
Origin of seen. We have not a doubt but that at first the word idea
Ideas, was employed to denote only those forms of external ob-
jects which men contemplate in their imaginations, and
which are originally received through the sense of sight.
Its signification was afterwards extended to the relicts of
every sensation, of touch, taste, sound, and smell, as well
as of sight; and at last it was confounded with notion,
which denotes the mental apprehension of whatever may
be known. In our use of the word idea, except when we
quote from others, we shall employ it only to denote that
appearance which absent objects of sense make in the me¬
mory or imagination ; and by the word notion we shall de¬
note our apprehension or knowledge of spirits, and all such
things as, though they be the objects of science, cannot be
perceived by the external senses. Having said this, we
proceed to our inquiries, beginning with that into human
understanding.
PART I.
OF HUMAN UNDERSTANDING.
Preliminary Observations on the Origin of our Ideas and
Notions.
leasknhe Tliat the. mind of man.has no innate ideas or notions,
mian * ^ut comes int0 the world ignorant of every thing, is a truth
ind. which, since the days of Locke, has been very little dis¬
puted. In the first book of his Essay on Human Under¬
standing, that very acute philosopher has demonstrated,
that the rudiments or first principles of all our knowledge
are communicated to us by sensation ; and he has com¬
pared the mind, previously to the operation of external ob¬
jects upon the senses, to a tabula rasa, or sheet of white
paper. To repeat his arguments would swell this article
to no purpose. 1 here is not a man capable of attending to
his own ideas, who can entertain a doubt in what manner
he received them. Without the sense of sight, we could
never have known colours; nor sound, without hearing;
nor hardness, softness, smoothness, bodily pain or plea¬
sure, without touch ; nor odours, without smell, &c.
Self-evident as these facts are, objections have been
started to the inferences drawn from them; and Locke
has been accused of advancing principles subversive of all
distinction between truth and falsehood, and favourable of
course to universal scepticism. “ The first book of his
Essay, which, with submission,” says Dr Beattie,1 “ I
think the worst, tends to establish this dangerous doc¬
trine, that the human mind, previous to education and ha¬
bit, is as susceptible of one impression as of another; a
doctrine which, if true, would go near to prove that truth
and virtue are no better than human contrivances ; or at
least that they have nothing permanent in their nature,
but may be as changeable as the inclinations and capaci¬
ties of men; and that there is no such thing as common
sense in the world. Surely this is not the doctrine which
Mr Locke meant to establish.” We are so thoroughly
satisfied that it is not, that we cannot help wondering
how such inferences could, by a man of learning, genius,
and candour, be drawn from any thing which is to be found
in the Essay on Human Understanding.
But the doctor thinks Mr Locke’s “ simile of the mind
to white paper one of the most unlucky allusions that
could have been chosen ; because the human soul, when
it begins to think, is not extended, nor of a white colour,
601
nor incapable of energy, nor wholly unfurnished with ideas, Origin of
nor as susceptible of one impression or character as of any Ideas,
other. And it has been observed by another objector,2 ^ J v '
that “ on a sheet of white paper you may write that sugar
is bitter, wormwood sweet, fire and frost in every degree
pleasing and sufferable ; that compassion and gratitude
are base ; treachery, falsehood, and envy, noble ; and that
contempt is indifferent to us.”
All this is true, but we apprehend it is not to the pur-Objections
pose. Mr Locke has nowhere expressed himself in such answered,
a manner as to lead us to suppose that he believed the
soul to be extended or coloured, or, when it begins to think,
incapable of energy, and wholly unfurnished with ideas ;
but he certainly did believe that it does not begin to think
at the first instant of its existence, and that it acquires
all the ideas of which it is ever possessed. We may un¬
doubtedly write upon a piece of white paper that sugar is
bitter, and that wormwood is sweet; but how the capacity
of paper to receive the symbols of false propositions should
make Mr Locke's comparison improper or dangerous, we
cannot comprehend. Mr Usher indeed says, that it is im-
pioper on this account, “ that no human art or industry
is able to make those impressions upon the mind; in re¬
spect of them, the mind discovers not a passive capacity,
but resists them with the force of fate.” Does it indeed ?
Does the mind reject the idea of sugar or of bitterness, of
contempt or of indifference ? May not any man have the
idea of sugar, and at the same time the idea of bitterness,
and compare the one with the other in his mind, as well
as the word sugar may be written beside the word bitter,
and connected with it on the same piece of paper ? In
all this we perceive nothing that is impossible, nor even
difficult. The mind cannot indeed be made to feel that
sugar has the same taste with wormwood; but who ever
thought that it could ? Not Mr Locke, we shall be bold
to say ; nor does his simile give the smallest countenance
to such an absurdity. The great author of the Essay on
Human Understanding understood his subject too well to
imagine that either truth or falsehood could be communi¬
cated to paper, or that paper is capable of comparing ideas.
Paper is capable of receiving nothing but lines or figures,
and it passively receives whatever lines or figures we may
choose to inscribe upon it; yet if a pen be carried over it
in a circular direction, the figure impressed will not be a
square; just as, to the mind of one eating sugar, the taste
communicated is not that of wormwood.
On a piece of paper a circle may be described, and close
beside it a square; in like manner an agreeable sensation
may be communicated to the mind, and immediately af¬
terwards a sensation that is disagreeable. These two sen¬
sations, or the ideas which they leave behind them, may
be compared together; and it is certainly true that no art
or industry can make them appear similar in the mind. But
is it not equally true that no art or industry can make the
circle and the square similar on the paper ? The paper i£
susceptible of any sort of plain figures, and the mind is
equally susceptible of any sort of ideas or sensations ; but
figures dissimilar cannot be made to coincide, neither can
discordant ideas be made to agree. Again, one may
write upon paper that a circle is a square, and likewise that
a circle is not a square ; and both these propositions may
be communicated to the mind by the organs of sight or of
hearing. The paper receives the words expressive of the
false as well as those expressive of the true proposition;
and the mind receives the ideas and relations signified by
the one cluster of words as well as those signified by the
other; but in the mind the idea of a square is very different
vou. XIV.
Essay on the Nature and Immutability of Truth.
Usher, author of Cl\o. See a volume of Fugitive Pieces, printed for J. Davies, London, 1774.
4 G
602
METAPHYSICS.
All deriv¬
ed from
sensation
tion.
Origin of from that of a circle, and on the paper the figure of a square
Ideas. js very different from the figure of a circle. The great dif¬
ference between the mind and the paper is, that the former
is conscious of its ideas, and perceives their agreement or
disagreement; whereas the paper is not conscious of the
figures drawn upon it, nor perceives any thing about them.
But still these figures are what they are; they either agree
or disagree on the paper, as well as the ideas either agree
or disagree in the mind. It is not in the power of the
mind to alter the ideas of the square and the circle, nor in
the power of the paper to alter the forms of these figures.
It appears, then, that the principles of Mr Locke, and
the comparison by which he illustrates them, have no more
tendency to subvert the difference between truth and
falsehood, right and wrong, than the passiveness of paper
has to subvert the difference between a straight line and a
crooked, a circle and a square; and with a view to estab¬
lish the doctrine of innate ideas and instinctive principles
of knowledge, we might with as much propriety ask, whe¬
ther it be possible to imagine that any mode of manufac¬
ture could make paper of such a nature as that a pen drawn
over it in a circular direction would leave the figure of a
square, as, whether it be possible to imagine that any course
of education could ever bring a rational creature to believe
that two and two are equal to three.
The mind being thus, as we may say, originally white
paper, void of all characters, without ideas or notions of
andSreflec-any kind’ th? first question which we have to consider is,
' whence and in what manner it derives the materials of all
its knowledge ? To this question the only answer which
can be given is, that it derives them from observation and
experience ; from observation, either employed upon ex¬
ternal objects of sense, or turned inwardly upon its own
operations. Our senses, conversant about particular ex¬
ternal objects, convey into the mind several distinct per¬
ceptions ; such as those of colour, figure, heat, cold, bitter¬
ness, sweetness, and all those things which are usually
called sensible qualities. The notions, ideas, or whatever
else they may be called, which are acquired in this man¬
ner, may be called sensible knowledge ; and the source of
that knowledge is termed sensation.
The other fountain from which experience furnishes the
understanding with knowledge, is that attention which we
are capable of giving to the operations of our own minds
when employed about those ideas which were originally
suggested by objects of sense. These operations, when
the soul comes to reflect on them, furnish us with a set of
notions entirely different from the ideas of sense; such as
the notions of perception, thinking, doubting, believing,
reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the different energies
and passions of our own minds. Of these operations we
are always conscious when we are awake; but it requires,
as shall be shown afterwards, no inconsiderable effort to
set them, as it were, at a distance, to reflect on them, and
consider what they are. When we have made this effort,
however, we acquire notions as distinct, and perhaps more
important, than those ideas which we receive through the
medium of the senses.
Sensation and reflection, then, furnish mankind with the
fust materials of all their knowledge. The mind seems
not to have ideas or notions of any kind which it did not
receive by one or other of these modes. By means of the
senses it perceives external objects ; and by that power
which it has of turning its attention upon itself, it disco-
veis the nature and manner of its own operations.
Although the knowledge which we acquire from reflec¬
tion be of equal importance, and perhaps of greater cer¬
tainty than that which we receive through the medium of
the senses, it comes into the mind at a much later period ;
both because it is impossible that the faculties of the mind
should operate without materials, and because it is much
more difficult to attend to these operations, even whilst they
are going on, than to the objects of sense which solicit our
attention. It is for this reason pretty late before children
have any notions whatever of the operations of their own
minds ; and of the greater part of these operations the bulk
of mankind have no clear or accurate notions during the
whole of their lives. On the other hand, every human being
is so surrounded with bodies, which perpetually and vari¬
ously affect his senses, that a variety of sensible ideas force
an entrance even into the minds of children. In order
therefore to trace the procedure of the understanding, and
to ascertain the extent and limits of human knowledge, it
should seem that we must begin with considering the ex¬
ternal senses, that we may discover the manner in which
we receive knowledge by means of them, the objects of
that knowledge, and its certainty. It is to be observed,
however, that though we consider the mind as possessed
of many powers or faculties, and inquire first into the na¬
ture of that faculty which we conceive to be first exerted,
this is done merely for the sake of proceeding in our sub¬
ject with method and perspicuity. The mind is one simple
and undivided being; and in every mental energy it is the
whole mind, and not any part or portion of it, that is ener¬
getic. On this account it is impossible to explain even
the nature of sensation and perception to him who knows
not what is meant by will or understanding; but to every
one who is acquainted with the common import of these
words, and who has read the treatise on Logic inserted in
this work, we hope that our theory of perception will be
intelligible and convincing.
CHAP. I.—OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
Sect. I.— Of Sensation.
The Supreme Being, who made us and placed us in this Sensation
world, has given us such powers of mind as he saw to betyfi72
suited to our state and rank in his creation. He has givenor§an3,
us the power of perceiving many objects around us; but
that power is limited in various ways, and particularly in
this, that without the organs of the several senses we per¬
ceive no external object. The senses, as every one knows,
are five in number, and each communicates its proper sen¬
sation. It is by the eyes alone that we see, by the ears
that we hear, by the nose that we smell, and by the tongue
and palate that we taste ; the sense of feeling or touch is
spread over the whole body, for we feel equally by our
hands and by our feet, &c. To the powers of perception
by the senses it is necessary not only that we have all the
organs enumerated, but that we have them also in a sound
and natural state. There are many disorders of the eye
which cause total blindness, as well as others which im¬
pair without destroying the power of vision. The same
thing is true of the organs of all the other senses. •
All this is so well known from experience, that it needs fh686 or'
no proof; but it may be worth while to observe, that it isganst^“*
known from experience only.1 For any thing that we sentient
know to the contrary, our Creator might have endowed us
with the power of perception by a thousand organs of
sense, all different from those which we possess ; and it is
certain that he himself perceives every thing more per¬
fectly than we do without bodily organs. For it is to be
observed, that the organs of sense are different from the
being which is sentient. It is not the eye which sees, nor
Of Sensa¬
tion.
1 Iteid’s Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man.
METAPHYSICS.
Of Sensa- the ear which hears ; these are only the organs by which
tion. we see and hear. A man cannot see the satellites of Ju-
piter except by means of a telescope, nor hear a low voice
except by means of an ear-trumpet. Does he from this con¬
clude that it is the telescope which sees those satellites,
or the trumpet which hears that voice? Such a conclu¬
sion would be evidently absurd. It is no less absurd to
conclude that it is the eye which sees, or the ear which
hears. The telescope and the trumpet are artificial organs
of sight and of hearing, of which the eye and ear are natural
organs ; but the natural organs see and hear as little as
the artificial.
nstru- _ That this is the case with respect to the eye and the ear,
nents of is so obvious, that, as far as we know, it has never been
ensation. denied. But with respect to the senses of touch, taste, and
smell, the truth at first view does not appear so evident.
A celebrated writer has observed,1 that “ after the utmost
efforts, we find it beyond our power to conceive the flavour
of a rose to exist in the mind; we are necessarily led to
conceive that pleasure as existing in the nostrils, along
with the impression made by the rose upon that organ ;2
and the same will be the result of experiments with re¬
spect to every feeling of taste, touch, and smell. Touch,”
he says, “ affords the most satisfactory evidence, and phi¬
losophy detects the delusion.” To detect this delusion re¬
quires, indeed, no great depth in philosophy ; for it is so
far from being true that we are necessarily led otherwise
than by association, of which the laws shall afterwards
be explained, to conceive the pleasure or pain of touch as
existing at that part of our body upon which the impres¬
sion is made, that, as every man must have observed, chil¬
dren, previously to experience, cannot distinguish the pre¬
cise place of their bodies which is affected by the touch of
any external object. Nay, we believe it will be found upon
trial, that if a full-grown man, with all the experience of
age to guide him, be pricked with a pin on any part of his
body which he has seldom handled, and never seen, he
will not readily, norat first, put his finger upon the wound,
nor even come very near to the wound. This, however,
he would certainly and infallibly do were the sense of
touch necessarily conceived as existing in the organ. To
these observations objections may perhaps be made, which
we cannot stay to obviate ; but the following, we think,
will admit of none. We appeal to every man who has ex¬
perienced that particular sensation of touch which Scali-
ger has dignified with the name of a sixth sense, whether,
whilst those sensations were new to him, he was necessa¬
rily led to conceive them as existing in any particular
organ. If he was not, it then follows undeniably that the
organs of sensation are different from the being which is
sentient; that it is not the eye which sees, the ear which
hears, the nostrils which smell, the tongue which tastes,
nor any part of the body which feels; and that it is by
experience alone that we learn to associate our several
sensations with those organs upon which the impressions
are made.
| he brain It is, however, certain that we receive no sensation from
ltd nerves external objects, unless when some impression is made
f sensuT u.Pon ^le organ of sense, either by the immediate applica-
!>n. ^lon ^ie °bject itself, or by some medium which passes
between the object and the organ.3 In two of our senses,
603
viz. touch and taste, there must be an immediate applica- Of Sensa¬
tion of the object to the organ. In the other three the tion.
sensation is occasioned by the impression of some medium v y —
passing fiom the object to the organ. The effluvia of bodies
drawn into the nostrils with the breath are the medium of
smell, the undulations of the air are the medium of hear¬
ing ; and the rays of light passing from visible objects to
the eye are the medium of sight. These are facts known
from experience to hold universally both in men and in
brutes. It is likewise a law of our nature perfectly known
to all who know any thing of anatomy, that, in order to
actual sensation, the impressions made upon the external
organs must be communicated to the nerves, and from them
to the brain. First, the object, either immediately, or by
some medium, makes an impression upon the organ ; the
organ serves as a medium by which the impression is com¬
municated to the nerves ; and the nerves serve as a me¬
dium to carry it on to the brain. Here the corporeal part
ends; at least we can trace it no farther. The rest of the
process is purely intellectual. The proof of these impres¬
sions upon the nerves and brain in sensation is this, That
from many observations and experiments it is found, that
when the organ of any sense is perfectly sound, and has
the impression made upon it by the object ever so strongly,
yet if the nerve which serves that organ be cut or tied hard,
there is no sensation; and it is wrell known that disorders
in the brain deprive us of sensation, whilst both the organ
and its nerve remain sound.
There is sufficient reason, therefore, to conclude, that in Process of
sensation the object produces some change in the organ ; nature in
that from the organ the change proceeds to the nerve, and sensation,
from the nerve to the brain. Hence it is that we have po¬
sitive sensations from negative objects or mere nonenti¬
ties, such as darkness, blackness, and vacuity. For, sensa¬
tion resulting from changes in the brain, whatever produces
any change must of course occasion a new sensation; but
it is obvious that the mere absence of any impression, by
the removal of the object which produced it, must as ne¬
cessarily cause a change in the organ, nerves, and brain, as
the presence of a new impression from a new object. To
these changes, or that which immediately produces them,
we give the name of impressions ; because we know not
how, in a general manner, to express more properly any
change produced by an external cause, without specifying
the nature of that cause. Whether it be pressure, or at¬
traction, or repulsion, or vibration, or something unknown,
for which we have no name, still it may be called an im¬
pression.
Sir Isaac Newton was perhaps the first who supposed The mind
that the rays of light falling upon the bottom of the eye partly ac-
excite vibrations in the tunica retina ; and that these vibra-tive in sen’
tions, being propagated along the solid fibres of the opticsatlon’
nerves into the brain, cause the actual sensation of seeing.
This hypothesis was adopted by Dr Hartley, applied to the
other senses, and shown to be at least as probable as any
which has yet been invented to account for the perception of
external objects by means of the organs of sense. Be this
as it may, experience informs us, that whatever be the na¬
ture of those impressions and changes which are made by
external objects upon the senses, nerves, and brain, we have
without them no actual sensation, and of course perceive
1 Karnes’s Elements of Criticism.
2 Another eminent writer thinks very differently on this subject, and in our opinion much more justly. “ Suppose’ ” savs Dr
Keid, ‘ a person who never had this sense {smell) before, to receive it all at once, and to smell a rose; can he perceive any si¬
militude or agreement between the smell and the rose, or indeed between it and any other object whatever ? Certainly he cannot,
lie Imds himself affected in a new way, he knows not why, or from what cause. He is conscious that he is not the cause of it him¬
self; but he cannot, from the nature of the thing, determine whether it be caused by body or spirit, by something near or by some-
thmg at a distance. He cannot give it a place, any more than he can give a place to melancholy or joy ; nor can he conceive it to have
any existence but when it is smelled. {Inquiry into the Human Mind, ch. ii. sect, ii.)
3 lieid’s Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Alan, and Hartley’s Observations on Alan.
METAPHYSICS.
604
Of Percep-nothing ab extra. Hence it has been supposed that the
x t^on‘ mind is wholly passive in sensation, and that sensation is
V”- Y . necessarily produced by those impressions. But this we
believe to be a mistake. Every man who has been atten¬
tive to his own thoughts and actions, must know instances
of impressions having been certainly made upon his organs
of sense without producing any sensation, or suggesting to
his mind the perception of the particular objects by which
the impressions were caused. He whose mind is intense¬
ly employed in any particular pursuit may have his eyes
open upon an object which he does not see, or he may
not hear the sound of a clock striking within two yards of
him; nay, we will venture to affirm, that there is hardly
one reader of this article to whom such absences of sensa¬
tion have not often occurred. Now, as there is no reason
to suppose, that in the one case the undulations of the air
caused by the striking of the clock did not reach his ears,
or that in the other the rays of light reflected from the ob¬
ject did not fall upon his eyes, which were open to receive
them, the only reason which can be assigned for his not
having, in these instances, had audible and visible sensa¬
tions, is, that his mind was so engaged in something else
as not to pay to the vibrations in his brain that attention, if
we may so express it, without which impressions ab extra can
produce no sensation. There are* indeed, some impressions
on the organs of sense so violent and so sudden as to force
themselves upon the mind, however employed. Such are
those made on the ear by thunder, and on the eye by strong
light. In these cases, sensation is involuntary and unavoid¬
able; whence we conclude, noj; that in such instances the
mind is passive or destitute of energy, but that, by the vio¬
lent agitation given to the brain, it is roused from its re¬
verie, and compelled to give attention. It appears, there¬
fore, that in sensation the mind exerts some kind of energy ;
for in nothing but in the sentient being itself can we seek
for the cause why, when all external circumstances are the
same, organical impressions sometimes produce sensations
and sometimes not; and that cause can only be the energy
of the mind, though of what kind that energy is we pretend
not to say.
Sect. II.— Of Perception by the Senses.
Difficult to How the correspondence is carried on between the
account for thinking principle within us and the material world with-
perception. ouj. ug^ j)ag a]wayS) as j)r Jtgjj observes, been found a very
difficult problem to those philosophers who consider them¬
selves as obliged to account for every phenomenon in na¬
ture. It is, indeed, a problem of which we do not expect
ever to see a complete solution. A few steps beyond the
vulgar we may certainly go; but the nature of that connec¬
tion by which the mind and body are united will probably
remain for ever unknown. One question, however, which has
employed much of the attention of philosophers, both an¬
cient and modern, appears to be not wholly unanswerable.
It is, whether, by means of our senses, we perceive exter¬
nal objects mediately or immediately; or, in other words,
whether sensation and perception be one and the same
thing, or two things succeeding each other ? On this sub¬
ject, till of late, there appears to have been in the main a
great uniformity in the sentiments of philosophers, not¬
withstanding their variations respecting particular points.
Of some of the most eminent of them we shall give the
opinions, as we find them collected by one1 who was well ac¬
quainted with their writings, who was thoroughly qualified
to estimate their respective merits, and who cannot be sus¬
pected of partiality to that theory which we feel ourselves
compelled to adopt.
“ Plato illustrates our manner of perceiving external Of pe
objects thus : He supposes a dark subterraneous cave, in tior
which men lie bound in such a manner as that they can
direct their eyes only to one part of the cave. Far behind Plato-
there is a light, of which some rays come over a wall to
that part of the cave which is before the eyes of our pri¬
soners. A number of men variously employed pass be¬
tween them and the light, whose shadows are seen by the
prisoners, but not their persons themselves. In this man¬
ner did that philosopher conceive that by our senses we
perceive not things themselves, but only the shadows of
things; and he seems to have borrowed his notions on this
subject from the disciples of Pythagoras.
“ If we make due allowance for Plato’s allegorical ge-Aristot
nius, his sentiments with respect to sensation and percep¬
tion correspond very well with those of the Peripatetics.
Aristotle, the founder of that school, seems to have thought
that the soul consists of two or three parts ; or rather that
we have three souls, the vegetable, the animal, and the
rational. The animal soul is held to be a certain form of
the body, which is inseparable from it, and perishes at
death. To this soul the senses belong; and he defines a
sense to be that which is capable of receiving the sensible
forms, or species of objects, without any of the matter of
them ; as wax receives the form of the seal without any
of its matter. Of this doctrine it seems to be a necessary
consequence, that bodies are constantly sending forth, in
all directions, as many different kinds of forms without
matter as they have different sensible qualities. This was
accordingly maintained by the followers of Aristotle, though
not, as far as we know, taught by himself They disputed
concerning the nature of these forms or species, whether
they were real beings or nonentities; but of matter and form
we shall have occasion to speak afterwards.
“ After Aristotle had kept possession of the schools forDescart
more than a thousand years, his authority, which had of¬
ten supplied the place of argument, was called in question
by Lord Bacon and others. Descartes, however, was the
first philosopher who, convinced of the defects of the pre¬
vailing system, attempted to form another entirely new;
but on the nature of perception by means of the senses he
differs little or nothing from those who had preceded him
in that department of science. He denies, indeed, and
refutes by solid reasoning, the doctrine which maintains
that images, species, or forms of external objects, come
from the objects themselves, and enter into the mind by
the avenues of the senses. But he takes it for granted,
as all the old philosophers had done, that what we imme¬
diately perceive must be either in the mind itself, or in
the brain, in which the mind is immediately present. The
impressions made upon our organs, nerves, and brain, can
be nothing, according to his philosophy, but various mo¬
difications of extension, figure, and motion. There can be
nothing in the brain like sound or colour, taste or smell,
heat or cold. They are sensations in the mind, which, by
the laws of the union of the soul and body, are raised on
occasion of certain traces in the brain; and although he
sometimes gives the name of ideas to these traces, he does
not think it necessary that they should be perfectly like
the things which they represent, any more than that words
and signs should resemble the things which they signify.
“ According to this system, it would appear that we per¬
ceive not externa] objects directly by means of our senses;
but that these objects, operating either mediately or im¬
mediately upon the organs of sense, and they again upon
our nerves and brain, excite in the mind certain sensa¬
tions ; whence we infer the existence of external objects
from our sensations, of which they are the cause. Percep-
1 Dr Eeid in his Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man.
METAPHYSICS.
,,,
p.tion of external objects, therefore, according to Descartes,
is not one simple original act of the mind, but may be re¬
solved into a process of reasoning from effects to causes.”
The doctrines of Malebranche, Locke, and Hartley, re-
. specting perception, differ not essentially from that of Des¬
cartes. Malebranche, indeed, supposes that external ob¬
jects are not themselves the causes of perceptions; but that
the Deity, being always present to our minds more inti¬
mately than any other being, does, upon occasion of the
impressions made upon our organs of sense, discover to
us, as far as he thinks proper, and according to fixed laws,
his own ideas of the object; and thus, according to him,
we see all things in God, or in the divine ideas. He agrees,
however, with Descartes and the ancient philosophers,
in considering it as a truth which it is impossible to refute,
that we perceive not the objects without us, the sun, moon,
and stars, &c., because it is not likely that the soul sallies
out of the body, and takes a walk, as it were, through the
heavens to contemplate these objects. She sees them not
therefore by themselves ; and the immediate object of the
mind, when it sees the sun, is not the sun itself, but some¬
thing which is intimately united to the mind, and is that
which he calls an idea.
Locke, speaking of the reality of our knowledge, says :
“ It is evident the mind knows not things immediately,
but only by the intervention of the ideas'it has of them.
Our knowledge, therefore, according to him, is real only
so far as there is a conformity between our ideas and the
things which they represent.” And the manner of our
perceiving external objects he illustrates by the following
similitude: “ Methinks the understanding is not much
unlike a closet wholly shut from light, with only some lit¬
tle opening left, to let in external visible resemblances, or
ideas of things without. Would the pictures coming into
such a dark room but stay there, and lie so orderly as to
be found upon occasion, it would very much resemble the
understanding of a man in reference to all objects of sight,
and the ideas of them.”1 He has elsewhere2 defined an
idea thus: “ Whatsoever the mind perceives in itself, or
is the immediate object of perception, thought, or under¬
standing, that I call an idea ; and the power to produce
any idea in our mind I call quality of the subject wherein
the power is.” He likewise thinks it easy to draw this
observation, that the ideas of what he calls primary quali¬
ties of bodies, viz. extension, solidity, figure, mobility, &c.
are resemblances of these qualities as they really exist in
the bodies themselves.
This unguarded expression, which affirms that ideas in
the mind are the resemblances of external things, has
brought upon Mr Locke much undeserved ridicule. That
upon this and other occasions he uses the word idea with
too great latitude, and that he often confounds ideas with
sensations, and even with the causes of sensation, must be
admitted by his warmest admirers; but we believe that by
an attentive reader, who peruses his whole work, and com¬
pares such passages as are obscure with those which are
clearer, his meaning may always be discovered, and, with
respect to sensation and perception, will generally be found
just. I hat by calling the ideas of primary qualities re¬
semblances of the qualities themselves, he meant nothing
wore than that bodies in all possible states impress the
senses, nerves, and brain, in such a manner as to produce
in the mind certain sensations, between which and those
impressions there is an inseparable though unknown con¬
nection, is evident from the account which he gives of the
605
manner of perception. “ Our senses,” says he, “ conver- Of Percep-
sant about particular sensible objects, do convey into the tion.
mind several distinct perceptions of things, according toN>—
those various ways in which these objects affect them ; and
thus we come by those ideas we have of yellow, white,
heat, cold, soft, hard, bitter, sweet, and all those which we
call sensible qualities; which, when I say the senses con¬
vey into the mind, I mean they, from external objects,
convey into the mind what produces those perceptions.”
And as bodies can act only by impulse, he adds, that
those perceptions can be produced only by an impression
made upon the senses, and some motion thence continued
by our nerves to the brain or seat of perception.”
Dr Hartley was the pupil of Locke and Newton ; and, Hartlev.
in a more satisfactory manner than all who had pre¬
ceded or have since followed him, explained the material
part of the process of perception. His principles we shall
have occasion, during the course of this article, to develope
pretty fully. For our present purpose it is sufficient to
say, that all his observations and arguments evidently sup¬
pose, that nothing distant from the mind can be perceived
in the immediate act of sensation ; but that the apparent¬
ly immediate perception of external objects is an instance
of early and deep-rooted association.
In this sentiment Mr Hume agrees with his predeces- Hume,
sors ; but he obscures his philosophy, and misleads his rea¬
der, by confounding sensations with the impressions from
which they proceed. “ Every one/’ says he,3 u will allow
that there is a considerable difference between the per¬
ceptions of the mind when a man feels the pain of ex¬
cessive heat, or the pleasure of moderate warmth, and when
he afterwards recalls to his memory this sensation, or an¬
ticipates it by his imagination.” The less forcible and
lively of these perceptions he with great propriety calls
ideas ; but it is either through wilful perverseness, or con¬
fusion of intellect, that he chooses to call the others irn-
pressions. Sensation and perception are caused by impres¬
sions ; but they are no more impressions themselves than
the pain occasioned by the stroke of a bludgeon is the
stroke itself, or the bludgeon with which it was struck. But
more of this afterwards.
Thus far, then, that we perceive not external objects Agreement
directly, but infer their existence from certain sensations 0fphfi°so-
excited in our minds by the operation of these objects up-Phers’ and
on our senses, nerves, and brain, seems to have been the tf%reasori
opinion of almost every philosopher from Pythagoras4 to Mr °
Hume. For an opinion so universal, and at the same time
so contrary to the persuasion of the multitude, some cogent
reason must have been assigned. That reason has been
given by many philosophers, but by none with greater per¬
spicuity than Dr Porterfield, in his Essay concerning the
Motion of the Eyes. “ How body acts upon the mind, or
mind upon body,” says he, “ I know not; but this I am
very certain of, that nothing can act, or be acted upon,
where it is not; and therefore our mind can never perceive
any thing but its own proper modifications, and the various
states of the sensorium to which it is present. So that it
is not the external sun and moon, which are in the heavens,
that our mind perceives, but only their image or represen¬
tation impressed on the sensorium. How the soul of a
seeing man sees those images, or how it receives those ideas
from such agitations in the sensorium, I know not; but I
am sure it can never perceive the external bodies them¬
selves, to which it is not present.”
This reasoning appears to have force, and perhaps the
2 Book ii. chap. viii.
’ Essay on Understanding, book ii. chap. xi.
4 Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, sect. iii.
fully MllectSthTn indltl0n Cudworth’s Intellectual System, where the opinions of the philosophers of antiquity are more faith-
y collected than in any other work with which we are acquainted.
METAPHYSICS.
606
Of Percep- unanimous agreement of thinking men in all ages has still
v tion. ^ greater force ; yet the doctrine which prevailed so long,
and which to Locke appeared so evident as to need no
proof, has since been called in question by some eminent
philosophers in our own country, who, though they allow
that we cannot perceive external objects except by means
of the senses, yet affirm that they are the objects themselves
which we perceive directly, and that in perception there
is no association which can be resolved into a process of
reasoning from sensations the effects, to external objects
the causes. Dr Reid, who was perhaps the first of this
class of philosophers, had expressed himself distinctly on
this subject.
“ If we attend to the act of our mind which we call the
perception of an external object of sense, we shall find it
in these three things: First, some conception or notion of
the object perceived; secondly, & strong and irresistible
conviction and belief of its present existence ; and, thirdly,
that this conviction and belief are immediate, and not the
effect of reasoning.”1 To the first and second of these
propositions we are persuaded that Descartes and Locke
would readily have assented ; nor do we imagine that they
would have denied the third, had the author allowed that
this strong and irresistible conviction is the consequence of
an early and deep-rooted association, resolvable into a pro¬
cess of reasoning. This, however, the learned professor
does not allow, for he repeatedly affirms that it is instinc¬
tive and original, and that “ the constitution of our power
of perception determines us to hold the existence of what
we distinctly perceive as a first principle, from which other
truths may be deduced, but it is deduced from none.”
With this view of the matter, he could with no propriety
attempt to support his own opinion by argument; but to
the reasonings of Dr Porterfield and others in defence of
the Cartesian theory, he replies in the following words :
“ That nothing can act immediately where it is not, I
think must be admitted; for I agree with Sir Isaac Newton,
that power without substance is inconceivable. It is a
consequence of this, that nothing can be acted upon im¬
mediately where the agent is not present; let this, there¬
fore, be granted. To make the reasoning conclusive, it is
farther necessary, that when we perceive objects, either
they act upon us, or we act upon them. This does not
appear self-evident, nor have I ever met with any proof
of it.”2
Of the profundity of Dr Reid’s understanding we have
the most firm conviction ; nor is there any metaphysician,
ancient or modern, from whom \vre differ with greater re¬
luctance ; but we cannot help thinking this a rash assertion,
as his own works appear to us to afford complete proof
that, in perception, the mind both acts and is acted upon.
Let us attend, however, to the reasons which, on this oc¬
casion, induced him to think that in perception there is no
action either of the object on the mind or of the mind on
the object.
“ When we say that one being acts upon another, we
mean that some power or force is exerted by the agent
which produces, or has a tendency to produce, a change in
the thing acted upon. If this be the meaning of the phrase,
as I conceive it is, there appears no reason for asserting
that, in perception, either the object acts upon the mind or
the mind upon the object. An object, in being perceived,
does not act at all. I perceive the walls of the room where
I sit; but they are perfectly inactive, and therefore act not
upon the mind. lo be perceived, is what logicians call an
external denomination, which implies neither action nor
quality in the object perceived.”
This last sentence we do not pretend to understand. Sub- Of p
stance without qualities is to us inconceivable, and certain- !i ^
ly is no object of perception ; for Dr Reid himself has told^-* ^
us, and told us truly, that “ the objects of perception are
the various qualities of bodies.” That an object, in being
perceived, does not act at all, is directly contrary to what
the ingenious author has taught us, both in his Inquiry
and in his Essays, viz. that “ it is a law of our nature that
we perceive not external objects, unless certain impressions
be made by the object upon the organ, and, by means of
the organ, upon the nerve and brain;” for if the external
object, in being perceived, make impressions, it is certainly
not true that it does not act at all. It is indeed readily ac¬
knowledged, that when one perceives the walls of the room
w here he sits, these walls do not act immediately upon the
organs of sight; but it does not therefore follow that they
are perfectly inactive; for it is known to all mankind, that
from every point of the wall which is seen, rays of liaht
are reflected to the eye; that these rays make upon the
retina tunica an impression, which is conveyed by the op¬
tic nerve to the brain ; and that this impression on the brain
is one of the immediate causes of vision. In what particu¬
lar manner it causes vision, we shall never be able to dis¬
cover, till we know more of the laws which unite mind
and body, and by which one of these is qualified to act up¬
on the other; but, because we know not the manner of this
operation, to affirm that there is no operation at all, seems
to be as absurd as it would be to affirm, because we per¬
ceive no necessary connection between a stroke and the
sensation of sound, that the sound of a musical string is not
caused by the- stroke of a plectrum. That God might have
given us powers of perception of a different kind from those
which we possess, there can be no doubt; but with what
we might have been we have no concern. As we are, we
know perfectly that the eye is an instrument of vision, be¬
cause without it nothing can be seen; we know also that
the retina and optic nerves are equally necessary, because,
if they be disordered, vision is still wanting; we know like¬
wise that the brain is necessary to all perception, because,
when it is disordered, thinking either entirely ceases or is
proportionably disturbed. And, lastly, we are not more
certain of our own existence, than that actual perception
does not take place except when the object makes an im¬
pression upon some organ of sense; for when no rays of
light fall upon the eye, we see nothing; when no sapid
body is applied to the tongue and palate, we taste nothing;
and if we could be removed from every thing solid, we
should feel nothing.
These are conclusions which cannot be controverted.
I hey are admitted equally by the philosopher and by the
plain unlettered man of common sense ; nor are they ren¬
dered one whit less certain by our not being able to go
a step farther, so as to discover in what manner the brain
or the affections of it can be the immediate instrument of
sensation and perception. For, as Dr Reid observes, in
the spirit of true philosophy,3 in the operation of mind, as
well as in those of bodies, we must often be satisfied with
knowing that certain things are connected and invariably
follow one another, without being able to discover the
chain that connects them. It is to such connections that we
give the name of laws of nature ; and when we say that
one thing produces another by a law of nature, this signi¬
fies no more than that one thing wffiich we call in popular
language the cause, is constantly and invariably followed by
another which we call the effect; and that we know not
how they are connected.
In the preceding section we have observed, that in sensa-
Lssays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, essay ii. chap. v.
3 Inquiry into the Human Mind, 4th edit. p. 258.
2 Hid. essay ii. chap. xiv.
METAPHYSICS.
Of rcep-tion the mind exerts some energy; and therefore as, upon
n. every hypothesis, perception is a consequence of sensation,
'-'■'“-''it follows, that in perception the mind cannot be wholly
inactive. Dr Reid, in his Essays on the Intellectual Powers
of Man, seems to affirm that it is. “ I see no reason,” says
he, “ to believe that in perception the mind acts upon the
object. To perceive an object is one thing, to act upon it
is another. Nor is the last at all included in the first. To
say that I act upon the wall by looking at it, is an abuse
of language, and has no meaning.” This is indeed true ;
it would be a great abuse of language to say that by look¬
ing at the wall a man acts upon it; but we do not believe
that any man ever said or supposed such a thing. The
philosophers whose opinion he is combating might argue
in this manner: We are conscious that in perception the
mind is active ; but nothing can act immediately where it is
not; the mind cannot act immediately upon external ex¬
istence ; external existence therefore is not the immediate
object of that energy which is exerted in perception. As
Dr Reid affirms that external existence is the immediate
object of perception, he must deny the first proposition in
this argument; for if it be granted, as we have just seen,
that in his reply to Dr Porterfield he admits the second,
the laws of reasoning will compel him to admit the third.
To say that in perception the mind acts not upon exter¬
nal objects, is a truth in which all mankind are agreed;
and it is the very principle from which his antagonists in¬
fer that the conviction of the present existence of external
objects is not an original and instinctive consequence of
sensation, but an early and deep-rooted association, which
may be resolved into a process of reasoning. His meaning
therefore must be, that in perception the mind does not act
at all. But this is directly contrary to his definition of per¬
ception, which he calls an act of the mind ; and it is likewise
contrary to his theory of perception, as it is detailed in the
Inquiry into the Human Mind on the Principles of Com¬
mon Sense. We are there taught, with equal elegance and
perspicuity, “ that an impression made by an external ob¬
ject upon the organ, nerves, and brain, is followed by a sen¬
sation, and that this sensation is followed by the perception
of the object.” We are likewise taught, that “ although
the Peripatetics had no good reason to suppose an active
and passive intellect, they yet came nearer the truth in
holding the mind to be, in sensation, partly passive and
partly active, than the moderns in affirming it to be purely
passive. Sensation, imagination, memory, and judgment,
have, by the vulgar, in all ages, been considered as acts of
the mind. Thp manner in which they are expressed in all
languages shows this; for when the mind is much employ¬
ed in them, we say it is very active, whereas if they were
impressions only, we ought to say that the mind is very
passive. All this is undeniable ; but if sensation neces¬
sarily precede perception, and if in sensation the mind be
active, what becomes of the assertion that in perception it
does not act at all ? Indeed we may appeal to the common
sense of mankind, whether any thing can be perceived
without some mental energy of the percipient. For when
the impressions made upon the external senses are faint, in
order to be conscious of them an evident exertion is requi¬
site, not of the organ only, but also of the mind, as in per¬
ceiving very remote objects and sounds; but when the im¬
pressions are stronger, the perception is involuntary and
unavoidable, as has been already explained in the nreced-
uig section.
607
It being thus certain that in perception the mind both
acts and is acted upon, and it being universally acknow-
>erc,.
ledged that nothing can act where it is not, we feel our-Of Percep-
selves compelled to admit, with the Cartesians, that in tion.
perception the conviction of the present existence of ex-'*'—'v'"'
ternal objects is not original and instinctive, but the con¬
sequence of an early and unavoidable association of cer¬
tain sensations with the causes which produce them. In
this opinion we are still more confirmed by the well-known
fact, that particular pressures upon the organ, nerves, and
brain, excite not only sensations, but even perceptions of
objects appaiently external, when no such objects are
within the reach of our senses. Thus,1 if a man in the
daik press either corner of his eye with his finger, he will
see a circle of colours like those in the feather of a pea¬
cock’s tail, though no such external object be before him,
and though the room be so dark that nothing external
could possibly be discerned. Again, if a burning coal be
nimbly moved round in a circle, with gyrations continually
repeated, the whole circumference of the circle will at once
appear on fire, though it is certain that there can really be
no fire but in one portion of that circumference, equal in
length to the diameter of the coal. These are facts known
to all mankind, and they are perfectly irreconcileable with
the supposition, that the perception of external objects
by the sense of sight is original and instinctive; but they
are at once accounted for, if it be true that rays of light
falling from external objects upon the tunica retina agitate
the optic nerves and brain, and that such agitations ex¬
cite sensations in the mind which experience has taught
us to refer to external objects, as, under God, their ulti¬
mate cause.
. ^ut although we have declared ourselves to be in this
instance Caitesians, we do not admit all the absurdities
which have sometimes been imputed to that system of per¬
ception. We do not believe that external objects are perceiv¬
ed by means of images of them in the mind or the brain;
noi do we think that Descartes or Locke has anywhere
affirmed that they are, otherwise than by an expression
obviously figurative, denoting, not that the actual shapes
of things are delineated in the brain or upon the mind,
but only that impressions of some kind or other are con¬
veyed to the brain by means of the organs of sense and
their corresponding nerves ; and that between these im¬
pressions and the sensations excited in the mind, there is
a real, and in our present state a necessary, though un¬
known, connection.2 * * *
Upon the whole, we think that there is good evidence That theo-
for believing, that in perception the process of nature is thery fairly
following: First, ii the object be not in contact with the stated."
organ of sense, there must be some medium which passes
between them ; as, in vision, the rays of light; in hear¬
ing, die vibrations of elastic air; and in smelling, the efflu¬
via of the body smelled ; otherwise we have neither sen¬
sation nor perception. Secondly, there must be some
action or impression upon the organ of sense, either by
the immediate application of the object, as in the two
senses of touch and taste; or by the medium interposed
between them, as in the other three senses. Thirdly,
the nerves which go from the brain to the organ must
receive some impression by means of that which was made
upon the organ; and by means of these nerves that im¬
pression must be carried to the brain. Fourthly, the im¬
pression made upon the organs, nerves, and brain, rouses
the dormant energy of the mind ; and this double action
of the mind and the object produces a sensation. And,
lastly, as we know by experience that the mind alone
cannot, by any exertion of its own, produce one sensation,
2 Bartley’s Observations on Man.
ous, te think'it'rieht a10”- efntert^ined b7 Descartes and Locke in regard to the nature Ideas is altogether errone-
in the 5°(1 volume^f th//S sounder information, to the profound and elaborate article on the Philosophy of Perception, contained
1 votume the Edinburgh Review—Note to the present Edition.
608
METAPHYSICS.
Reid’s.
Of Percep-and are intuitively certain that nothing can begin to exist
without a cause, we infer from the existence of any new
' "" v sensation the existence of some other cause than the in¬
ternal energy of the mind from which that sensation pro¬
ceeds ; and this cause experience teaches us to be the ex¬
ternal object. This process is carried on so rapidly, and
the several parts of it, by being continually repeated, are
so closely associated, that, except by a reflex act of the
mind, we do not distinguish them from one another, and
therefore denominate the whole perception.
Shown to It is with extreme diffidence that we advance a doctrine
differ little which Dr Reid has controverted; but he differs from us
from Dr on]y jn t]ie jast stage 0f the process,1 where he supposes
sensation and perception to be two simple and indepen¬
dent acts of the mind. Yet he sometimes expresses him¬
self as if he thought, as we do, that in perception the be¬
lief of the present existence of external objects is rather
the result of experience, than an instinctive persuasion.
Thus, speaking of the perception which we have in smell¬
ing a rose, he says,2 “ Perception has always an external
object, and the object of my perception in this case is
that quality in the rose which I discern by the sense of
smell. Observing that the agreeable sensation is raised
when the rose is near, and ceases when it is removed, I
am led by my nature [we think by experience would have
been more proper] to conclude some quality to be in the
rose, which is the cause of this sensation. This quality
in the rose is the object perceived; and that act of my
mind, by which I have the conviction and belief of this
quality, is what in this case I call perception.’, Again,
he says that “ three of our senses, viz. smell, taste, and
hearing, originally give us only certain sensations, and a
conviction that these sensations are occasioned by some
external object. We give a name to that quality of the
object by which it is fitted to produce such a sensation,
and connect that quality with the object and with its other
qualities. Thus we learn, that a certain sensation of smell
is produced by a rose ; and that quality in the rose by
which it is fitted to produce this sensation we call the
smell of the rose. Here it is evident that the sensation
is original. The perception that the rose has that quali¬
ty which we call its smell, is acquired.”
To this doctrine no Cartesian could reasonably object;
for it is the very account which Descartes himself would
have given of perception by the organ of smell, as it re¬
solves such a perception into an early association between
a certain sensation and that external quality from which
we know by experience that the sensation proceeds. In¬
deed this excellent author repeatedly affirms that every
different perception is conjoined with a sensation which is
proper to it; and that the one is the sign, and the other
the thing signified. He likewise doubts3 whether chil¬
dren, from the time that they begin to use their senses,
make a distinction between things which are only con¬
ceived or imagined, and things which really exist. But
if the conviction of the present existence of external ob¬
jects were in perception instinctive, we cannot see how
there could be room for such a doubt; for the mere senses
of children are as perfect as those of full-grown men, and
they know well the difference between actually sucking
their nurses and only thinking of that operation, though
they be not capable of expressing that difference in lan¬
guage.
But if in perception our conviction of the present ex¬
istence of external objects be not instinctive, what, it may
be asked, is the evidence that such objects really exist?
Something
exists be¬
sides per-
sensationld rilis fluestlon we slla11 Partlj answer in the following sec¬
tion, and more completely when we come to examine 0bj6
Berkeley’s theory of the non-existence of matter; but,the r.
from what has already been said, it is sufficiently evident, ^ S
that every sensation compels us to believe in the present
existence of something different from ourselves, as well
as from our sensations.
of
lit.
es,
Sect. III.— Of the Objects of each Sense respectively.
Hitherto we have considered sensation and perception Touci
in general, and shown that it is not by instinct that we
perceive the existence of external objects. This will ap¬
pear more clearly, if we can ascertain the precise nature
of that information which each sense affords us ; and in
order to this, we shall begin with the sense of touch, not
only because it is that which is certainly first exercised,
but also because there is a meaning, in which all the others
may be resolved into it.
By means of touch we perceive many things, of which Natur f
the chief are, heat and cold, hardness and softness, rough-heat a I
ness and smoothness, extension, figure, solidity, and mo-colti'
tion. Of these perceptions, some are immediate; and
others, as we are persuaded, early associations, which may
be resolved into a process of reasoning. The perceptions
of heat and cold are immediate. When a person for the
first time in his life approaches the fire, he feels heat;
and when he is first exposed to the frost, he feels cold.
What then are heat and cold, and where do they reside?
They are obviously the reverse of each other; but are
they external objects, or mere sensations in the mind ?
They are undoubtedly sensations which have no existence
but when they are felt. To every man not altogether a
stranger to these speculations, this proposition is self-evi¬
dent ; but to the bulk of the people it appears an extra¬
vagant paradox. To make it plain, however, to the mean¬
est capacity, it is sufficient to observe, that at a certain
distance the fire has no perceptible influence upon any
person ; if that distance be lessened, we feel an agreeable
warmth ; approach a little nearer, and the warmth be¬
comes disagreeable ; and, still nearer, it will rise to pain.
No man supposes the pain inflicted by a sword to exist
in the sword, or anywhere else but in a sentient being. It
is equally absurd to suppose pain to exist in fire, or any¬
where else but in a sentient being. But that which at one
distance is pain, at another is only agreeable warmth; and
since warmth and pain are only different degrees of the
same feeling, it is equally absurd to suppose the one, as the
other, in the fire. What then is the object of sense when
we feel heat ? There is obviously no object whatever be¬
yond the present sensation.
But has the sensation of heat no cause independent of
us ? Undoubtedly it has, and experience teaches us that^uses
the cause is in the fire. We know that we cannot pro¬
duce the sensation of heat in ourselves by any mental en¬
ergy of our own ; and we are intuitively certain that no¬
thing can begin to exist without some cause. A man upon
the top a mountain covered with snow may imagine or
remember what he felt when in the neighbourhood of fire,
and thus have in his mind what is called an idea of heat;
but that idea will not warm him like the actual sensation,
which no exertion of his own can in such circumstances
produce. When he leaves the mountain, however, and ap¬
proaches the fire, he feels the sensation actually produced
as often as he makes the experiment. He is, therefore,
under the necessity of inferring, that in the fire there is
some power or quality which, acting either mediately or
immediately upon his sense of touch, excites the feeling
1 See Inquiry into the Human Mind, 4th edit. p. 383. 2 Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, essay ii. chap. xv. and xxi.
3 E ssays on the Intellectual Powers of Man.
«
metaphysics.
fleets of which is called heat. What that power is, we shall per-
tllresp<'c- haps never be able to discover ; but it is self-evident, that
ti Senses. it ig neither heat nor the resemblance of heat, though in
vulgar language it is known by that name.
1 he same reasoning holds good with respect to cold.
There is at certain times, and in certain countries, some
power in the air which congeals water and causes cold;
but that power is as different from the sensation of cold,
as the power of fire is different from the sensation of heat,
or the point of a sword from a flesh wound.
1; per- By the sense of touch we perceive extension, figure,
Cl,ions of solidity, &c,; but we do not perceive them immediately, as
fi re?&nc. T.e Perceive heat a.nd cold: for extension, figure, and soli-
Those perceptions, then, must be
609
fi re, &c. -
n imme- dlty are not sensations
d B-
ffof they
are .
PI.
acquired ; and to ascertain more clearly the manner in
which we acquire them, let us suppose a man from his
birth destitute of the sense of sight and the power of local
motion, but possessed of intellect and every other faculty
which we enjoy. Such a person, it is obvious, would be
capable of every sensation and perception which is origi¬
nal to us, except the perception of colours; but we doubt
whether it would be possible to give him perceptions of
extension, figure, and solidity. Let us try ; and as he
cannot move a single limb or member of himself, let us
suppose a solid substance of small dimensions to be gently
pressed against any part of his body. What would such
pressure communicate to him ? We think it could com¬
municate nothing but a new sensation, to which, as it is
neither pleasing nor painful, no name has hitherto been
given, except the general one of feeling. This sensation
he would not know whether to refer to an external or in¬
ternal cause, or rather he could have no notion whatever
of an external cause, though he would at the same time
be conscious that the new sensation was not excited by
any energy of his own will. Were the pressure to be gra¬
dually increased till it rose to pain, our blind man would
still be conscious of nothing but a sensation, which could
not lead him to the notion of extension, figure, or solidity,
because mere sensations cannot be conceived as either so¬
lid or extended. Let us next suppose the pressure to be
applied successively to different parts of his body ; he
would now indeed be conscious of successive sensations,
but he could not assign to them either extension or place ;
for it has been already shown that the external parts of
the body are not themselves sentient, and it shall be shown
afterwards, that to a man who has never perceived motion,
place is absolutely inconceivable. Lastly, let us suppose
the dimensions of the pressing substance to be greatly en¬
larged ; what would then follow ? Nothing, we apprehend,
but an increase of pain; for though his whole body were
pressed ab extra, the pressure could affect the individual
being which is sentient, not more extensively, but only
more violently. It appears, therefore, that a man blind
from his birth, and destitute of the power of local motion,
could never be made to perceive extension, figure, or so¬
lidity.
Let us now suppose this man to receive by a miracle the
use of his limbs, and to be suddenly prompted, by some
instinctive impulse, to arise and walk. As long as he met
with no obstacle in his way, he would not, we apprehend,
acquire by this exercise any correct notions of extension
or figure ; but were a stone or log of wood of considerable
dimensions to be laid across his usual walk, the case would
soon be altered. He would feel himself interrupted in his
course, and he would at the same instant recognise his
wonted sensations of touch. After being twice or thrice
thus interrupted, he would learn from experience that the
interruption or resistance proceeded from the same cause
which in this instance communicated to him the sensation
of feeling; and ^vere he to run his hand along the surface
of the log or stone, he would perceive the resistance and
vol. xtv.
the sensation continued. As every effect must have an Objects of
adequate cause, this continued resistance would compel t-f6 respee-
him to believe the continuity of something external intlve Sense3-
every direction in which he felt his hand resisted; but' 
such continuity of being is all that is meant by the word
extension. At the very same time, and by the very same
means, he would gradually acquire the perception of fi¬
gure ; for, by running his hand in every direction over the
surface of the obstacle which opposed him, he would soon
perceive it on all sides limited ; but the limits of exten¬
sion is a phrase of precisely the same import with figure.
It appears, therefore, that without the power of local mo¬
tion, men could never, by the sense of touch, acquire the
notions of extension and figure; and the same will be
found to be the case with respect to hardness and soft¬
ness.
When we press our hand gently against a stock or a Hardness
stone, we feel a sensation which is neither painful norand soft-
pleasing. When we press it more violently, the sensation nessi how
becomes painful, and we experience in the object a re-Perccdved*
sistance which we have not power to overcome. When
we press butter or pomatum very gently, we have a sen¬
sation in all respects similar to that which we felt when
we gently touched the stock or the stone. But when we
press the butter with violence, we feel no pain, and expe¬
rience little resistance; for the parts of which it is com¬
posed give way before the hand,* though the parts of the
stock or the stone remain fixed and immoveable-. That
tim parts of one body should thus resist a pressure to
which the parts of another so readily yield, must proceed
from some difference in the texture of the two bodies ;
for by the sense of touch we perceive the effects to be
different, and are therefore certain that they must pro¬
ceed either from different causes, or from the same cause
operating with different degrees of force. That particular
texture which makes the parts of a stone resist the pres¬
sure of touch, we call hardness; and the texture which
makes the parts of butter or pomatum give way to touch,
we call softness. But what hardness and softness are in
themselves, touch cannot inform us; for they are neither
sensations, nor similar to sensations. We acquire, how¬
ever, by experience, so complete notions of hardness and
sof tness, that every one who understands the English lan¬
guage perfectly knows the meaning of these words as soon
as he hears them ; and when he is told that one body is
hard and another soft, he knows witli absolute certainty
that the meaning of the assertion is, that the parts of the
body which is said to be hard are held together by some
unknown cause operating forcibly, and that the parts of
the other are held together by the same ora similar cause
operating with less force.
We acquire the notions of roughness and smoothness in Bough-
the very same way and by the very same means that weness and
acquire ideas of extension and figure. To describe thesmoot^*
process at large would certainly be superfluous ; for if whatneoS"
we have said concerning our perceptions of extension and
figure be just and intelligible, every one will, without fur¬
ther assistance, discover for himself how he perceives
roughness and smoothness. Motion shall be considered
amongst the adjuncts of body ; but in order to understand
what body itself is, it will be necessary, before we dismiss
the sense of touch, to inquire how we come by the notion
of solidity.
Solidity is one of those notions, or, in the language ofSolidity,
Locke, one of those ideas, which are commonly said to be aU(l
acquired by the sense of touch. That touch gives thehow Per‘
first hint towards our notion of solidity is certainly true,Ceive ‘
but that hint must be afterwards improved by the intel¬
lect, or we never could have an adequate knowledge of
what is meant when any thing is said to be absolutely so¬
lid. W e know by experience that we can at pleasure open
4 H
610
METAPHYSICS.
Objects of and shut our empty hand without meeting with any re-
the respec- sistance. We know likewise, that when we grasp an ivory
tvveSenses. jjgj] 0p three or four inches diameter, no force which we
v can exert will bring together the several parts of the hand,
which were easily brought together when we grasped no¬
thing. In this way do we acquire our first notion of so¬
lidity, for the word denotes nothing more in this instance
than the power or property of the ball by which our fin¬
gers are excluded from the place which it occupies. So¬
lidity differs from hardness in this respect, that hardness
results from the strong cohesion of the parts of a hard
body, which renders it difficult to change the places of
those parts, as they respect one another ; whereas solidity
respects the whole mass, and is as essential a quality of
water as of adamant. A drop of water, indeed, placed
between two plain surfaces of marble, will not, like ada¬
mant, preclude their contact, because the parts of a drop
of water, cohering but loosely to one another, give way to
the pressure, and escape in every lateral direction. But
if a drop of water be confined on all sides, as in a globe
of gold, we know from experience that no force will bring
the sides of the globe together without forcing the water
through the pores of the metal, and hence we infer soli¬
dity to be essential to every corporeal substance.
Thus, then, it appears, that of the objects perceived by
touch, not one is immediately perceived except heat, cold,
and other sensations. The sensations, as they are not ex¬
cited by any internal energy of our own, lead us indeed to
something external as their cause ; and by comparing the
different sensations with each other, and observing wdiat
effects their external causes have upon our own motions;
we are naturally led to conceive these causes as extended,
figured, solid, hard or soft, rough or smooth ; but it is
obvious that this conception is the result of experience, and
a process of mental reasoning.
Mere sen- 0° the senses of taste, smell, and hearing, it is needless
sationstheto say much. The immediate objects of these are con-
object of fessedly sensations which have no existence but when they
smell. are perCeived, though experience teaches us to refer them
all to externa] objects as their respective causes. With
respect to smell, this has been made sufficiently evident
in the preceding section; and it is not less evident with
respect to taste and hearing.
Taste. Certain bodies applied to the tongue and the palate, and
moistened with the saliva, excite certain sensations, which
we call tastes. These sensations, however, are not in the
bodies, nor can they have any existence but in a sentient
being. They are produced in consequence of impulses on
the nerves of the tongue and palate, exciting certain agi¬
tations in the brain ; but the sensation itself is neither im¬
pulse nor agitation. Some substances excite tastes which
are agreeable, and others such as are disagreeable, and
there are not a few w'hich excite no taste at all. Bodies
which applied to the tongue and palate of one man pro¬
duce tastes that are agreeable, applied to the same or¬
gans of another man give him tastes which are disagree¬
able ; and we have all experienced, that the same sub¬
stance which, when the organs are sound, excites a sweet
or pleasant taste, has, when the organs were disordered,
excited a taste which was bitter or unpleasant. These
facts, which cannot be controverted, afford the fullest
evidence, if evidence were wanted, that taste, as we feel
it, is no quality of bodies, nor has any existence out of the
mind.
Hearing. The organ of hearing is the ear, and its object is sound.
It is well known that sound is produced by certain vibra¬
tions of the air striking the tympanum of the ear, and that
these vibrations are caused by the sonorous body. Sound,
however, is not vibration, nor the idea of sound the idea
of vibration. Sound considered by itself is a mere sensa¬
tion, which can have no existence but in a sentient being.
We know by experience that it is caused by something Objec if
external, but we know likewise that the effect has no re-the res,.,
semblance to the cause. Previously to experience we could tiveSe
not refer sound to any external cause, far less could we
discern whether it proceeded from an object above us or
below us, on our right hand or on our left. It appears to
us self-evident, that if a man born deaf were suddenly
made to hear, he would consider his first sensation of
sound as originating wholly within himself. Between that
sensation and the sensations of touch, taste, smell, and
sight, there is no resemblance, nor are there any rela¬
tions amongst them, which, previously to experience, could
induce him to trace them all to external objects as their
several causes. Our deaf man might have learned to re¬
fer all his other sensations to their true causes, in some
such way as we have described under the sense of touch;
but sound would be something so new to him, and so to¬
tally different from touch, taste, and smell, that he could
attribute it to nothing external.
Experience, however, would soon teach him that the ear Differ? i
is its organ, and the sonorous body its cause; and hesonom
would in time learn to distinguish one sound, that of a*3.01^!
trumpet, for instance, from another, suppose the sound ofjlnguls
a bell, and to attribute each to its proper cause, even^^1
when neither the trumpet nor the bell was perceived by
his other senses. With respect to sounds which we have
been accustomed to hear, this is done so instantaneously,
that some philosophers have imagined it to be the effect
of an instinctive principle in our nature, totally different
from experience, and independent of reason. But the fact
is not so. Long before we are capable of making sensa¬
tion and perception objects of reflection, we have heard
the sound produced by the ringing of a bell, and seen the
object which produced the sound, so often, that, when we
hear a similar sound again, we instantly refer it to a bell,
though we see not the bell from which it proceeds ; but
this is the effect of habit, and not of instinct. Had we
never perceived a bell whilst ringing, by either of our senses
of sight or touch, wre could not by the sense of hearing ac¬
quire any notion of the figure or texture of the body from
which the cause of the sound proceeds, though we had
heard that sound every day of our lives. It is, indeed, by
experience only that we learn to distinguish by the ear
whether a sonorous body be before or behind us, on our
right hand or on our left; for we find it always difficult to
say from what precise quarter a strange sound proceeds,
and this difficulty would be heightened to impossibility
had not all sounds something in common. Dr Sparrman
relates, that when he first heard the roaring of a lion, he
did not know on what side of him to apprehend danger, as
the sound seemed to proceed from the ground, and to en¬
close a circle of which he and his companions stood in the
centre. The same thing has happened to every man,
when the sound was such as he had never heard before,
even though it was neither so loud nor so terrific as the
roaring of a lion in a desert wilderness; but with respect
to sounds which we are daily hearing on every side of us,
we soon learn to distinguish with tolerable accuracy whe¬
ther they be before or behind us, above or below, on our
right hand or on our left. All this, however, is the effect,
not of instinct, but of experience improved into habit.
Sight is justly considered as the noblest and most com-
prehensive of all our senses. The reason is obvious; forperceiv(
when a full-grown man opens his eyes, he perceives houses, nothing
trees, rivers, the earth, sun, moon, stars, &c. and to each of but co-
these objects belong figure, extension, colour, &c. which lours,
are all perceived instantly by means of this sense. Yet it
is certain that the sense of sight does not originally com¬
municate to us so many perceptions; and there is abun¬
dant evidence that an infant cannot at first, or for some
weeks after its birth, distinguish by vision one object from
4
Bi -
METAP
f lects of another. Colour is the proper object of sight, and for some
tl respec- time its only object; but colour, as perceived by us, is a
ti Senses-mere sensation, which can have no existence but in a sen-
tient being. If this proposition stood in need of proof, we
might observe that there are men, and even whole families,
who possess the sense of sight in a degree of perfection
sufficient for all the purposes of life, and yet cannot distin¬
guish certain colours from each other, blue, for instance,
from green, or perhaps from red; and there is no man
who can distinguish between some particular shades of blue
and green by the feeble light of a candle. Were colours
the real qualities of body, this mistake of one for another
could never be experienced. No man who possesses the
sense of touch ever confounded hardness with softness, a
sphere with a cube, or an ell with an inch. The reason
is, that hardness and softness, figure and extension, are the
qualities of things external; whereas colour being a mere
sensation, is nothing but an affection or modification of the
sentient being. But it is obvious that sentient beings, ac¬
cording as they differ from one another, may be differently
affected by the same external cause, so that one man may
perceive that to be green which all other men perceive to
be blue. I he immediate external cause of the sensation
of colour is the rays of light reflected from the body, which
in common language is said to be coloured. These rays,
falling upon the pupil of the eye, are refracted differently,
according as their incidence is more or less oblique, into
points on the retina, where they form a picture of the ex¬
ternal object; and from the picture, by means of the optic
nerve, is communicated to the brain some impulse or agi¬
tation, which produces vision, or the perception of colour.
As rays of light are corporeal substances, it is obvious that
they can act upon body only by impulse; but between im¬
pulse and the various sensations of red, green, blue, yellow,
&c. theie is no resemblance. (For the laws of reflection
and refraction, and for the structure of the eye, see Optics
and Anatomy.) That which we have to inquire into
at present is, how we learn, by means of the sense of
sight, to perceive the figure, magnitude, motion, and dis¬
tance of external objects, or indeed to distinguish one ob¬
ject from another.
1; option A ray of light proceeding, as all rays do, in a straight
l ;-,re’ line> raust, however great its length, affect the eye, retina,
tu &c. a!^ °ptic nerve, as if it were a single point. From this ob-
hoiac- v*ous antl undeniable fact Bishop Berkeley predicted,1 that
a man born blind, who should be suddenly made to see,
would at first perceive nothing without him, would distin¬
guish neither the distance, size, figure, nor situation, of
external objects ; that he would only see in his eyes them¬
selves, or, to speak more properly, would only experience
new modifications in his mind, until, joining touch to sight,
he thus formed a communication with the external world,
and learned, by the simultaneous exercise of the two
senses, that natural language in which the visible is the sign
of the tangible. 1 his truth, which was discovered by the
bishop merely by contemplating in his own mind the na¬
ture of sensation, and the known laws of optics, after hav¬
ing been laughed at for more than twenty years as one of
the many dreams of a visionary genius, was completely con-
nrmed by the case of the famous patient whom Cheselden
cured of a cataract, and that, too, though the cataract does
not produce total blindness; which makes it evident that
the first visual perceptions of the patient after his recovery
could not be wholly new and unmixed. It may indeed be
confiuned at any time by a simple experiment made upon
an infant. For several weeks after birth, a child shuts not
its eyes upon the sudden approach of an object to them,
nor shows the least symptom of distinguishing one distance
HYSICS. 6U
from another; and it is easy, by a little attention, to observe Objects of
how it gradually learns to distinguish objects at greater and ^he respec-
greatei distances. Indeed colour, or the immediate ob- ^lve Senses,
ject of sight, being a mere sensation or affection of the ^ J,_ Y ^
mind, can have no natural relation whatsoever to any thin0-
external. &
It is plain, therefore, that distance is in its own nature Perception
imperceptible to the eye, and yet it is often perceived by ^istance'
sight. How is this done ? We think, in the following
manner. Distance is one mode of extension, which, as we
have already seen, is perceived by means of touch. Of
short distances, our first ideas are doubtless acquired by
the stretching out and drawing back of our arms; and
these ideas are soon so connected with certain sensations
which we have in actual vision, that the latter instantly
suggests the former. I hus it is a fact known by expe¬
rience, that when we look at a near object with both eyes,
according as it approaches or recedes from us, we alter the
disposition of our eyes, by lessening or widening the inter¬
val between the pupils. This disposition or turn of the
eye is attended with a sensation of which every man is
conscious at the time of vision; and this sensation seems
to us to be that which in this case suggests the idea of
greater or less distance to the mind. Not that there is
any natural or necessary connection between the sensation
of which we are conscious, and greater or less distance;
for the sensation is wholly internal, and the distance is ex¬
ternal : but, because the mind has, by constant experience,
found the different sensations occasioned bv different dis¬
positions of the eyes to correspond to different degrees of
distance in the object, there has grown a habitual or cus¬
tomary connection between those sensations and the no¬
tions of greater or less distance. Hence the mind no soon¬
er peiceives the sensation arising from the different turn
it gives the eyes in order to bring the pupils nearer or far¬
ther asunder, than it is instantly impressed with a certain
notion of the distance which was wont to be connected with
that sensation. Again, an object placed at a certain dis¬
tance from the eye, to which the breadth of the pupil bears
a sensible proportion, being made to approach nearer, is
seen more confusedly; and the nearer it is brought, the
confusion is always the greater. The reason of ail this is
known to every optician; but it being constantly expe¬
rienced by those who never dipped into optics, there arises
in the mmd of every man an habitual connection between
the several degrees of confusion and distance, the greater
confusion still implying the less distance, and the less con¬
fusion the greater distance. It is of no avail to say, that
between confused vision and distance, great or small, there
is no necessary connection ; for there is as little connection
between a blush in the face and the mental feeling of
shame, and yet no sooner does a man of observation per¬
ceive that particular colour in the face of another, than it
suggests to him the notion of that feeling or passion with
which he has constantly observed it accompanied.
In these ways, however, we perceive only small distan¬
ces. Of distances more remote our judgment is formed
from other data, and happily these data are not far to seek.
It is a fact known to every man who is not totally ignorant
of the science of optics, that a greater number of rays fall
upon the eye when reflected from a body near at hand,
than can fall from the same body at a distance ; and as these
rays operate by impulse, it is self-evident that the impres¬
sion must be stronger, and of course the sensation or colour
more vivid, when the body is near than when it is distant.
Now, having acquired the notion of the true distance of
objects by motion and by the sense of touch, and finding,
by an uniform experience, that as they are near or far off,
1 Essay towards a New Theory of Vision.
612
METAPHYSICS.
Magni¬
tude.
Objects of the sensation or colour which they excite in the mind that when we look at a known object, its real magnitude Reten
the respec- through the organ of vision is more or less vivid, these de- appears to be as instantly observed as its colour, whilst and id
ive senses. 0fsensation come to be so closely associated with the we hardly attend at all to the particularity of the sensation
respective distances of the object, that the one instantly by which the magnitude is suggested. It is, indeed, cus-
suggests the other. tomary with writers on optics to distinguish between tan-
How figure it is just so that we perceive figure by sight. Having gible and visible magnitude, as if any kind of magnitude
bV'sdrht. eXPerienCed ky tlie ser>se of touch that one surface is a were the immediate object of vision. But this is not so ;
J ' square and another a circle, that one body is a cube and for magnitude is something external, whereas the imme-
another a sphere ; and finding our sense of sight different- diate object of vision is a mere sensation. What has intro-
ly affected by the square and the circle, by the cube and duced into science this mode of speaking is probably the
the sphere ; these different affections come to be so close- fact, that, as we approach a distant object, it appears to the
ly connected in our minds with the figures of the respec- eye larger and larger at every step, and less and less as we
tive bodies, that, long before we are capable of reasoning on recede from it; whereas the tangible magnitude of an ob-
the subject, the one is never present to us without suggest- ject remains always the same. The reason of this apparent
ing the other. Nay, so complete in this case is the con- change of magnitude to the eye, according to the distance
nection or association, that we cannot even in idea abstract at which any particular object is viewed, is, that from a
the colour from the figure, though it is certain that co- near object rays of light fall in greater numbers and more
lour is a mere sensation, and figure an external quality; diverging than from the same object viewed at a distance,
that colour alone is immediately perceivable by the eye, This of course alters the nature of the visible sensation,
and the notion of figure suggested by the colour. We are Each common sensation is in the mind closely linked with
aware that it has been affirmed, and affirmed with great a particular notion of magnitude; and by the exercise of
vehemence, that figures of two dimensions are immediate- sight and touch we have learned from experience that the
ly perceived by the eye, and perceived with greater accu- particular sensation caused by diverging rays must be re-
racy than by the sense of touch. But they who insist upon ferred to a larger magnitude than that which is caused by
this doctrine affirm likewise, contrary to experience and parallel rays proceeding from the same distance,
the clearest reasoning, that the immediate objects of sight Upon the whole, then, we think ourselves entitled to Visible!
are externa], and that colour is a quality of bodies. In the conclude, that the proper and original objects of vision con-sensat4
arguments, too, by which they support their hypothesis, stitute an universal language of the Author of Nature, byakind"
they seem to confound sight as an affection of the mind, which we are instructed how to regulate our actions, ianatural
with the picture on the bottom of the eye, as if the retina order to attain those things which are necessary to the pre-
were the sentient being; whereas the retina and the pic- servation and well-being of our bodies, as also to avoid
ture are no more than instruments of sensation. It is indeed whatever maybe hurtful or destructive to them. It is
a fact that the picture has the same figure nearly with the principally by the information of this language that we are
plane of the object which is presented to the eye ; as when guided in alf the transactions and concerns of life ; and the
the object seen is a sphere, the picture is a circle variously manner in which it signifies and marks to us the objects
shaded in colour. It is likewise a fact that the picture which are at a distance, is similar to that of languages and
is enlarged in proportion as the object is brought near, and signs of human appointment, which do not suggest the
diminished as it is carried to a distance. But these facts things signified by any likeness or identity of nature, but
are known only to persons who are skilled in optics ; and only by a habitual connection, which experience has made us
therefore it is evident, that though calculations may be to observe, between them. This language of the eye, like
raised from them by mathematicians to determine the dis- the language of the tongue, suggests by one sensation what
tance and figure of external objects, they cannot possibly may be resolved into a variety of perceptions. A tree is
be the data from which distance and figure are inferred by composed of a trunk, branches, leaves ; it has colour, figure,
the vulgar, who know not that such pictures on the retina size; and all these things are at once suggested to the
exist. And besides all this, it is universally known that a mind by the two words spreading oak. Just so it is with
painter, by laying on his colours properly, can make a plain respect to vision ; the sensation received by the eye sug-
square surface appear to the eye in certain positions as an gests at once the trunk, branches, leaves, colour, figure, and
oblong or as a cube, and a plain circular surface as a con- size of the oak, and suggests them all as the qualities of
cave or a convex hemisphere. But not one of these things one object,
could possibly be done were figure, or indeed any thing
else than colour, the immediate object of vision.
As we see distance and figure, so we see magnitude ; and
we see both in the same way that we see shame or anger
in the looks of a man. The impression made upon the
CHAP. II.—OF RETENTION AND IDEAS.
From the experiment with the burning coal already men-
         Sensatioi1
bottom of the eye by rays reflected from a large magnitude, tioned, it is apparent the sensations excited through theandi)er'|
must necessarily be different from the impression made by eye, together with their corresponding perceptions, remain CLVt (; l1f1
lays leflected from a magnitude that is less. I his is self- in the mind for a short time after the external exciting ^etinie 2f
evident; and since the impression ab extra is in some way cause is removed. The same thing appears from another ter the r|
or other the cause of that sensation, which is all of which experiment, which was first made by Sir Isaac Newton, and muval of
vve are oiiginally conscious in vision, it is obvious that the which every man may repeat for his own satisfaction. It their ob
sensation, like every other effect, must correspond to the is universally known,1 that a proper mixture of the sevenj6^3,
cause from which it proceeds. Being therefore conscious original colours, red, yellow, green, blue, &c. constitutes
of different sensations, and having, at an earlier period that uniform appearance which we call white. But when
than we distinctly remember, learned by experience to re- these colours are made to pass in rapid succession be-
ier them to diff’eient magnitudes, no sooner is each sensa- fore the eye, they excite the very same perception as when
tion excited than it suggests the notion, or, if you please, they are properly mixed, which is a satisfactory proof that
the peiception, of that magnitude with which it is connect- the impression made by each separate colour remains in
ed. bo completely is this association fixed in the mind, the brain until a revolution of all the colours is completed;
Hartley on Man.
Bfpntion for nothing but the impression of all the colours at once
31 Idea& can produce the sensation and perception of white. Indeed
'wv~‘“0 Person capable of paying the proper attention to these
things can keep his eye fixed upon a luminous object, and
afterwards shut it, without experiencing that the sensation
and perception remain for some time after the external
object is shut out, and that they go off gradually till they
leave behind them the mental appearance, which is proper¬
ly called an idea of the object. 1 1
The same continuance of the sensation after the removal
of its cause is equally observable in the sense of hearing •
for every sound which we hear is reflected by the neigh¬
bouring bodies, and therefore consists in reality of a va¬
riety of sounds succeeding each other at different distances
of time, according to the distances of the several reflecting
bodies. Yet this causes no confusion or apparent com¬
plexity of sound, unless when the distance of the reflecting
bodies is very considerable, as in spacious buildino-s.
With respect to the continuance of the sensation of touch
doubts have been started; but for these there is as little
room as fbi doubts as to the continuance of the sensations
of seeing and hearing. The continuance of heat after the
heating body is removed, and of the smart of a wound after
the instant of infliction, are proofs that every sensation of
touch does not vanish with its cause. A man unused to
the motion of a ship or coach, after having been a day at
sea or on the load, feels or imagines he feels the rolling of
the ship or the jolting of the coach after he is in bed and
actually at rest. Of these facts we know not what other
account can be given, than that the agitation in the brain,
winch is the immediate cause of the sensation of touch, re¬
mains for some time after the external cause of the agita¬
tion is removed.
As to the senses of taste and smell, Dr Hartley seems to
t ink that tbere is no clear and direct evidence for the con¬
tinuance of their sensations after their proper objects are
removed ; but in this instance the ingenious author does
not do justice to his own theory. Let any man eat onions,
garlic, or any other thing of a very pungent taste, and im¬
mediately wash his mouth with fresh water, so that he may
be sure no part of the sapid body remains on his tongue or
palate. According to this doctrine, the taste of the onion
or garlic should instantly vanish with its object; but the
tact is otherwise. Whoever shall make the experiment, will
lind that the sensation remains a considerable time; not in¬
deed in its original force, but weakened no more than what
it must necessarily be by the introduction of a new sensa¬
tion excited by the water. It is more difficult to ascertain
ie permanency, of smell; but analogy inclines us to be-
levc, i ut in this particular it resembles the other senses,
ttiough we know not how to direct the reader to an expe-
mnent which will give him absolute conviction.
let icr the cause of these continued sensations, after
the removal of their objects, be in the brain alone, in the
‘ t intn a °ne C(’ns*dered as an immaterial being, or in both
wgether, is of very little importance; because, taking the
j minu and its internal organs as one metaphysical whole,1
u matters not to our present inquiry where this retentive
p wer resffies, as long as it can be proved to exist within
«s; l or it seems evident, that what has the faculty of re-
uiniug a sensation when no longer acted upon by the ob-
j c w ic excited it, must also have a power to preserve
shnin StI^eS- sensati°n> even after the sensation itself
rJ^ent£? y obliterated- This is in fact the case with
n \nt" ^ .n an °^jecf which we have once perceived
is toOi • remote from our thoughts, we are certain that there
u,l; i 110 Us a capacity, disposition, tendency, or power, by
) a representation of that object may be at any time
METAPHYSICS.
[«!VW,
ire >c
iwefr
cull
llei
or.v
613
revived and presented to the intellect Thus tl.e same in- Ketemlon
nerent power of the mind and its internal organs, which and Ideas.
retains a sensation and perception in the absence of the v   '
object by which they were excited, can also reproduce that
perception, or bring into the view of the intellect something
exactly similar to it. The reproduction will not indeed be
so lively as the original perception when accompanied with
its corresponding sensation, because sensation and actual
perception are effected by a double cause, the action of the
external object upon the organ, nerves, and brain, and the
corresponding energy of the mind or sentient principle •
whereas, in the reproduction, the mind seems to act solely
,by its own power, and certainly without the assistance of
external objects. This reproductive power is commonly
cafled memory. By many of the ancient philosophers, and
by M. Schwab with one or two others amongst the moderns,
it is called imagination. We do not choose either to re¬
vive antiquated modes of expression, or to introduce inno¬
vations of our own; but as we cannot disapprove of the
ancient phraseology, after the definitions which the reader
will by and by find of imagination, and memory, and recol¬
lection, as given by Mr Harris, we have prefixed to this
them all 6 Seneial tltIe ot retentlon> which comprehends
When one recalls an object of sight by the power of me- Opinions
moiy, it appears to him precisely the same as in the origi-of plnloso-
pa survey, only less distinct, and with'a conviction (which phers as to
is perhaps the result of experience) that the real object is mem017-
not immediately before him. How is any object recalled
by the power of memory ? Does the man endeavour to
form m his mind a picture or representative image of the
object. Let us listen to the answers given by different
philosophers to this question.
The sentiments of the Peripatetics, as expressed by Alex- The Peri-
ander Aphroaisiensis, one of the earliest commentators on pateties
Aristotle, are thus translated by Mr Harris in his Hermes.and 1>la*
‘£ Now, what fancy or imagination is, we may explain as t1onisls . ,
follows : We may conceive to be formed within us, from .dlf nSulsh
the operation of the senses about sensible objects, some im- SST
pression (as it were) or picture in our original sensorium, tbnTd
being a relict or that motion caused within us bv the exter- memory,
nal object; a relict which, when the external object is no
onger piesent, remains, and is still preserved, being as it
were its image; and which, by being thus preserved, be-
comes the cause of our having memory. Now such a sort
of relict, (and as it were) impression, they call fancy or
imagination. ’ A passage from the Alcinous of Plato', as
lendered into English by Dr Ileid,2 shows that, in this
theory, as well as in that of perception, the Platonists agreed
with the 1 eripatetics. “ When the form or type of things
is imprinted on the mind by the organs of the senses, and
so imprinted as not to be deleted by time, but preserved
hnn and lasting, its preservation is called memory!'
Mr Harris, who was deeply read in the ancient philoso¬
phy, and who considered the authority of Aristotle and
Plato as superseding all reasoning and all inquiry, after
justly observing, that if the soul had no other faculties than
the senses, it could never acquire the least idea of time,
expresses himself thus on the subject before us “ But
happily for us, we are not deserted here. We have, in the
hist place, a faculty called imagination or fancy, which,
however as to its energies it may be subsequent to sense,
yet is truly prior to it both in dignity and use. 'This it is
which retains the fleeting forms of things, when things
themselves are gone, and all sensation is at an end. That
this faculty, however connected with sense, is still perfectly
different may be seen from hence. We have an imagina¬
tion of things that are gone and extinct; but no such things
See an Essay on the Keduction of the Faculties of the Mind, by M. Schwab.
Essavs on the Intellectual Powers of Man.
METAPHYSICS.
614
Retention can be made objects of sensation. We have an easy com-
and Ideas. mand over the objects of our imagination, and can call
' v ^ them forth in almost what manner we please ; but our sen¬
sations are necessary when their objects are present, nor
can we control them except by removing either the objects
or ourselves. As wax would not be adequate to its busi¬
ness of signature, had it not a power to retain as well as
receive, the same holds of the soul with respect to sense
and imagination. Sense is its receptive power ; imagina¬
tion its retentive power. Had it sense without imagina¬
tion, it would not be as wax, but as water ; where, though
all impressions may be instantly made, yet as soon as made
they are entirely lost. Thus, then, from a view of the two
powers taken together, we may call sense, if wye please, a
kind of transient imagination ; and imagination, on the con¬
trary, a kind of permanent sense.”
Great part of the office which is here assigned to imagi¬
nation is in common English attributed to memory; but
between these two faculties, as well as between them
and recollection, the author accurately distinguishes thus.
“ When we view some relict of sensation reposed within
us, without thinking of its rise, or referring it to any sen¬
sible object, this fancy or imagination. When we view
some such relict, and refer it withal to that sensible object
which in time past was its cause and original, this is me¬
mory. Lastly, the road which leads to memory through
a series of ideas, however connected, whether rationally or
casually, this is recollection.”
Objections Of this theory we shall only remark, that if we could
to their understand the words picture and form in a metaphorical
theory. sense, as candour obliges us to understand Locke’s images
in the mind, then the doctrine of Alexander Aphrodisiensis
would be very little wide of the truth. Experience teaches
us that memory as well as perception depends upon the
state of the brain ; and as it is undeniable, that when a
man to-day contemplates an object which he perceived
yesterday, or at any former period, he has a view of it in
all respects similar to the original perception, only fainter
and less distinct, it is extremely probable, that an impres¬
sion ab extra, which produces a sensation and perception,
leaves behind it some tendency in the brain to vibrate, as
in the actual sensation, and that this tendency is carried
into effect by the internal energy of the mind itself. But
in the Peripatetic philosophy, pictures and forms in the
sensorium were considered as real things, and by no means
as metaphorical expressions. This is evident from their
being constantly compared to the impression of a seal up¬
on wax, and from their converting the materia prima from
something which can neither be seen nor felt, into visible
and tangible body, of which we shall treat afterwards.
Now it being certain, that upon a being immaterial no cor¬
poreal form can be impressed, and repeated dissections
having shown that no such forms are in fact impressed
upon the brain, this whole theory is at once overturned.
Objections Modern philosophers, having denied that there are real
to Locke’s images or 1‘orms in the mind during the immediate act of
doctrine perception, cannot, consistently with themselves, admit such
concerning jmages jn tjie act 0f retention, or when those things which
memory. were formerjy objects of perception are recalled to the mind
by the power of memory. Mr Locke’s doctrine is, “ that
the mind retains these simple ideas which it first received
from sensation or reflection, two ways: first, by keeping
the idea which is brought into it for some time actually
in view, which is called contemplation ; and, secondly, by
the power which we have to revive again in our minds
those ideas which, after imprinting, have disappeared, or
have been, as it were, laid out of sight; as when we con¬
ceive heat or light, yellow or sweet, the object being re¬
moved. This,” he says, “ is memory; which is, as it were, Retenti
the storehouse of our ideas.”1 andlde
To explain this more fully, he immediately adds the fol-
lowing observation. “ But our ideas being nothing but ac¬
tual perceptions in the mind, which cease to be any thing
where there is no perception of them, this laying up of
our ideas in the repository of the memory signifies no
more than this, that the mind has a power in many cases
to revive perceptions which it has once had, with this ad¬
ditional perception annexed to them, that it has had them
before. And in this sense it is that our ideas are said to
be in our memories, when indeed they are actually no¬
where ; but only there is an ability in the mind, when it
will, to revive them again, and, as it were, paint them
anew on itself, though some with more, some with less dif¬
ficulty, some more lively and others more obscurely. And
thus it is, by the assistance of this faculty, that we are
said to have all those ideas in our understandings, which,
though we do not actually contemplate them, yet we can
bring in sight, and make appear again, and be the objects
of our thoughts, without the help of those sensible quali¬
ties which first imprinted them there.”
To attempt a defence of the accuracy of this language
would be vain ; but as the author’s meaning is sufficiently
obvious, his expressions may be easily and certainly cor¬
rected. Had Mr Locke said, “ But our ideas being nothing
but scenes or appearances in the mind, which cease to be
any thing when there is no perception of them, thus lay¬
ing up of our ideas in the repository of the memory signi¬
fies no more but this, that the mind has a power, in many
cases, to revive scenes which it has once viewed, with this
additional perception annexed to them, that it has viewed
them before,” there would have been no room for the
many petulant remarks which have been made upon the
passage. But against this account of memory a much
heavier charge has been brought than that which regards
the propriety of the language. It has been said, that the
additional perception, which, according to Locke, attends
the revival of our ideas by the power of memory, “ would
be a fallacious perception, if it led us to believe that we
had them before, since they cannot have two beginnings of
existence : nor can we believe them to have two beginnings
of existence ; we can only believe that we had formerly
ideas or perceptions very like to them, though not identi¬
cally the same.” Let us examine this question somewhat
narrowly; for if it be really true, that, in the sense in which
the word same is here used, we cannot twice contemplate
the same idea, all confidence in memory would seem to be
at an end.
Suppose a man to stand upon some of the rising grounds The obje
about Edinburgh, the Calton Hill, for instance, and fromfi°n0,)V1
that eminence to view the glorious prospect of the coastate^
of Fife, the ocean, the Frith of Forth, and the little islands
scattered in the Frith. Let him go away, and return next
day to the same place and look the same way ; we would
ask whether he has the same view or perception which he
had the day before ? The man must surely be very cap¬
tious who would say that he has not; and yet it is certain
that the energy of mind by which he perceives on one day
cannot be identically the same with that by which he per¬
ceived on another; nor are the rays of light which fall
upon his eyes on the second day, identically the same
with those which fell upon his eyes and occasioned vision
on the first day. Let the same man now shut his eyes,
and contemplate the various objects at which he had been
just looking. They will appear to him in every respect the
same as vchen viewed by means of his organs of sight,
only fainter and less distinct, with this additional convic-
Essay, book ii. chap. x.
i
*
METAPHYSICS.
615
]ie. ition tion, that the immediate objects of his present contempla-
amldeas. ti0n are not real external things, but ideas or mental re-
'•'“"-'presentations of those things which had so lately been the
objects of his sight. Let him think no more about the
matter for some days, and then exert his powers of me¬
mory. We have no hesitation in saying, that, in the sense of
the word same, as used by Mr Locke, the very same ideas
will recur and be present to his intellect which were pre¬
sent to it at the former contemplation. The second en¬
ergy of memory or imagination, or whatever it may be
called, is not indeed identically the same with the first;
nor is that agitation or motion, or whatever other affection
of the brain is necessary to memory, identically the same
at the second time as at the first; but the mind, exerting
itself in the very same manner at the one time as at the
other, produces the same kind of agitation in the brain,
and is itself affected in the very same way at the second
as at the first exertion. Whence it follows, that the se¬
cond ideal scene will be as much the same with the first,
as the second actual perception is the same with the first;
and the two ideal scenes, and the two actual perceptions,
are respectively said to be the same with each other, only
because they impress the mind with a conviction that they
were occasioned by the same external objects.
But though we think Mr Locke’s doctrine with respect
to memory may be thus easily vindicated from the charge
of fallaciousness, we must acknowledge that to us it ap¬
pears not to be of much value. It teaches nothing, but
that the mind has a power to retain ideas of those objects
which it formerly perceived, and in many instances to re¬
call them as occasion may require. But these are truths
known to all mankind, to the clown as well as to the phi¬
losopher.
rhebi- Philosophers in general have paid less regard to the re-
“ot|f tentive faculties of the mind than to its original powers of
IIu • perception. Perhaps they imagined, that as memory de¬
pends upon perception, and in some respects appears to
resemble it, a competent knowledge of the nature of the
former faculty would lead to that of the second. Be this
as it may, Mr Hume, who was at some pains to detail his
notions of perception, has, in his Philosophical Essays, only
dropt, concerning memory and imagination, a few hints, so
loosely thrown together, that, if he had not elsewhere ex¬
pressed himself with more precision, it would have been
difficult to discover his real meaning. According to him,
that which is commonly called the perception of an exter¬
nal object, is nothing but a strong impression upon the
mind ; and that which is called the remembrance of a past
object, is nothing but a present impression or idea weaker
than the former. Imagination is an idea weaker than the
idea or impression which he calls memory. This seems
to be a wonderful abuse of language. Impressions are not
perceptions; and, if possible, they can still less be called
ideas, which are but secondary perceptions. It is likewise
far from being true, that an idea of imagination has ne¬
cessarily less vivacity than an idea of memory. We have
seen Mr Hume, and have at the present moment an idea of
his form and dress. We can likewise imagine to ourselves
a centaur; and though a centaur was never seen, and
therefore cannot be an impression repeated by memory,
our idea of the monster is much more lively and distinct
than that of the philosopher.
Id. Dr Reid, having observed of memory,1 that it is by it we
have an immediate knowledge of things past; that it must
have an object; that in this respect it agrees with percep¬
tion, but differs from sensation, which has no object but the
feeling itself; and that every man can distinguish the thing
remembered from the remembrance of it; proceeds to in¬
quire what memory is. And, “ First,” says he, “ I think Retention
it appears that memory is an original faculty given us by and Ideas,
the Author of our being, of which we can give no account'
but that we are so made. The knowledge,” continues he,
“ which I have of things past by my memory, seems to me
as unaccountable as an immediate knowledge would be of
things to come ; and I can give no reason why I should
have the one and not the other, but that such is the will of
my Maker. I find in my mind a distinct conception and a
firm belief of a series of past events ; but how this is pro¬
duced I know not. I call it memory ; but this is only
giving a name to it; it is not an account of its cause. I
believe most firmly what I distinctly remember ; but I can
give no reason of this belief. It is the inspiration of the
Almighty which gives me this understanding. When I
believe the truth of a mathematical axiom or of a mathe¬
matical proposition, I see that it must be so; every man
who has the same conception of it sees the same. There
is a necessary and an evident connection between the sub¬
ject and the predicate of the proposition ; and I have all
the evidence to support my belief which I can possibly
conceive. When I believe that I washed my hands and
face this morning, there appears no necessity in the truth
of the proposition. It might be or it might not be. A
man may distinctly conceive it without believing it at all.
How then do I come to believe it ? I remember it dis¬
tinctly. This is all I can say. This remembrance is an
act of my mind. Is it impossible that this act should be, if
the event had not happened ? I confess I do not see any
necessary connection between the one and the other. If
any man can show such a necessary connection, then I
think that belief which we have of what we remember will
be fairty accounted for ; but if this cannot be done, that
belief is unaccountable, and we can say no more than that
it is the result of our constitution. Our original faculties
are all unaccountable. Of these memory is one. He only
who made them comprehends fully how they are made, and
how they produce in us not only a conception, but a firm
belief and assurance, of tilings which it concerns us to
know.”
On this account of memory we shall not make any remarks.
There is a certain sense of the words, in which everything
which the author has said on the subject is undoubtedly
just ; and it would be very uncandid to take his words in
any other sense. But though memory, as it is the result
of that constitution which was given us by God, and not
the offspring of habit or human contrivance, is unquestion-
abty an original faculty, and though it is therefore impos¬
sible to account for it so fully as to silence every inquiry
which may be made, yet we could wish that Dr Reid had
bestowed a little more pains upon it, in order to discover
if possible in what respects it resembles or differs from
perception. He has well observed, that there are laws of
nature by which the operations of the mind are regulated,
as well as laws of nature which govern the material sys¬
tem. As the latter are the ultimate conclusions which the
human faculties can reach in the philosophy of bodies, so
the former are the ultimate conclusions which we can
reach in the philosophy of minds. The more general that
tlfese laws are in both cases, the more useful they are, and
the more satisfactory ; for as they are themselves inexpli¬
cable, the fewer they are in number, and the more com¬
prehensive each is, the fewer will those phenomena be for
which we can give no account. Thus, as we know not
what makes the planets tend to the centre of the sun, or
heavy bodies tend to the centre of the earth, we can give
no other account of these phenomena but -that, as they
appear to be of the same kind, it is reasonable to conclude
1 Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man.
616
METAPHYSICS.
Retention that they proceed from similar causes. What the cause
and Ideas, is 0f this tendency of bodies towards each other, we know
" v ’ not. We call it gravitation, and employ it to account for
all phenomena of the same kind. In like manner it is uni¬
versally allowed, that as we know not how mind and mat¬
ter operate upon each other, there is something in percep¬
tion wholly unaccountable. That perception follows sen¬
sation, and that there is no sensation which is not occa¬
sioned by some affection of the brain, proceeding from
some impression ab extra, we have the evidence of expe¬
rience; bur how a particular affection of the brain should
excite a sensation in the mind, we know not, though we
may here, as in the corporeal system, attribute similar ef¬
fects to the same or to similar causes. Thus, if, when we
exert an act of memory, we have the same appearance of
things as in the original act of perception, the rules of
philosophizing authorize us to refer both phenomena to
the same general law, just as they authorize us to refer
the motion of the planets and of projectiles to the same
general law. On the other hand, if we perceive no simi¬
larity between memory and perception, we have made no
progress in the philosophy of mind; for in that case we
have discovered two phenomena proceeding from two causes
totally different from each other, and both inexplicable.
Although we scarcely hope to throw any light upon a sub¬
ject which Dr Reid has not attempted to illustrate, we
shall state a few facts respecting the memory, and submit
to the reader the conclusions to which we think these facts
naturally lead.
1. Objects once perceived by the senses, when recalled
to the mind by the power of memory, appear precisely the
The ap¬
pearance
of sensible . , ~ p.enacny urn
objects same as in th? original perception, only less distinct. For
objects
when re¬
called by
memory.
example, having seen yesterday a spreading oak growing
on the bank of a river, and having heard a shepherd play,
and handled a square stone, we endeavour to recall to our
mind these objects, which are now absent. But how is this
operation performed ? Do we endeavour to form in our
minds pictures of them, or representative images ? or does
our intellect survey the types or forms which, according to
Aristotle, those objects left in the imagination when they
were originally perceived ? Neither of these things is done.
We conceive ourselves as standing in the same place where
we stood yesterday; upon which we have perceptions of
the objects similar in all respects to the perceptions which
we had when we employed our eyes, our ears, and our
hands. The tree appears, as it were, before us ; faint, in¬
deed, but attended with all the objects which we observed
around it yesterday; we seem to hear the sound of the
pipe confusedly, and at a distance ; to move our hands
over the stone, and to feel the same surfaces and the same
angles which we felt in the original perception. In this re¬
collection wre are not conscious of pictures or images more
than in the original survey. The perceptions seem to be
those of the tree and river themselves, of the sound itself,
and of the stone itself, exactly as at the first; and yet we
are satisfied that in the act of remembrance w e perceive
no such object as a real tree, pipe, or stone. That these
are facts, every man must be convinced who attends to
the energies of his own mind when exerting the powers of
retention ; and therefore it is, in our opinion, with no im¬
propriety that Mr Harris says we may call sense, if we
please, a kind of transient imagination ; and imagination,
on the contrary, a kind of permanent sense; for if these
two faculties, as far as the mind or intellect is concerned,
be not the same, they seem to resemble each other much.
2. i he primary perception of a visible object is more
remam complete, lively, and distinct, and remains longer in the
longest in sensorium, than that of any other object. We know like-
the memo- wjse by experience, that an idea or secondary perception
of a visible object is as much more complete, lively, and Ret
distinct, than the idea of any other object, as was the pri-and'1
mary perception ; and that we remember things which we''—'*
have seen for a longer time than sounds which we have
heard, or than tangible objects which we have only handled.
Yet there seems to be a constant decay of all our ideas'
even of those which have struck deepest, and in minds,
the most retentive; so that if they be not frequently re¬
newed by repeated exercise of the senses, or by reflection
on those objects which at first occasioned them, the print
wears out, and at last there remains nothing to be seen.
Concerning ideas, it is easy to remark, that those remain
longest and clearest in the memory which are derived from
two or more senses, especially if the sense of sight be one
of the number, or which are most often refreshed by a re¬
turn of the objects which produced them. Hence a man
has a longer and more distinct remembrance of what he
has seen than of what he has only heard, of what he has
both seen and felt than of what he has only seen ; and the
ideas which we have of heat and cold, of hunger and thirst,
and of all those things which most frequently affect our
senses, are extremely clear, and are never quite lost whilst
the mind retains any ideas at all.
3. Memory appears to be a kind of habit, which is notMem
always in exercise with regard to things we remember, buta kin]
is ready to suggest them when there is occasion. Thehal)it
most perfect degree of this habit is, when the thing pre¬
sents itself to our remembrance spontaneously, and with¬
out labour, as often as there is occasion. A second degree
is, when the thing is forgotten fora longer or shorter time,
even when there is occasion to remember it, and yet at last
some incident, such as a violent passion,1 which agitates
the whole mind and sensorium, tumbles the idea, as it were,
out of its dark corner, and brings it into view without any
search. A third degree is, when we cast about and search
for what we would remember, and after some labour find
it out. This searching faculty of the soul is by Aristotle
called dva'A*jj<j7f, by Dr Reid and others reminiscence, and
by Mr Harris recollection. Should it be said, that what
we will to remember we must already conceive, as we can
will nothing of wdiich we have not a conception ; and that,
therefore, a will to remember a thing seems to imply that
we remember it already ; we answer, with Dr Reid, that
when we will to remember a thing, we must indeed re¬
member something relating to it, but we may have no po¬
sitive idea or conception of the thing itself, but only of the
relation which it bears to that other thing which we do
remember. Thus, one remembers that a friend charged
him with a commission to be executed at such a place, but
he has forgotten what the commission was. Fie applies
himself to discover it, and recollects that it was given by
such a person, upon such an occasion, in consequence of
such a conversation; and thus by a train of thought he is
led to the very thing which he had forgotten and wished
to remember. To this operation it is not always neces¬
sary that the relations between the various ideas which
the mind turns over be very close, or have their founda¬
tion in nature; for a casual connection is often sufficient.
Ihus, from seeing a garment, we think of its owner;
thence of his habitation ; thence of woods ; thence of tim¬
ber ; thence of ships ; thence of admirals ; thence of can¬
nons, iron, furnaces, and forges, &c. , I
That, in the process of recollection, one idea should In reo
suggest another, may be easily accounted for. When, inlectiun!
  .• J , - - - idea si
Ideas that
perception, our minds are exposed to the influence of ex-1^
ternal objects, all the parts and properties, and even the^er,
accidental variable adjuncts, of these objects, are perceived nhv ?
by full-grown men at the same time; so that the whole
group makes but one impression upon our organs of sense,
1 Reid’s Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man ; Locke’s Essay, &c. ; and Harris’s Hermes.
METAPHYSICS.
fentionand consequently upon the mind. By these means ail the
Ideas, parts of the simultaneous impression,1 and consequently of
the perception occasioned by that impression, are so inti¬
mately associated or linked together, that the idea of any
one of them recurring at any future period generally in¬
troduces the ideas of all the rest. But as the necessary
parts and properties of any thing are more closely linked
together, and occur more frequently, than any particular
variable adjuncts, it is obvious, that by the idea of any one
of these properties, the idea of the rest, and of the object
itself, will be more readily introduced than by the idea of
any variable adjunct. It seems, however, to be certain,
that we have no power of calling up any idea at pleasure,
but only such as have a connection, either in nature or by
means of former associations, with those which are at any
time present to the mind. Tims the sight, or the idea, of
any particular person, generally enables us to recollect his
name, because his name and his person have been constantly
associated together. If that fail to introduce the name,
we are at a loss and cannot recollect it at all, till some other
associated circumstance help us. In naming a number of
words in a sentence, or lines in a poem, the end of each
preceding word or line being connected with the beginning
or the word or line which succeeds it, we can easily repeat
. them in that order; but we are not able to repeat them
backwards with any ease, nor at all till after many fruitless
efforts. _ By frequent trials, however, we acquire at last a
facility in doing it, as may be found by making the experi¬
ment upon the names of number from one to twenty. It is
indeed, probable, that in the wildest flights of fancy, no sin¬
gle idea occurs to us but such as had a connection with some
other idea, perception, or notion, previously existing in the
rnind, as shall be shown more fully in a subsequent chapter.
4. “ Memory appears to depend entirely or chiefly upon
the state of the brain. For diseases, concussions of the
617
Mnory
Midson, . . . , *    
ur::iteofkrain’ spirituous liquors, and some poisons, impair or de-
thjrain. ' ™'1   m.   -1- -v-  r
stray it; and it generally returns again with the return of
health, from the use of proper medicines and methods. It
is observable, too, that in recovering from concussions and
other disorders of the brain, it is usual for the person to
recover the power of remembering the then present com¬
mon incidents, for minutes, hours, and days, by degrees ;
also the power of recalling the events of his life preceding
his illness. At length he recovers this last power perfectly,
and at the same time forgets almost all that passed in his ill¬
ness, even those things which at first he remembered for a
day or two. Now the reason of this seems to be, that upon a
perfect recovery the brain recovers its natural state, and all
its former affections and tendencies ; but that such affec¬
tions or tendencies as took place during the preternatural
state, i. e. during the patient's illness, are obliterated by the
return of the natural state.”2 All this we are induced to
believe ; because, though it is a fact incontrovertible, that
in certain diseases the memory is impaired, and recovers its
■vigour with the return of health, it is not conceivable that
the mind itself should suft’er any change by diseases, con¬
cussions, spirituous liquors, or the like.
From these facts we are strongly inclined to conclude,
that the power of the mind, or immaterial principle, by
which it remembers past events, differs not from that by
jNpent which it perceives present objects. In perception, impres-
dk in sions are made upon the organs of sense, which are com-
e a'n- niuriicated to the brain, and, by some unknown means,
occasion sensations which are followed by the perception
of the external object. When by the power of memory we
recall past objects of sense, the mind has the same view of
them as in the original perception, except that they appear
fainter, less distinct, and generally more distant. We have,
therefore, reason to conclude, that in the act of remem¬
Ex nal
f'lf
lei‘‘ some
brance the brain is affected in the same way, although not Retention
so forcibly, as in perception. That memory depends asar-d Ideas,
much as perception upon the state of the brain, is confirm- v
eu by daily experience ; and therefore there cannot be a
doubt but that external objects, operating upon the senses,
nerves, and brain, leave some permanent effect behind them.
W hat that effect precisely is we cannot know, and we need
not desire to know; but that they leave some effect we
have as good evidence as that the planets are moved round
the sun by forces of the same kind with those by which
projectiles are moved on the earth. Could we suppose that
they leave real prints or impressions behind them, which
we confess to be very little probable, memory would seem
to be nothing but the perceptive power of the mind turned
to those impressions. If the permanent effect of impres¬
sions by external objects be, as Dr Hartley supposes, only
a tendency in the brain to vibrate as in the original percep-
tioii, remembrance will result from the mind’s operating
upon the brain as in actual perception ; and the reason that
ideas of memory are fainter than perceptions of sense is,
that the former are produced by a single, and the latter by
a double operation.
Ibis theory appears to be greatly confirmed by the w,
well-known facts, that in general children soon commit tomoiA ^
their memory anything which they understand, and as vances to
soon forget it; that the powers of memory gradually ad-perfection
vance to perfection, and then gradually decay; and thataild then
old men remember more distinctly what they perceived in krrafluaiiy
their youth than what they perceived a year ago. For ifdeca^s-
the memory belonged wholly to the pure intellect, and
had no dependence upon the brain, it is not easy to con¬
ceive how it should advance towards a state of perfection,
and afterwards decay. A being which is unextended and
indivisible can suffer no change either in its essence or in
its faculties ; the ideas which it had once retained it would
retain for ever. But if memory be occasioned by some re¬
lict of sense left in the brain, it is easy to see how all those
changes should take place ; and therefore, though we. have
the weight of Dr Reid’s authority against us, we cannot
help thinking that Aristotle was in the right when he im¬
puted the shortness of memory in children to this cause,
that their brain is too moist and soft to retain impressions
made upon it; and that he was likewise in the right when
he imputed the defect of memory in old men to the hard¬
ness and rigidity of the brain, which hinders it from re¬
ceiving any durable impression.
Another argument to prove that in remembrance the
mind acts upon something left in the brain by the impres¬
sions of sense is this, that nothing can act but where it is
present. The truth of this axiom is acknowledged by Dr
Reid, and we believe by all mankind, except Dr Priest¬
ley and one or two others, whose paradoxes we shall after¬
wards consider. Now it is confessed, that in recollection
at least the mind is active,- and therefore it must act, not
upon an object which has now perhaps no existence, and
certainly no immediate existence, but upon something left
by that object in the brain or sensorium, to which the
mind is intimately present.
But if this be so, we may be asked how it comes to passj,
that men never confound memory with perception, nor^^^
fancy that they perceive things which they only remem- avoid com¬
ber ? If perception be an inference drawn from certain founding
sensations excited by an impression on the brain, and ifmemory
remembrance result from the mind’s operating upon re.with per-
licts of those impressions, one would think it natural to sup-ceptlon*
pose that in both cases we have actual perceptions, though
in the one case the perception must be much more vivid and
distinct than in the other. To this we answer, that, pre¬
viously to all experience, perception and memory are very
4 i
VOL. XIV.
1 Hartley on Man.
2 Ibid.
618
METAPHYSICS.
The order
of succes¬
sion in
mory.
Retention probably confounded ; and that we believe a man brought
and Ideas, into the world with all his faculties in their full natural
perfection would not instantly be able to distinguish what
he remembered from what he perceived. This we know
to be the case with respect to imagination, a faculty which
strongly resembles memory ; for in dreams, and sometimes
even in waking reveries, we fancy actually that we per¬
ceive things which it is certain we can only imagine. A
very short experience, however, would enable this newly-
created man to make the proper distinction between re¬
membrance and perception. For, let us suppose him to
be brought into a dark room, and soon afterwards a candle
to be introduced. The candle would give him a visible sen¬
sation, though not at first the perception of an external ob¬
ject. Let the candle after some time be carried out; in that
case the man would retain a visible idea, which he might
confound with the actual sensation. But if, whilst this
idea remained in his mind, the candle were brought back,
he would instantly feel a difference between the real sen¬
sation and the idea, when both were together present in
his mind. And having, in some such manner as we have
already described, acquired the power of perceiving exter¬
nal objects by means of his senses, he would soon discover,
without any effort of his own, the difference between ac¬
tual perceptions and the ideas treasured up in his memory.
The only remaining difficulty which seems to encum¬
ber this theory of remembrance is, to account for the or-
whichob- ^eI' successi°n in which objects recur to the memory,
jects recur and which we give the name of time. But this difficul-
to the me- ty will vanish when we have once ascertained what time is.
At present it is sufficient to observe, that our perceptions
of external objects remain a certain space of time in the
mind ; that this time is different according to the strength
and other circumstances of the impression which occa¬
sioned the perception; and that traces of those percep¬
tions or ideas may be recalled after the intervention of
other trains of ideas, and at very different intervals. If
one look upon a house, and then shut his eyes, the im¬
pression which is made upon his mind will not instantly
vanish. He can contemplate the house almost as long as
he pleases ; and, by the help of various associated circum¬
stances, he may recall the idea several years afterwards,
and refer it to the original perception.
Before we dismiss the subject of retention, it may not
be improper to take notice of the retentive powers of in¬
ferior animals. Aristotle, Locke, Dr Reid, and almost
every philosopher of eminence, both amongst the ancients
and moderns, have maintained that inferior animals have
memory as well as men ; and indeed we do not perceive
how the fact can be denied of the more perfect animals,
and those with whose operations we are best* acquainted.
A dog knovys his master again after a long absence; a
horse will trace back a road which he has but once tra¬
velled, often with more accuracy than his rider ; and it is
well known that many species of singing birds have a ca¬
pacity to learn tunes from the human voice, and that they
repeat the notes again and again, approaching nearer and
nearer to perfection, till at last they sing the tune correct¬
ly. These phenomena can be accounted for only by sup¬
posing, that in the brains of the several animals traces are
left by perception, of the same kind with those which per¬
ception leaves in the brain of man, and which are the cause
or occasion of his remembrance. With respect to this point,
the learned author of Ancient Metaphysics differs from his
master Aristotle. He allows that brutes have imagination,
but denies that they have memory; “ for,’’ says he, “ me¬
mory necessarily implies a sense of time, and what is first
and last; but brutes have no idea of time, or of first and
last; and it is certain that they have not consciousness or
Brutes
have me-
reflection, by which only they could review their own ope-Reter
rations.” At the same time he admits, that imagination in and I
the brute serves the purpose of memory in us ; for “ when¬
ever he sees the object that is painted on his phantasm,
he knows it again, but without any perception of the time
when he first saw it.” But that a brute, when he sees the
object which is painted on his phantasia, should know it
again without referring it to a former perception, is plain¬
ly impossible. The recognisance of any thing consists in
a consciousness of its having been perceived before ; and
nothing more than such recognisance is essential to me¬
mory. The author’s mistake seems to lie in supposing
that memory necessarily implies a sense of some determi¬
nate portion of past time ; but we surely remember many
things of which we can only say that we have formerly
perceived them, without being able to ascertain the pre¬
cise period at which we had such perceptions. A child
has the use of memory sooner than he acquires the facul¬
ty of speech ; but he must have spoken and even reason¬
ed before he can have an accurate notion of time, which,
as shall be afterwards shown, arises from comparing the
fleeting succession of our own ideas with the permanence
of ourselves and other objects. The author’s distinction
between memory and imagination seems to be in every
view improper. Aristotle has said, and said truly, that
there is memory of ideas as well as of sensible objects,
meaning by ideas general conceptions or propositions; but
this reviver of his philosophy is inclined to say, “ that
memory is only of ideas, and consequently belongs only to
man ; and that imagination is only of sensible objects, and
consequently belongs both to man and brute.” But sure¬
ly man remembers what he has seen and felt as well as
what he has conceived or thought; and if imagination and
memory be properly distinguished by Mr Harris, the re¬
verse of this writer’s doctrine must be true, viz. that ima¬
gination belongs only to man, and memory of sensible ob¬
jects both to man and brute. We can contemplate in
imagination the idea of a centaur or of a golden moun¬
tain ; but we cannot be said to remember them, for they
were never perceived. That a dog can contemplate in his
imagination the idea of a centaur or of a golden mountain,
we have not the least reason to suppose ; but were he not
capable of viewing relicts of sense reposed with him, and
referring them to their original causes, he could not pos¬
sibly recognise his master after a day’s absence.
Dr Reid and the same author agree with Aristotle in The po
thinking it probable that brutes have not reminiscence, orufrecu!
the power of reflection ; but there are many well-attestedtion•
facts which seem to prove the contrary. We shall here
mention one which fell under our own observation. One of
the persons concerned in this work was, when a young
man, absent for five months from the house of liis fa¬
ther. Upon his return, a dog of that species which is
commonly called the shepherd's cur, and which had been
in the possession of his father only a few months before
his departure, gazed at him for a few minutes as at any
other stranger. The animal then began to walk round him
with looks which very soon attracted his notice. This
made him call the dog by the name which he bore in the
family, and stretch out his hand to caress him, when the
creature instantly leaped upon him with all that appear¬
ance of attachment which these animals so commonly ex¬
hibit upon the return of their master after a few days’ ab¬
sence. If this was not recollection, we should be glad to
know what it was, not being able to distinguish it from
recollection in men. Indeed, if dogs and some other ani¬
mals possess, as Aristotle, Locke, and others allow them
to possess, the power of memory, and something of ratio¬
cination ; and if, as Dr Reid expressly says,1 “ they ex-
1 Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man.
;
METAPHYSICS.
Ap?hen.pect events in the same order and succession in which
sin and they happened before,” it is not conceivable that they can
C :eP" be wholly destitute of reminiscence, or the power of recol-
'n' Jection.
That memory is a faculty of the first importance, can-
^apjleof not be denied ; since it is obvious that, without the power
jmjtive- of retaining the ideas and notions which we receive by
mt the senses and other faculties, we never could make any
progress in the acquisition of knowledge, but should begin
every day, nay, every hour, in the same state of ignorance
in which we were born. That it is a faculty capable of im¬
provement by exercise, and that there are some methods
of exercise better adapted for this purpose than others, has
been shown elsewhere. (See Memory.)
619
CHAP. III.—OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION AND CONCEPTION.
Ide: of
senij.ion
firsjnate-
rialjiif
kmledge.
SiiTse ap1
prolusion
Diftnt
ronton-
:epi i
tU t
!nst e
mcJ e
3jei
liic ie.
The ideas received into the mind by the senses, and
treasured up in the memory and imagination, are the ori¬
ginal materials Of human knowledge. It is by comparing
those ideas with one another, or by analyzing them into
their first principles, that we acquire all our knowledge in
mathematics and philosophy, and indeed all that know¬
ledge which regulates our conduct throughout life. It must
therefore be of importance to trace the progress of the
mind in her various operations upon these materials ; be¬
ginning, as she certainly does, with that which is most sim¬
ple, and proceeding regularly to those ivhich are more com¬
plex and difficult.
Now th^ first operation of the mind about her ideas ap¬
pears plainly to be that which logicians term simple ap¬
prehension, Having yesterday observed a tree or any other
object, if we contemplate the idea of that tree to-day as
it remains in the imagination, without comparing it with
any other idea, or referring it to any external object, we
perform the operation which is called simple apprehension.
We consider simple apprehension as an operation, because
the mind in the apprehension of her own ideas is certainly
active; she turns them as it were round and round, and
views them on every side.
Simple apprehension is a phrase which is very commonly
taken to be of the same import with the word conception,
and in the ordinary affairs of life no confusion can arise
from an indiscriminate use of the two words; but in this
article we think it expedient to employ the phrase simple
apprehension to denote the view or contemplation of those
ideas only which the mind by sensation has actually re¬
ceived from external objects ; and the word conception to
denote the view, not only of those ideas, but also of such
as the mind fabricates to herself. Thus, a man may con¬
ceive a centaur, but we would not choose to say that he
may apprehend a centaur ; not that there is any impro¬
priety, perhaps, in this last expression, but as there is
certainly a difference between apprehending the idea of
what has been seen or felt, and conceiving that which ne¬
ver existed, perspicuity requires that these different opera¬
tions be expressed by different names.
We have said that the mind may conceive what never
existed; and every man may easily satisfy himself that
what we have said is true. But although this has been fre¬
quently called the creative power of the mind, it has in
fact no resemblance to creation. The materials of all our
most complex and fantastic conceptions are furnished to
our hands by sensation and- reflection; nor can we form
one simple idea which wms not originally received by some
of our senses from external objects, or, as shall be shown
afterwards, one intellectual notion which was not acquired
by reflecting on the operations of our own minds. To ex¬
plain the process of fantastic conception, it is to be ob¬
served, that in every sensible object we perceive at once
several things, such as colour, figure, extension, and mo-Apprehen-
tion or rest, &c. These are the objects of different senses; s^on an(f
but they are not, at least by full-grown men, perceived in ConceP-
succession, but all at once ; whence it comes to pass that v i^lon'
the memory or the imagination retains not several distinct
and disjointed ideas, but the idea of one coloured, figured,
and extended object. But when we compare together va¬
rious objects, or the ideas of various objects, we find that
in some respects they agree, and in others disagree; in
other words, that several objects affect some of our senses
in the same way, and other senses differently. Thus, one
globe is black and another white, one black substance is
circular and hard, and another square and soft. In the
first instance, the two globes affect our sense of touch in
the same way, and our sense of seeing differently; in the
second, the two black substances affect our sense of sight
in the same way, and our sense of touch differently.
Trom observing this difference amongst objects by means
of the different sensations received from them, the mind
learns to analyze its original ideas, which are copies of
those sensations, into their first principles, and to combine
those principles in such a manner as to form complex ideas
of objects which were never actually perceived by the
senses. Of the simple and unmixed principles which com¬
pose those complex ideas, there is not indeed one which
was not originally received by some sense, so that the whole
difference between complex ideas fabricated by the mind
and those which are the relicts of sensation, consists in
the order in which the constituent simple ideas of each
are put together. Thus, no man ever saw a mountain of
pure gold, and therefore the idea of such a mountain can
be in no human mind as a relict of sensation; but we have
all seen pieces of gold of different sizes, and we have all
seen mountains, and nothing is more easy than to conceive
a piece of gold extended on all sides to the size of a moun¬
tain, and rising out of the earth. Again, though no per¬
son ever saw a centaur, yet it is easy to conceive the up¬
per parts of a man joined to the breast and shoulders of
a horse. In these instances the complex conceptions are
of things which it is in the highest degree probable never
had a real existence, and which it is certain we never per¬
ceived as existing; but the simple ideas of which they are
composed are the relicts of actual sensations, for every
one has perceived as really existing the body of a horse
and the upper parts of a man, and when conceiving a cen¬
taur, he only conceives them to exist united. That we
have not in the imagination one simple and unmixed idea
which was not left there as a relict of sense, every man
will be convinced who shall try to conceive a simple co¬
lour or taste which is totally different from all the colours
and tastes, and all the shades and varieties of them, which
he has received by sensation ; but his simple ideas, though
all received from without, he may put together in innu¬
merable ways or modes, differing from any order in which
he has ever actually perceived the qualities of external
objects existing.
Yet even this power of the mind is limited. It is im- The power
possible to put together a number of contrary and incon- of concep-
sistent ideas, in such a manner as to form of them onetion
complex conception. No man, for instance, can conceive®’110 Possi*
a thing to be at once white and black, round and square, exist'
hard and soft, in motion and at rest. Hence it is a maxim 60 e
almost universally received amongst philosophers, that al¬
though we can conceive many things which never actual¬
ly existed, yet we can form no ideas but of such things as
.might possibly exist. A centaur never existed, but it may
be conceived; for it is by no means impossible that the
head of a man might be joined to the body of a horse ; but
black snow cannot be conceived, for, in the complex idea
denoted by the word snow, whiteness is an essential part,
and nothing can be conceived to be both black and white
620
Apprehen
sion and
Concep¬
tion.
METAPHYSICS.
Dr Reid’s
opinion of
conception
controvert¬
ed.
at the same time. From this undoubted fact, that we
cannot conceive impossible existence, the power of con¬
ception lias by some writers been in certain instances made
a test of truth. “ In every idea is implied,” says Dr Price,1
“ the possibility of the existence of its object; nothing be¬
ing clearer than that there can be no idea of an impossi¬
bility, or conception- of what cannot exist.” “ It is an es¬
tablished maxim in metaphysics,” says Hume, “ that what¬
ever the mind conceives, includes the idea of possible ex¬
istence ; or, in other words, that nothing we imagine is ab¬
solutely impossible.”2 In a word, it has been admitted by
all philosophers, from Pythagoras to Dr lieid, that v/hat-
ever we can distinctly conceive is possible, although many
things may be possible, nay, may really exist, of which
we can form no conception.
This axiom has been denied by the author of the Es¬
says on the Intellectual Powers of Man, who affirms that
“ any two sides of a triangle may be conceived to be equal
to the third,” as distinctly as “ any two sides of a triangle
may be conceived to be greater than the third.” This as¬
sertion proceeding from such a man surprised us as much
as any paradox which we ever read ; for nothing is more
certain than that we ourselves can form no conception of a
triangle of which two of the sides are only equal to the third.
We can indeed resolve the proposition into its different
parts, and form the distinct and independent ideas of a
triangle, two sides, and one side, and we can likewise form
the general notion of equality ; but to combine these ideas
and this notion into one individual complex conception is
absolutely impossible. A man who knows nothing of
triangles, if such a man there be, might believe Dr Reid
that it is a figure of which one of its sides is equal to the
other two; but such a person would have no conception
of the figure itself, and only a confidence in the doctor’s ve¬
racity.
Vv hat is it to conceive a corporeal thing to exist? Is it not
to fancy that we view it on all sides as what may be seen,
or felt, or smelled, or tasted ? The doctor, indeed, repeat¬
edly reprobates, as the source of much error, the notion oF
ideas as images in the mind; and if ideas be taken as real
materia] figures, he is certainly in the right; but we appeal
to the common sense of mankind, whether every person
who distinctly conceives a triangle is not at the time con¬
scious that his mind is affected in a similar manner, although
not so forcibly, as when he actually views a triangle with
his eyes ? What other men may feel they know best; but
we are as certain that this is the case with respect to our¬
selves, as we are certain of our own existence. That this
affection of the mind is occasioned by some agitation in the
brain, of the same kind with that which occasions actual
perception, is highly probable ; but whatever be the cause,
the fact is undeniable.
The doctor’s words, indeed, taken by themselves, would
lead one to think that by conception he means in this case
nothing more than the understanding of the terms of a
proposition ; but if that be his meaning, there was no room
for controversy, as the great philosophers Cud worth, Clarke,
Price, and Hume, whose opinion he is combating, would
have been as ready as himself to allow, that when a man
is thoroughly master of any language, he will not find any
difficulty in understanding the meaning of any particular
"words in that language, however absurdly these words may
have been put together. When Dr Price says, that “ in
every idea is implied the possibility of the existence of its
object, nothing being clearer than that there can be no
idea of impossibility, or conception of what cannot exist,”
his meaning evidently is, that we cannot mentally con¬
template nor fancy ourselves viewing any thing corporeal,
which w'e might not actually view with our eyes, or per-Apprq
rpi vp hv crimp nflipr sphcp HPhie ^~^~•
ceive by some other sense. ’ This is the true” meaning of
conception, which is something very different indeed from
understanding the separate meaning of each word con¬
tained in a proposition.
The learned professor, however, appeals to the practice
of mathematicians for the truth of his opinion ; and if they
be on his side, we must give up the cause, for in no science
have we such clear ideas, or such absolute certainty, as in
mathematical reasoning. But it is to be observed that the
word conception is not with any propriety applied to ab¬
stract truth, but to real or possible existence; nor can we
be said to conceive distinctly a real or possible object, un¬
less we are able to turn it round and round, and view it on
all sides. I he faculties which are conversant about ab¬
stract truth are the judgment and the reason; and truth
itself consists in the agreement, as falsehood does in the
disagreement, of two or more ideas or terms when com¬
pared together. If those ideas about which a judgment is io
be formed can be immediately brought together, without
the intervention of a third idea, it is impossible that we
should judge, or, if Dr Reid will have it so, conceive that
to be true which is really false. If the two ideas cannot
be immediately brought together, it is impossible that we
should form any judgment or conception at all about their
agreement or disagreement; but we may suppose or admit,
for the sake of argument, that they agree or disagree, and
if that supposition conduct to a manifest absurdity, we
then know that the supposition was false. It is therefore
perfectly agreeable to the maxim of Price and of Hume,
that mathematicians should in many cases prove some
tilings to be possible and others impossible, which without
demonstration would not have been believed; because if
the ideas compared cannot be immediately brought toge¬
ther, no judgment, previously to the demonstration, can be
formed of the truth or falsehood of the proposition ; and if
it concern not real or possible existence, it is a proposition
with which conception has nothing to do.
“ But,” says Dr Reid, “ it is easy to conceive, that in
the infinite series of numbers and intermediate fractions,
some one number, integral or fractional, may bear the same
ratio to another as the side of a square bears to its diago¬
nal.’ We are so far from thinking this an easy matter, that
if the word conceive be taken in the sense in which it is
used by the philosophers whose opinion he is combating,
we must confess that we can form no adequate conception
at all of an infinite series. When we make the trial, we
can only bring ourselves to conceive the real numerical
figures I, 2, 3, &c., or the fractional parts i, j, £, &c.;
and even here our conception reaches but a small way.
We have reason to believe that minds of a larger grasp can
conceive at once more of the series than we can, and that
the Supreme Mind conceives the whole of it, if the whole
of a mathematical infinity be not a contradiction in terms;
but surely no man will say that he can conceive an infinite
series as lie conceives a centaur, and have an adequate and
distinct view of it at once. If, by conceiving that in an
infinite series some one number may bear the same ratio to
another that the side of a square bears to its diagonal, the
doctor only means that such a supposition may be made,
his observation is not to the purpose for which it is brought;
for the question is not about our power to make supposi¬
tions of this kind, but about our power to raise in our ima¬
ginations an adequate and distinct mental view of possible
or impossible existence. “ To suppose,” says Johnson,
“ is to advance by way of argument or illustration, without
maintaining the truth of the position.” In this sense a man
may suppose that in an infinite series there may be some
sipn an
Concq
hon.
5 Review of the Principal Questions and Difficulties in Morals.
2 Essays.
*
*
METAPHYSIC S.
Af el>en- one number which bears the same ratio to another that the
ji> ami side of a square bears to its diagonal; but such a supnosi-
C|lceP- tion contains in it nothing that is positive, which concep-
^m,|Vtion always does; it is only admitting, for the sake of argu-
v^~^ment, a position, of the truth or the falsehood of which the
person who makes the supposition knows nothing. He is
only talking of ratios as a blind man may talk of colours.
A man born blind may be made to comprehend many of
the laws of optics, and may even make suppositions about
colours, and reason from such suppositions to a certain ex¬
tent, as clearly and justly as one who sees; but will any
person say that a man blind from his birth can conceive
red or green ? It is much the same with respect to an in¬
finite series. We can follow such a series so far, and may
know the ratio by which it increases or decreases, and rea¬
son from what we know with the utmost certainty ; but no
man ever conceived the whole of an infinite series as he
conceives an individual object, nor can any reasonings up¬
on the nature of it be applied to the question of conceiving
impossible existence.
But “ mathematicians often require us,” says Dr Reid,
“ to conceive things that are impossible, in order to prove
them to be so. this is the case in all their demonstrations
ad absurdum. Conceive, says Euclid, a right line drawn
from one point of the circumference of a circle to another,
to fall without the circle. I conceive this, I reason from
it, until I come to a consequence that is manifestly absurd,
and from thence conclude that the thing which I conceived
is impossible.” If it he indeed true that Euclid desires
his readers to conceive a mathematical circle with a line
drawn from one point ol its circumference to another, and
that line lying without the circle; if he really desires them
to form such a complex conception as this, we have no
hesitation in affirming that he requires them to do what is
manifestly impossible. The writer of this article has not in
his custody any copy of the Elements in the original Greek,
and therefore cannot say with certainty what are Euclid’s
words; nor is it of much importance what they be ; for up¬
on a question which every man may decide for himself, by
merely looking into his own mind,'the authority of Euclid
is nothing. The proposition to which the doctor refers is
the second of the third book, and, in the edition of Simp¬
son, is expressed thus : “ If any two points be taken in the
circumference of a circle, the straight line which joins them
shall fall within the circle.” Every mathematician who can
form an adequate conception of a circle and a straight line
perceives the truth of this proposition instantly, for it re¬
sults necessarily from his conception ; but he who has not
an adequate conception of a circle may stand in need of a
demonstration to show him the truth ; for it is to be observ¬
ed, that demonstration does not make truth, it only points
it out to those who cannot perceive it intuitively, just as a
microscope does not make the hairs on a mite’s back, but
only brings them within the field of vision.
W ere a man who never examined a mite through a mi¬
croscope, and who has no adequate ideas of the insect
kingdom, to he asked whether there be hairs on a mite’s
hack, he would probably answer that he did not know,
but he comd conceive no such hairs. In like manner, were
a man who has no adequate conception of a mathematical
Ciicae, to be asked whether a straight line, which joins any
two contiguous points in the circumference, could lie with¬
out the circle, he would probably answer that he did not
know. Now it is to be remembered, that the reader of
the Elements can have no very adequate conception of a
circle when he comes to the second proposition of the
third book. The definition of a circle was indeed given
him in the introduction to the first book ; but of that de¬
finition he has hitherto had occasion to make very little
use, so that his idea of a circle will be little more accurate
than that of an illiterate clown, who has no other idea of
tne figure than what he takes from a halfpenny or a shil¬
ling. Dr Reid himself has elsewhere1 well observed, that
“ when a youth of moderate parts begins to study Euclid,
every thing at first is new to him. His apprehension is
unsteady ; his judgment is feeble, and rests partly upon
tlie evidence of the thing, and partly upon the authority
of his teacher; but every time he goes over the definitions,
the axioms, the elementary propositions, more light breaks
in upon him, the language becomes familiar, and conveys
clear and steady conceptions.” In this state he certainly
is when he reads far the first time the second proposition
of the third book ; his conception of a circle can then be
neither clear nor steady’. Our ymung geometrician, how¬
ever, must allow, that the proposition is either true or false ;
and if he has read the preceding books with any advan¬
tage, he must have clear and steady conceptions of angles
and triangles, and be able to demonstrate many of their
properties. “ Well,” says Euclid, “ though you have no
adequate conception of a circle, you are well acquainted
with plane angles and triangles, and many of their proper¬
ties . Let us suppose, if that be possible, that my proposi¬
tion is false, and I will show you that the supposition is
absolutely inconsistent with what you know to be demon¬
strable or self-evident truth.” This is all which Euclid
can be supposed to require, when, in the words of his ex¬
cellent translator, he says, “ If. it (the straight line) do
not fall within (the circle), let it fall, if possible, without.”
He could not possibly desire a man who has an adequate
idea of a circle, to form the positive and complex concep¬
tion of that figure, with a straight line touching two points
of the circumference, and yet lying on the outside of the
circumference ; because all his figures and lines are mere
conceptions, and not real material things ; and such a re¬
quest would have been the same thing as if he had said,
Conceive what cannot be conceived.2
We have insisted the longer on this point, because we
think it one of the highest importance ; for were it indeed
true, that we could conceive impossible existence, the con¬
sequences would be very melancholy’. These consequen¬
ces it is needless to enumerate. Our readers will per¬
ceive, that if we could put together inconsistent ideas of
sensible objects, and view them so united as one consistent
whole, nothing is clearer than that our faculties would be
621
Apprehen¬
sion and
Concep¬
tion.
‘ peo Lonl Raines’s Sketches of the History of Man, appendix to the first Sketch on the Sciences.
„„ J rincl.Pal Campbell, in treating of the commonly received doctrine of abstraction, has shown, that thonch Locke has in
K onwLTtal Tu expr!f«d bTelfT the 8ub^ect - terms unintelligible, his sentiments o^ K
>eikeley and Hume: Some, says he, “of the greatest admirers ot that eminent philosopher seem to have overlooked en
Undy the preceding account of his sentiments on this subject ; and, through 1 know not what passioTfS tL naradoS fr4onW
appear Tnth16 imp()sslb1,? aml unintelligible), have shown an amazing zeal for defending the propriety of the hasty expressions "which
its hleas ? 1 ^'ri formerly referred to. Has not the mind of man, say they, an unlimited power in m oul’din an d co m b i n in a
M fomic f1 nH1K ’ lt n'usj be owned’ hath an unlimited power in moulding and combining its ideas. It often produces wonder*
alu ‘If! (Jordon 8 ^ ' ,fo™8 in^ ^ ‘here - no ex^ar mbe found t
„ivi. f . grilling, Gorgops and hydras, and chimeras dire.’ But still it must not attempt absolute impossibilities bv
h ** j ltb C1 eature contradictory qualities. It must not attempt to conceive the same thing to be black and white at the same
uneon'll0 H 110 m°re tbaU tbrCe incbes lonfa a”‘l ^t no less than three thousand ; to conceive tm> o^ mre fines to be both eo^
METAPHYSICS.
622
Of Ab- contrived to deceive us, and we would be doomed to cheer-
straction jess anj un;versal scepticism,
and Gene- r
ral Ideas.
    CHAP. IV.—.OF ABSTRACTION AND GENERAL IDEAS.
I.veiy sen- Every sensible object is an individual, and it differs in
andee°bj'eCtm?ny resPects^rom every other object. As such it isper-
fdea are in- ce\ve^ ^e senses ; and ideas being nothing more than
dividual. re^c^s sensation preserved in the imagination or memo¬
ry, every idea must of course be an individual, as much as
the object to which it refers. But all science, whether
mathematical, moral, or metaphysical, is conversant about
general truths; and if truth consist, as we have already
observed, and shall more fully evince afterwards, in the
agreement or coincidence of ideas, how, it may be asked,
can general truth result from the comparison of particular
ideas? To get rid of this difficulty, many philosophers,
both ancient and modern, pretend that the mind is fur¬
nished with general ideas, from a comparison of which re¬
sult general propositions applicable to many individuals.
Philosophers, indeed, have differed in opinion respecting
the source of those ideas, some of the ancients deriving
them immediately from the Supreme Mind to the human,
whilst almost all the moderns say that they are framed by
abstraction, and therefore call them abstract ideas.
The doc- The doctrine of abstract ideas has been so fairly stated,
trine of and, in our opinion, so completely overturned, by Bishop
abstract Berkeley, that we shall content ourselves with abridging
ed^nd coii- w^at ^ias sa^ on ^e subject, and obviating some cavils
troverted. have latterly been urged against his reasoning. “ It is
agreed on all hands,” says that learned and ingenious pre¬
late,1 “ that the qualities or modes of things do never really
exist each of them apart by itself and separated from all
others ; but are mixed, as it were, and blended together,
several in the same object. But, we are told, the mind being
able to consider each quality singly, or abstracted from
those other qualities with which it is united, does by that
means frame to itself abstract ideas. For example : There
is perceived by sight an object extended, coloured, and
moved : this mixed or compound idea, the mind resolving
into its simple constituent parts, and viewing each by it¬
self exclusive of the rest, does frame the abstract ideas of
extension, colour, and motion. Not that it is possible for
colour or motion to exist without extension ; but only that
the mind can frame to itself, by abstraction, the idea of co¬
lour exclusive of extension, and of motion exclusive of
both colour and extension. Again, the mind having ob¬
served, that in the particular extensions perceived by sense,
there is something common and alike in all, and some
other things peculiar, as this or that figure or magnitude,
which distinguish them from one another, it considers
apart, or singles out by itself, that which is common, mak¬
ing thereof a most abstract idea of extension, which is
neither line, surface, nor solid, nor has any figure or mag¬
nitude, but is an idea entirely prescinded from all these.
So likewise the mind, by leaving out of the particular co¬
lours perceived by sense that which distinguishes them
one from another, and retaining that only which is com¬
mon to all, makes an idea of colour in the abstract, which is
neither red, nor blue, nor white, nor any other determinate
colour. And as the mind frames to itself abstract ideas of
qualities or modes, so does it by the same precision or
mental separation attain abstract ideas of the more com¬
pounded beings, which include several co-existent qualities.
For example, the mind, having observed that Peter, James,
and John, resemble each other in certain common agree¬
ments of shape and other qualities, leaves out of the com¬
plex or compounded idea it has of Peter, James, and any Of a
other particular man, that which is peculiar to each, re- stract
taining only what is common to all, and so makes an ab-and G
stract idea wherein all the particulars equally partake, ralId
abstracting entirely from and cutting off all those circum-
stances and differences which might determine it to any
particular existence. After this manner, it is said, we come
by the abstract idea of man, or, if you please, humanity
or human nature, in which, it is true, there is included
colour, because there is no man but has some colour; but
then it can be neither black nor white, nor any particular
colour, because there is no one particular colour wherein
all men partake. So likewise there is included stature;
but then it is neither tall stature, nor low stature, nor
middle stature, but something abstracted from all these;
and so of the rest. Moreover, there being a great variety
of other creatures that partake in some parts, but not all,
of the complex idea of man, the mind, leaving out those
parts which are peculiar to man, and retaining those only
which are common to all the living creatures, frameth the
idea of animal; which abstracts not only from all particu¬
lar men, but also from all birds, beasts, fishes, and insects.
The constituent parts of that abstract idea of animal are
body, life, sense, and spontaneous motion. By body is
meant body without any particular shape or figure, there
being no one shape or figure common to all animals, with¬
out covering, either of hair, or feathers, or scales, &c. and
yet not naked ; hair, feathers, scales, and nakedness, being
the distinguishing properties of particular animals, and for
that reason left out of the abstract idea. Upon the same
account, the spontaneous motion must be neither walking,
nor flying, nor creeping: it is nevertheless motion ; but
what that motion is, it is not easy to conceive.
“ Whether others have this wonderful faculty of ab¬
stracting their ideas,” continues the bishop, “ they best can
tell; for myself, I find indeed that I have a faculty of ima¬
gining or representing to myself the ideas of those parti¬
cular things which I have perceived, and of variously com¬
pounding and dividing them. I can imagine a man with
two heads, or the upper parts of a man joined to the body
of a horse. I can consider the hand, the eye, the nose,
each by itself abstracted or separated from the rest of the
body. But then, whatever hand or eye I imagine, it must
have some particular shape, and some particular colour.
Likewise the idea of man that I frame to myself, must be
either of a white, or a black, or a tawny, a straight or a
crooked, a tall, or a low, or a middle-sized man. I cannot by
any effort of thought conceive the abstract idea above de¬
scribed. To be plain, I own myself able to abstract in one
sense, as when I consider some particular parts or quali¬
ties separated from others with which, though they are
united in some objects, yet it is possible they may really
exist without them. But I deny that I can abstract one
from another, or conceive separately those qualities which
it is impossible should exist so separated; or that I can
frame a general notion by abstracting from particulars in
the manner aforesaid ; and there are grounds to think most
men will acknowledge themselves to be in my case.”
To think this, there are indeed such good grounds,
that it is probable some of our readers, little conversant
with the writings of modern metaphysicians, are by this
time disposed to suspect, that the bishop, in his zeal, may
have misrepresented the doctrine of abstraction; as no
man in his senses, who is not perverted by some darling
hypothesis, can suppose himself capable of tagging to¬
gether such monstrous inconsistencies, as magnitude which
is neither great nor small, and colour which is neither
white, red, green, nor black, &c. But that the ingenious
1 Introduction to the Principles of Human Knowledge.
METAPHYSICS.
CAb-
station
mijSene
ra-deas.
Abstict
conci-
tion.‘i!ie
samesith
abstrt
ideas:
prelate, in his account of this processof looping and prun¬
ing, as Mr Harris contemptuously but most properly
terms it, has not exaggerated in the smallest degree, is
apparent from the following account of abstraction <dven
by Mr Locke. “ Abstract ideas,” says that writer, “ are
not so obvious or easy to children, or the yet unexercised
mind, as particular ones. It they seem so to grown men,
it is only because by constant and familiar use they are
made so; for when we nicely reflect upon them, we shall
find that general ideas are fictions and contrivances of the
mind, that carry difficulty with them, and do not so easily
offer themselves as we are apt to imagine. For example,
does it not require some pains and skill to form the gene¬
ral idea of a triangle (which is yet none of the most ab¬
stract, comprehensive, and difficult) ? for it must be nei¬
ther oblique nor rectangle, neither equilateral, equicrural,
nor scalenon, but all and none of these at once. In effect*
it is something imperfect that cannot exist, an idea where¬
in some parts of several different and inconsistent ideas
are put together.” “ Surely,” to use the words of Princi¬
pal Campbell, the bare mention of this hypothesis is
equivalent to a confutation of it, since it really confutes
itself.” But if any man has the faculty of framing in his
mind such an idea of a triangle as is here described, it
would be vain in us to dispute with him; for we are pos¬
sessed of no such faculty, and therefore would fight on un¬
equal terms. All we have to desire is, that die reader
would fully and certainly inform himself whether he has
such an idea or not; and this can be no hard task to per¬
form. What is more easy for any one than to look a little
into his own thoughts, and there try whether he has, or
can attain to have, an idea of colour separated from all ex¬
tension ; of extension which is neither great nor small;
of taste which is neither sweet, nor bitter, nor acid, nor
agreeable, nor disagreeable ; or the general idea of a tri¬
angle which is neither oblique nor rectangle, equicrural,
equilateral, nor scalenon, but all and none of these at once ?2
Dr Reid having denied that there are or can be in the
mind any ideas of sensible objects, rejects of course the
doctrine of abstract general ideas, whilst he maintains in
fact the very same thing, only substituting the word con¬
ception for the word idea. “ What hinders me,” says he,
“ from attending to the whiteness of the paper before me*
without applying that colour to any other object?” We*
know nothing indeed which can hinder any man from per¬
forming this operation, which is daily and'hourly perform¬
ed by infants; but will the doctor say that he can attend
to colour, or conceive it, abstracted from the paper and
every other surface ? We are persuaded that he will not,
though he immediately adds, “ the whiteness of this indi¬
vidual object is an abstract conception.” Now we should ra-
t lei have thought, that, consistently with his own notions
of colour, he would have called the whiteness of the paper
a concrete quality, and his own conception of it a particu¬
lar and concrete conception. If he conceives the white¬
ness as separated from the paper, it is no longer the white¬
ness of that individual object; and he must either con¬
ceive it as abstracted from all objects, which is plainly im¬
possible ; or he must conceive it as inhering in some other
object, and then neither the quality of whiteness, nor his
conception of it, is abstract in general, but concrete and
particular. He affirms, however, “ that in abstraction,
strictly so called, he can perceive nothing that is difficult
either to be understood or practised.” This is goin<>- much
tarther into the doctrine than Mr Locke went; for he owned
623
that there was much difficulty in it. But let us see how it Of Ab-
becomes so easy to Dr Reid. “ What can be more easy,” straction
says he, “ than to distinguish the different attributes which and Gene'
we know to belong to a subject ? In a man, for instance, to ral Ideas*
distinguish his size, his complexion, his age, his fortune,
Ins birth, his profession, and twenty other things that be¬
long to him.” All this indeed, and much more, we can do
with the utmost ease; but this is not abstraction strictly
so called, nor any thing like abstraction. We distinguish
the size, the complexion, the age, and other attributes, of
the man, from one another; but still we conceive them all
as his qualities; nor is it possible, at least for us, to ab¬
stract them from him, without conceiving them as the qua¬
lities of some other man ; so that our conceptions are all
concrete and particular. “ It ought likewise to be observ¬
ed,” says the professor, “ that attributes may with per-
feet ease be distinguished and disjoined in our conception,
which cannot be actually separated in the subject.” They
may be so in his conception, but certainly not in ours ; for
W<LCan „conce.ive nothing which may not actually exist.
7 j.us’ continues he, “ I can in a body distinguish its
solidity from its extension, and its weight from both. Jn
extension I can distinguish length, breadth, and thick¬
ness ; yet none of these can be separated from the body,
or from one another. It is therefore certain, that attri¬
butes which in their nature are absolutely inseparable from
their subject, and from one another, may be disjoined in
our conception ; one cannot exist without the other, but
one can be conceived without the other.” So far is this
trom being a matter of certainty, that in every possible
sense in which we can understand the word conception, it
appears to_ us as evidently false as that three and two are
equal to nine. It is indeed not difficult to distinguish in
a body its solidity from its extension, and its weight from
both ; but can we distinguish them out of the body?.or,
to speak in plain language, can we conceive solidity as
separated from all extension and all weight ? Unless this
can be done, and by us it cannot be done, there is no ab-
stiaction strictly so called. It is indeed easy to conceive
solidity or extension abstracted from any one individual
object ; but how is it done ? Why, by transferring your
attention to some other individual object. Thus we can
easily conceive solidity or extension separated from a
guinea, for instance; but it is only by transferring our
thoughts to another body, a piece of silver, or a ball of
lead, &c. and our conceptions in both cases are particular
and concrete.
As we think this opinion of Dr Reid’s respectino- ab¬
straction both ill founded and of dangerous consequences,
we have expressed our dissent from it in strong terms ;
and in doing so we have only followed the example set us
by himself when dissenting from the theories of Hume and
Berkeley. But we are so thoroughly convinced that the
doctor s acuteness is superior to our own, that we are not
without our fears that we may have mistaken his meaning.
W^j aie conscious that we have not wilfully misrepresent¬
ed it; and to enable our readers to judge for themselves
between him and us, we shall lay before them his defini-
tioii of general conceptions, in his own words.
I hat there are in every language general terms, is known General
to all mankind ; for such indeed are all substantives, pro-terms,
per names excepted, and all adjectives. But “ it is impos¬
sible, says the doctor,3 “ that words can have a general
signification, unless there be conceptions in the mind of
the speaker and of the hearer, of things that are general.
1 Philosophy of Rhetoric.
p“si"le’1 crot for '*>*««****** pop* it „«« a™.
624
METAPHYSICS.
Of Ab- It is to such that I give the name of general conceptions ;
anTo-11 ancl- lt 0u^llt t0 be °^servPth that they take this denomi-
j'ippg" nati°n, not from the act of the mind in conceiving, which
^ an individual act, but from the object or thing con¬
ceived, which is general.’’ Now, whatever is conceived
must either be external to the mind, or present with it.
But the doctor himself acknowledges, “ that all the ob¬
jects wre perceive are individuals. Every object of sense,
of memory, or of consciousness, is an individual object.
All the good things we enjoy or desire, and all the evils
we feel or fear, must come from individuals; and I think
I may venture to say, that every creature which God has
made in the heavens above, or in the earth beneath, or in
the waters under the earth, is an individual.” If this be
so, and no man can call it in question, it is obvious that
we can have no general conception of any thing external.
The act of conceiving is an individual act; and therefore
the only thing which can be general must be something
present with the mind, and different from the mere act
of conceiving. But what can this be, if not what Berke¬
ley and others call an idea ? and how can we have an idea
of which we are not conscious? Yet every thing of which
we are conscious, Dr Reid himself acknowledges to be an
individual.
But if the doctrine generally received respecting ab¬
stract ideas be so very absurd as it has appeared in our re¬
presentation, how comes it to be so prevalent amongst the
most acute philosophers ? To this we answer, that those
philosophers have certainly in this instance been imposed
upon by the structure of language. Every adjective and
every substantive, proper names excepted, are words of
general signification ; and all science is conversant about
general truth ; but as words are said to be significant, not
of things, but of ideas, and as truth results from the
agreement or coincidence of ideas, it has been hastily sup¬
posed, that, without general ideas, there could have been
neither general terms nor general truth. This is plausi¬
ble, but it is not solid. Every object which affects our
senses is an individual object; but we perceive that two
or more objects which affect some of our senses very dif¬
ferently, affect others of them in precisely the same way.
Thus, the paper upon which one writes, the snow which
he perceives from his window, and the milk which he may
use at breakfast, affect his senses of touch and taste very
differently, but they present the same appearances to his
eye. This diversity in the one case he believes to proceed
from different powers or qualities in the several objects; and
the sameness of appearance in the other, from similar qua¬
lities in these objects. To the similar qualities, though
he can frame no idea of them abstracted from every indi¬
vidual object, he gives one common name, and calls every
object which presents the same appearance to his eye that
snowr does, a white object; in which case the word ivhite
docs not stand for an abstract idea, but for a quality inhe¬
rent in one or more objects. Hence the origin of adjectives
in language, which denote more than can be expressed by
any class of substantives; for every adjective, besides the
power of a name, includes in itself the force of a conjunc¬
tion. (See Grammar.)
The other class of general terms comprehends substan¬
tives, of which the origin is as follows. The objects about
which we have occasion to speak or write are so numerous
and so fluctuating, that if every individual had a proper
name, a complete language could never be formed. But
as there are not perhaps in nature two objects that appear
to us similar in all respects, so are there not in nature two
objects which affect all our senses differently. The mind,
therefore, either actually perceiving two or more objects
at once, or contemplating the ideas left by two or more ob¬
jects in the memory, perceives, by its intellectual power,
in what respects they agree and in what they disagree.
If the agreement be striking, and hold in more qualities than Of a
one, it combines the several individuals into one class or stracti
species, giving to the whole a common name, which equal-aml Gil
ly denotes the species and every individual belonging to ra' ^
it. Thus, observing that Peter, James, and John, agree '^v'
in having the same erect form, in walking on two legs, in
having two hands, &c., and being endowed with reason,
we combine these three, and all other individuals which
we perceive to agree in the same striking and important
qualities, into one species, to which we give the name of
man, a word which equally denotes the whole species and
every individual of it. Again, contemplating a number
of figures, which all agree in the circumstance of being
bounded by three straight lines meeting one another so as
to form three angles, we call the whole class of figures
and each individual by the name of triangle, although it
may be impossible to contemplate any number of triangles
without perceiving that all the angles of one are acute;
that one angle of another is a right angle ; and that in the
third there is one angle obtuse ; but the word triangle,
unless it be limited in its signification by the addition of
an adjective, is equally expressive of an acute-angled tri¬
angle, a right-angled triangle, and an obtuse-angled tri¬
angle. By thus arranging individuals according to their
most conspicuous qualities, we may combine all the objects
existing into so many classes or species, which shall be af¬
terwards known by as many names; but of each species
we neither have nor can have any other idea than that
of a multitude of similar individuals.
As our acquaintance with nature enlarges, wre discoverClassificj
resemblances, striking and important, between one speciestion.
and another, which naturally begets the notion of a higher
class called a genus. From comparing man with beasts,
birds, fishes, and reptiles, we perceive that they are all
alike possessed of life, or a principle of sensation and ac¬
tion, and of an organized body; hence we rank them all
under a higher class or genus, to which we give the name
of animal; which equally denotes the whole genus, each
species comprehended under that genus, and every indi¬
vidual of every species. Thus, animal is a genus; man, I
beast, bird, are so many species comprehended under that
genus; and Peter, James, and John, are individuals of
the species man. Peter, James, and John, are proper
names, denoting each an individual; man, beast, bird, are
specific terms, denoting each a whole species, comprising
many individuals ; and animal is a general term, because
it denotes a whole genus, comprehending under it several
species, of which each consists of many individuals; and
the general term denotes either the wdiole genus, all the
species, or any individual of all the species. This is the
whole mystery of abstraction ; they are merely terms that
in strictness of speech are general and abstract; and even
these are general only as signs, of which the full significa¬
tion cannot always be represented by any conceivable
idea.
“ It is a received opinion,” says Bishop Berkeley, “ thatifonessi
language has no other end but the communicating of ouriikasC^
ideas, and that every significant name stands for an idea.ustl1 ^
This being so; and it being withal certain, that names,11111'' 0
which yet are not thought altogether insignificant, do not
always mark out particular conceivable ideas; it is straight-
way concluded that they stand for abstract notions. That
there are many names in use amongst speculative men,
which do not always suggest to others determinate parti¬
cular ideas, is what nobody will deny; and a little atten¬
tion will discover, that it is not necessary, even in the
strictest reasonings, that significant names, which stand
for ideas, should, every time they are used, excite in the
understanding the ideas they are made to stand for. In
reading and discoursing, names are for the most part used
as letters in algebra ; in which, though a particular quan-
I
Q\b-
str;ioii
amlene
ral1 leas,
METAPHYSICS.
TUlic-
trine|‘-
nerali re¬
ceive.
tity be marked by each letter, yet, to proceed right, it
is not requisite that in every step each letter suggest to
our thoughts that particular quantity it was appointed to
^ stand for.” The same thing is true of ideas, which, as well
as names, are often used merely as signs representing a
whole class ; and hence they may on that account be called
general, though every idea is in itself strictly particular.
Thus, “ an idea, which considered in itself is particular,
becomes general by being made to represent or stand for
all other particular ideas of the same sort. To make this
plain by example, suppose a geometrician is demonstrat¬
ing the method of cutting a line in two equal parts : he
draws, for instance, a black line of an inch in length;
this, which in itself is a particular line, is nevertheless,
with regard to its signification, general, since, as it is
there used, it represents all particular lines whatsoever ;
and hence what is demonstrated of it is demonstrated of all
lines, or, in other words, of a line in general. And as
that particular line becomes general by being made a sign,
so the name line, and the idea of a line in the imagination,
either of which taken absolutely is particular, by being
signs are made general likewise. And as the former owes
its generality, not to its being the sign of an abstract or
general line, but of all particular right lines that may pos¬
sibly exist, so the latter, the name and the idea, must be
thought to derive their generality from the same cause,
namely, the various particular lines which each of them
indifferently denotes.” Again, when one demonstrates
any proposition concerning triangles, it is to be supposed
that he has in view to demonstrate an universal truth ; yet
the particular triangle which he considers must be either
equilateral, isosceles, or scalenon; for a plain triangle,
which is none of these, can neither exist nor be conceived.
But whether it be of this or that sort is of no importance,
as any of them may equally stand for and represent all
rectilineal triangles, and on that account be denominated
universal.
This doctrine respecting names and ideas being used
merely as signs, has been adopted by almost every sub-
sequertt philosopher; and by Principal Campbell it has
been illustrated with a perspicuity and acuteness every way
worthy of the author of the Dissertation on Miracles.
“ In confirmation of this doctrine,” says he,1 “ it may be
observed, that we really think by signs, as well as speak
by them. All the truths which constitute science, which
give exercise to reason, and are discovered by philosophy,
are general; all our ideas, in the strictest sense of the
word, are particular. All the particular truths about which
we are conversant are properly historical, and compose the
lurniture of memory. Nor do I include under the term
historical the truths which belong to natural history, for
even these too are general. Now, beyond particular truth
or historical facts, first perceived and then remembered,
we should never be able to proceed one single step in
thinking, any more than in conversing, without the use
of signs.
“ When it is affirmed that the whole is equal to all its
parts, there cannot be an affirmation which is more per¬
fectly intelligible, or which commands a fuller assent. If,
in order to comprehend this, I recur to ideas, all that I
can do is to form a notion of some individual whole, di¬
vided into a certain number of parts of which it is consti¬
tuted, suppose of the year divided into the four seasons.
Now all that I can be said to discern here is the relation
of equality between this particular whole and its compo¬
nent parts. If I recur to another example, I only perceive
another particular truth. The same holds of a third and
of a fourth. But so far am I, after the perception of ten
625
thousand particular similar instances, from the discovery Of Ab-
of the universal truth, that if the mind had not the power straction
of considering things as signs, or particular ideas as re- and Gene"
presenting an infinity of others, resembling in one circum- vraI Ideas'
stance though totally dissimilar in every other, I could not
so much as conceive the meaning of an universal truth.
Hence it is that some ideas, to adopt the expression of Ber¬
keley, are particular in their nature, but general in their
representation.”
But if, in universal propositions, ideas particular in them- Universal
selves be used only as the signs of others, it may be de-proposi-
manded, how we can know any proposition to be true oftions-
all the ideas which are represented by the sign. For ex¬
ample, having demonstrated that the three angles of an
isosceles rectangular triangle are equal to two right ones,
how can we conclude that this affection therefore agrees
to all other triangles which have neither a right angle nor
two equal sides ? To this question Bishop Berkeley and
Principal Campbell give the same answer. Although
the idea we have in view whilst we make the demonstra¬
tion be that of an isosceles rectangular triangle, whose
sides are of a determinate length, we may yet be certain
that the demonstration extends to all other rectilineal tri¬
angles, of what sort or bigness soever, for this plain reason,
that neither the equality nor the determinate length of the
sides, nor the right angle, are at all concerned in the de¬
monstration. It is true, the idea or diagram we have in
view includes all these particulars; but then there is not
the least mention made of them in the proof of the propo¬
sition. It is not said the three angles are equal to two
right angles, because one of them is a right angle, or be¬
cause the sides comprehending it are of equal length ;
which sufficiently shows that the right angle might have
been oblique and the sides unequal, and for all that the
demonstration have held good. In every one of Euclid’s
theorems, a particular triangle, and a particular parallelo¬
gram, and a particular circle, are employed as signs to de¬
note all triangles, all parallelograms, and all circles. When
a geometrician makes a diagram with chalk upon a board,
and from it demonstrates the property of a straight-lined
figure, no spectator ever imagines that he is demonstrat¬
ing a property of nothing else but-that individual white
figure, five inches long, which is before him. Every one
is satisfied that he is demonstrating a property of all of
that order, whether more or less extensive, of which it is
both an example and a sign; all the order being under¬
stood to agree with it in certain characters, however dif¬
ferent in other respects. Nay, what is more, the mind
with the utmost facility extends or contracts the repre¬
sentative power of the sign as the particular occasion re¬
quires. Thus the same equilateral triangle will with equal
propriety serve for the demonstration, not only of a pro¬
perty of all equilateral triangles, but of a property of all
isosceles triangles, or even of a property of all triangles
whatsoever. Nay, so perfectly is this matter understood,
that if the demonstrator in any part should recur to some
property belonging to the particular figure he has con¬
structed, but not essential to the kind mentioned in the
proposition, and which the particular figure is solely in¬
tended to represent, every intelligent observer would in¬
stantly detect the fallacy; so entirely for all the purposes
of science does a particular serve for a whole species or
genus. Now, why one visible individual should in our
reasonings serve, without the smallest inconvenience, as a
sign for an infinite number, and yet one conceivable indi¬
vidual, or a particular idea of imagination, should not be
adapted to answer the same end, it will, we imagine, be ut¬
terly impossible to say.
4 K
vOL. XIV.
Philosophy of Rhetoric.
626
METAPHYSICS.
and gene¬
ral terms.
Of Ab- It must, however, be confessed that there is a consider-
straction ab]e difference in kind between ideas used as signs and
^•al Idea^. Seneral terms of any language. Amongst all the in-
^ Y " dividuals of a species, or even of the highest genus, there
Difference’s a natural connection, as they agree in the specific
between or generic character; and when the mind makes use of
ideas used any positive idea as the sign of the species or genus, that
as signs, idea appears in the imagination as an exact resemblance
of some one individual. But the connection which sub¬
sists between words and things, or even between words
and ideas, is in its origin arbitrary ; and yet its effect up¬
on the mind is much the same with that of the natural
connection between ideas and things. For having often
had occasion to observe particular words used as signs of
particular things, and specific terms used as signs of a
whole species, we contract a habit of associating the sign
with the thing signified, insomuch that, either being pre¬
sented to the mind, necessarily introduces or occasions the
apprehension of the other. Custom in this instance ope¬
rates precisely in the same manner as natural resemblance
in the other, so that certain sounds, and the ideas of things
to which they are not naturally related, come to be as
thoroughly linked together in our conceptions as the ideas
of things and things themselves. Nay, so completely are
they linked together, that we often use, throughout long
chains of reasoning, certain sounds or words, without at¬
tending at all to the ideas or notions of which they are
signs. “ I believe,” says the author of a Treatise on Hu¬
man Nature, “ that every one who examines the situation
of his mind in reasoning will agree with me that we do not
annex distinct and complete ideas to every term we make
use of; and that in talking of government, church, nego-
ciation, conquest, we seldom spread out in our minds all
the simple ideas of which the compound notions signified
by these terms are composed. It is, however, observable,
that notwithstanding this imperfection, we may avoid talk¬
ing nonsense on these subjects, and may perceive any re¬
pugnance amongst the ideas, as well as if we had a full
comprehension of them.” This remark generally holds
true ; but then it is to be observed that all the words used
as signs, and which yet do not denote any one conceivable
determinate idea, must be capable of definition. Thus, in
matters that are perfectly familiar, in simple narration, or
in moral observations on the occurrences of life, a man of
common understanding may be deceived by specious false¬
hood, but is hardly to be gulled by downright nonsense or
a repugnance of ideas. Almost all the possible applica¬
tions of the terms, or, in other words, all the acquired rela¬
tions of the signs, have become customary to him. The
consequence is, that an unusual application of any of them
is instantly detected ; this detection breeds doubt; and this
doubt occasions an immediate recourse to definition, which,
proceeding through species and genera, resolves complex
terms into others less complex, until it ends at last in sim¬
ple ideas and relations, which can neither be defined nor
misunderstood.1
It is only Ihus, then, we see, that though there are no ideas, pro-
the power perly speaking, general and abstract, a man may, by terms
of the sign and particular ideas, used as signs, arrive at the knowledge
carded by &enera^ trut^* neither case is it the matter, if we
the mind. ma^ .^e a^owe^ the expression, but the power of the sign
that is regarded by the mind. We find that, even in de¬
monstrative reasonings, signs the most arbitrary, or mere
symbols, may be used with as little danger of error as ideas
or natural signs. The operations both of the algebraist and
arithmetician are strictly of the nature of demonstration.
The one employs as signs the letters of the alphabet, the
other certain numerical characters. In neither of these arts
is it necessary to form ideas of the quantities and sums
signified ; in some instances it is even impossible, without
resolving the quantity or sum into parts, in a manner ana¬
logous to definition, and then the mind comprehends not
the whole quantity or number at once, but the several parts
of which it is composed, which it connects by the relation
of junction or addition. Yet without this resolution the
equations and calculations carried on by means of the let¬
ters and figures significant of the whole quantity or of the
whole sum, are not the less accurate or convincing. And
so much for abstraction, generalization, and the power of
signs, whether natural or artificial.
tioi
idt
CHAP. V OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS.
Every man whilst awake is conscious of a continued train A con i
of thought spontaneously arising in his mind and passing uued i
through it, nor could a single now or instant be pitched t
upon in which some idea is not present in his memory 0rintlle
' mind.
imagination. No one idea, however, unless detained by a
voluntary exertion of the mind, or unless productive ofin-
tense pleasure or pain, remains long in the imagination;
but each hastens off the stage to make way for another,
which takes its turn, and is succeeded by a third, &c. We
are not to imagine that this train of thought is altogether
fortuitous and incoherent. “ It is evident,” says Mr Hume,2
“ that there is a principle of connection between different
thoughts or ideas of the mind, and that, in their appear¬
ance to the memory or imagination, they introduce each
other with a certain degree of method and regularity. In
our more serious thinking or discourse this is so observable,
that any particular thought which breaks in upon the re-
g.-lar track or chain of ideas is immediately remarked and
rejected. Even in our wildest and most wandering reve¬
ries, nay, in our very dreams, we shall find, if we reflect,
that the imagination ran not altogether at adventures, but
that there was still a connection upheld amongst the differ¬
ent ideas which succeeded each other. Were the loosest
and freest conversation to be transcribed, there would im¬
mediately be observed something which connected it in al1
its transitions; or, where this is wanting, the person who
broke the thread of discourse might still inform you, that
there had secretly revolved in his mind a succession of
thoughts, which had gradually led him from the subject of
conversation. Amongst different languages, even where we
cannot suspect the least connection or communication, it
is found that w ords expressive of ideas the most compound¬
ed do yet nearly correspond to each other ; a certain proof
that the simple ideas comprehended in the compound ones
were bound together by some universal principle, which
had an equal influence on all mankind.” i
I hat these observations are well founded, every man mayPrincif
be satisfied by looking attentively into his own thoughts;°fasS(X
but when the author reduces the principles of this associa-tlon' |
tion of ideas to three, viz, resemblance, contiguity in time
and place, and cause or effect, he certainly contracts them
within too narrow a compass. That these principles often
serve to connect ideas, will not indeed be denied. A pic¬
ture leads our thoughts to the original; the mention of one
apartment in a building introduces an inquiry or discourse
concerning the others ; and if we think of a wound, we
can hardly forbear reflecting on the pain which follows it.
But surely ideas sometimes succeed each other without
resemblance, without contiguity in time or in place, and
without being connected by the relation of a cause to its
CTnl/s°^LfrrrthfR7ieW,0f S$?fCt’ fee s°™e excellent observations on the common doctrine concerning abstraction, by Mr Du-
gald Stewart. {Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. ) 2 Essavs. h ’ y
METAPHYSICS.
Ho they
opeie.
effect. ^ Besides all this, there are other associations than
those of ideas. Ideas are associated with passions and emo¬
tions, and passions and emotions are associated together.
Tv inles A Particular idea is associated with a proper name, and
of socia- often wlth the general name of the species. General con-
ti0. ceptions, such as those which Mr Locke calls mixed modes,
are associated with signs both audible and visible, and
signs are associated with each other. Surely virtue', as it
consists in action and intention, does not resemble the
sound virtue, is not contiguous to it in time or in place,
and is neither its cause nor its effect; nor is it conceivable
that the arbitrary signs of different things should have any
natural relation to one another. 3
But were the enumeration complete, the bare mention
of these principles does not account for the phenomena-
for, granting the fact, it may still be asked, why does a
picture lead our thoughts to the original, or the mention
of one apartment in a building introduce an inquiry con¬
cerning the others ? To these questions our author has
given no answer; nor are we acquainted with any writer
who can be said to have attempted it, excepting Dr
Hartley and his ingenious editor. There may be some of
our readers whom the names of these men will prejudice
against their theory ; but, doubtless, the greater part are
willing to adopt truth, or to examine an ingenious specu¬
lation, from whatever quarter it comes. To such as feel
themselves otherwise disposed, we beg leave to say, that
if they allow the name of Priestley to disgust them at what
follows, they will furnish him with a new proof of the truth
of the doctrine which they reject.
That ideas should be associated together, seems to be
inevitable from the manner in which the mind acquires
them. All our ideas, properly speaking, are those of sensible
objects, and by far the greater part of them of visible objects.
But every sensible object conveys at once various sensa¬
tions and perceptions to the mind, which appear not only
united in fact, but inseparable in imagination. Thus, when
a man looks at any particular object, a tree, for instance, he
perceives the trunk, branches, leaves, size, shape, and colour,
&c. of the whole at once; he does not first perceive the
figure of the trunk, then its size, then its colour, then the
branches, &c. all in succession; but a perception of the
whole is conveyed to the mind by one simultaneous impres¬
sion. We have already seen that the senses, in fact, con¬
vey nothing to the mind but their respective sensations,
and that the perception of the external object instantly
follows the sensation. We have likewise seen that sensa¬
tion is occasioned by some impression, concussion, or vi¬
bration, given to the nerves and brain, and by them com-
nuimcated to the mind or percipient being. We have like¬
wise seen that memory depends as much upon the brain
as original sensation, and is always attended or occasioned
by similar concussions or vibrations, &c. These are facts
proved by universal experience, and which, we believe, no
thinking man has ever called in question. It follows
therefore, that every actual sensation must leave some ef¬
fect in the brain, either an actual print, which seems to be
impossible, or a tendency to vibrate or be agitated in the
same way as when the original impression was made. This
being the case, it is natural to conclude, that when any
pait of the original perception is revived in the memory,
the whole perception should be revived at once, so as that We
cannot have an idea of the trunk of a tree without perceiv¬
ing the ideas of the branches associated with it. This is
indeed not merely natural, but the contrary seems to be
impossible; for as the original agitation or vibration was
occasioned by the whole tree, it is evident, that whatever
ettect or tendency that agitation or vibration left behind
it, must be left by the whole vibration, and therefore be
equally related to the whole tree.
But no object stands single in nature. When we view a
627
tree, or any thing else, we always notice, however tran- Associa-
siently, the field where it grows and the objects around it. tion of
I hese two leave effects in the brain at the same time that Ideas-
the tree does so, and therefore make their appearance with ' 
it in the memory or imagination ; but if the tree was the
object to which we principally attended during the actual
sensation, the idea of it will be much more vivid than the
idea of its adjuncts, and remain much longer in the ima-
gination or memory; because the original sensation by
which it was perceived had struck much deeper than the
sensation by which its adjuncts were perceived. All this
must be intelligible to every one who attends to what we
have already said of sensation, perception, and memory.
Thus we see why a picture leads our thoughts to the ori¬
ginal, and why the mention of one apartment in a building
introduces an inquiry concerning the others. It is not
merely because the picture resembles the original, and be¬
cause the apartments of a building are contiguous. Be¬
tween a plain surface, variously coloured and shaded, and
the contour of the human face, there is certainly very little
real resemblance, as any man may be convinced who places
his eye within six inches of a good picture. But the painter
having, by his skill in perspective, contrived to lay his co¬
lours on the plain canvass in such a manner as that they re¬
flect the same rays of light with the original, provided the
spectator stand at the proper distance ; these rays proceed¬
ing from the picture fall upon the eye in the same direc¬
tion, and therefore give to the nerves and brain the very
same impulse which was given by the original. When one
apartment of a building is mentioned, we inquire concern¬
ing the others from the very same cause that, when we
think of the trunk of a tree which we have seen, we can¬
not avoid thinking likewise of its branches.
But the principle of association takes place amongst things Associa-
not natuially connected, as the apartments of a building, tion gives
and a substance with its attributes and adjuncts. It is as- meaning to
sociation which is the original source of all the general or lari£uage.
complex conceptions which we have, and which even gives
meaning to the wrords of every language. Between sounds
considered in themselves, and things, or the ideas of things,
every one knows that there is no natural connection; yet
the idea of every known object is in the mind of every man
so strictly associated with the name which it bears in its na¬
tive tongue, that the presence of the one always suggests
the other. It cannot indeed be otherwise, if we attend to
the manner in which a child learns to affix a meaning to
the words which he hears. A child knows his mother and
nurse, and indeed almost every visible object in the family,
long before he acquires the power of articulation. The
impressions made by these objects, and repeated daily and
hourly on his brain, every one of which excites a sensation,
must soon become so deep as not to be easily effaced.
Numbers of them, too, are associated together, so that the
presence of one introduces the other. It has been already
observed, that ideas of sight are the most vivid and the
most lasting ; but the child hearing the same sound often
repeated, even that sound comes in time to leave in his me¬
mory a permanent idea. He then hears the sound nurse,
for instance, uttered at the time when he is earnestly look¬
ing at the person of the nurse, with whom he is well ac¬
quainted, and to whom he is strongly attached; and hav¬
ing the tw o ideas repeatedly excited together, they soon
become so associated, that the one necessarily excites the
other ; the wrord nurse calls into view the idea of the woman
treasured up in his imagination.
But we need not have recourse to children for the proof
of our assertion. It is obvious that the name of every sim¬
ple and uncompounded idea can be significant only by as¬
sociation. Of a complex conception the name may be
made intelligible by a definition ; but simple ideas cannot
be defined, and between ideas and sounds there is no natu-
628
Associa¬
tion of
Ideas.
Source of
our first
notions of
virtue.
METAPHYSICS.
ral connection, so as that the one previously to association
should suggest the other. Even of complex conceptions
and mixed modes, the meaning of the names is generally
acquired by association; for though it is certainly true
that all such names are capable of definition, they are yet
used with sufficient propriety by thousands who know not
what a definition is. Were a plain unlettered man asked
to define virtue, it is not probable that he could do it so as
to make himself understood, yet having ideas of the prac¬
tice ofjustice, charity, fortitude, &c. strictly associated in his
mind with the word virtue, he may understand the general
meaning of that word as well as the most acute gramma¬
rian or the most profound philosopher.
An alms is a donation to a poor man; but a child who
never heard of this definition knows perfectly what an alms
is, from having often seen his parents give money to a
beggar, and call what they were doing by the name alms.
The sound of the word, after having seen the first alms
given, will excite in his mind an idea of the individual ob¬
ject who received it, and of the action of him by whom it
was given ; but after having seen several poor men reliev¬
ed, he comes to associate with the woi’d alms any thing
given to any person who needs it, or appears to be in want.
So completely does this association take place between
ideas or clusters of ideas, and the words by which they
are expressed, that even men of letters hear and under¬
stand perfectly many words, without reviewing in their
minds all the ideas and relations of which they are the
signs. It has been already observed, that in talking of go¬
vernment, church, negociation, conquest, we seldom spread
out in our minds all the simple ideas of which the com¬
pound notions signified by these terms are composed ; and
we now add, that the terms may be used with sufficient
propriety, and be perfectly understood, by those who never
attempted to analyze the notions of which they are signi¬
ficant, into their primary and constituent parts. Every man
has read numberless details of the transactions of one
court with another; he has heard such transactions uni¬
versally called by the term negociation. The term and the
transactions signified by it are so closely associated in his
mind, that they are in a manner inseparable, and b}^ this
association he knows the meaning of the term better than
he cpuld have done by the most complete definition,
which, perhaps, he would find it difficult to give, or even
to comprehend.
We have said that the meaning of the word virtue is
acquired by association, by having often heard that sound
applied to certain actions; but it is extremely probable
that the very notion of virtue, simple and uncompounded
as it appears to be, is acquired in the very same manner.
The first rudiments of the notions of right and wrong and
obligation seem to be acquired by a child when he finds
himself checked and controlled by superior power. At first
he feels nothing but mere force, and consequently has no
notion of any kind of restraint but that of necessity. He
finds he cannot have his will, and therefore he submits.
Afterwards he attends to many circumstances which dis¬
tinguish the commands of a father, or of a master, from
those of any other person. Notions of reverence, love, es¬
teem, and dependence, are connected with the idea of him
who gives those commands; and by degrees the child ex¬
periences the peculiar advantages of filial subjection. He
sees also that all his companions who are noticed and ad¬
mired by others obey their parents, and that those who
are of a refractory disposition are universally disliked.
These and other circumstances now begin to alter and mo¬
dify the notion of mere necessity, till by degrees he consi¬
ders the commands of a parent as something that must not
Ajsoi
tion
be resisted or disputed, even though he has a power of do¬
ing it; and all these ideas coalescing, form the notions of
moral right and moral obligation, which are easily transfer¬
red from the commands of a parent to those of a magistrate, ^
of God, and of conscience. This opinion of the gradual
formation of the ideas of moral right and wrong, from a
great variety of elements associated together, perfectly
accounts for that prodigious diversity in the sentiments of
mankind respecting the objects of moral obligation ; nor do
we see that any other hypothesis can account for the facts.
If the notion of moral obligation were a simple uncom¬
pounded idea, arising from the view of certain actions or
sentiments; or were it acquired, as it certainly might be,
by a chain of reasoning from the nature of God and the na¬
ture of man; why should it not in the one case be as inva¬
riable as the perception of colours or sounds, and in the
other as our judgments of mathematical or physical truths?
But though the shape and colour of a flower appear the
same to every human eye; though every man of common
understanding knows, that if a billiard ball be struck by an¬
other, it will move from its place with a velocity propor¬
tioned to the force of the impulse ; and though all man¬
kind who have but dipped into mathematics perceive that
any two sides of a triangle must be greater than the third
side ; yet one man practises as a moral duty what another
looks upon with abhorrence, and reflects on with remorse.
Now, a thing that varies with education and instruction, as
moral sentiments are known to do, certainly has the ap¬
pearance of being generated by a series of different im¬
pressions and associations in some such manner as we have
endeavoured to describe. Let not any man imagine that
this account of the origin of moral sentiments endangers
the cause of virtue; for whether those sentiments be in¬
stinctive or acquired, their operation is the very same, and
in either case their rectitude must often be tried by the
test of reason, so that the interests of virtue are equally
safe on this as on any other scheme.
This principle of association has so great an influence It .
over all our actions, passions, reasonings, and judgments, be alien
that there is not perhaps any one thing which deserves6^to*n
more to be looked after in the education of youth. Some etlucatl1
of our ideas, such as those of a substance and its attri¬
butes, a genus and the species contained under it, a spe¬
cies and its several individuals, have a real connection
with each other in nature. These it is the office of our
reason to trace out and to hold together in that union
and order in which nature presents them to the view of
the mind; for such associations constitute perhaps the
greatest part of necessary and of useful truths. But there
are others formed by custom and caprice, which are too
often the sources of error, superstition, vice, and misery;
of errors the more dangerous, and of vice the more deplo¬
rable, that if the associations have been long formed
without an attempt to dissolve them, they generally be¬
come at last too strong to be broken by the most vigorous
effort of the best-disposed mind. Thus, let a foolish maid1
amuse or rather frighten children with stories of ghosts
appearing in the dark, let her x’epeat these fictions till they
have made a deep impression on the young minds, and the
notion of ghosts will in time become so closely associated
with the idea of darkness, that the one shall always intro¬
duce the other; and it may not be in the power of the
children, after they have become men, and are convinced
in their judgments of the falsehood and absurdity of the
tales which originally frightened them, to eparate entire¬
ly the notion of ghosts from the idea of darkness, or with
perfect ease to remain alone in a dark room. Again, let
the idea of infallibility be annexed to any person or so-
■
ver
1 Locke's Essay, and his Conduct of the Understanding.
.
METAPHYSICS.
A0Pa;
t-i of
I as.
Thei'in-
cipkif
ciety, and let these two inseparably united constantly pos¬
sess the mind, and then one body in ten thousand places
at once shall, unexamined, be swallowed as an incontro-
'vertible fact, whenever that infallible person or society
dictates or demands assent without inquiry.
Some such erroneous and unnatural combinations of ideas
will be found to establish the irreconcileable opposition that
we find between different sects in philosophy and religion ;
for we cannot imagine every individual of any sect to im¬
pose wilfully upon himself, and knowingly to reject truth
offered by plain reason. That which leads men of since¬
rity and good sense blindfold, will be found, when inquir¬
ed into, to be some early and erroneous association. Ideas
independent and of no alliance to one another, are by edu¬
cation, custom, and the constant din of their party, so
linked together in their minds, that they can no more be
separated from each other than if they were but one idea ;
and they operate upon the judgment as if they really were
but one. This gives sense to jargon, the force of demon¬
stration to absurdities, and consistency to nonsense: it is
the foundation of the greatest and most dangerous errors
in the world; for, as far as it obtains, it hinders men from
seeing and examining
Before we dismiss the subject of association, it may be
proper to inquire how far it is agreeable to the account
Associa¬
tion of
Ideas.
oMTsdiw^ich we have given of the manner in which external ob-
the r- je?ts are perceived by means of the senses, and the ideas
olyeit
ceptji of of such objects retained in the memory. It has been
xtejal proved, we think, by arguments unanswerable, that by the
organs of sense nothing is conveyed immediately to the
mind but sensations which can have no resemblance to
external objects, and that the perception of an object may
be resolved into a process of reasoning from effects to
causes. But children, it will be said, do not reason from
effects to causes, and yet they soon acquire the faculty of
perceiving and distinguishing the objects with which they
are surrounded. This is an undoubted truth; and it can
be accounted for only by the principle of association. A
child has as much the use of his senses as a full-grown
man. By his eye he has the sensation of colour; by his
nose, that of smell; by his ear he has the sensation of
sound ; and by his hand he feels heat and cold, resistance
and bounded resistance. Every object which is present¬
ed to him impresses his mind with various sensations ; and
these sensations combined together are probably all that
he perceives for some years, for there is no reason to ima¬
gine that a boy of one or two years old has the slightest
notion of what we mean by solidity, hardness, softness, or
indeed of that which is termed substance. Yet when two
or more objects are present, he may easily distinguish the
one from the other, because the sensations excited by the
one must differ from those excited by the other, as much
as the real qualities of the one are different from the real
qualities of the other ; and by distinguishing between his
own sensations, he in effect distinguishes between the ob¬
jects which produce these sensations. His sensations, too,
being frequently excited, leave behind them ideas in his
memory or imagination; and those ideas, from having been
imprinted together and never separated, become in time
so closely associated, that whenever one of them is called
into yiew,^ the others necessarily make their appearance
with it. 11ms a child has a set of combined sensations
excited in his mind by the presence of his nurse; he has
a difterent cluster excited, suppose by the presence of his
mother. These are often repeated, and leave deep traces
behind them, so that when the mother or the nurse makes
her appearance, she is immediately recognised as a known
object; or, to speak more correctly, the child feels the
very same sensations which he has felt before, from which
he has experienced pleasure, and of which he has the ideas
treasured up in his memory or imagination. A stranger,
on the other hand, must affect him with a set of new sen¬
sations, and of course will be distinguished from a known
object as accurately as if the child were possessed of the
notions of solidity, substance, qualities, and distance. A ~
man born blind, who knew not that such things as fire and
snow had never existed, would yet distinguish the one
from the other the moment that he should be brought
within their influence. He could not indeed apply their
names properly, nor say which is the fire and which is the
snow, nor would he at first have any notion of either of
them as a real, external, and distant object; but he would
certainly distinguish his own sensations, the sensation of
heat from that of cold. It is just so with a child. At first
he perceives nothing but different sensations. These he
can distinguish; and as they are caused by different ob¬
jects, in distinguishing between the sensations he will ap¬
pear to distinguish between the objects themselves. In
a short time, however, he acquires, by a natural pro¬
cess, some inaccurate notions of distance. He looks, for
instance, earnestly in his nurse’s face, and at the same
time touches her cheek perhaps by accident. He repeats
this operation frequently, till the sensation communicated
by his eye comes to be associated with that of his touch,
and with the extending of his arm ; and being all trea¬
sured up as associated ideas in the memory, the sight of
his nurse makes him ever afterwards stretch out his hands
with a desire to touch her. All this while there is not
the slightest probability that the child has any notion of
substance or qualities, or of any thing beyond his own
sensations, and the means by which he has experienced
that sensations which are pleasant may be obtained, and
that such as are painful may be avoided. The precise
time at which a child begins to think of external things
we cannot pretend to ascertain ; but we are persuaded
that it is later than many persons imagine, and certain¬
ly not until he has made considerable progress in the ex¬
ercise of reason. Prior to that period the things which
men know to be bodies, are known to children only as sen¬
sations and ideas strongly bound together by the tie of as¬
sociation.
But if association be of such importance in the act of It distin-
sensation, it is of still greater in that of retention ; for itguishes
seems to constitute the whole difference that there is be- memory
tween imagination and memory. By many of the ancient, fi;oru .irna-
as well as by some modern philosophers, these two facul-sinaCiou-
ties seem to have been confounded with each other; but
between them there is certainly a great difference, though
they likewise resemble each other in some respects. An
idea of memory, considered by itself, makes the very same
appearance to the intellect as an idea of imagination. We
contemplate both as if they were equal, though faint and
distant, perceptions; but the one is attended with the con¬
viction that it is the idea of an object which has really
been perceived at some period of past time; whilst the
other is attended with no conviction, except that the idea
itself is actually present to the mind. Mr Hume has said
that ideas of memory differ from those of imagination only
in being more vivid and distinct; but certainly this is not
always the case. An idea of imagination has sometimes
been taken for a real perception, which an idea of me¬
mory can never be. The difference between these two
kinds of ideas, we are persuaded, arises chiefly, if not whol¬
ly, from association. Every idea of memory is associat¬
ed with many others, and those again with others, down
to the very moment of the energy of remembrance ;
whereas ideas of imagination are either the voluntary crea¬
tures of the fancy at the moment of their appearance, in
which case we should call them conceptions, or they are
ideas which we have actually received from sensation, but
which, on account of some link being broken in the vast
chain of association, we cannot refer to anv real objects*
630
METAPHYSICS.
Associa- What gives probability to this conjecture is, that ideas of-
tion of ten appear in the mind which we know not whether to re-
v c ^as'_ , fer to the memory or imagination ; nothing being more com¬
mon than to hear a person say, I have in my head the idea
of such or such an object, but whether I remember or
only imagine the object, I am very uncertain. After¬
wards, however, by turning the idea over and over in the
mind, he finds that other ideas make their appearance, till
at last clusters of them come into view, and associate so
closely with the principal idea, which was the object of
doubt, as to convince the judgment that it is an idea of me¬
mory.
It is the It has been asked, Why we believe what we distinctly
ground of remember? and to that question it has been supposed that
of what w n.° ansvver can g>ven* But it appears to us that asso-
remember! c^ation is tlie ground belief in this, as it will be found
to be in other instances ; and that a man believes he wash¬
ed his hands and face in the morning, because the idea of
that operation is so strongly linked in his mind to the whole
train of ideas which have arisen in it through the day,
that he cannot separate the first from the last, that which
was a sensation in the morning, from the sensations which
are present at the instant of remembrance. As those ideas
are associated by nature, each must pass in review in its
proper order, so that in so short a space of time there is
no danger, and hardly a possibility, of taking the first for
the last, or the last for the first. Nay, more, we will ven¬
ture to hazard an opinion that every past event of a man’s
life, which he distinctly remembers, is tied by the chain
of association to his present perceptions. That this is pos¬
sible is certain, since it is not difficult to conceive how it
may be done. Ihe principal events of a single day may
surely be so linked together as to be all distinctly viewed
in a cluster of ideas on the morrow. Of these events
some one or other must be the most important, which will
therefore make its appearance as an idea more frequently
than the rest, and be more closely associated with the
events of next day. Some event of that day will, for the
same reason, be more closely associated with it than the
others, and these two, dropping perhaps all the rest of
their original companions, will pass on together to the third
day, and so on through weeks, and months, and years. In
the compass of a year, several things must occur to make
deep impressions on the mind. These will at first be as¬
sociated together by events of little importance, like the
occurrences of a single day. Whilst these feeble chains,
however, continue unbroken, they will be sufficient to link
the one important event to the other, and to bring them
both into view at the same time, till at last these two, from
appearing so often together, will in time unite of them¬
selves, and the intermediate ideas be completely effaced.
Thus may two or three important events of one year be
associated with such a number of similar events of another
year, so that the ideas of the one shall always introduce
to the mind the ideas of the other ; and this chain of asso¬
ciation may pass from the earliest event which we distinct¬
ly remember, through all the intermediate years of our
lives, down to the instant when memory is exerted.
lo this account of memory it may perhaps be objected,
that it gives us no distinct notion of time. Every thing
that is remembered is necessarily believed to have been
present in some portion of past time ; but association brings
into view nothing but a series of events. This objection
will be seen to have no weight when we have inquired in¬
to the nature of time, and ascertained what kind of a thing
it is. It will then perhaps appear, that duration itself, as
apprehended by us, is not distinguishable from a series
of events ; and that it there were no train of thought pass¬
ing through our minds, nor any motion amongst the objects
around us, time could have no existence. Meanwhile,
whatever become of this oninion, we beg leave to observe,
that our theory of remembrance is perfectly consistent Of
with the commonly-received notions respecting time ; and scio es
indeed that it is the only theory which can account for an' *•
numberless phenomena respecting past duration. It is fle'
universally allowed, that if motion, or a succession of^"
events, do not constitute time, it is the only thing by which
time can be measured. Now it is a fact which no man
will deny, that the distance of time from the present now
or instant to the earliest period which he distinctly re¬
members, appears to his view extremely short, much short¬
er than it is said to be in reality ; and that one year, when
he looks forward, appears longer than two, perhaps longer
than ten when he looks backward. Upon our principles
this fact is easily accounted for. We remember nothing
which is not linked by a chain of associations with the per¬
ceptions of the present moment; and as none but a few of
the most important events of our lives can be linked to¬
gether in this manner, it hence follows, that events which,
in the order of succession, were far distant from one an¬
other, must thus be brought together in the memory, and
the whole chain be contracted within very short limits.
But when we figure to ourselves a series of future events,
we employ the active power of fancy instead of the pas¬
sive capacity of retention ; and can therefore bring within
the compassof one periodical revolution of the sun, a longer
series of imaginary events succeeding each other, than is
preserved of real events in our memory from the earliest
period of our existence. So perfectly does our theory ac¬
cord with this well-known fact. On the other hand, if
memory be an original faculty of the mind, totally inde¬
pendent of association, and of which no other account is
to be given than that it necessarily commands our belief,
why is it a faculty which, with regard to duration, thus
uniformly deceives us ? and how comes it to pass, that to
a man whose memory is tenacious, who has read much,
seen many countries, and been engaged in various occur¬
rences, any determinate portion of past time always ap¬
pears longer than to another man whose memory is f eeble,
and whose life has been wasted in ease and idleness ?
lo these questions we know not what answer can be given,
upon any other principle than that which makes the evi¬
dence of memory depend upon association. But if we
remember nothing but what is linked to the perception or
idea which is present with us at the time of remembrance,
and if duration be measured by the succession of events, it
is obvious that any portion of past time must necessarily
appear longer to him who has many ideas associated in
the mind than to him who has but few.
Ihere is not perhaps a single fact of greater importance Impor
in the philosophy of the human mind than the association anceo
of ideas; which, when thoroughly understood, accountssoc‘a!!l
for many of those phenomena which some distinguished
writers have, with injury to science and danger to mo¬
rality, attributed to a number of distinct and independ¬
ent instincts. It is for this reason that we have consi¬
dered it so minutely, and dwelt upon it so long; and, in
addition to what we have said on the subject, we beg
leave to recommend to our more philosophical readers the
diligent study of Hartley’s Observations on Man. In that
work, we think, several things are taken for granted which
require proof; and some which, we are persuaded, have
no foundation in nature ; but, with all its defects, it has
more merit than any other treatise on the sensitive part
of human nature with which we are acquainted.
CHAP. VI. OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND REFLECTION.
Sensation, remembrance, simple apprehension, and con¬
ception, with every other actual energy or passion of the
mind, is accompanied with an inward feeling or perception
METAPHYSICS.
0>on- of that energy or passion; and that feeling or perception
gcii^rcss jg termed consciousness* Consciousness is the perception
of what passes in a man’s own mind at the instant of its
1 fk-ion^ passing there ; nor can we see, hear, taste, smell, remem-
her, apprehend, conceive, emplo^our faculties in any man-
nc^what ner, enjoy any pleasure, or suffer any pain, without being
it jjand conscious of what we are doing, enjoying, or suffering,
wh.are Consciousness is only of things present j1 and to apply it
its* ects. t0 things past, is to confound consciousness with memory
or reflection. One cannot say that he is conscious of what
he has seen or heard and now remembers ; he is only con¬
scious of the act of remembrance, which, though it re¬
spects a past event, is itself a present energy. It is like¬
wise to be observed, that consciousness is only of things
in the mind, or conscious being, and not of things external.
It is improper in any person to say thalt he is conscious of
the table before him; he perceives it, he sees it, and he
may with great propriety say that he is conscious he per¬
ceives or sees it; but he cannot say that he is conscious
of the table itself, for it is only his immediate energy of
perception that can be the object of consciousness. All
the operations of our minds are attended with conscious¬
ness, which is the only evidence that we have or can have
of their existence. Should a man take it into his head to
think or to say that his consciousness may deceive him,
and to require a proof that it cannot, we know of no proof
that can be given him ; he must be left to himself as a man
who denies first principles, without which there can be no
reasoning. Every attempt to prove this point, or to set it
in a clearer light, would only serve to render it more dark
and unintelligible. I think, I feel, I exist, are first truths,
and the basis of all human knowledge.
Dentes’ This has given rise to the question, whether Descartes
aj ent did not fall into an absurdity when, inferring his own ex-
mince11 *S*’enCe ^rom ^'s actu^ thought, he said, Coffito, ergo sum.
' This argument has been called a pitiful sophism, and a
petitio principii; because, before a man take it for granted
that he thinks, he must also, it is said, take it for granted
that he exists, since there cannot be thought where there
is no existence. Now it must be confessed, that if Des¬
cartes pretended by this argument to give us a fresh con¬
viction of our own existence, his endeavours were useless
and puerile; because a man capable of being convinced
by the arguments of another must have a previous convic¬
tion of his own existence. But the argument itself is nei¬
ther a sophism nor a petitio principii. Those2 who defend
Descartes assert, and there is no reason to doubt the truth
of their assertion, that his only view in urging such an ar¬
gument was not to prove the truth of our existence, but
to exhibit the order of that process by which we arrive at
the knowledge of the fact; and this he has very clearly
done by analyzing the truth into its first principles. A
stone exists as well as the human mind ; but has the stone
any knowledge of its own existence ? No man will say that
it has; and neither should we have any knowledge of ours,
did we think as little as the stone. We certainly might
exist without thinking, as it is probable that we do in very
sound sleep ; and in that state our existence might be
known to other beings, but it could not possibly be known
to ourselves; for the only things of which the mind is
conscious, or has immediate knowledge, are its own ope¬
rations. “ I exist ’ is therefore a legitimate inference from
the proposition “ I think ;” and the observation that it is so
may be useful to show us the procedure of the mind in the
acquisition of knowledge ; but it has little merit as an ar¬
gument, and still less as a discovery, though, being strictly
true and just, it should never have been exposed to ridi¬
cule.
031
It is to be observed, however, that we are conscious of Of Con-
many things to which we give very little attention. We can sciousness
hardly attend to several things at the same time; and our an(^ -In¬
attention is commonly employed about that which is the flection-
object of our thought, and rarely about the thought itself.
It is in our power, however, when we come to the years whatiti”’
of understanding, to give attention to our own thoughts and how ’
and passions, and the various operations of our minds, different
And when we make these the objects of our attention, fr9m cori-
either whilst they are present, or when they are recent and sciousneSs*
fresh in our memory, we perform an act of the mind which
is properly called reflection. This reflection ought to be
distinguished from consciousness,3 with which it is some¬
times confounded by Locke, and often by the very learned
author of Ancient Metaphysics. All men are conscious
of the operations of their own minds at all times whilst
they are awake, nor does it appear that brutes can be
wholly destitute of consciousness; but there are few men
who reflect upon the operations of their minds, or make
them the objects of thought; and it is not probable that
any species of brutes do so.
from infancy until we attain to the years of understand¬
ing, we are employed solely about sensible objects. For,
although the mind is conscious of its operations, it does
not attend to them ; its attention is turned solely to the
objects about which these operations are employed. Thus,
when a man is angry, he is conscious of his passion; but
his attention is turned to the person who offended him and
the circumstances of the offence, whilst the passion of anger
is not in the least the object of his attention. The differ¬
ence between consciousness and reflection is like the dif¬
ference between a superficial view of an object which pre¬
sents itself to the eye, whilst we are engaged about some¬
thing else, and that attentive examination which we give
to an object when we are wholly employed in surveying it.
It is by consciousness that we immediately acquire all the
knowledge which we have of mental operations; but at¬
tentive reflection is necessary to make that knowledge ac¬
curate and distinct. Attention is a voluntary act; it re¬
quires some exertion to begin and to continue it, and by
great exertion it may be sustained for a considerable time ;
but consciousness is involuntary, and of no continuance,
changing with every thought. The power of reflection
upon the operations of their own minds does not at all ap¬
pear in children. Men must have come to some ripeness
of understanding before they are capable of it. Of all the
powers of the human mind, it appears to be the last that un¬
folds itself. Most men seem incapable of acquiring it in any
considerable degree ; and many circumstances conspire to
make it to all men an exercise of difficulty. The difliculty,
however, must be conquered, or no progress can be made
in the science of our own or of other minds.
All the notions which we have of mind and of its opera- Our no¬
tions are got by reflection ; and these notions are by Mrtions of
Locke termed ideas of reflection. This appellation we think mental
extremely ill chosen ; and we believe it has been the source energies,
of much error and confusion amongst Locke’s followers. A
man, by attending to the operations of his own mind, may
have as distinct notions of remembrance, of judgment, of
will, and of desire, as of any object whatever; but if the
secondary perception of a sensible object, that appearance
which it has to the mind when viewed in the memory or
imagination, be properly called an idea, it is certain that
of the operations of the mind itself there can be no ideas ;
for these operations, when reflected on, make no appear¬
ance without their objects, either in the memory or in the
imagination. Nothing is more evident, in fact, than that
we have no ideas, in the original and proper meaning of
1 ileid’s Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man. 2 gee nufr,er’s p;rst Truth
3 Reid’s Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man.
632
METAPHYSICS.
Of Con- the word, but of sensible objects upon which the mind ex-
sciousness erts its first operations. Of these operations we have in¬
flection* a consci°usnes8 ’ but, abstracted from their objects,
x y ' 1, we cannot frame any idea or resemblance of them. We
are conscious to ourselves of thinking, willing, remember¬
ing, discerning, reasoning, judging, &c.; but let any one
look into himself, and try whether he can there find any
idea of thinking, or willing, &c. entirely separate and ab¬
stracted from the object of thought or will. Every man
who has seen a tree or a house, will find in his mind ideas
of these objects, which he can contemplate by themselves,
independently of every thing else ; but no man can contem¬
plate the idea of thinking or desiring without taking into
view the thing thought or desired. It is plain, therefore,
that the energies of thinking, willing, and desiring, with
all their various modifications, are not themselves ideas, or
capable of communicating ideas to be apprehended, as the
ideas of bodies are apprehended by the pure intellect. They
are the actions and workings of the intellect itself upon
ideas which we have received from the objects of sense, and
which are treasured up in the memory or imagination for
the very purpose of furnishing the intellect with materials
to work upon. Between ideas and the energies of think¬
ing there is as great and as obvious a difference as there is
between a stone and the energies of him by whom it is
cast. Ideas are the passive subjects ; but the energies of
thinking are the operations of the agents. Ideas are re¬
licts of sensation, and have a necessary relation to things
external; the energies of thinking are relicts of nothing,
and they are wholly and originally internal.
Our know- That we cannot in any sense of the word be said to have
ledge of ideas of the operation of the intellect, will be still more
toe opera- evident, if we consider by what means we acquire the
teiiect ira1" knowledge which we have of those operations. It has been
mediate, already observed, that when our thoughts are employed
upon any subject, though we are conscious of thinking,
yet our attention is commonly employed upon the object
of our thought, and not upon the thought itself; and that
if we would give attention to our thoughts and passions,
we must do it by a reflective act of the mind, whilst
the act of thinking is still recent and fresh in our me¬
mory. Thus, if a man wishes to know what perception
is, it is not the time to make the inquiry whilst he is look¬
ing at some rare or beautiful object; for though he is con¬
scious of the energy of perceiving, the object of perception
employs all his attention. But the time to make this in¬
quiry is either when the object has become familiar to him,
or presently after it is removed from his sight. In the for¬
mer case, he can look upon it without emotion, pay atten¬
tion to every step in the process of perception, and be im¬
mediately conscious what perception is. In the latter case,
by turning his attention inwards, and reflecting on what
he did or felt when the object was before him, he will find
clear and vivid ideas of every thing which he perceived
by his sense of sight; but he will find no idea of the act
of seeing or perceiving. On the contrary, if he be capa¬
ble of sufficient attention, he will observe that his intellect
is employed in the very same manner upon the idea that it
was upon the original sensations ; and of that employment,
and the manner of it, he will be equally conscious as he
was of the original energy exerted in sensation. There is
indeed this difference between the two, without which re¬
flection could make no discoveries, that the most vivid
ideas being still faint when compared with actual sensa¬
tions, the intellect is not so wholly engrossed by them as
it was by the original objects, nor is it so rapidly carried
from idea to idea as it was from sensation to sensation. It is
thus at leisure to attend to its own operations, and to know
what they are; though to form ideas of them as separate
from their objects is absolutely impossible. Every man
capable of paying attention to what passes within himself
when he sees, hears, and feels, may have very accurate no- Of q
tions of seeing, hearing, and feeling; but he cannot have scious
ideas of them as he has of the objects of sight, of hearing, and
and of touch. ^ecti
The same is the case with respect to the exertion of our
reasoning faculties. A man must have distinct and clear
ideas to reason upon, but he can have no idea of reasoning
itself, though he must be conscious of it, and by attention
may know what it is. When a man sits down to study for
the first time a proposition in the Elements of Euclid, he
certainly employs his reasoning faculty, and is conscious that
he is doing so; but his attention is wholly turned to the
diagram before him, and to the several ideas which that
diagram suggests. Afterwards, when he has mastered the
proposition, he may go over it again, with a view to dis¬
cover what reasoning is; but he will not find that he has
any idea of reasoning as he has of the diagram. He will only
exert that faculty a second time, and perceive one truth
linked to and depending upon another in such a manner
that the whole taken together forms a complete demonstra¬
tion. In a word, the operations of our own minds, when
attention is paid to them, are known immediately by con¬
sciousness ; and it is as impossible that we should have
ideas of them, as that a living man should be a picture
upon canvass. He who attends to what passes in his own
mind when he perceives, remembers, reasons, or wills,
must know by consciousness what these operations are,
and be capable of forming very accurate notions of them,
as connected with their objects; and he who does not at¬
tend to what passes in his own mind will never acquire any
notions of them, although he were to read all that has been
written on the subject from the days of Pythagoras to those
of Dr Reid.
As we acquire ideas of external objects by means of our There a
senses, and notions of perceiving, remembering, reasoning, things n
and willing, &c. by reflecting on the operations of our own jcnOT Pa
minds, so there are other things of which we acquire no- ^oYar
tions, partly by sensation, partly by reflection, and partly part]y
by means of that faculty of which it is the more peculiarreflectioi
office to compare ideas and to perceive truth. Such are
substance, body, mind, with their several qualities, adjuncts,
and relations ; the knowledge of which, as has been already
observed, constitutes what in strictness of speech is termed
the science of metaphysics. These shall be considered in
order, after we have investigated the nature of truth, and
inquired into the several sources of evidence ; but there is
one notion, about the origin and reality of which there have
been so many disputes, which in itself is of so great im¬
portance, and which will be so intimately connected with
all our subsequent inquiries, that it may not be improper
to consider it here. The notion to which we allude is that
of power.
Amongst the objects around us we perceive frequent Our noti
changes, and one event regularly succeeding another. Gold of power,
thrown into the fire is changed from a solid to a fluid body.*1^3^
Water exposed to a certain degree of cold is changed from6 '
a fluid to a solid body. Night succeeds to day, and sum¬
mer succeeds to winter. We are conscious of new sensa¬
tions in ourselves every hour. We are likewise conscious
of reasoning, willing, and desiring; and we know that by
an exertion of will we can rise or sit, stand still or walk,
call one idea into view, and dismiss others from our con¬
templation. Experience teaches us, that it is not occa¬
sionally, but always, that gold is changed into a fluid by
being thrown into the fire, and water into a solid body by
being exposed to a certain degree of cold ; that night suc¬
ceeds to day, and summer to winter. These changes have
regularly taken place since the creation of the world ; and
it has never once been observed that water was made solid
by fire, or. gold rendered liquid by cold. Were we not
instructed by experience that our own voluntary motions
METAPHYSICS.
Doetr ie
'-U
Hu ill
•Con- are produced by exertions of our minds, of which we are
5l)ustiess conscious, and that without such exertions those motions
lion." woul(1 never ha.ve take.n Place’ we should probably have
.considered the liquefaction of gnld as an event equally in¬
dependent of fire, though uniformly conjoined with it, as
night is independent of day, and day of night. But hav¬
ing experienced that we can move or not move our bodies
as we please, that when it is our will to sit we never get
up to walk, and that when wre wish to walk we always do
it except prevented by external violence ; having likewise
expes ienced that by a thought, by some internal and inex¬
plicable exei tion of our minds, we can call up in our me¬
mory or imagination one idea, and dismiss others from our
mental view ; we are led to believe with the fullest convic¬
tion, that ad those motions oi our bodies which in common
language are termed voluntary, and that succession of ideas
which follows a conscious exertion of the mind, depend
entiiely upon ourselves. In other words, we are necessi¬
tated to believe that we have a power to move or not to
move our bodies in many cases, and a power to turn our at¬
tention to one idea in preference to others.
It is in this way that we acquire the notion of power in our¬
selves, which we easily transfer to other objects. Know¬
ing that the various motions of our bodies' thus effected
proceed from power, we are naturally led to inquire whe¬
ther the changes which we perceive in other bodies may
not proceed from power likewise, or from something ana¬
logous to that power, of the exertions of which we are con¬
scious in ourselves. Now uniform experience teaching us
that gold is liquefied by being thrown into the fire, and that
water is made solid by being exposed to cold, we infer with
the utmost certainty that there are powers in fire and cold
to produce these changes, and that without the exertion of
such powers these changes would not be produced. We
cannot indeed say of external powers, as we can of our
own, in what substance they inhere. We know with the
utmost certainty that the voluntary motions of our hands,
&c. are produced by a power not inherent in the hands, but
in the mind, for of the exertion of that power we are con¬
scious ; but we do not know whether the powrer which li¬
quefies gold be inherent in that sensible object which we
call fire, or in something else to which fire is only an in¬
strument. We learn by observation, that the minute par¬
ticles of fire or heat insinuate themselves between the par¬
ticles of gold, and, if we may use the expression, tear them
asunder ; but whether they do this in consequence of a
power inherent in themselves, or only as instruments im¬
pelled by another power, is a question which observation
cannot enable us to answer.
. ^ ere we n°t conscious of the exertion of our own powers,
it seems scarcely conceivable that we could ever have ac¬
quired any notion of power at all; for power is not an
object of sense, nor, independent of its operations, is it in¬
deed an object of consciousness. In external operations,
all that wre perceive is one thing, in which we suppose the
power to reside, followed by another, which is either the
change or that on which the change is produced; but the
exertion of the power itself we do not perceive. Thus we
perceive gold, after it has been some time in the fire, con¬
verted from a solid to a fluid body ; but we perceive not
by our senses either the power or the energy of the power
which operates to this conversion. In the exercise of our
own powers, the case is otherwise. When a man puts his
hand to his head, and afterwards thrusts it into his bosom,
he not only perceives by his senses the change of position,
but he is also conscious of the energy or exertion by which
the change was produced.
“ Suppose,” says Mr Hume, “ a person, though endow¬
ed with the strongest faculties of reason and reflection, to
t rought on a sudden into this world, he would indeed
immediately observe a continual succession of objects, and
VOL. xiv.
633
one event following another, but he would not be able to Of Con-
discover any thing farther. He would not at first by any sciousness
reasoning be able to reach the idea of cause and effect, and ,Re-
since the particular powers by which all natural operations ^^tiun.
are performed never appear to the senses. The impulse of
one billiard ball is attended with motion in the second.
This is the whole that appears to the outward senses. The
.mind feels no sentiment or inward impression from this
succession of objects; consequently there is not, in any
single particular instance of cause and effect, any thing
which can suggest the idea of power or necessary connec¬
tion. From the first appearance of an object, vve never
can conjecture what effect will result from it; but, were
the power or energy of any cause discoverable by the
mind, we could foresee the effect, even without expe¬
rience, and might at first pronounce with certainty con-
cerning it by the mere dint of thought and reasoning. It
is impossible, therefore, that the idea of power can be de-
liyed fiom the contemplation of bodies in single instances
of their operations ; because no bodies ever discover any
power which can be the original of this idea.”
1 here is a sense in which this reasoning is unquestiona¬
bly just. A man who had never been conscious of exert-
ing power in himself would certainly not acquire the no¬
tion of power from observing a continual succession of ex¬
ternal objects. The impulse of one billiard ball being fol¬
lowed by the motion of another, would no more lead him
to the notion of power in the former than the succession
of night to day would lead him to the notion of a power
in light to produce darkness. When Mr Hume says,
that, from the first appearance of an object, we can never
conjecture what effect will result from it,” he uses language
that is ambiguous, and utters an assertion which is either
true or false according to the sense in which it is under¬
stood. If it be meant, that after having reflected upon
the opeiations of our own minds, and learned by experience
that motion is communicated by impulse from one ball of
ivory to another, we could not conjecture whether a simi¬
lar effect would be produced by the impulse of balls made
of other hard bodies which we had never before seen, the
assei tion is manifestly false. A man who had but once
seen motion communicated in this manner from one ivory
ball to another, would certainly conjecture that it might
be communicated from one wooden ball to another; and
if he had observed it repeatedly communicated from one
ball to another of different substances, he would infer,
with the utmost confidence, that it might be communi¬
cated from ball to ball, of whatever substance composed,
provided that substance be hard, or of a similar texture
with the balls t# the impulse of which he had formerly
paid attention. If by this ambiguous phrase the author
only means, as is probably the case, that from the first ap¬
pearance of an object to which we had never before ob¬
served any thing in any respect similar, we could not con¬
jecture what effect would result from it; or if his meaning
be, that a man suddenly brought into the world, who had
never acquired such a notion of power as may be had from
attention to the energies and operations of our own minds,
would not, by observing an effect to result from one body,
conjecture from the first appearance of another similar
body what effect would result from it;—in either of these
cases his assertion is certainly true, and tends to prove,
that without the consciousness of the operations of our
own minds, we could never acquire a notion of power
from the changes perceived by our senses in external ob¬
jects.
But Mr Hume, not contented with denying, which he His at-
might justly do, that we could ever have derived the idea tempt to
of power merely from observing the continual succession Prove that
of external objects, labours hard to prove that we have no we bave '
notion of power at all, and that when we employ the word "“J10”
4 l ° P<'Aer'
634
METAPHYSICS.
Of Con- power, we do nothing more than utter an insignificant
sciousness sound. To pave the way for the arguments by which so
and He- extravagant a paradox is to be supported, he lays it down
flection.
His rea¬
soning so¬
phistical.
as a “ proposition which will not admit of much dispute,
that all our ideas are nothing but copies of our impressions ;
or, in other words, that it is impossible for us to think of
any thing that we have not antecedently felt either by our
external or internal senses.” As this proposition, however,,
will, it seems, admit of some dispute, he takes care, before
applying it to the purpose of demolishing all power, to
support it by two arguments. “ First,” says he, “ when we
analyze our thoughts or ideas, however compounded or
sublime, we always find that they resolve themselves into
such simple ideas as were copied from a precedent feeling
or sentiment. Those who would assert that this position
is not universally true nor without exception, have only one,
and that an easy method of refuting it, by producing that
idea, which, in their opinion, is not derived from this
source. Secondly, if it happen, from a defect of the organ,
that a man is not susceptible of any species of sensation,
we always find that he is as little susceptible of the corre¬
spondent ideas. A blind man can form no notion of co¬
lours, a deaf man of sounds. And though there are few or
no instances of a like deficiency in the mind, where a per¬
son has never felt, or is wholly incapable of a sentiment or
passion that belongs to his species, yet we find the same
observation to take place in a less degree. A man of mild
manners can form no idea of inveterate revenge or cruelty ;
nor can a selfish heart easity conceive the heights of friend¬
ship and generosity.”
As these propositions are the engines by which all power
is banished from the world, it may not be improper, before
we proceed to inquire by what means they perform so arduous
a task, to consider their own inherent strength ; for if they
be weak in themselves, their work, however dexterously they
maybe employed, can have no stability. We have already
noticed the perverseness of this writer’s language, when it
confounds sensations with impressions ; but here it is still
more perverse, for passions, sentiments, and even consci¬
ousness, are styled impressions. When sensations are con¬
founded with impressions, the effect is only mistaken for
the cause, it being universally known that sensations pro¬
ceed from impressions made upon the organs of sense.
When consciousness is confounded with an impression, one
thing is mistaken for another, to which it is universally
known to have neither resemblance nor relation. But, not
to waste time upon these fallacies, which, though danger¬
ous if admitted, are yet too palpable to impose upon a reader
capable of the slightest attention, let us examine the pro¬
positions themselves. The most important, and that for
the sake of which alone the others are brought forward,
is, “ that it is impossible for us to think of any thing that we
have not antecedently felt, either by our external or inter¬
nal senses.” Did Mr Hume, then, never think of a mathe¬
matical point, or a mathematical line ? Neither of these
things is capable of being felt, either by making an impres¬
sion upon the organs of sense or as an object of conscious¬
ness, and therefore it is impossible that he should ever
have had ideas of them such as he doubtless had of sen¬
sible objects; yet in the most proper sense of the word
think, he certainly thought of both points and lines ; for he
appears to have made considerable progress in the science
ot geometry, in which he could not have proceeded a single
step without a perfect knowledge of these things, on which
the whole science is built. It is not therefore true, that
our thoughts or ideas, when analyzed, always resolve them¬
selves into such simple ideas as were copied from a prece¬
dent feeling or sentiment; for every mathematical figure
of which we can think resolves itself into a point and mo¬
tion ; and a point having no parts and no magnitude, can¬
not possibly be the object of feeling to any of our senses.
If, therefore, ideas alone be the objects of thought, we have Of Coi
refuted Mr Hume’s position by the very method which he sciolism
himself lays down ; for we have produced an idea which is and Ri
not derived either from a precedent feeling or a precedent ^ectio1
sentiment. By sentiment, we suppose to be here meant
that which by other philosophers is denominated consci¬
ousness ; and of consciousness it is undeniable that nothing
is the object but the actual energies of our own minds.
But ideas are not the only objects of thought. We have Things (
already given our reasons for restricting the word idea to which w
that appearance which an object of sense, wdien reflected cannot
on, makes, either in the memory or imagination. Such wasliaveidet
undoubtedly its original signification ; and had it never
been used to denote other and very different objects, much thought0
error and perplexity would have been avoided, which now
disgrace the science of metaphysics. Things may them¬
selves be the objects of thought; and when that is the case,
to think of their ideas, were it possible to do so, would be
worse than useless ; for we may certainly know a man bet¬
ter by looking at himself than by looking at his picture.
Of things which are themselves the objects of thought, w^e
have either a direct or a relative knowledge. We know
directly the actual operations of our own minds by the
most complete of all evidence, that of consciousness ; and
we have a relative notion of mathematical points and lines,
but neither of mental energies nor of these external things
can we possibly have any idea.
It is well observed by Dr Reid, that our notions both of We can
body and of mind are nothing more than relative. “ Whatreason
is body? It is, say philosophers, that which is extended,a^put
solid, and divisible. Says the querist, I do not ask what t^nSs ^
the properties of the body are, but what is the thing itself
let me first know directly what body is, and then consider reiative
its properties. To this demand I am afraid the querist will notions,
meet with no satisfactory answer ; because our notion of
body is not direct, but relative to its qualities. We know
that it is something extended, solid, and divisible, and we
know no more. Again, if it should be asked, what is mind ?
It is that w hich thinks. I ask not what it does, or what its
properties are, but what it is. To this I can find no an-
su’er ; our notion of mind being not direct, but relative to
its operations, as our notion of body is relative to its qua¬
lities.” {Essay on the Active Powers of Man.)
Our notion of a mathematical point is of the very same
kind. What is a point ? It is, saj's Euclid, that which
has no parts and no magnitude. Replies the querist, I ask
not either what it has or what it has not; let me first know
what it is. To this second question, it might perhaps be
answered, that a mathematical point is that which by mo¬
tion generates a line. But, rejoins the querist, I am not
inquiring what it generates ; give me a direct idea of the
point itself; or, if that cannot be done, as assuredly it
cannot, tell me what its offspring a line is. A line, says
Euclid, is length without breadth. I have no idea, replies
the querist, of length without breadth. I never felt an
impression from a sensible object which did not suggest
length, breadth, and thickness, as inseparably united ; and
I can have no idea which is not the copy of a former im¬
pression. To assist the querist’s conception, it may be
said that lines are the boundaries of a superficies, and that
superficies are the boundaries of a solid body; and of a
solid body every man has a clear and direct idea, in the
most proper sense of the word. Here then are several
things, namely, points, lines, and superficies, of not one of
which is it possible to form a direct notion; and yet we
know them so thoroughly, from the relation which they
bear to other subjects, that we can reason about them with
a precision and certainty which the mathematical sciences
alone admit of.
The great advantage of these sciences above the moral
Mr Hume himself expressly admits ; but he attributes it
r ;
li I
METAPHYSICS.
635
(1 ;on- to a wrong cause when he says it consists in this, that the the effect; and of every power we form our notion by the Of Con-
“ ideas of the former being sensible, are always clear and effect which it is capable of producing. Nor is it only in seiousness
:ion' deferrt!inate ; for see that the notion of a point or of speaking and moving his limbs that a man is conscious of £nd Ile'
^ a line is merely relative, and cannot possibly be the copy energy. There is as much energy, though of a different flection-
Sui'is °.f a sensaJlon> or> ,n llls language, of a sensible impres- kind, in thinking as in acting. Hence the powers of the ' v ^
the Jtion S10.n- if, then, we have clear and determinate notions of human mind have been divided into active and speculative,
ofjver. points and lines, and may reason about them without am- By the former we move the body ; and by the latter we
biguity, as he acknowledges we may, what is there to hin- see, hear, remember, distinguish, judge, reason, and per-
der us from having an equally clear and determinate no- form upon our notions and ideas every other operation
tion of power, or from reasoning about it with as little which is comprehended under the general word to
ambiguity . vV hy, says he, w-e are not conscious of power. Mr Locke3 has introduced into his theory of power an- Locke’s
And to prove this position, which needs no proof, he makes other distinction than that which we have here made be-Pass’ve
many observations that, however just, might certainly have tween active and speculative powers. Observing by our Power an
been spared. Of these, one is not a little curious. “ A senses, under which on this occasion memory is certainly imProP^
man suddenly struck with a palsy in the leg or arm,” says included, various changes in objects, we collect, says he, exPression-
he, or who has now lost these members, frequently en- a possibility in one object to be changed, and in another a
deavours at first to move them, and employ them in their possibility of making that change, and so come by that
usual ofhces. Here he is as much conscious of power to idea which we call power. Thus we say that fire has a
command such limbs, as a man in perfect health is consci- power to melt gold, and that gold has a power to be
ous of power to actuate any member which remains in its melted. The first he calls active, the second passive
natural state and condition. But consciousness never de- power. But to say that the possibility of being changed
ceives. Consequently, neither in the one case nor in the is power, seems to be a very improper mode of speaking
other are we ever conscious of any power.” This is true; and such as may lead to consequences which the excet-
we are never conscious of any power; but we are fre- lent author certainly held in abhorrence. It tends to make
quently conscious of actua energies ; and the man who, unwary readers imagine that the passive subject is as ne-
after being suddenly struck with a palsy, endeavours in cessary to the existence of power as the active beincr of
vain to move his leg or arm, is as conscious of energy as which power is an attribute ; but if the universe had a
he who m health makes the same attempt with success, beginning, and if its Creator be immutable, two proposi-
, orlet lt be imagined that his consciousness deceives him ; tions which Mr Locke firmly believed, there certainly was
for, as Mi Hume justly observes, consciousness never de- power when there was no change, nor any thing existing
ceives. He is certain of the energy, but finds by experi- which was capable of change, "tie owns, indeed, that ac-
ence that the instrument of this energy has suddenly be- tive power is more properly called power than the other;
come disordered and unfit for its usual office. In this and but we see no propriety at all in what he calls passive power,
this alone consists the difference between the paralytic “ It is,” in the language of Dr Reid, “ a powerless power,
and the man whose limbs are sound. The one may be as and a contradiction in terms.^
conscious of energy as the other, and his consciousness may But although Locke here usss improper terms, he makes Observa-
be equally infallible. But what then is this energy ? Mr some other observations with which we have the honour ful- tions of
Hume will not say that it is an idea, for it is not the copy ly to agree, and which lead to consequences the reverse oftlie same
of any antecedent impression ; besides, he has somewhere that impiety which seems to follow from the notion ofpas-author
allowed that ideas are never active. Is it then a sub- sive power. He observes, that “ we have from body no respectir,£
stance ? Impossible, for it is not permanent; and we be- idea at all of thinking, nor any idea of the beo-innino- 0fpower'
ieve no man will venture to affirm, or even to suppose, motion. A body at rest affords us no idea of any active
that the same substance can be repeatedly annihilated, and power to move ; and when it is set in motion itself, that
as often created. Is it, then, the occasional exertion of motion is rather a passion than an action in it. For when
some substance ?_ This must be the truth, for no other the ball obeys the stroke of a billiard stick, it is not any
supposition remains to be made. If so, that substance action of the ball, but a passion; also, when by impulse it
must be possessed of power ; for a capacity of exerting sets another ball in motion that lay in its way, itonlyeom-
actual energy is all that is meant by the word power, municates the motion it had received from another, and
Wherever there is a capability of energy or exertion, loses in itself so much as the other received, which gives
there must be power; for though there can be no exer- us but a very obscure idea of an active power moving in
tion without power, there may be power that is not ex- body, whilst we observe it only to transfer, but not to pro-
reted. I bus a man may have power to speak when he is duce, any motion. So that it seems to me, we have from
silent; and he may have power to rise and walk when he the observation of the operation of bodies by our senses,
sits still. But though it be one thing to speak and an- but a very imperfect, obscure idea of active power, since
otier to have the power of speaking, we always conceive they afford us not any idea in themselves of the power to
of the power as something which has a certain relation to begin any action either of motion or thought.” He thinks
* “ pllereare some things of which we can have both a direct and relative conception. I can directly conceive ten thousand men,
i r ten thousand pounds, because both are objects of sense, and may be seen, liut whether I see such an obiect, or directly conceive
lt 18 indlstl"cjt; [t is that °f a great multitude of men, or of a great heap of money; and a small addition or
diminution makes no perceptible change m the notion I form in this way. But I can form a relative notion of the same number of
nen oi ot pounds by attending to the relations which this number has to other numbers greater or less. Then I nerceive that the
-a-e nohon is distinct and scientific ; for the addition of a single man, or a single pound, or even of a penny, is easily perceived.
Pkf. ™amfier; 1 can f°rm a direct notion of a polygon of a thousand equal sides and equal angles. This direct notion cannot be
t, f .dl,stlr\c,t 'vhen conceived in the mind, than that which I get by sight when the object is before me ; and I find it so indistinct
ninin “as the_same appearance to my eye, or to my direct conception, as a polygon of a thousand and one, or of nine hundred and
nunV* T S!,deS‘ But yhen/.form a relative conception of it, by attending to the relation it bears to polygons of a greater or less
frnm n op 8ldes’notl°” of becomes distinct and scientific, and I can demonstrate the properties by which it is distinguished
fit P0yg°n? * rom thes! inst1ances i1 appears, that our relative conceptions of things are not always less distinct, nor less
materials for accurate reasoning, than those that are direct; and that the contrary may happen in a remarkable degree.” (Iteid’s
■assays on the Active Powers of Man.' & v
2 Iteid’s Essays on the Active Powers of Man. 3 Essay, book ii. chap. xxi.
636
M E T A P II Y S I C S.
Of Con- it evident, however, “ that we find in ourselves a power to
sciousness begin or forbear, continue or end, several actions of our
flection* min<^s anc* motions of our bodies, barely by a thought or
v c ^ ^ . preference of the mind ordering, or, as it were, command¬
ing, the doing or not doing such or such a particular ac¬
tion. This power which the mind lias thus to order the
consideration of any idea, or the forbearing to consider it,
or to prefer the motion of any part of the body to its rest,
and vice versa, in any particular instance, is that which we
call will. The actual exercise of that power, by directing
any particular action, or its forbearance, is that which we
call volition or willing.”
Suchbeings According to Mr Locke, therefore, the only clear no-
hav^ aS'!l t*°n °r ^ea We ^ave Power ‘s taken from the power
and'umler we ourselves to give certain motions to our
standino- bodies, or certain directions to our thoughts ; and this
can possess power in ourselves can be brought into, action only by will-
real power, ing or volition. This is exactly our doctrine, where we
have endeavoured to prove, that without the consciousness
of actual energy in ourselves, we never could have acquir¬
ed any notion at all of power from observing the changes
which take place amongst external objects. But if this be
so ; if the power, of which alone we know any thing, can be
brought into action only by willing or volition ; and if will
necessarily implies some degree of understanding, as in us
it certainly does ; it comes to be a question of the first im¬
portance, whether any being which possesses not will and
understanding can be possessed of real power, or be the ef¬
ficient cause of any action. This question we feel our¬
selves compelled to answer in the negative. If we had not
will, and that degree of understanding which will necessa¬
rily implies, it is evident that we could exert no power,
and consequently could have none ; for power that cannot
be exerted is no power. It follows also, that the power,
of which alone we can have any distinct notion, can be
only in beings who have understanding and will. Powder
to produce any effect, implies power not to produce it; and
we can conceive no way in which power may be determin¬
ed to one of these rather than the other in a being who has
not will. We grow from infancy to manhood; we digest
our food, our blood circulates, our heart and arteries beat;
we are sometimes sick and sometimes in health ; all these
things must be effected by the power of some agent, but they
are not done by our power. And if it be asked how we
know this, the obvious answer is, because they are not sub¬
ject to our will. This is the infallible criterion by which
we distinguish what is our doing from what is not, what
is in our power from what is not. Human power can
be exerted only by will; and we are unable to conceive
any active power to be exerted without will. If, there¬
fore, any man affirms that a being may be the efficient
cause of an action which that being can neither con¬
ceive nor will, he speaks a language which we do not un¬
derstand. If he has any meaning, he must take the words
power and efficiency in a sense very different from ours;
for the only distinct notion, indeed the only notion, which
we can form, of real efficiency, is a relation between the
cause and effect similar to that between us and our volun¬
tary actions. It seems, therefore, most probable that such
beings only as have some degree of understanding and will
can possess active power, and that inanimate beings must
be merely passive. Nothing which we perceive without
us affords any good ground for ascribing active power to
any inanimate being; and we can as little conceive such
a being possessed of power, as w'e can conceive it capable
of feeling pain. On the other hand, every thing which we
discover in our own constitution leads us to think that ac¬
tive power cannot be exerted without will and intelligence ;
and to affirm that it can, is to affirm what, to us at least, is a
contradiction in terms.
To this reasoning, which is Dr Reid’s, and which to us ap¬
pears to be unanswerable, we have heard it objected, that a Of Tm
man born blind has the same evidence for the non-existence ^—U.
of colour that is here urged for the impossibility of power Anobje(
being exerted without will and understanding. ’ If the ob-tl0n°bvi
jection had not been made by a very acute man, we shouldated
have deemed it altogether unworthy of notice; for be¬
tween the two cases supposed to be similar there is hardly
any analogy. A man born blind has no notion whatever
of colour. If you describe it to him in the best manner
you can, and refer it to any of the senses which he pos¬
sesses ; if you say that it is the object of feeling, and that
by feeling it one may perceive things at the distance of
many miles ; the blind man has reason to say that you are
uttering a proposition which he knows with the utmost
certainty cannot possibly be true. But if you tell him
that colour is the object of the sense of sight, a sense
which he possesses not; that it has not the least resem¬
blance to the objects of the other senses; and that per¬
sons endowed with the sense of sight perceive coloured ob¬
jects at the distance of many miles ; the blind man cannot
know' whether what you say be true or false, because he
has no idea or conception of the things of which you speak.
This is not the case with respect to powrer ; for every man
who has reflected on the operations of his own mind has a
very distinct notion of power, and knowrs perfectly, that to
the actual exertion of the only power which he can con¬
ceive, will and understanding are necessary. Should it be
said that there may be power altogether different from
that of which we have a distinct conception, wre think it
sufficient to reply, that of a thing which cannot be con¬
ceived, nothing can be either affirmed or denied ; that ac¬
tivity exerted without wilt and understanding ought not
to be called an exertion of power, because power is the
name already appropriated to the attribute of a being, by
which he can do certain things ifhewiils; that as we cannot
form any notion of a real efficient cause which has not will
and understanding, so we have no reason to believe that
such a cause anywhere exists ; and to say that power, such
as we can conceive, may be exerted without will and un¬
derstanding, is as great an absurdity as to say that there
may be velocity without space.
But if active power, in its proper meaning, requires a
subject endowed with will and intelligence, what shall we
say of those active powers which philosophers teach us to
ascribe to matter, the powers of corpuscular attraction,
magnetism, electricity, gravitation, and others? These
powers, as they are called, shall be considered when we
come to treat of the nature and source of corporeal motion.
In the mean time, it is sufficient to observe, that whatever
may be the agents in the operations of nature, whatever
the manner of their agency or the extent of their power,
they depend upon the First Cause, and are all under his
supreme control.
CHAP. VII.—OF TRUTH AND THE DIFFERENT SOURCES OF
EVIDENCE.
Sect. I.— Of Truth.
By pursuing these inquiries in the order which to us ap¬
pears most natural, we are now led to the contemplation
of those faculties of the human mind of which truth is pro¬
perly the object. But what is truth ? This was a famous
question amongst the Greek sophists, which had been so
often agitated, and to which so many absurd answers had
been given, that it came at last to be doubted by men of the
world whether a satisfactory answer could be given to it,
or indeed whether the matter was w orthy of investigation*
It is well known, that amongst the ancient philosophers
there was a sect called from their principles Sceptics, and
\
Of s'ruth. from their founder Pyrrhonists, who openly avowed their
* ' opinion that truth, like virtue, is nothing but a name-—
METAPHYSICS.
637
Trui de¬
fine;
* ' > -'^ *-•***■ ^ c* iiamc: —
that all things are equally true, or rather equally doubt-
ful, and that it is in vain for man to hope for certainty
in any inquiry in which he can be engaged. Such scep¬
ticism as this no modern philosopher has professed ; but
many have had enough of it to make sober men hesitate
about defining truth, and even insinuate that of truth no
definition can be given, d his, however, is surely a mistake
If truth cannot be defined, it still wanders at large and
in disguise, and vain must be .the pursuit of every man
who endeavours to obtain it, for he is pursuing he knows
not what.
So obvious and so solid is this reflection, that almost every
philosopher of merit who has latterly written on the nature
of evidence, has begun his work, if not with a formal de¬
finition, with something at least equivalent to a definition,
of the object of his pursuit. To repeat all these definitions
could serve no other purpose than to swell this article to
a disproportioned bulk, and to perplex perhaps the mind
ol the reader. We shall therefore content ourselves with
that which is given by Mr Wollaston. “ Those proposi¬
tions,” says he, “ are true which represent things as they
aie, or truth is the conformity of those words or signs by
which things are expressed to the things themselves.
Notwithstanding the objections of Dr Tatham, the acute
author of the Chart and Scale of I ruth, this is the best
definition of truth which we have yet met with in any lan¬
guage. It is concise and perspicuous. It comprehends
all kinds of truth, as well that which is merely mental,
the subject of silent contemplation, as that which is com¬
municated either by written language or by the living
voice; and it makes truth itself immutable, as depend¬
ing, not upon the arbitrary constitution of this or that
individual, or even of the whole human race,1 but upon
the nature of things as established by the Almighty Crea¬
tor of all.
Eveipro- According to this definition, every proposition which
posltil118 can be expressed or apprehended is necessarily either true
or false, whether its truth or falsehood be perceived or not,
or fak
either by him who hears or by him who utters it. All
propositions are either affirmative or negative ; but be¬
fore any thing can with certainty be affirmed or denied
of another, we must know those things as they are in
themselves, as well as the established use of the signs by
which they are expressed. He who affirms or denies with¬
out this knowledge, speaks at random, and has no distinct
meaning.
Ever fa. Every facu]ty which we possess is in some way or other
oernc i! f” instrument of knowledge ; for we know by our senses,
the a; if. by °.ur memory, and by our intellect. Every one of our fa-
' culties, therefore, is concerned in the acquisition of truth,
and furnishes the mind with the materials of propositions.
These propositions are indeed of various kinds ; but they
are all certainly true or certainly false, though the certainty
of the truth or falsehood of every one it is not always in our
power to perceive.
When a man affirms that red is a quality inherent in a
truth)
soldier s coat, he utters a proposition which every one of Of Truth
the vulgar firmly believes to be true, but which every phi- v^
losopher knows to be false. This diversity of belief, how- Diversity
ever, does not affect the truth of the proposition itself. All belief
mankind know that it is either true or false, independently “fectts "ot
of them or their perceptions ; and it is easy, by a few op- ofwhTt is
tical experiments, and by an explanation of terms, to con-believed,
vince them all, that what they have agreed to call red is
no quality inherent in external objects, but only a sensation
caused by the impulse of certain rays oflight reflected from
certain objects to the eye of the percipient. The contra¬
riety, therefore, in this case of vulgar to philosophical be¬
lief, does not result from any ambiguity in the nature of
truth itself, but from the different means of perception
which the clown and the philosopher possess.
Again, were a man looking at a red and a green object,
to affirm that they are both of the same colour, he would
affirm what in one sense may be true, what in another is
undoubtedly false, and what in a third may be either true
or false. If it be his meaning that the two objects give to
him the same sensation, he may know with the utmost cer¬
tainty that what he says is true; if he mean that they af¬
fect all mankind precisely as they affect him, he utters
what all mankind with the most absolute certainty know
to be false; if he mean that the texture of the two bodies
(that particular disposition of parts on their surfaces which
makes them reflect certain rays of light and absorb others)
is exactly similar, so that the one must reflect the very
same kind of rays with the other, he utters what all man¬
kind must believe to be false, although still it is possible
that what he affirms may be true. This diversity of be¬
lief affects not the truth itself. I he two objects are what
they are, by whomsoever perceived, or whether perceived
or not. The rays of light reflected by each are what they
aie, whether they fall upon this, upon that, or upon any
other eye; and the sensation communicated to this singular
man is certainly what he is conscious it is, as those of the
rest of mankind are with equal certainty what they are
conscious of. I his being the case, it is obvious and unde¬
niable, that the organs of s'ight in this individual of the
human race are somehow differently formed from those of
other men ; and the only question which can occasion a
doubt in the mind of the sceptic is, whether his or their
eyes be so formed as to represent things falsely; for that
by the one or the other things are falsely represented, is as
evident as that two contradictory propositions cannot both
be true. Now, although for any thing we know it is cer¬
tainly possible, as to us it appears not to imply any contra¬
diction, that the eyes of but one man are formed in a man¬
ner suitable to their objects, whilst the eyes of all other
men are formed to deceive them ; yet the contrary is so
highly probable, that no man really doubts of it, any more
than he doubts whether three and two be equal to five.
This last proposition is indeed said to express a truth Why some
absolutely certain, whilst the former expresses a truth truths are
which is called morally certain ; not that there is any dif- absolutely,
ference or degrees of certainty in the nature of truths !1nndrn01t,ters
themselves; the only difference consists in our power of certain
•hi different tan, this, though it i, possible that his meaning may be
ant! that to he falsehood whi’ch’ ^ S rTf m &
teaches or wishes to teach, it must depend upon the nature of thinns and not mion f • lf trutb be really immutable, as he
tut on. It is always difficult, of ten impossible, to Sn^ of any particular consti-
Crod, and the same constitution as it is moulded bv arbitral :,ml fc tltut ‘ ot 0Ul nature as came from the hand of
of Home certainly believes the doctrine of transubstantiation ^ w associations of our own. A sincere member of the church
cere members of that church, it would be L f^ndvhounht ^'ih^H Tv r S° ^ alread-V shown- Were all mankind sin-
substantiation ,» , doctrine Jvhi h though if is ItaSby mim„„s fffo .T"* IT'? delermi"es l» “iere ton.
Yet it is certain that the same body cannot be in dSeS mfN " : ^ , has labou>;cd hard to reconcile with common sense,
false, although believed by all mankind Our believimr «nv HUn ^ 11<? sameltl“e ; and tbat therefore transubstantiation must be
We must, indeed, act accirditig “ our beUrf ^ ^ “** “
had never existed. ^ instance trutn anu lalseiiood w ould have been what they are although we
638
METAPHYSICS.
Of Truth, perceiving them. That three and two are equal to five
is said to be an absolute truth, because we perceive the
whole of it as it is in itself, and are convinced that every
intelligence, from the highest to the lowest, who under¬
stands the terms in which it is expressed, perceives it as
we do ; whereas of moral or of physical truths, as they are
called, we only perceive a part, and may therefore mis¬
take for want of evidence. Thus, in the case of the two
objects exhibiting the same colour to one man, whilst they
exhibit different colours to all other men, could we see
into the objects themselves, and comprehend them im¬
mediately with our intellect as we comprehend our own
ideas, it might, and no doubt would, appear as palpable a
contradiction to say that the particular disposition of the
parts on the surfaces, which reflect the rays of light, are
the same in both, as it is now to affirm that three and two
are not equal to five. Between truth and falsehood there
is no medium. All truths are in themselves equally cer¬
tain; and to the Supreme Being, who knows the nature of
every thing more fully and intimately than we know our
own ideas, they must all appear equally certain ; but yet we
may without absurdity speak of probable truth as well as
of certain truth, provided always that we make the differ¬
ence to result, not from the nature of things, but from the
power of our understanding, which comprehends the one
kind of truth wholly and the other only partially.
Some truths There is another division made of truth into that which
eternal and js eternal and necessary, and that which is temporary and
others^* con^ngent- Though we do not approve of applying the
epithets temporary and eternal to any thing but real exis¬
tences, yet as this manner of speaking has been used by
all philosophers, we shall give instances of each kind of
truth, and endeavour to ascertain in what the distinction
consists. “ The three angles of a plain triangle are equal
to two right angles,” is a proposition expressive of a ne¬
cessary and eternal truth. “ The world exists,” is a con¬
tingent and temporary truth. Here it is very obvious, that
if both these propositions be true, there is no distinc¬
tion between them, so far as mere truth is concerned; for
truth admits not of degrees of comparison. It is however
said, that the first proposition depends not upon time, nor
will, nor any thing else, and that the Supreme Being him¬
self could not make it false : whereas it is certainly pos¬
sible, that he who created the world could annihilate it,
and thus reduce what is now a truth to an absolute false¬
hood. This difference between the two propositions is
thought a sufficient ground for calling the former a neces¬
sary and eternal truth, and the latter a temporary and con¬
tingent truth. But is the difference itself real ? In the pre¬
sent instance we cannot think that it is ; for if the right
angles and triangles, which constitute the materials of the
former proposition, be real corporeal things, they may be
annihilated as well as the rest of the world ; and then the
truth of the proposition will cease, for there can be neither
equality nor inequality between nonentities. If the angles
and triangles be merely ideas in the mind of a rational be¬
ing, it is not to be denied that the proposition must be true,
independently of all will, whenever those ideas exist, or
temporary
and con¬
tingent.
whenever right angles and triangles are thought upon ; butOfTi
if all reasonable creatures were to be annihilated, and the
Supreme Being never to think of triangles, the proposition
would unquestionably cease to be either true or false. The
world may indeed be annihilated ; but it certainly is not
annihilated whilst any one creature exists to contemplate
even that which is called necessary and eternal truth; and
therefore, whilst any truth exists in a mind not divine, it
must be necessarily true that the world exists; for the in¬
dividual being by which truth is perceived would then con¬
stitute the whole world.
But if in a somewhat different manner w'e compare the
former of these propositions with this, “ The solar system
consists of the sun and at least seven primary planets,” we
shall at once perceive the difference between necessary and
contingent truths. Both propositions we know to be true
at this moment; but there is this difference between them,
that a plain triangle can neither actually exist at any period
of duration, nor be conceived by any one mind, divine nor
human, of which the three internal angles are not precise¬
ly equal to two right angles ; whereas the solar system may
easily be conceived, and might certainly have been form¬
ed, with a smaller number of primary planets rolling round
the central orb. This needs no proof, as it is well known
that till very lately we conceived the system to consist of the
sun and only six primary planets ; and it has been already
shown, that whatever we can positively conceive may pos¬
sibly exist. Thus, then, every proposition, of which the
contrary is clearly and distinctly perceived to be impossible,
is a necessary truth ; and it may likewise be said to be eter¬
nal, because at every period of duration it must of neces¬
sity when thought upon be perceived to be true. On the
other hand, every proposition of which the contrary may
be clearly and distinctly conceived, is, if true, only a con¬
tingent truth, because its contrary might have existed ; and
it may likewise be called temporary, because what might
have been false in time past may yet be false in time to
come.
Though all our faculties, our senses, our memory, and Trui
our intellect, furnish materials for propositions, and are(flv'
therefore all subservient to the investigation of truth, yet ^
the perception of truth, as it is in itself, is commonly as-t;esi
cribed to our rational faculties ; and these have by Locke
and others been reduced to two, namely, reason and judg¬
ment. The former is said to be conversant about certain
truths, the latter chiefly about probabilities.
Some modern philosophers of great merit, dissatisfied Ci
with this analysis of the intellect, have added to reason and sen
judgment a third faculty, to which they have given the
name of common sense, and of wrhich the proper object is
such truths as neither admit nor stand in need of evidence.
By common sense they mean “ that degree of judgment
which is common to men with whom we can converse and
transact business.” Whether the introduction of such a
term into metaphysics was proper or improper, we do not
think it of importance to inquire. According to this defi¬
nition of it, which is Dr Reid’s, it differs not from the rea¬
son and judgment of Locke ;l agreeing with the former
1 This is expressly acknowledged by Dr Reid. “ It is absurd,” says he, “ to conceive that there can be any opposition between
reason and common sense. It is indeed the first-born of reason ; and as they are commonly joined together in speech and in writing,
they are inseparable in their nature. We ascribe to reason two offices or two degrees : the first is to judge of things self-evident;
the second to draw conclusions that are not self-evident from those that are. The first of these is the province, and the sole pro¬
vince, of common sense ; and therefore it coincides with reason in its whole extent, and is only another name for one branch or one
degree of reason.” here Buffier talks nearly the same language; but Dr Beattie expresses himself very differently. “ That
there is a real and essential difference between these two faculties ; that common sense cannot be accounted for by being called the
perfection of reason, nor reason by being resolved into common sense ; will appear,” he thinks, “ from the following remarks : 1. We
are conscious, from internal feeling, that the energy of understanding which perceives intuitive truth, is different from that
other energy which unites a conclusion with a first principle by a gradual chain of intermediate relations. 2. We cannot discern
any necessary connection between reason and common sense.” Nay, he says that “ we often find men endued with the one who
are destitute of the other :” and he instances dreams and certain kinds of madness where this is the case ; adding, “ that a man who
believes himself made of glass, shall yet reason very justly concerning the means of preserving his supposed brittleness from flaws
and fractures.”
M E T A P
when its object is certain truth, and with the latter when
v tiv Evi- it is conversant about probabilities. Nothing indeed is
del and more evident, than that, in the assent of the mind to every
^ proposition, some energy of the judgment is exerted ; and
Y PT1 /upon every proposition not self-evident, reasoning of some
kind or other must be employed to procure that assent.
Instead therefore of perplexing ourselves and our readers
with various analyses of the human understanding, or rather
with various names to what after all is perhaps but one in¬
dividual power, it will surely be of more importance to the
cause of truth to examine the different sources of evidence
by which the assent of the reason, or judgment, or common
sense, is determined.
Sect. II.— Of Intuitive Evidence and Demonstration.
, Int>ive Intuitive evidence is that which arises from the compa-
‘l1[ evince. riSOn of two or more ideas or notions when their agreement
or disagreement is perceived immediately, without the in¬
tervention of any third idea or notion. Of this kind is the
evidence of these propositions: One and four make five j1
things equal to the same thing are equal to one another;
the whole is greater than any of its parts; and, in a word,
all the axioms in arithmetic and geometry. All these are
in reality propositions in which the subject and predicate
appear upon comparison to be nothing more than the same
thing taken in different views, or expressed by different
terms. In fact, they are all in some respect reducible to
this axiom : “ Whatever is, is.” We do not say that they
are deduced from it; for they have in themselves that ori¬
ginal and intrinsic evidence which makes them, as soon
as the terms are understood, to be perceived intuitively.
And if they be not thus perceived, no deduction of reason
will ever confer on them any additional evidence. But al-
| though not deduced from the general axiom, they may be
considered as particular exemplifications of it; inasmuch
as they are all implied in this, that the properties and rela¬
tions of our clear and adequate ideas can be no other than
what the mind clearly perceives them to be.
tfe. It may perhaps be thought that if axioms were propo-
tion a" s't‘ons perfectly identical, it would be impossible by their
i ! jerilf means to advance a single step beyond the simple ideas
pro; i- first perceived by the mind. And it would indeed be true,
nil tionitui-that if the predicate of the proposition were nothing but
■ fivofevi- a repetition of the subject under the same aspect, and in
ei11 the same or synonymous terms, no conceivable advantage
could be made of it for the furtherance of knowledge. Of
such propositions as these, for instance, “ Seven are seven,
eight are eight, the three angles of a triangle are the three
angles of a triangle, two right angles are two right angles,”
it is manifest that we could never avail ourselves for the
improvement of science. But when the thing, although
in effect coinciding, is considered under a different as¬
pect; when that which is single in the subject is di¬
vided in the predicate, and conversely ; or when what is
a whole in the one is regarded as a part of something else
in the other ; such propositions lead to the discovery of in¬
numerable and apparently remote relations. It is by the
aid of such simple and elementary principles that the
arithmetician and the algebraist proceed to the most asto¬
nishing discoveries. Nor are the operations of the geo-
roetrician essentially different; for to this class belong all
propositions relating to number and quantity ; that is, all
which admit of mathematical demonstration. If the truth
of a mathematical proposition be not self-evident; in other
words, if the subject and predicate do not appear at first
sight to be different names for the same thing; another
term must be found which shall be synonymous to them
both. Thus, to prove that the three internal angles of a
H Y S I C S. 639
right-lined triangle are equal to two right angles, I pro- OfExpe-
duce the base of the triangle ; and by a very short process rience
I discover that the exterior angle, so formed, is equal to Analogy,
the. two interior and opposite angles. By a process equally V Y /
plain and short, I perceive that the exterior angle and the
interior adjacent angle are equal to two right angles. But
I have already seen, that the exterior angle is neither more
nor less than the two interior and opposite angles under a
different aspect; whence it appears that the three internal
angles of the triangle are nothing else than two right angles
under a different aspect. In a word, all demonstration is
founded on first principles or primary truths, which neither
admit nor stand in need of proof, and to which the mind is
compelled to give its assent by a bare intuition of the ideas
or terms of which these primary truths are composed.
Nothing is susceptible of demonstration, in the rigid sense
of the word, but general, necessary, and eternal truths;
and every demonstration is built upon intuition, and con¬
sists in a series of axioms or propositions of the very same
kind with the first principle or truth from which the rea¬
soning proceeds. That propositions formerly demonstrat¬
ed are taken into the series, does not in the least invali¬
date this account; inasmuch as these propositions are all
resolvable into axioms, and are admitted as links in the
chain ; not because they are necessary, but merely to avoid
the useless prolixity which frequent and tedious repetitions
of proofs formerly given would occasion. But it is ob¬
vious that such truths only as result from the comparison
of ideas and notions are necessary, and of course that
such truths only are capable of strict demonstration. The
truths which relate to real existences are all contingent,
except that which affirms the existence of the Supreme
Being, the parent of all truth.
The mathematical sciences, categorical logic, and that
part of metaphysics which demonstrates the being of God,
are therefore the only branches of human knowledge
which admit of strict demonstration. The longest demon¬
stration in the mathematical sciences may be traced to
this general and necessary truth, “ Whatever is, is,”
or to some particular exemplification of it; the longest
train of categorical syllogisms terminates in this general
principle, “ What is aflirmed or denied of a whole genus,
may be affirmed or denied of all the species, and all the
individuals belonging to that genusand the metaphysi¬
cal demonstration of the being of God rests upon this
foundation, “ Whatever had a beginning must have had a
cause. ’ 1 hat these are truths absolutely certain, which can
neither be proved nor called in question, every man may be
satisfied, merely by attending to the ideas or notions which
the terms of each proposition express. The two first are
merely identical propositions, of the truth of which no
man has ever pretended to doubt; and though the last is
not identical, it is a necessary and self-evident truth, as
its contrary implies, that in the same thing there is power
and no power, change and no change, action and inaction,
at the same instant of time.
Before we dismiss the subject of intuition, it may not By intui-
be improper to observe, that it is by this faculty or power tio.n we ac-
of the mind contemplating its ideas and comparing one ideaT1”’6 our
with another, that we acquire all our notions of relation of
such as identity and diversity, resemblance, co-existence, ’’
relations of space and time, relations of quantity and num¬
ber, of a cause to its effect, and many more which it would
be useless as well as tedious to enumerate.
Sect. III.— Of Experience and Analogy.
It has been just observed, that intuition and demon¬
stration are applicable only to general and necessary pro-
J Campbell’s Philosophy of Rhetoric.
640
Of Expe¬
rience and
Analogy.
Experi¬
ence the
result of
repeated
observa¬
tions.
M E T A P II Y SI C S.
positions, of which the contrary are not only false, but
absurd and impossible. The great business of life, how¬
ever, is with facts and contingent truths, which admit not
of demonstration, but rest upon other evidence. The sen¬
ses, external and internal, are the inlets to all our know¬
ledge of facts; and the memory is the storehouse where
that knowledge is preserved. Of what a man sees or feels,
he can at the instant of seeing or of feeling entertain no
doubt; and whilst the ideas of what he has seen or
felt, with all their associated circumstances, remain vivid
and distinct in his memory, he is conscious that he pos¬
sesses so much real knowledge. But all our knowledge,
as it is derived from the senses, is of particular facts or
particular truths ; and the man who has in certain circum¬
stances observed one particular phenomenon, for the ex¬
istence of which he perceives no necessity, has not suffi¬
cient ground to conclude, that in similar circumstances
similar phenomena will always occur. Milton, who sur¬
passed the greater part of his contemporaries in philoso¬
phical science almost as far as he has surpassed all suc¬
ceeding poets in the sublimity of his genius, represents
Adam, when first falling asleep, as under apprehensions
that he was about to sink into his original state of insen¬
sibility.
Gentle sleep
First found me, and with soft oppression seiz’d
My droused sense, untroubled ; though I thought
I then was passing to my former state
Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve.
Apprehensions similar to these would take place in his
mind when he first perceived that darkness had overspread
the earth. In his circumstances, he could have no ground
to expect that the sun when once set would rise again to
re-illumine the world, as he had not then experienced the
alternate succession of light and darkness, and probably
knew not whence light proceeded. After some time, how¬
ever, having observed day and night regularly to succeed
each other, these two appearances, or the ideas of them,
would be so associated in his mind, that each setting sun
u’ould suggest the idea of next sunrising, and lead him
to expect that glorious event with the utmost confidence.
He would then consider the alternate succession of day
and night as a law of nature, which might be affirmed in
a proposition expressive of a certain truth.
This continued observation of the same event happen¬
ing in the same or similar circumstances is what wre call
experience ; and it is the only evidence which we have for
all the general truths in physics, even for those which we
the "truths are aPt to intuitively certain.1 Thus, that milk is
in physics, white, and that gold is yellow, are supposed to be univer¬
sal and necessary truths ; but, for any thing that wre know,
they may be particular truths ; and they are certainly con¬
tingent, as the contrary to either of them maybe supposed
without absurdity. We have indeed always observed that
the milk of animals of every species is white; and therefore
the idea of whiteness becomes a necessary part of our idea of
the substance milk, of which we call whiteness an essential
property. This, however, respects only the milk of those
animals with which we are acquainted. But since the milk
of all the animals with which w^e are acquainted, or of which
we have heard, is white, we can have no reason to suspect
that the milk of any new and strange animal is of any other
colour. Also, since, wherever there has been the specific
gravity, ductility, and other properties of gold, the colour
has always been yellow, we conclude that these circum-.
stances are necessarily united, although by some unknown
bond of union, and that they will always go together.
The proper proof, therefore, of such universal propositions
Experi¬
ence the
only evi¬
dence we
have for
as that “ milk is white,” that ‘‘gold is yellow,” or that “ a 0f£.
certain degree of cold will freeze water,” consists in what rienca
is called an induction of particular facts of precisely the Ana!-
same nature. Having found, by much and various expe-"—^
rience, that the same events never fail to take place in the P1^1
same circumstances, the expectation of the same conse-eL^
quences from the same previous circumstances is necessa- and at
rily generated in our minds; and we can have no moregy-
suspicion of a different event than we can separate the idea
of whiteness from that of the other properties of milk.
When the previous circumstances are precisely the same,
wre call the process of proof by the name of induction, and
expect the event from experience ; but if they be not pre¬
cisely the same, but only bear a considerable resemblance
to the circumstances from which any particular appearance
has been found to result, we call the argument analogy;
and it is stronger in proportion to the degree of resem¬
blance in the previous circumstances. Thus the milk of
all the cows that we have seen, or upon which we have
made the experiment, having been found nutritious, we
confidently expect that the milk of all other cows will prove
nourishing likewfise; and this confidence of expectation is
the result of uniform experience. But if, from having
found the milk of all the animals with which we are ac¬
quainted to be nourishing, however different the nature of
these animals, we infer that the milk of any strange ani¬
mal will likewise be nourishing, the inference is drawn
by analogy, and by no means carries with it the conviction
of experience. A proof from real experience can leave no
doubt in the mind ; an argument from analogy always must.
In the one case, we only infer that two events of precise¬
ly the same nature, and in precisely the same circumstan¬
ces, have been produced by the same kind of cause; in
the other, we infer that two events similar in most re¬
spects, although, for any thing that we know, dissimilar in
others, have been produced by the same kind of cause;
and it is obvious that between these cases the difference is
great.
Thus, after having observed that all the projectiles toTheevi
which we have paid any attention, a stone thrown from the deuce of
hand, a ball from a gun, and an arrow from a bow, describe anal°gJ
a certain curve, and are impelled in that curve by tw° ^™rj‘
powers acting in different lines of direction, which form“ .
with each other a certain angle, we infer that all projectiles
which on the surface of the earth describe the same curve,
are impelled by the same or by similar powers acting in the
same or similar lines of direction. This inference is the
result of experience, and carries with it the fullest convic¬
tion to the mind. But when, from having observed that
the curves described by the planets are of the same kind
with those described by projectiles on the earth, Sir Isaac >
Newton inferred that these vast bodies are impelled in their
orbits by forces of the very same kind, and acting in the
same manner, with the forces which impel a ball from a
cannon or an arrow from a bow, his argument was founded
only on analogy, and even that analogy was very remote.
We know by experience that all projectiles which fall under
our immediate cognizance are of the very same kind and
in the very same circumstances ; that every one of them
has a tendency, from whatever cause, to the centre of the
earth, and is preserved from falling by the force of projec¬
tion. We know likewise that they are all moved through
the medium of the atmosphere, which at the surface of the
earth is considerably dense, and that a dense medium must
occasion much resistance. But we do not know that the
planets have a tendency to the centre of the sun, that they
are preserved from falling into that luminary by a projec¬
tile force, or whether they move through a medium or in
1 Campbell’s Philosophy of lihetoric, and Priestley’s Remarks on the Drs Reid, &c.
Manind
read’io
'i belie t the
teslinny
of eaii
other
METAPHYSICS.
641
Of psti- vacuo; so that we are not certain that the motion of the srep • InO nnt „ - , . .
nny- planets is perfectly similar to that of terrestrial nroiectiles a nrincinlp nf C'inimonly an inclination to truth, and Of Testi-
  in any otlier circumstance than the form of SieJ curve wfeTdSectedTntlimoT ^ to shame
which they all describe ; and from this single case of coin- rovei-pd hv ^ , • oell0°^’ wei® not these, I say, dis-
I cide,nceh inference can be drawn which carries to the nature, we shouW never reposT lhe816^0‘fid hUman
mind absolute conviction. ! , rePose the least conhdence in
When a man reasons from experience, he infers, that nesses and as t!ie evidence derived from wit-
what has uniformly happened hitherto, will happen always so it varies wifi! tl °n? 18 found<jd on Past experience,
in the very same circumstances; or that what is known Hi he a nrnnf f k n r. exPerienJc.e’ and ^ regarded either as
the cause of various phenomena of the same kind is the cause tween any particular k’i ^CC?rdlng as the conjuection be-
of every other phenomenon in all respects similar to these has . k k °f rePort and anJ klnd of object
Such an inference is founded on themiited^nd'comn^ete evt-' number 01^,^, “"f8,"1 °7al!able- TI’CTa .^.a
dence of sense, memory, and reason. When a man reasons all iudemenfs nf thi "if^V.0 ’e.talten !".t0 consideration in
from analogy, he infers, that what has generally happened which wp d f • • § anC^ t lf u tlmate standard by
hitherto, will happen again in circumstances nearly similar- in<y tfi • 6 nilne al| disputes that may arise concern-
or that what is kniiwn !o be the cX Xar ous pienomena fen Th^r 8,8 dr'Ved f,i°m exPerie"“ a"d °bsa™-
ofthe same kind,is the cause of other nhenomenaTnTome “ ■ Z W-B S'f6 any credit i" .""itnesses
respects similar to these. This inference is likewise founded we np,- 0.rlans> Is.n0.t derived from any connection which
on'the united evidence of sense, memory and reasm but bepaC betWaen testim0"3' a"d ''aali‘y. but
dom fallen under our observation, here is a contest of two
opposite experiences, of which the one destroys the other
as far as it goes, and the superior can only operate on the
mind by the force which remains. The very same prin¬
ciple of experience which gives us a certain degree of as¬
surance in the testimony of witnesses, gives us also, in this
case, another degree of assurance against the fact which
they endeavour to establish; from which contradiction there
necessarily arises a counterpoise, and mutual destruction
. 0 anu. it Cclll UC
strengthened only by finding more facts of the same or of a
similar nature.
Sect. IV.— Of Testimony.
Ihe last source of evidence which we proposed to con-
sidei is testimony, or the report of men concerning events
which have fallen under the observation of their senses.
That we are all ready to believe the information which we
ieaso
. ssimi
jHihe
prthif
ti! ropei!
spty.
leceive fiom the testimony ot our fellow-creatures, is un¬
deniable ; and indeed, without such belief, every man’s
knowledge of facts and events would be confined to those
only of which he himself had been a personal witness. In
that case, no man who had not travelled would believe
that there are such cities as Rome and Constantinople;
and no man whatever could now believe that such heroes
as Hannibal and Caesar had ever existed.
Between words and things there is no natural connec¬
tion ; and although we are all accustomed to give to things
the names by which they are known in the language that
we speak, and to express their mutual relations by the
words appropriated for that purpose, yet it is obviously
impossible to denote one thing by the name of another, and
to express by words relations which have no existence.
Ibis being the case, it may be asked, upon what principle
do we give credit to human testimony ? To this question
various answers have been given, which have produced
much controversy on one of the most important subjects
which can employ the mind of man.
“ We may observe,” says Mr Hume,1 “ that there is no
species of reasoning more common, more useful, and even
necessary to human life, than that which is derived from
the testimony of men and the reports of eye-witnesses and
spectators, i his species ot reasoning perhaps one may
deny to be founded on the relation of cause and effect. I
shall not dispute about a word. It will be sufficient to
observe, that our assurance in any argument of this kind
of belief and authority.”
This account of the origin of our faith in testimony has
been controverted with much success by the Doctors
Campbell and Reid. “ That the evidence of testimony is
derived solely from experience,” says the former of these
writers,2 “ is at least not so incontestable a truth as Mr
Hume supposes it; that, on the contrary, testimony hath
a natural and original influence on belief antecedent to
experience, will, I imagine, easily be conceived. For this
puipose, let it be remarked, that the earliest assent which
is given to testimony by children, and which is previous to
all experience, is, in fact, the most unlimited ; that by a
gradual experience of mankind, it is gradually contracted,
and i educed to narrower bounds. To say, therefore, that
our diffidence in testimony is the result of experience, is
more philosophical, because more consonant to truth, than
to say that our faith in testimony has this foundation. Ac¬
cordingly, youth, which is unexperienced, is credulous ;
age, on the contrary, is distrustful. Exactly the reverse
would be the case were this author’s doctrine just.” This
is a complete confutation of the reasoning of Mr Hume;
but in order to prevent all cavilling, it is to be wished that
the very acute author had explained more fully what he
means by saying that testimony has a natural and origi¬
nal influence on belief; for these words may be taken in
different senses, in one of which what he affirms is true,
and in another it is false.
Dr Campbell’s omission is amply supplied by Dr Reid,
ie rlnviima a. -"-V Lina ivum ^ampnen s omission is ampfy supplied bv Dr Reid
Lhl . r’ le‘' |innC1Ple than oul' observation of who gives the following account of testimony " md of the
the veracity of human testimony, and of the usual confer- credit which it obtains® “ The wise anT benefeent Au!
; " the sports of witnesses. It being a ge- tlior of nature, who intended that we should be social crea-
tio™ to<rether^^nd0thatealiS the6;8^ dlscoverab e con,1ec- hires, and that we should receive the greatest afe most
.i l!?g tl e ’ and that a11 the, ^rences which we can important part of our knowledge by the information of
peneiS^heir ^ °n otbers’ batb> ,'»r lb«* purposesfLpWd in oT “afee
evident tfint C( i !tant antl re1gu ar conJunction, it is two principles that tally with each other. The first of
maxim in f V n0t t0 make an \XCePtion t0 this these principles is a propensity to speak truth, and to use
with any event'seemsTItseffi Wh°Se COnnectlon Resigns of language so as to convey our real sentiments.
Other wire not Hie memnr! Z • nfcessary a* This principle has a powerful operation even in the greatest
e memory tenacious to a certain de- liars ; for where they lie once, they speak truth a hundred
VOL. XIV.
Essay on Miracles.
4 Dissertation on Miracles, and The Philosophy of Rhetoric.
4 M
642
METAPHYSICS.
OfTesti- times. Truth is always uppermost, and is the natural is-
mcmy. sue 0f the mind. It requires no art or training, no in-
ducement or temptation, but only that we yield to a na¬
tural impulse. Lying, on the contrary, is doing violence
to our nature, and is never practised, even by the worst
men, without some temptation. Speaking truth is like
using our natural food, which we would do from appetite,
although it answered no end ; but lying is like taking phy¬
sic, which is nauseous to the taste, and which no man takes
. but for some end which he cannot otherwise attain. When
we are influenced by any motive, we must be conscious of
that influence, and capable of perceiving it upon reflection.
Now, when I reflect upon my actions most attentively, I
am not conscious that in speaking truth I am influenced on
ordinary occasions by any motive moral or political. I
find that truth is always at the door of my lips, and goes
forth spontaneously, if not held back. It requires neither
good nor bad intention to bring it forth, but only that I be
artless and undesigning. There may indeed be tempta¬
tions to falsehood, which would be too strong for the na¬
tural principle of veracity, unaided by principles of ho¬
nour or virtue; but where there is no such temptation, we
speak truth by instinct. By this instinct, a real connec¬
tion is formed between our words and our thoughts ; and
thereby the former become fit to be signs of the latter,
which they could not otherwise be.” (Inquiry into the
Human Mind.')
Such is the account which Dr Reid gives of the truth of
human testimony; and he adds, that there is another ori¬
ginal principle implanted in us by the Supreme Being, to
tally with it, viz. a disposition to confide in the veracity of
others, and to believe what they tell us. “ This,’’ he says,
“is the counterpart to the former; and as that may be called
the principle of veracity, we shall, for the want qf a more
proper name, call this the principle of credulity. It is un¬
limited in children until they meet with instances of de¬
ceit and falsehood ; and retains a very considerable degree
of strength through life.’5
It is ever with extreme reluctance that we controvert the
opinions of this able writer ; and that reluctance cannot be
lessened in the present instance, when we are conscious
that great part of what he says is unanswerable. That
truth is always at the door of the lips ; that it requires no
effort to bring it forth; that in ordinary cases men speak
truth uninfluenced by any motive moral or political; that
the gi’eatest liars speak truth a hundred times where they
lie once; and that lying is never practised by the worst
men without some temptation ; are positions which daily
experience renders it impossible to question. But, not¬
withstanding this, we do not think that truth is spoken by
an instinctive principle ; because it is inconceivable that in¬
stinct should teach the use of arbitrary and artificial signs,
such as the words of every language undoubtedly are ; or
that between such signs and ideas any instinctive con¬
nection should ever be formed. “ Truth,” as we have
defined it, “ is the conformity of those words or signs by
which things are expressed, to the things themselves ;”
and things themselves are what they are, independently of
us, our instincts, and perceptions. When we have precise
and adequate ideas of objects, and when those ideas are
related to one another as the objects themselves are re¬
lated, we are in possession of mental truth; and in this
case there is a real and natural connection between the
signs and the things signified. For we cannot frame origi¬
nal and simple ideas which have no archetype in nature;
nor can one object, distinctively perceived, generate in our
minds the ideas that are generated by other objects. Here
external things are the objects, and ideas are the signs,
which, when they are in conformity to the things signi¬
fied by them, constitute truth.
But, in human testimony, the ideas in the mind of the
speaker are the things signified, and the'words of language Of T<
are signs by which they are expressed; and when these mon;
things and signs are in conformity to each other, the words
uttered express so much truth. Now, though in this caseTlietlJ
there is no natural connection between the sign and ther?asoni
thing signified, yet it is obvious, that without a violent ef-Slgne4
fort of the speaker to the contrary, they must always be in
conformity with each other; because in every language
there are words appropriated for the purpose of denoting
every idea and relation which can be expressed ; and in the
mind of every man these ideas, relations, and words, have
been constantly associated, from the time that he learned to
speak. So intimate is this association, and so impossible to
be broken, that whoever will pay sufficient attention to the
operations of his own mind, will find that he thinks as well
as speaks in some language; and that in cogitation he sup¬
poses and runs over, silently and habitually, those sounds
which in speaking he actually utters. If this be so, it is
impossible that a man without some effort should ever speak
any thing but truth : for the ideas of what he has seen or
heard, &c. are not of his manufacture ; they are generated
by external objects, and, till they be effaced from the me¬
mory, they must always, by the law of association, make
their appearance there, with all their mutual relations, and
in their proper dress. In the very act of learning to speak,
we necessarily learn to speak the truth ; for were wre not to
employ words exactly as they are employed by those with
whom we converse, our language, if language it might
be called, would be unintelligible ; and we could neither
declare our wants nor ask relief with any hopes of suc¬
cess. Children beginning to speak may indeed utter un¬
truths without any motive, and merely from mistake, be¬
cause the ideas and words of children have neither been
long nor closely associated ; but it is. impossible that a
man, however wicked, should habitually and without mo¬
tives lie on ordinary occasions, unless the fundamental prin¬
ciples of his nature have been totally altered ; unless his
brain has been disordered by disease; unless his ideas
have been disarranged, and all his original associations
broken.
We know indeed by woful experience, that immoral
men occasionally utter falsehoods with a view to deceive.
But on these occasions they are influenced by some mo¬
tive either of hope or terror. The falsehood is always
uttered with an effort; and so strong is the association
between words and ideas, that the truth will at times
break out in spite of all their endeavours to suppress it;
so that the end or middle of a false narrative, if it be of
any length, is commonly inconsistent with the beginning.
We entertain a suspicion concerning any matter of fact,
when those who relate it contradict each other ; when they
are but few in number, or of a doubtful character; when
they have an interest in what they affirm; when they de¬
liver their testimony with hesitation, or, on the contrary,
with too violent asseverations; because these are circum¬
stances which we have generally experienced to accom¬
pany false evidence. It is likewise with reluctance that we
admit a narrative of events entirely different from every
thing which hitherto we have seen or heard ; because we
may not be certain that the narrator is not under some in¬
fluence to deceive us in matters concerning which we
have nothing but his testimony upon which to ground our
judgment. But in every case where the fact recorded is
in itself possible, and attributed to an adequate cause;
where a competent number of witnesses had sufficient means
of information, and are certainly under no inducement to
deceive, testimony is complete evidence, however extra¬
ordinary the fact may be ; because no fact which is known
to have an adequate cause can be so incredible, as that a
number of men of sound understandings should act con¬
trary to the fundamental principles of human nature, or
ODI
ors
tie
it 0
*1
I the
sens
unit'
wax.
it is
cone
rest,
with
ed hi
everj
it wa
pear
fdriiid
norfi
such
The
ceive
as y,.
with
depri
Th
ceive
J>tn
nepej
°dom
, METAPHYSICS. 643
& sr„V” ;'s.’-,have rth grei propriet>- ^ ^ -- <«“»'
t»r,f form new ones, all agreeing exactly with oie anMher hm ceTveH r v. 5 theJ Cannot cxist "or be co"-
«• all contrary to truth: 8 "'th one another, but cetved to ex,st by themselves, but require for their support
^ one common subiect. Extension nnri crvim.Vvr Bodies.
CHAP. I.-
PART II.
OF BODY WITH ITS ADJUNCTS.
-OF THE COMPOSITION OF BODIES;
TEH AND FORM.
OR, OF MAT-
Cfth.
one common subject. Extension and‘solidity canYxistTn-
dependently ot them, but they cannot exist independently
ot solidity and extension.
Is then solidity the basis of these qualities, so that they Dualities
necessarily result from it ? No. There are many things which in!
solid and extended which are neither hard, nor coloured, here in a
nor odorous, nor sapid; which could not be if these quali-suhject
ties were the necessary effect of solidity. Besides, aucalled mat,
mankind conceive of solidity and extension as qualities ofter'
something else ; for we never say that solidity is extended
Hitherto we have contemplated only the powers of our Z we cTuS'er
mmds by which we acquire a stock of ideas, and the vari- solidity asl quality itself. In wZ Z d™s coliditv ^td
lour, ’ W^ha {-p10 ■eai’ sounds’ and by the sight, co- whether the speculations of Aristotle and his adherents on
o. t lave likewise seen, that heat and cold, odours, this subject deserve to be preferred tn thncro vr
tastes, sounds, and colours, are mere sensations, which have and Locke Preferred to those of Newton
iiiiSrsSis fsmsssESsm
f r> , , . . mg external and independent °f doing injustice to a subject above the reach of ordimrvconcern'
i u ties, which may operate in a desert wilderness comprehension, we shall transcribe so much of wh w be )v,{mgmatter.
Of tbino-a L   , . , meaning, as far as it is intelligible. “ Matter,” says this
at once cold, taste, colour, hardness, rouehness or smnntb- morTtit/-v4- j 
srt are*
VS UU
uses,: ie, ° fj —c.dc eu an ms senses, ne perceives
! eater tU on(j!p cold, taste, colour, hardness, roughness or smooth¬
ness, figure, solidity, motion or rest, and extension. That
i- the powers or qualities which in this instance produce the
sensations of heat or cold, taste, odour, and colour, are so
united to the hardness, figure, solidity, and extension of the
wax, that they cannot exist alone, is very evident; because
it is impossible to remove any one of these things, or to
conceive^ it removed, without removing with it all the
rest. W hat then is the bond of this union? Do these
things necessarily accompany one another, so that one of
them cannot exist without bringing all the rest along
with it. No. Ihere is no necessary connection amongst
them ; for by the operation of fire the wax maybe render¬
ed liquid, when the hardness and cold are gone, although
nerated or made, whether by nature or art, is generated
or made out of something else ; and this something else
is called its subject or matter. Such is iron to the saw;
such is timber to the boat. Now this subject or matter
of a thing being necessarily previous to that thing’s ex-
istence, is necessarily different from it, and not the same.
I hus iron, as iron, is not a saw ; and timber, as timber, is
not a boat. Hence, then, one character of every subject
or matter, that is, the character of negation or privation.
[He means negation or privation of what is to be made
out of it].
“ Again, though the subject or matter of a thing be not
that thing, yet, were it incapable of becoming so, it could
every thino- eispTpmXTir; “““ FT’ aiinouSn not be called its subject or matter. Thus iron is the sub-
jnf rn,atter of a sz\becre- ^ »<»»T
K&fiSsHl
P . . ^ -------J , anu turtt WHICH was
toimerly a piece of hard red wax, may be reduced to smoke
and ashes, in which there is neither hardness, colour, odour,
noi figure; at least there is not in the smoke and the ashes
such hardness, colour, odour, or figure, as was in the wax.
-ine solidity and extension, however, remain ; for we per-
ceive ashes and smoke to be extended and solid, as much
with er °r ai‘uma^; nor \s it; possible to do any thing many tilings, it in
is no saw, but can never be made one from its very nature
and properties. Hence, then, besides privation, another
character of every subject or matter, and that is the cha¬
racter of aptitude or capacity. [He means aptitude or ca¬
pacity to be that which is made out of it.]
Again, when one thing is the subject or matter of
many things, it implies a privation of them all, and a ca-
644
METAPHYSICS.
Of the matter.1 But even here, were the boat to moulder and turn
Composi- to earth, and that earth by natural process to metallize and
Bodies, become iron ; through such progression as this we might
. ^ .suppose even the boat to become a saw. Hence there¬
fore it is, that all change is by immediate or mediate par¬
ticipation of the same matter. Having advanced thus far,
we must be careful to remember, first, that every subject
or matter implies, as such, privation and capacity ; and,
next, that all change or mutation of beings into one ano¬
ther is by means of their participating the same common
matter. This we have chosen to illustrate from works of
art, as falling more easily under human cognizance and ob¬
servation. It is, however, no less certain as to the pro¬
ductions of nature, though the superior subtlety in these
renders examples more difficult. The question then is,
whether, in the world which we inhabit, it be not admitted
from experience, as well as from the confession of all phi¬
losophers, that substances of every kind,2 whether natural
or artificial, either immediately or mediately pass into one
another ; and whether, in that case, there must not be some
one primary matter common to all things. I say some one
primary matter, and that common to all things, since, with¬
out some such matter, such mutation would be wholly im¬
possible. But if there be some one primary matter, and
that common to all things, this matter must imply, not (as
particular and subordinate matters do) a particular privation
and a particular capacity, but, on the contrary, universal
privation and universal capacity. If the notion of such a
being appear strange and incomprehensible, we may far¬
ther prove the necessity of its existence from the follow¬
ing considerations : either there is no such general change
as here spoken of, which is contrary to fact, and would
destroy the sympathy and congeniality of things : or, if
there be, there must be a matter of the character here es¬
tablished ; because, without it (as we have said), such
change would be impossible. Add to this, however hard
universal privation may appear, yet had the primary mat¬
ter, in its proper nature, any one particular attribute, so as
to prevent its privation from being unlimited and univer¬
sal, such attribute would run through all things, and be
conspicuous in all. If it were white, all things would be
white; if circular, they would be circular; and so as to
other attributes ; which is contrary to fact. Add to this,
that the opposite to such attribute could never have exist¬
ence, unless it were possible for the same thing to be at
once and in the same instance both white and black, cir¬
cular and rectilineal, &c. since this inseparable attribute
would necessarily be everywhere; because the matter,
which implies it, is itself everywhere, at least may be found
in all things that are generated and perishable.
“ Here then we have an idea (such as it is) of that sin¬
gular being vXtj vgurri, the 'primary matter ; a being which
those philosophers who are immerged in sensible objects
know not well how to admit, though they cannot well do
without it; a being which flies the perception of every
sense, and which is at best, even to the intellect, but a
negative object, no otherwise comprehensible than either
by analogy or abstraction. We gain a glimpse of it by
abstraction, when we say that the first matter is not the
lineaments and complexion which make the beautiful face,
nor yet the flesh and blood which make those lineaments
and that complexion ; nor yet the liquid and solid aliments
which make that flesh and blood ; nor yet the simple bodies
of earth and water which make those various aliments;
but something which, being below all these, and supporting of th
them all, is yet different from them all, and essential to Compo
their existence. We obtain a sight of it by analogy when "
we say, that as is the brass to the statue, the marble to
the pillar, the timber to the ship, or any one secondary
matter to any one peculiar form, so is the first and origi¬
nal matter to all forms in general.”
Such is the doctrine of the Peripatetics concerning the
primary matter or the basis of bodily substances. We for¬
bear to make any remarks upon it until we have seen what
they say of form, the other essential part of every body;
for what is meant by matter and form will be most com¬
pletely seen when they are viewed together.
“ Form,” says the same elegant writer, “ is that elemen-The Pe
tary constituent in every composite substance, by which patetic
it is distinguished, characterized, and known from every doct™f
other. But to be more explicit: the first and most sim-£011i:eril:
pie of all extensions is a line ; this, when it exists, unitedt0rm'
with a second extension, makes a superficies, and these
two existing together, with a third, make a solid. Now
this last and complete extension we call the first and sim¬
plest form; and when this first and simplest form accedes
to the first and simplest matter, the union of the two pro¬
duces body, which is for that reason defined to be matter
triply extended. And thus we behold the rise of pure
and original body.3 It must be remembered, however,
that body, under this character, is something indefinite and
vague, and scarcely to be made an object of scientific con¬
templation. It is necessary to this end that its extension
should be bounded ; for as yet we have treated it without
such regard. Now, the bound or limit of simple body is
figure, and thus it is that figure, with regard to body, be¬
comes the next form after extension.
“ But though the boundary of body by figure is one step
towards rendering it definite and knowable, yet is not
this sufficient for the purposes of nature. It is necessary
here, that not only its external should be duly bounded,
but that a suitable regard should likewise be had to its
internal. This internal adjustment, disposition, or arrange¬
ment (denominate it as you please), is called organiza¬
tion, and may be considered as the third form which ap¬
pertains to body. By its accession we behold the rise of
body physical or natural; for every such body is some way
or other organized. And thus may we affirm, that these
three, that is to say, extension, figure, and organization,
are the three original forms to body physical or natural;
figure having respect to its external, organization to its
internal, and extension being common both to one and to
the other. It is more than probable, that from the varia¬
tion in these univei'sal and (as I may say) primary forms,
arise most of those secondary forms usually called quan¬
tities sensible, because they are the proper objects of our
several sensations. Such are roughness and smoothness,
hardness and softness; the tribes of colours, savours, odours;
not to mention those powers of character more subtile, the
powers electric, magnetic, medicinal, &c.
“ Here therefore we may answer the question, how na¬
tural bodies are distinguished. Not a single one among
them consists of materials in chaos, but of materials wrought
up after the most exquisite manner, and that conspicuous
in their organization, or in their figure, or in both. As
therefore every natural body is distinguished by the dif¬
ferences just described, and as these differences have no¬
thing to do with the original matter, which, being every-
1 In a note, he savs, “ This reasoning has reference to what the ancients called vXn the immediate matter, in opposition to
■jXy, the remote or primary matter.’’
2 He must mean only bodily substances; for it is not admitted by such philosophers as make a distinction between mind and body,
that the one ever passes into the other.
s “ Original body,” he says, “ when we look downward, has reference to the primary matter, its substratum : when we look up¬
wards, it becomes itself a matter to other things; to the elements, as commonly called, air, earth, water, &c. and in consequence to
all the variety of natural productions.”
Qifie
Cpposj
tip of
Boi's>
.Matt:
anno ie
lestitie
■f sol I ty.
METAP
where similar, can afford no distinction at all; may we not
■ here infer the expediency of essential forms, that every
natural substance may be essentially characterized ? These
^ forms, though they differ from matter, can yet never sub¬
sist without it; but, united with it, they help to produce
every composite being, that is to say, in other words,
every natural substance in the visible world. It must be
remembered, however, that it is the form in this union
which is the source of all distinction. It is by this that the
ox is distinguished from the horse, not by that grass on
which they subsist, the common matter to both. To which
also may be added, that as figures and sensible qualities
are the only objects of our sensations, and these are all
parts of natural form ; so therefore (contrary to the senti¬
ment of the vulgar, who dream of nothing but of mat¬
ter) it is form which is in truth the whole that we either
hear, see, or feel; nor is mere matter any thing better
than an obscure imperfect being, knowable only to the
reasoning faculty by the two methods already explained, I
mean that of analogy and that of abstraction. Here, there¬
fore, we conclude with respect to sensible forms, that is
to say, forms immerged in matter and ever inseparable
from it. In these and matter we place the elements of na¬
tural substance.^
If this extract appear long, let it be remembered that it
contains the fullest and most perspicuous detail which is
to be found in the English language, of a doctrine of which
the author of Ancient Metaphysics supposes Mr Locke to
have been ignorant; and for which ignorance he affects to
treat the English philosopher with supercilious contempt.
Had Mr Locke really been ignorant of the ancient doctrine
of matter and form, it is probable that most people will be
of opinion that the contempt expressed by his censurer
might have been spared ; but if it should appear that, as
far as this theory is intelligible, it differs not, excepting in
words, from the doctrine laid down in the Essay concern¬
ing Human Understanding, what shall we think of that
zeal for ancient phrases which had influence sufficient to
make one respectable philosopher pour contempt upon an¬
other who was an ornament to his country ?
What Mr Harris has said of matter and form respecting
works of art, is sufficiently intelligible, and extremely just.
Nor should wre object to the account which he gives of
the origin of natural body, if he had not divested his first
matter of every power and every quality, solidity and ex¬
tension not excepted. But though we can suppose body
H Y SI C S. 645
divested of any one particular figure, and of every sensible Of the
quality, such as colour, odour, tastes, &c. and the substra- Composi-
turn or basis or matter of it still remain the same, yet it of
seems impossible to conceive it divested of solidity with- v J)odles-
out supposing it totally annihilated. Nay, if we have any
just notion at all of solidity, it is evidently inseparable from
the substratum of body, whatever that substratum may be ;
and indeed, though Mr Harris divests his first matter of
every attribute, the argument by which he proves the ne¬
cessary existence of such a being does not require its pri¬
vation to be so universal. “ Had the primary matter,”
says he, “ in its proper nature, any one particular attri¬
bute, so as to prevent its privation from being unlimited
and universal, such attribute would run through all things,
and be conspicuous in all.” This indeed is obvious and
undeniable; but solidity and extension do in fact run
through all things into which the substratum or matter of
body is ever formed, or ever can be conceived to be form¬
ed ; and therefore there is no necessity for supposing the
first matter divested of these attributes.1 11
Mr Harris mentions that both Timseus and Plato drop
expressions as if they considered matter to be place ; but
place, as will afterwards be seen, can be the basis of no¬
thing. He likewise quotes a passage from Ammonius on
the predicaments, in which it is said “ that there never
was in actuality either matter without body, or body with¬
out quality and we appeal to our readers if it be not abso¬
lutely impossible to contemplate such a thing even in idea.
To the question, whether the first matter has a separate
existence by itself, distinct from all the qualities of body,
the author of Ancient Metaphysics answers thus : “ We
have no idea of it existing separately, because we find no '
such a thing in nature, from which we draw all our ideas;
but whether there may not be such a thing existing in the
regions of infinite space, as matter without form and di¬
mensions, is what I think no man can take upon him to
decide.” But, with all submission, if a man cannot decide
this question with the utmost certainty, his three ponde¬
rous volumes are nothing better than useless paper; for
the subject of them is things existing; and concerning ex¬
istence we know nothing with greater certainty than that
a being of which nothing positive can be affirmed, cannot
possibly have any existence.
That, in the world which we inhabit, bodily substances Some first
of every kind, whether natural or artificial, either imme-matter
diately or mediately pass into one another, is a truth which common to
all bodies.
1 Nor does it appear that it was divested of them by all the ancient philosophers. We learn from Cudworth, that “ the atomical
pi physiology, the most ancient perhaps of any, teaches that body is nothing else but Wra™ avTiTuvro]!, extended bulk ; and that nothing
is to be attributed to it but what is included in the nature and idea of it, viz. greater or less magnitude, with divisibility into parts,
figure, and position, together with motion or rest, but so as that no part of body can ever move itself.” And, consequently, this phi¬
losopher supposes that “ there is no need of any thing else besides the simple elements of magnitude, figure, site, and motion (which
11 are clearly intelligible, or different modes of extended substance), to solve the corporeal phenomena by; and therefore not of any
su substantial forms distinct from the matter; nor of any other qualities really existing in the bodies without, besides the results or
jf aggregates of those simple elements, and the disposition of the insensible parts of bodies in respect of figure, site, and motion ; nor
of any intentional species or shows propagated from the objects to our senses ; nor, lastly, of any other kind of motion or action really
distinct from local motion (such as generation and alteration), they being neither intelligible as modes of extended substance, nor any
» way necessary : Forasmuch as the forms and qualities of bodies may well be conceived to be nothing but the result of those simple
elements of magnitude, figure, site, and motion, variously compounded together, in the same manner as syllables and words in great
variety result from the different combinations and conjunctions of a few letters, or the simple elements of speech ; and the corporeal
parts of sensation, and particularly that of vision, may be solved only by local motion of bodies, that is, either by corporeal effluvia
(e (called simulacra, membrance, and exuviai) streaming continually from the surface of the objects, or rather, as the later and more refined
atomists conceived, by pressure made from the object to the eye, by means of light in the medium. So that a; ha. (iaxm^at rou
Ts - ra^ivrcs ai^os ro avayytxXiTai, the sense taking cognizance of the object by the subtile interposed medium, that is tense and
8t stretched (thrusting every way from it upon the optic nerves), doth by that, as it were by a staff, touch it. Again, generation and
co corruption may be sufficiently explained by concretion and secretion, or local motion, without substantial forms and qualities. And,
la lastly, those sensible ideas of light and colours, heat and cold, sweet and bitter, as they are distinct things from the figure, site, and
U | motion of the insensible parts of bodies, seem plainly to be nothing else but our own fancies, passions, and sensation,"however they
be be vulgarly mistaken for qualities in the bodies without us.” (Cudworth’s Intellectual System, book i. chap, i.)
This, as will be seen by and by, is the philosophy of Newton, Locke, and all their followers. And that it is the genuine philosophy
oj | of the ancient atomists, we may safely take the word of the author whom we have quoted ; for no modern has been more conver-
$a I sant with their writings, more completely master of their language, or has given their sense with greater accuracy- Those authors,
tl therefore, who in their zeal for ancient metaphysics would explode the physiology of Newton and Locke, and substitute in its stead
tli ! Aristotelian doctrine of matter and form, belie their own pretences; for the theory which they would banish is more ancient than
H that which they introduce, and we appeal to our readers if it be not more intelligible.
646
METAPHYSICS.
Of the
Composi¬
tion of
Bodies.
Of the na
ture of
this, all
men are
ignorant.
How we
know that
the things
perceived
are quali¬
ties.
cannot be denied ; and therefore it follows, that there must
be some one primary matter common to all things. In
the modern philosophy this primary matter is considered as
solid, and as the substratum of all bodies; and all those
things which, in the language of Mr Harris, are compre¬
hended under thetappellation of form, are called qualities;
so that on this subject the ancient and the modern philoso¬
phy differ in nothing but in the latter using the word quali¬
ties instead of the word form ; and defining the first mat¬
ter to be, “ a solid substance everywhere the same,’’whilst
the ancient philosophy considers it as void of solidity.
Of the nature of this first matter all philosophers are
equally ignorant; for, as Mr Harris says, it is in truth
form ; or, as modern philosophers would say, they are in
truth qualities, which are the whole that we either hear,
or see, or feel, or of which we have either idea or concep¬
tion. Mr Locke says expressly, “ that if any one will ex¬
amine himself concerning his notion of pure substance in
general, he will find that he has no other idea of it at all,
but only a supposition of he knows not what support of
such qualities as are capable of producing simple ideas
in us.”
But how, it has been asked, do we know that the things
which we perceive are qualities, and cannot exist with¬
out a subject ? We answer, because every one of them,
except solidity, may be changed or destroyed, and the
subject in which they inhere still remain. Thus, though
wax may be melted or burned, and be no longer a hard red
substance of such a figure and such a smell, the matter
which supported the hardness, figure, colour, and smell,
still remains; for melted wax or ashes is as much a solid
substance as is that which may be used for the sealing of
letters or documents. It has been said that solidity is the
substratum of body and men have been probably led into
this notion from a conviction that such substratum, what¬
ever it be, is and must be solid ; but that solidity is only
a quality inseparable from the first matter, and not that
matter itself, must be evident from this consideration, that
solidity is the same in all bodies, and incapable of produ¬
cing by itself any other effect than that of excluding from
the place occupied by it every other solid substance. It
could not of itself be the substratum of colour, taste, or
smell, otherwise all bodies would be coloured, sapid, and
odorous ; and as, according to all our notions of it, it is in¬
capable of any change, it could not by itself be so modi¬
fied as to excite in us these sensations.
-The things, then, immediately perceived by us, or of nr
which we have any adequate idea or conception, are only Col
qualities which must belong to a subject; and all that we tiori
knovy about this subject is, that it is that to which such
qualities belong. From this it is evident, that our notion
Ip
if
i  -a- * a ll/ 10 cviutm, mat our notion ~
ot matter, as distinguished from its qualities, is a relative2 °,ur
q r» ri n r\as* 11 •• a 4- • ./-*»■»   ,1 • * .. 01 Ifint
and obscure notion, and must remain such until men receive • ,
other faculties. In this the philosopher seems to haveanLh
no advantage above the vulgar; for as the latter perceive scure
colour, and figure, and motion, by their senses, as well as
he does, and as both are equally certain that there is a
suDject of those qualities, so the notions which both have
of this subject are equally obscure ; or, to speak more pro¬
perly, they have no positive notion of it at all. When a phi¬
losopher calls it the first matter, a substratum, or a subject
of inhesion, those learned words convey no meaning but
what every man understands and expresses, by saying, in
common language, that it is a thing extended, solid, and
moveable.
I hey aie therefore qualities, or, in the language of an¬
cient philosophy, forms alone, about which, in corporeal
substance, we can reason with precision and certainty ; and
it is sufficient for all the purposes of life that we have of
them an adequate knowledge. For as the first matter or
onginal substratum of all bodies seems to be the same, al¬
though we know not what it is, and as one body is distin¬
guished iiom another only by its qualities or powers, a
knowledge of the nature ot these is all that can be neces¬
sary to direct our conduct with respect to the various ob¬
jects with which we are surrounded.
Qualities thus considered in bodies are, first, such as Qualitk
aie utterly inseparable from the body, in what state so- primary
evei it is ; such as, in all the changes and alterations which an(Leco
it suffers, and under all the force which can be employed^
upon it, it constantly exhibits. Thus, in the instance al-
ready given, a stick of sealing-wax may, by the operation
or fne, be rendered liquid, or reduced to smoke and ashes ;
and when it has undergone these changes, it has lost many
ot the sensible qualities which it had when a long round
substance, fit for the purpose ot sealing letters; but other
qualities which were then perceivable in it still remain;
for not only liquid wax, but every particle of smoke and
ashes, is solid and extended, as well as the hardest or the
laigest body ; and every such particle has likewise some
figure, and is capable ot motion or rest. Again, if a grain
of wheat, or any other corporeal substance, be divided into
1 The philosophers of most eminence who have maintained this opinion are*Dr Watts, the author of Procedure, Extent and Limits of
the Human Understanding; and Dr Law, the bishop of Carlisle, who, in a note upon King’s Origin of Evil, wives the oninion of the
tr,umv,rate in the following .ordS, “ We find by experience, that « thing will alway, exhibit the^ame ap^eaSncea in someripeefo!
though it admit of changes in others ; or, 111 Mr Locke s language, that certain numbers of simple ideas go constantly together, whereas
some others do not. I he former of these we call the substance, thing, or being, itself; the latter are termed its modes' or accidents. Thus
the substance ol body, ™ far as we know of it, consists in solidity and extension ; which being necessarily finite, it also becomes capable
ot division, figure, and motion. These are its original inseparable qualities, which constitute the thing, and seem not to depend on anv
thing else as a subject. But a particular figure, motion, &c. are only accidents or modes of its existence; which do not necessarily
attend it, though they themselves cannot be supposed to exist without it. The substance of spirit consists in the powers of thinking
and acting, which likewise admit of various modifications. This seems to be all that we can learn concerning the nature of things
irom observation and experience. To inquire into the manner how these, which we call properties, exist together, or to attempt to
explain the cause, ground, or reason of their union, is in vain. To assign the word substance for a representation of it, is sayinw no-
thing ; it is setting a mere word for what we have neither any idea of nor occasion for. Indeed if we consider these primary qualities
as needing something to inhere in, we are obliged to seek for something to support them ; and, by the same wav of reasoning, we mav
seek tor something else to support that other something, and so on ; and at last shall find no other support'for the whole but the
cause which produced it.” “ Dr Watts,” continues the Bishop, “ is of opinion, that it is introducing a needless scholastic notion into
the real nature of things, and then fancying it to have a real existence.” {Logic, p. 14.) The author of the Procedure, Extent, &c.
attnms, that, as tar as we directly know the essential properties of any substance, so far we have a direct knowledge of the substance
itselt; and it we had a direct knowledge of all the essential properties of any substance, we should have an adequate knowledge of
that substance; for surely, it there be any meaning in words, the knowing any thing of the essential properties of a thing is knowing
so much ot its very substance.” ° a
That the substance of body consists in solidity and extension, and nothing more, and that these depend not upon any thino- else as
a subject, cannot be true ; for solidity, in our concention. isnothino- but imnenntrnhilit-.v ? but
^ #  ~unau Liiccc ucpuuu not upon any inmff eise
. rue; tor solidity, in our conception, is nothing but impenetrability ; but whoever uses the word impenetrability,
certamiy means that there is something impenetrable. That there is some real thing or being different from solidity and extension,
nth the notion that it is solid and extended. is self-evident to all mankrirwl Tf‘if
- — 7 -t-xxau 10 cuiiit: icai tiling ui uemg umerent irom solidity and extension,
which impresses us with the notion that it is solid and extended, is self-evident to all mankind. If it be not matter, these conceptions
must be communicated to us by the immediate agency of the Deity, which seems to have been the real opinion of the Bishop of Car¬
lisle. But this differs not from the theory of Berkeley, which we shall consider by and by.
2 Ileid’s Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man.
METAPHYSICS.
Ofne
ComJsi
tiopf
Bc:3S.
odilyn
laliti
oftlt
rts.
two parts, and each part be again divided without end,
still the smallest particle of it will be solid, extended, of
some figure, and capable of further division. Solidity,
^ extension, divisibility, and motion or rest, are therefore
qualities inseparable from body, and have on that account
been with great propriety called its original or primary
qualities. 1 ^
There are othei qualities, which in truth are nothin^ in
the bodies themselves, but powers, arising from the mag-
nitude, the figure, the texture, and the motion, of their in¬
sensible paits, to produce in us various sensations. Such are
coloui s, sounds, tastes, and odours. These have been de¬
nominated secondary qualities ; and to them may be added
a third sort, which are universally allowed to be barely
powers, though they are in fact as much real qualities in
the subject as those we have just mentioned. Thus the
power in fire to produce by its primary qualities a new co¬
lour or consistency in wax or clay, is as much a quality
in the fire as the power which it has to produce in us 'a
new sensation of warmth or burning. That colours, tastes,
sounds, and odours, as they are perceived by us, are mere
sensations, has been already proved; and that the powers
in the bodies which produce these sensations are not, like
solidity and extension, inseparable from the body to which
they may belong, is evident, because a piece of red wax
may be i educed to black ashes, and because, by pounding
an almond, we may change its clear white colour into a
dirty hue, and its pleasant taste into one that is oily and
rancid; and a single rent through the body of a bell de¬
stroys its sound.
ihe primary qualities of body have a real existence in¬
dependently of us and of every other creature. Thus the
particular bulk, number, figure, and motion of the parts
of hi e or snow are really in the fire or snow, whether any
mans senses perceive them or not; and therefore these
may be called real qualities, because they really exist in
the bodies. But light, heat, whiteness, or cold, as they
are perceived by us, are no more really in fire or in snow,
than sickness is in tartar or pain in a sword. Take away
the sensations of them; let not the eyes see light or co¬
lours, nor the ears hear sounds; let not the palate taste
nor the nose smell; and all colours, tastes, odours, and
sounds, as they are such particular sensations, vanish and
cease, and are reduced to their causes, that is, to the bulk,
figure, and motion of the parts of the body.
Ihe qualities, then, which are in bodies, rightly consider¬
ed, are of three sorts. 1. The bulk, figure,number, situation,
and motion or rest, of their solid parts. Of these, as they
are in themselves, we have clear and distinct notions. We
know that they are in the body whether we perceive them
or not, and we call them primary or essential qualities. 2.
Ihe power that is in any body, by reason of its internal
texture and insensible primary qualities, to operate upon
our senses in a peculiar manner, producing in us the dif-
lerent sensations of colours, sounds, tastes, or smells, &c.
Ifiese we have denominated secondary qualities, but they
are often termed sensible qualities. 3. The power that is
m any body, by reason of the particular constitution of its
primary qualities, to effect such a change in the bulk,
guie, texture, and motion of another body, as to make it
operate on our senses differently from what it did before.
Ihus, the sun has a power to make wax white, and fire
to make lead fluid. These are universally called powers ;
out we have no such notions of them as we have of the
primary qualities of bodies. We know that they exist,
out we know not what they are. It has indeed been dis¬
covered that the sensation of smell is occasioned by the
emuvia of bodies -,1 that of sound by their vibration. The
647
disposition of bodies to reflect a particular kind of light oc- Of the
Bodies.
casions the sensation of colour; and the operation of the Composi-
mmute parts of bodies upon the nerves of the tongue and tion of
palate is the cause of tastes. Very curious discoveries,
have been made as to the nature of heat and its manner of
operating, and an ample field still remains. We are like¬
wise intuitively certain, that body can operate upon body
only by impulse; but how certain impulses upon certain
organs should produce sensations in us to which there is
nothing similar in the impelling body, is equally unknown
to the clown and the philosopher.
Such is the distinction which in modern philosophy is Doctrine
made between primary and secondary qualities ; but it is°fthe an'
a distinction which was likewise well known to that sect alo¬
of ancient philosophers who were denominated atomists. m'StS*
At the head of these were Thales and Pythagoras; and
we may infer from Aristotle, that the sect comprehended
almost ail the physiologists who had taught before himself
and Plato ; for he says,s “ Democritus, and most of the
physiologists, fall into a great absurdity, since they make
all sense to be touch, and resolve sensible qualities into
the figures of insensible atoms.” And he adds, that “ the
former physiologists (without exception) said not well, that
there is no black and white without the sight, nor bitter
and sweet without the taste.” He elsewhere3 tells us
that those philosophers explained generation and alteration
without forms and qualities, by figures and local motion.
Democritus and Leucippus having made figures (or vari¬
ously figured atoms) the first principles, make generation
and alteration out of these, namely, generation together
with corruption from the concretion and secretion of them
but alteration from the change of their order and position ”
By tiie atomic physiologists the name of quality was very
generally applied to those things only which we have called
secondary qualities. The primary, being considered as
essential to matter, were seldom, if ever, called qualities.
That the atoms, which they held to be the first principles of
bodies, were figured, solid, extended, and moveable, is ap¬
parent not only from the short view of their system which
we have given from Cudworth, but likewise from the pas¬
sages which we have just quoted from Aristotle; but the
question debated between them and their antagonists was
whether those atoms had smell, taste, and colour, or, as it
was commonly expressed, whether they had qualities.
Demociitus, Leucippus, and the other atomists, we see
maintained that they had not; and the following account
of the doctrine of Protagoras, another philosopher of that
school, shows that on this subject at least the ancient ad¬
vocates for the atomic system reasoned as justly as any
of the moderns, and much more justly than the Peripate¬
tics and Platonists, by whom they were opposed. Plato
haying in his Thecetetus first said in general that the
philosophy of Protagoras made all things to consist of a
commixture of atoms and local motion, represents his doc¬
trine concerning colours in particular after this manner:
Tirst, as to that which belongs to the sight, you must
conceive what is called a white or black colour not to be
any thing absolutely existing either without your eyes or
within your eyes ; but black and white, and every other
colour, are caused by different motions made upon the eye
from objects differently modified ; so that it is nothin- ei¬
ther m the agent or patient absolutely, but somethin-
which arises from between them both.” From this pas-
sage U is plain that Protagoras thought of colours exactly
as Mr Locke thought, that they are not real qualities ex¬
isting in bodies, but merely sensations excited in our
minds; and indeed he is presently after represented as
laving called them nva sv r\;m ^r/cr/xara, certain fancies or
JS «SS1cal,.“dleCtUal P0We,'S °f Man’ ‘md LoCle;Sj:agr "" Hum.,, Understanding.
1 De Gcnerationc et CorrujjUone^ lib. i. cap. ii.
648
METAPHYSICS.
Of the
Essences
of l»odies.
appearances in ns. But there is in the Thecetetus another
passage, in which a fuller account is given of the atomic
philosophy, to this purpose : “ The principle upon which
all these things depend is this, that the whole universe is
motion of atoms, and nothing else, which motion is consi¬
dered two ways, and is accordingly called by two names,
action and passion. From the mutual congress, and, as it
were, attrition of these together, are begotten innumerable
offsprings, which, though infinite in number, yet may be
reduced to two general heads, sensibles and sensations,
which are both generated at the same time. The sensa¬
tions are seeing, hearing, and the like; and the corre¬
sponding sensibles are colours, sounds, &c. Wherefore, when
the eye and its proper object meet together, both the a)<s-
^?jroi/and the akdr\<sig, the sensible idea of white and black, and
the sensation of seeing, are generated together, neither of
which would have been produced if those two had not met.
The like is to be conceived of all other sensibles, as hot
and cold, &c. None of these are absolutely things in
themselves, or real qualities in external objects; but they
are begotten from the mutual congress of agent and pa¬
tient, and that by motion : so that neither the agent has
any such thing in it before its congress with the patient,
nor the patient before its congress with the agent. But
the agent and patient meeting together, and begetting
sensation and sensibles, both the object and the sentient
are forthwith made to be so and so qualified ; as when ho¬
ney is tasted, the sensation of tasting and the quality of
sweetness are begotten together, though the sensation
be vulgarly attributed to the taster, and the quality of
sweetness to the honey.” The conclusion of all which
is summed up thus: “ Not one of these sensible things is
any thing absolutely in the object without, but they are
all generated or made relative to the sentient.”
The language of the ancient philosophy was defective
in precision ; terms were used vaguely and improperly, so
that the meaning of the author is often to be collected only
from the context. When Protagoras is here made to say,
that when the agent and patient meet together, both the
object and the sentient are forthwith made to be so and so
qualified, as, when honey is tasted, the sensation of tasting
and the quality of sweetness are begotten together, it
could not be his meaning that any real change is made
upon the external object merely by our tasting it, but only
that the actual sensation and the sensible idea of sweet¬
ness are produced at once; just as he had said before that
the sensible idea of white or black, and the sensation of
seeing, are generated together. If his words be thus in¬
terpreted, they express a noble truth ; and the whole pas¬
sage shows that the ancient atomic theory differed little, if at
all, from the theory of Descartes, Newton, and Locke, being
the most rational, as well as the earliest, system of physics
with which we have any acquaintance. By divesting body
of essential forms distinct from matter and motion, and by
giving to the first matter extension and solidity, it renders
the corporeal world intelligible, and accounts for those
appearances which are called secondary qualities in a man¬
ner perfectly satisfactory. Aristotle indeed opposed the
atomic philosophy, and had influence enough to bring it
into disrepute for many ages; but when he insisted that
the two constituent principles of body are matter and form,
both independent of all sentient beings, and which may be
conceived as existing distinct from each other, he substi¬
tuted for a simple and sublime theory an absurd and in¬
comprehensible fiction.
subject; but there is still more to be done. Metaphysi* Ofth*
cians, ancient and modern, have introduced another term I'.ssenc;
into the science to denote that which distinguishes one oflkxli
species or sort of bodies from all other species or sorts
... i • i , . - file ess,
and this term we shall briefly explain. Gold is apparently ces
different from lead, and from every other species of me-dies° 1
tal; a horse is apparently different from an ox, and from
every other species of animals; and all animals apparent¬
ly differ from all vegetables, as vegetables differ from me¬
tals.
It is only with the bodies, not the minds, of animals, that Essentia
we|are at present concerned ; and we have seen that all forms-
bodies are composed of the same matter. What then is it
that makes different bodies exhibit to us such different
appearances, or, in other words, how come they to be pos¬
sessed of such different qualities and powers? It is, say
thej'followers of Plato and Aristotle, from their having
different essential forms, by which every natural substance
is essentially characterized ; for of every animal, vegetable,
or metal, &c. there is a form conceived, as existing before
the individuals in which it is incorporated, from which re¬
sult all the properties of that animal, vegetable, or metal,
such as figure, size, colour, and the other qualities percep¬
tible by our senses; but this internal and essential form
itself, from which all other forms result, is not perceptible
by our senses, nor even by our understanding directly
and immediately, nor otherwise than by the analogy for¬
merly mentioned. These essential forms, we are told,
mean something, which, although different from matter,
can yet never subsist without it; something which, united
with it, helps to produce every composite being, that is to
say, in other words, every natural substance in the visible
world.
This assertion Mr Harris submits with deference to his These
contemporaries ; because, says he, “ I speak perhaps of’foraslm m
spectres as shocking to some philosophers as those were to110 ™t-
iEneas which he met in his way to hell, Terribiles visumt
form<E.” The elegant author's unwillingness to frighten
his contemporaries, was a proof of his amiable and bene¬
volent disposition ; but there was no need for his suffering
from any such apprehension. Those spectres, apparently
so dreadful, had long before been laid to rest by the in¬
comparable Cudworth, who has demonstrated that essen¬
tial forms different from matter and motion, as they have
no real existence, had no place in the most ancient philo¬
sophy ; and that the different appearances or sensible qua¬
lities which different bodies exhibit are the result of the
different contexture of their insensible parts. Thus gold
and lead are composed of the same primary matter, but
the atoms or minute parts of that matter are in the one
substance differently combined from what they are in the
other; and this different combination is the sole cause that
gold is specifically heavier than lead, more ductile, and of
a different colour, &c. For the very same reason, iron is
harder than either gold or lead, specifically lighter, and
possessed of many other sensible qualities which are not
found in either of these substances. One vegetable differs
from another externally in size, colour, taste, smell, rapidity
of growth, and proportion of parts, &c.; but all vegetables
are composed of the same matter, and tlm external differ¬
ence which prevails among them is the result of a different
structure and motion of their insensible parts. The same
is to be said of the differences which prevail amongst the
bodies of animals ; they all result from internal organiza¬
tion and motion, and from nothing else, whatever be the
immediate cause of that motion.
This particular internal texture and motion of inst—^ ^
s ensible There*!
CHAP. II. OF THE ESSENCES OF BODIES.
Having treated of the substance, qualities, and powers
of body, we may seem to have exhausted this part of our
parts is that which makes one sort of bodies differ exteJ'|)0(iiesui
nally from every other sort of bodies, and it is by modern
metaphysicians called the real essence of bodies. Thus,us,
that internal texture of minute parts, which makes gold o
i % ta
Mil
the
S'omi 1
'SSfIKi'
Of jie a bright yellow, extremely ductile, specifically heavier than
Exisiice all other metals, and soluble in aqua regia, is the real es-
ofM? er. sence of gold; but what that essence is in itself no man
can tell, as we perceive only the qualities which result
from it. We are, however, certain that it is different from
the real essences of lead and iron, because it produces dif¬
ferent effects from those which are produced by these es¬
sences, and different effects are never produced in the
same circumstances by the same cause.
We have called the internal texture and motion of the
insensible parts of bodies their real essences, to distinguish
them from other essences which are only nominal, and
with which we are perfectly acquainted, because they are
the fabrication of our own minds. Thus, a beautiful bright
yellow, a certain specific gravity, extreme ductility, and
solubility in aqua regia, are the qualities by which we dis¬
tinguish gold from all other metals. Of these qualities we
frame a sort of general conception, which we call the es¬
sence of gold, and every substance in which we find this
essence wre class under the specific name of gold. For
though it is obvious that our conceptions cannot be the
real essences of things external, yet are they sufficient
guides to these essences, as we know that bodies which,
being all formed of the same matter, have the very same
sensible qualities, must likewise have the same internal or¬
ganization or texture of parts, because it is only in that or¬
ganization or texture that one body can differ from another.
So much for bodily substance, qualities, and essences.
METAPHYSICS.
649
Of the
Existence
of Matter.
CHAP. III.—OF THE EXISTENCE OF MATTER.
ierkej-
We have endeavoured to prove that all corporeal sub-
Ihe m-stances consist of minute atoms, solid and extended ; and
m»tl- ^lat t^e sens^^e qualities of every body result from the
combination and motion of the atoms of which such body
is composed. The celebrated Berkeley, bishop of Cloyne,
however, attempted to demonstrate that these atoms have
no real existence, and that the very supposition of a solid,
extended, and inert substance, being the archetype of our
ideas, involves in it an absurdity and contradiction.
It is universally allowed that all our knowledge of mat¬
ter is derived through the senses, either immediately in
the very act of sensation, or mediately by an association
which is resolvable into a process of reasoning. According
to the principles which we have stated and laboured to es¬
tablish, matter itself is no immediate object of the senses;
and as these are the principles upon which the bishop
erected his demonstration, it will be incumbent upon us to
consider his theory, because it has been represented asfin
the highest degree pernicious, and as leading to universal
scepticism.
The author of the Essay on the Nature and Immutabi-
'ie vii
Ms th). i
wer of ^ mth represents Berkeley as teaching us, “ that
external objects (that is, the things which we take for ex
® his
c!">' nist
ternal objects) are nothing but ideas in, our minds; in
other words, that they are in every respect different from
what they appear to be; that matter exists not but in our
minds, and that, independent on us and our faculties, the
earth, the sun, and the starry heavens have no existence
at all; that a lighted candle hath not one of those quali¬
ties which it appears to have; that it is not white nor lu¬
minous, nor round, nor divisible, nor extended, but that,
for any thing we know, or can ever know, to the contrary,
it may be an Egyptian Pyramid, the king of Prussia, a
mad dog, the island of Madagascar, Saturn’s ring, one of
the Pleiades, or nothing at all.” With respect to the con¬
sequences of this theory, he affirms that “ it is subversive
of man’s most important interests as a moral, intelligent,
and percipient being ; and not only so, but also, that if it
were universally and seriously adopted, the dissolution of
VOL. xiv.
society, and the destruction of mankind, would necessarily
ensue within the compass of a month.”
Ihe dissolution of society and the destruction of man¬
kind are indeed dismal consequences, enough to make a
man shudder in his closet. But do they really flow from
Berkeley’s system ? They certainly do, if it* be the aim
of that system to prove that a candle has not any one qua¬
lity which it appears to have, and that it may be a mad
dog; for should all philosophers, by some means or other,
become converts to the theory of Berkeley, as we know
that the Bishops Sherlock, Smalridge, and others, actually
did, the dissolution of society and the destruction of man¬
kind would indeed be inevitable.
But, not to dwell upon such considerations, we beg leave A view of
to affirm, that the theory of Berkeley is here totally and theory
grossly misrepresented, and that not one of those dangerous
consequences which flow from that misrepresentation can be imselt'
fairly deduced from any thing taught in the Principles of
Human Knowledge, and the Dialogues on the Existence
of Matter. So far is Berkeley from teaching that external
things are nothing but ideas in our minds, and that they are
in every respect different from what they appear to be, that
he teaches the very reverse of this in the plainest language
possible. “ I am of a vulgar cast,” observes he, “ simple
enough to believe my senses, and leave things as I find
them. It is my opinion, that the real things are those very
things I see and feel and perceive by my senses. That a
thing should really be perceived by my senses, and at the
same time not really exist, is to me a plain contradiction.
When I deny sensible things an existence out of the mind,
I do not mean my mind in particular, but all minds. Now
it is plain they have an existence exterior to my mind,
since I find them by experience to be independent of it.
There is, therefore, some other mind wherein they exist
during the intervals between the times of my perceiving
them, as likewise they did before my birth, and would do
after mj' annihilation. And as the same is true with re¬
gard to all other finite created spirits, it necessarily follows
there is an omnipotent eternal mind, which knows and
comprehends all things, and exhibits them to our view in
such a manner, and according to such rules, as he himself
hath ordained, and are by us termed the laws of nature.”
So far is Berkeley from teaching that, independently of
us and our faculties, the earth, the sun, and the starry
heavens have no existence at all, and that a lighted candle
has not one of those qualities which it appears to have, that
he repeatedly affirms the direct contrary ; that the uni¬
verse has a real existence in the mind of that infinite God,
in whom, according to the scriptures, we all live, and
move, and have our being ; that a lighted candle has not
only all those qualities which it appears to have, but that
with respect to us it has nothing else; that, so far from
being continually deceived by our senses, we are never
deceived by them ; and that all our mistakes concerning
matter are the result of false inferences from true sensa¬
tions.
The bishop makes the same distinction which we have
made between ideas and notions, restraining the use of
the former term to denote the relicts of sensation, and em¬
ploying the latter to denote our knowledge or conception
of spirits, and all such objects as are not perceived by
sense. He likewise affirms that we can have no idea of
an external inert substance, because an idea can be like
nothing but another idea, or the sensation of which it is a
relict; and as all mankind admit that ideas and sensations
can have no existence but in the mind of a percipient
being, he therefore infers that we can have no idea of any
thing existing unperceived, and by consequence can have
no idea of matter in the philosophical sense of that word.
Solidity, extension, divisibility, motion, figure, colour,
taste, and all those things which are usually called quali-
4 N
650
METAPHYSICS.
Of the ties primary and secondary, being, according to him, mere
o^Matter itIeas’ can have no existence but in a mind perceiving
^ ^ i them ; but so far is he from supposing their existence to
depend upon the perception of our minds, that he says ex¬
pressly, “ When in broad day-light I open my eyes, it is
not in my power to choose whether I shall see or no, or to
determine what particular objects shall present themselves
to my view; and so likewise as to the hearing and other
senses, the ideas imprinted on them are not creatures of
my will. There is, therefore, some other will or spirit that
produces them. The question between the materialists
and me is not, whether things have a real existence out
of the mind of this or that person ; but whether they
have an absolute existence, distinct from being perceived
by God, and exterior to all minds. I assert, as well as
they, that since we are affected from without, wre must
allow powers to be without in a being distinct from our¬
selves. So far we are agreed. But then we differ as to
the kind of this powerful being. I will have it to be spi¬
rit ; they matter, or I know not what third nature. Thus
I prove it to be spirit: From the effects I see produced, I
conclude there are actions; and because actions, volitions
(for I have no notion of any action distinct from volition),
and because there are volitions, there must be a will.
Again, the things I perceive must have an existence, they
or their archetypes, out of my mind; but being ideas,
neither they nor their archetypes can exist otherwise than
in an understanding; there is, therefore, an understand¬
ing. But will and understanding constitute in the strict¬
est sense a mind or spirit. The powerful cause, therefore,
of my ideas is, in strict propriety of speech, a spirit.”
That theo- This is a faithful abstract of Berkeley’s theory, given in
ry possible, j^g own WOrds. Matter, according to him, cannot be the
pattern or archetype of ideas, because an idea can resem¬
ble nothing but another idea, or the sensation of w'hich it
is a relict. Matter, he thinks, cannot be the cause of ideas;
for every cause must be active, and matter is defined to be
inert and incapable of action. Pie therefore infers that all
our sensations of what we call the qualities of body are the
effects of the immediate agency of the Deity upon our
minds ; and that corporeal substance has no existence, or
at least that we have no evidence of its existence. That
such may possibly be the origin of our sensations no man
will deny who reflects upon the infinite power and wisdom
of the Agent from whom they are conceived to proceed.
Dr Reid himself, the ablest of all Dr Berkeley’s opponents,
frankly acknowledges that no man “ can show, by any
good argument, that all our sensations might not have been
as'they are, though no body or quality of body had ever
existed.”
Harmless In its consequences we do not perceive that this theory
in its con- can be hurtful either to religion, to virtue, or to the busi-
sequences. ness 0f common pfe . for it only explodes the notion of a
substratum, which, though it may have a real existence,
was never thought of by the generality of mankind in any
nation under heaven. Dr Beattie indeed affirms, that in
“ less than a month after the non-existence of matter should
be universally admitted, he is certain there could not, with¬
out a miracle, be one human creature alive on the face of
the earth.” But this assertion must be the consequence of
his mistaking Berkeley’s non-existence of matter for the
non-existence of sensible objects, the reality and existence
of which the bishop never denied. On the contrary, he
expressly says, “ We are sure that we really see, hear,
feel; in a word, that we are affected with sensible impres¬
sions ; and how are we concerned any farther ? I see this
cherry, 1 feel it, I taste it; and I am sure nothing cannot
be seen, or felt, or tasted; it is therefore real. Take away
the sensation of softness, moisture, redness, tartness, and
you take away the cherry.” All this is equally true, and
equally conceivable, whether the combined sensations which
indicate to us the existence of the cherry be the effect of Oftb
the immediate agency of God or of the impulse of matter Existei
upon our minds ; and to the lives of men there is no greater of Matt
danger in adopting the former than the latter opinion. ''"’■"Y',
But it has been said that Berkeley’s doctrine necessarily A const
leads to scepticism in religion, as the same kind of reason- quence
ing which he employs to prove the non-existence of mat-Kerliek
ter operates equally against the existence of mind, and con-theorl’'
sequently against the possibility of a future state of rewards
and punishments. “ The rational issue of this system,”
we are told, “ is scepticism with regard to every thing
excepting the existence of our ideas and their necessary
relations. For ideas being the only objects of thought,
and having no existence but when we are conscious of
them, it necessarily follows that there is no object of our
thought which can have a continued and permanent exist¬
ence. Body and spirit, cause and effect, time and space,
to which we were wont to ascribe an existence independent
of our thought, are all turned out of existence by this short
dilemma. Either those things are ideas of sensation or re¬
flection, or they are not.: If they are ideas of sensation or
reflection, they can have no existence but when w e are con¬
scious of them : If they are not ideas of sensation or reflec¬
tion, they are words without any meaning.”
This sophism was advanced as a consequence of Ber¬
keley’s principles by Mr Hume ; and upon these princi¬
ples it has been deemed unanswerable by subsequent phi¬
losophers of great merit. But is it really a part of Berke¬
ley’s system, or can it be fairly inferred from the princi¬
ples on which that system is built? These questions it is
fit that Berkeley should answer for himself; and we shall
venture to assert that his answer will be perfectly satis¬
factory to every reader who attends to the distinction
which, after the bishop, we have stated between ideas and
notions.
Though we believe that this dangerous inference from
Berkeley’s principles is commonly attributed to Hume as its
author, it did not escape the sagacity of the bishop himself.
In the third dialogue, Flylas, who pleads for the existence
of matter, thus objects to the reasoning of his antagonist.
“ Notwithstanding all you have said, to me it seems tliat,
according to your own way of thinking, and in consequence
of your own principles, it should follow that you are only a
system of floating ideas, without any substance to support
them. Words are not to be used without a meaning. And
as there is no more meaning in spiritual substance than in
material substance, the one is to be exploded as well as the
other.” To this Philonus answers: “ Flow often must I re¬
peat, that I know or am conscious of my own being; and
that I myself am not my ideas, but somewhat else, a think¬
ing active principle, that perceives, knows, wills, and ope¬
rates about ideas; I know' that I, one and the same self, per¬
ceive both colours and sounds; that a colour cannot perceive
a sound, nor a sound a colour; that I am therefore one in¬
dependent principle, distinct from colour and sound, and,
for the same reason, from all other sensible things and
inert ideas. But I am not in like manner conscious either
of the existence or essence of matter. Farther, I know
what I mean when I affirm that there is a spiritual sub¬
stance or support of ideas; i. e. that a spirit knows and
perceives ideas. But I do not know what is meant when
it is said that an unperceiving substance hath inherent in
it, and supports, either ideas or the archetypes of ideas. In
the very notion or definition of material substance there is
included a manifest repugnance and inconsistency. But
this cannot be said of the notion of spirit. That ideas
should exist in what doth not perceive, or be produced by
what doth not act, is repugnant. But it is no repugnancy
to say that a perceiving thing should be the subject of
ideas, or an active being the cause of them. That I, who
am a spirit or thinking substance, exist, I know as cer-
METAPHYSICS.
Of ie tainly as I know that my ideas exist. I know likewise
Exfence w]iat I mean by the terms / and myself; and I know this
ofMlten iramediately or intuitively, though I do not perceive it as
I perceive a triangle, a colour, or a sound. Ideas are
things inactive and perceived ; and spirits a sort of beings
altogether different from them, by which they are per¬
ceived. I do not therefore say that my soul is an idea, or
like an idea. However, taking the word idea in a large
sense, my soul may be said to furnish me with an idea,
that is, an image or likeness of God, though indeed ex¬
tremely inadequate. For all the notion I have of God is
obtained on reflecting on my own soul, heightening its
powers, and removing its imperfections. I have, there¬
fore, though not an inactive idea, yet in myself some sort
of an active thinking image of the Deity. And though I
perceive him not by sense, yet I have a notion of him, or
know him, by reflection and reasoning. My own mind
and my own ideas I have an immediate knowledge of, and
by the help of these do immediately apprehend the possi¬
bility of the existence of other spirits and ideas. Far¬
ther, from my being, and from the dependency I find in
myself and my ideas, I do by an act of reason necessarily
infer the existence of a God, and of all created things in
the mind of God. It is granted that we have neither an
immediate evidence nor a demonstrative knowledge of
the existence of other finite spirits ; but it will not there¬
fore follow that such spirits are on a footing with material
substances; if to suppose the one be inconsistent, and if
it be not inconsistent to suppose the other; if the one can
be inferred by no argument, and there is a probability of
the other; if we see signs and effects indicating distinct
finite agents like ourselves, and see no sign nor symptom
whatever that leads to a rational belief of matter. I
say, lastly, that I have a notion of spirit, though I have
not, strictly speaking, an idea of it. I do not perceive it
as an idea, or by means of an idea; but know it by reflec¬
tion. Whereas I neither perceive matter objectively as I
do an idea, nor know it as I do myself by a reflex act;
neither do I mediately apprehend it by similitude of the
one or the other, nor yet collect it by reasoning from that
which I know immediate!}'’. All which makes the case
of matter widely different from that of the Deity and all
spirits.”
I bus far we consider Berkeley’s theory tenable, and its
consequences harmless. That by the immediate agency
of the Deity all our sensations might be what they are, al¬
though matter had no existence, we think he has proved
by arguments unanswerable ; and we are likewise of opi¬
nion, that by admitting the evidence of sense, conscious¬
ness, and reason, in their fullest extent, and by distin¬
guishing properly between those things of which we have
ideas and those of which we have notions, he has suffi¬
ciently secured the existence of spirits or percipient be¬
ings, and obviated the irreligious sophistry of Hume be¬
fore it was conceived by that author. But the good bishop
does not stop here. Not satisfied with proving that all our
sensations lead us immediately to the Deity, and that, for
aught we know, matter, as defined by philosophers, may
have no separate existence, he proceeds farther, and en¬
deavours to prove that matter cannot possibly exist. This
appears even in the extracts which we have quoted from
his book, in which he talks of the repugnance and incon¬
sistency of the notion. In this part of his system we
think he errs greatly, and advances an opinion altogether
inconsistent with his owrn just principles.
I he repugnance of which he speaks arises solely from
considering solidity and extension as relicts of sensation,
or as ideas of the same kind with those of heat and cold,
tastes and sounds. “ Light and colours, heat and cold, ex¬
tension and figures ; in a word, the things we see and
feel; what are they,” says his lordship, “ but so many sen-
mfeaj
:ofirg!
'»ve .
listen
mat
iposss
red
"'g J
nus.
651
sations, notions, ideas, or impressions, on sense : and is it Of the
possible to separate, even in thought, any of these from Existence
perception? Some there are who make a distinction be-.ot Matter-
twixt primaly and secondary qualities; by the former,
they mean extension, figure, motion, rest, solidity or im¬
penetrability, and number ; by the latter, they denote all
other sensible qualities, as colours, sounds, tastes, and so
forth. The ideas we have of these they acknowledge not
to be the resemblances of any thing existing without the
mind, or unperceived ; but they will have our ideas of the
primary qualities to be patterns or images of things which
exist without the mind, in an unthinking substance which
they call matter. But it is evident that extension, figure,
and motion, are only ideas existing in the mind; that
without extension, solidity cannot be conceived ; that an
idea can be like nothing but another idea; and that con¬
sequently neither they nor their archetypes can exist in
an unperceiving substance. Hence it is plain, that the
very notion of what is called matter or corporeal substance
involves a contradiction in it.”
This account of extension and solidity affords a striking
instance how much the most vigorous and upright mind is
liable to be warped by prejudice in behalf of a darling
theory, and how apt the clearest understanding is to be
blinded by the equivocal use of terms. That Bishop Ber¬
keley possessed a vigorous and perspicacious mind, his most
vehement antagonists are eager to admit; and that his in¬
tentions were good, is known to all Europe. Yet by the'
equivocal use of the word idea, which the writings of Mr
Locke had then introduced into the language of philo¬
sophy, he has here suffered himself to lose sight of a very
proper and accurate distinction, which, as far as we know,
was amongst die moderns first made by himself between
ideas and notions. According to the bishop, “ we have a
notion of power and a notion of spirits, but we can have
no idea either of the one or the other; for all ideas being-
passive and inert, they cannot represent unto us by way
of image or likeness that which acts. Such is the nature
of spirit, or that which acts, that it cannot be of itself per¬
ceived, but only by the effects which it produceth. It
must be owned, however, that we have some notion of
soul, spirit, and the operations of the mind, such as will¬
ing, loving, hating, inasmuch as we know or understand
the meaning of these words.”
Now, we beg leave to state, that what is here said of
spirits, and of which we readily admit the truth, is equal¬
ly true of material or solid substances. We have no ideas
of solidity and extension, because these things are not ori¬
ginally impressed upon the senses; but we have very dis¬
tinct though relative notions of them, for they are clearly
perceived by the effects which they produce. That this
is at least possible, we have the acknowledgment of
Bishop Berkeley himself; for he “ freely owns, that from
a cause, effect, operation, sign, or other circumstance,
there may reasonably be inferred the existence of a thing
not immediately perceived; and that it were absurd for
any man to argue against the existence of that thing,
from his having no direct and positive notion of it.” This
is exactly the case with respect to solid substances. These
substances we do not immediately perceive ; but we infer
their existence from effects, signs, and other
0 ,     circum¬
stances, and we have very clear though relative notions
of them. Thus a man can open and shut his empty hand ;
but when he grasps an ivory ball of three or four inches
diameter, he feels, that though the same power be exert¬
ed, his hand cannot then be shut. He is conscious that
there is no change in himself; and being intuitively cer¬
tain that every effect must have a cause, he infers, with
the utmost confidence, that the cause which prevents his
hand from shutting is in the ball; or, in other words, that
the thing which communicates to his eye the sensation of
652
METAPHYSICS.
Of the colour, and impresses upon his hand a sensation of touch,
Existence must be solid or impenetrable. Solidity, however, is not
ofMcitten tbg sensation itself; it is only the cause of the sensation;
'' and therefore it is so far from being an idea in our minds,
that we are conscious our notion of it is of a thing totally
different from all our ideas of a thing external, at least to
our minds. Indeed the notion itself is not positive; it is
only relative, and inferred from the effects which are pro¬
duced upon our senses. That it is the same thing which
communicates to the eye the sensation of colour, and has
the power of resisting the compression of our hand, is evi¬
dent, because, when the ball is thrown away, the resis¬
tance as well as the actual sensation vanishes at once.
The idea of From this fact, which a less acute man would think a
thtTT ^ Pro°f ^iat t^e resistance was not; occasioned by the im-
ofsoliditv med’at;e agency of the Supreme Being, but by the impe-
jiot insepa-ne*:ra^^ty °f a solid substance of small dimensions, the
rable. bishop argues thus against the possibility of such a sub¬
stance : “ They who assert that figure, motion, and the
. rest of the primary or original qualities, do exist without
the mind in unthinking substances, do at the same time
acknowledge that colours, sounds, heat, cold, and such
like secondary qualities, do not; which they tell us are
sensations existing in the mind alone, that depend on and
are occasioned by the different size, texture, and motion,
of the minute particles of matter. This they take for an
undoubted truth, which they can demonstrate beyond all
‘exception. Now, if it be certain, that those original qua¬
lities are inseparably united with the other sensible quali¬
ties, and not even in thought capable of being abstracted
from them, it plainly follows that they exist only in the
mind. But I desire any one to reflect and try whether he
can, by any abstraction of thought, conceive the extension
and motion of a body, without all other sensible qualities.
For my own part, I see evidently that it is not in my
power to frame an idea of a body extended and moved,
but I must withal give it some colour or other sensible
quality, which is acknowledged to exist only in the mind.
In short, extension, figure, and motion, abstracted from
all qualities, are inconceivable. Where, therefore, the
other sensible qualities are, there must be these also, to
wit, in the mind, and nowhere else.”
In this reasoning, although plausible, there is an unin¬
tentional fallacy. It is indeed true that we cannot contem¬
plate in imagination a solid substance without conceiving
it to have some colour; but there is sufficient reason to
believe that this union of colour and solidity in our minds
is not the effect of nature as it operates at first upon our
senses, but merely the consequence of early and deep-
rooted association. Bishop Berkeley has himself taught
us that the objects of sight are not at a distance ; and
that if a man born blind were suddenly made to see, he
would conceive the objects of his sight as existing either
in his eye or in his mind. This is a truth which no man
will controvert who has dipt into the science of optics, or
who has even paid the slightest attention to the percep¬
tions of infants ; and if so, it follows, that to a man born
blind and suddenly made to see, colour and solidity would
not appear united. Were such a person to lay hold of an
ivory ball and raise it to the elevation of his eye, he would
perceive whiteness as a new sensation existing in his eye
or Ins mind, but he would feel resistance at the extremity
of his arm. He would not have the least reason to con¬
clude, that this whiteness was inseparably united to the
cause of this resistance ; and he would, in fact, draw no
such conclusion, till experience had taught him, that by
removing the ball or cause of resistance from his hand, he
at the same time removed the sensation from his eye.
After repeated experiments, he would indeed discover,
that the cause of colour to the eye was likewise by some
means or other the cause of resistance to the hand; and he
would so associate these in his mind, that the one would Ofti,
never afterwards make its appearance as an idea or a no- Existed
tion without bringing the other along with it. The whole of W
difficulty, therefore, in this case, is to break an early and^Y'*'
deep-rooted association ; for it is plain that the associated
ideas were not originally united, and that solidity and co¬
lour were at first conceived as separate.
If the reader perceive not the force of this reasoning,
we beg leave to recommend to him the following experi¬
ment, which, if we mistake not, will carry conviction to
his judgment, that in the last-quoted passage Bishop
Berkeley has argued fallaciously, and that extension and
colour are not inseparably united as ideas in the mind.
Let him go into a dark room, containing a number of
spherical bodies of various colours; let him take one of
these into his hand, and he will instantly feel resistance,
and have a notion of extension and solidity ; but will he
likewise have the idea of colour inseparably united with
. this notion ? The bishop says he will; and if so, it must
be the idea of some particular colour ; for his lordship has
taught us that the abstract and general idea of colour,
which is neither red, nor green, nor blue, &c. cannot pos¬
sibly be formed. The man, then, we shall suppose,
whilst he feels resistance, conceives the resisting body to
be green ; and holding it still in his hand, walks into the
light of day. The resistance, and consequently the cause
of resistance, remain unchanged ; but what becomes of
the inseparable union of those with colour, when the body,
upon being actually seen, proves to be black, that is, to
have no colour at all ? It appears, therefore, undeniable,
that solidity and colour are not united in nature; that the
one is an essential quality of something external to us, of
which we have no idea, but a very distinct though rela¬
tive notion ; and that the other is an actual sensation in
our minds, caused by the impression of something exter¬
nal upon the organ of sense, which leaves behind it in the
memory or the imagination a positive and direct idea that
exists nowhere else.
Solid substance, therefore, may exist; for although it isMatterex-
not immediately perceived by the senses, and is a thingistsAutis
of which we can have no idea, we acquire a clear and ^‘s‘^Dg|)e[y0
tinct notion of it, by the very same means which BishopDe50u“
Berkeley thinks sufficient to give us distinct notions of
power and of spirits ; and, therefore, that notion cannot
involve in it a contradiction. Still, however, we would
not say with Dr Beattie, “ that we could as easily be¬
lieve that two and two are equal to ten, or that what¬
ever is, is not, as that matter has no separate existence.”
For it is certainly possible, that the Supreme Being, with¬
out the instrumentality of matter, could communicate to
our minds all the sensations and notions from which we
infer the reality of solid substance. All that we contend
for, as having the evidence of demonstration, is the possi¬
bility of solid and extended substance ; and if the thing
be possible, the general voice of mankind proclaims its
probability. We are conscious of our actual sensations,
and we know by experience that they are caused by some¬
thing distinct from ourselves. When a man grasps an
ivory ball, he feels that he cannot shut his hand, and he
knows that the resistance which prevents him proceeds not
from himself. Thus far indeed all mankind are agreed.
But Bishop Berkeley says, that the resistance proceeds
immediately from the Supreme Being, or some other spi¬
rit ; whilst we, without pretending that his scheme is im
possible, think it more natural to suppose that the man s
hand is kept from shutting by the resistance of a solid
substance of four inches diameter, of which substance,
although we have no idea of it, we have as distinct a no¬
tion as Berkeley had of spirits. From one or other of
these causes this effect must proceed ; and it is of little
importance to life or happiness which of them be the true
irgunnts
sed i
METAPHYSICS.
653
Of e cause, since it is with the effect only that we are imme- bodies are prevented from coming into actual contact, is Of the
Kxisoce diately concerned. Still, however, a philosopher would what no person can pretend to compute. The power re- Existence
of Miter-choose t0 a(|opt the easiest and most natural side of every quisite to break their cohesion, or to remove them from of Matter*
alternative, which, if our notion of solidity be just, is cer- the sphere of each other’s attraction, may in some measure ' ~
tainly, in the present case, the existence of matter. be estimated ; but this affords no data for ascertaining the
After treating so largely of the composition of bodies, force that would be necessary to bring them into actual
and showing the general agreement of metaphysicians, contact, which may exceed the other almost infinitely.”
ancient and modern, with respect to the notion of their From these facts Dr Priestley infers, that the mutual
solidity, it will appear strange to the less philosophical resistance of bodies proceeds in all cases from powers of
part of our readers, that we should now express a doubt repulsion acting at a distance from each body ; that the
of that notion being well founded. We have ourselves supposition of the solidity or impenetrability of matter is
destitute of all support whatever; and that matter itself
is nothina: but
no doubt, but on the contrary are fully convinced, that
solidity is essential to matter. This, however, has been
denied by philosophers of great merit. Dr Priestley,
after Mr Mitchell and Father Boscovich, affirms that
matter is not solid nor impenetrable to other matter ; and
that it has, in fact, no properties but those of attraction
and repulsion.1 The proofs of this position, which ap
powers of attraction and repulsion, and
several spheres of them, one within another. As other
philosophers have said, <c Take away solidity, and matter
vanishes so he says expressly, “ Take away attraction
and repulsion, and matter vanishes.”
To illustrate this strange notion, “ Suppose,” says he,
his hio-
hesisi
pears so paiadoxical, he diaws from optical experiments, that the Divine Being, when he created matter, only
from electricity, and from the effects of heat and cold fixed certain centres of various attractions and repulsions,
tmKofQ"000 ,,OMQllw extending indefinitely in all directions, the whole effect of
them to be upon each other, these centres approaching to
or receding from each other, and consequently carrying
their peculiar spheres of attraction and repulsion along
with them, according to certain definite circumstances.
It cannot be denied that these spheres may be diversified
infinitely, so as to correspond to all the kind of bodies
upon substances usually conceived to be solid.
The appearances from which the solidity of matter is
inferred, are nothing more, he says, than superficial ap-
r» ' cd ' J '   L ~
uPP”'“t pearances, and therefore have led to superficial and false
judgments, which the real appearances will not authorize.
“ Resistance, on which alone our opinion concerning the
solidity or impenetrability of matter is founded, is never
occasioned by solid matter, but by something of a very that we are acquainted with, or that are possible. For all
different nature, viz. a power of repulsion, always acting
at a real, and in general an assignable distance, from what
we call the body itself. When I press my hand against
the table, I naturally imagine that the obstacle to its going
through the table is the solid matter of which it consists ;
effects in which bodies are concerned, and of which we
can be sensible by our eyes, touch, &c. may be resolved
into attraction or repulsion. A compages of these centres,
placed within the spheres of each other’s attraction, will
constitute a body that we term compact; and two of
but a variety of philosophical considerations demonstrate these bodies will, on their approach, meet with a repul
that it generally requires a much greater power of pres- sion or resistance sufficient to prevent one of them from
sure than I can exert to bring my fingers into actual con- occupying the place of the other, without a much greater
tact with the table. Electrical appearances show that a force than we are capable of employing; so that to us
considerable weight is requisite to bring into seeming con- they will appear perfectly hard.
tact even the links of a chain hanging freely in the air,
they being kept asunder by a repulsive power belonging
to a very small surface, so that they do not actually touch,
though they are supported by each other. It has been
shown from optical considerations, that a drop of water
rolls upon a cabbage leaf without ever coming into actual
contact with it; and indeed all the phenomena of light
“ As in the constitution of all actual bodies that we are
acquainted with, these centres are placed so near to each
other, that in every division that we can make we still
leave parts which contain many of these centres; we, rea¬
soning by analogy, suppose that every particle of matter
is infinitely divisible ; and the space it occupies is cer¬
tainly so. But, strictly speaking, as those centres which
are most remarkably unfavourable to the hypothesis of constitute any body are not absolutely infinite, it must be
the solidity or impenetrability of matter. When light is naturally possible to come by division to one single centre,
reflected back from a body on which it seems to strike, which could not be said to be divisible, or even to occupy
it was natural to suppose that this was occasioned by its any portion of space, though its sphere of action should
impinging against the solid parts of the body ; but it has extend ever so far ; and had only one such centre of at-
been demonstrated by Sir Isaac Newton, that the rays of traction, &c. existed, its existence could not have been
light are always reflected by a power of repulsion acting known, because there would have been nothing on which
at some distance from the body. Again, when part of a
beam of light has overcome this power of repulsion, and
has entered any transparent substance, it goes on in a
right line, provided the medium be of a uniform density,
without the least interruption, and without a single par¬
ticle being reflected, till it comes to the opposite side,
having met with no solid particles in its way, not even in
the densest transparent substances, as glass, crystal, or
diamond ; and when it is arrived at the opposite side, it is
solely affected by the laws of attraction and repulsion.
“ Nay, that the component particles of the hardest bo¬
dies themselves do not actually touch one another, is de¬
monstrable from their being brought nearer together by
cold, and by their being removed farther from each other
by heat. The power sufficient to overcome these inter¬
nal forces of repulsion, by which the ultimate particles of
its action could have been exerted; and there being no
effect, there could not have been any ground for suppos¬
ing a cause.”
In answer to this reasoning against the solidity of mat¬
ter, Dr Priestley was frequently asked by his candid and
masterly antagonist,2 “ What it is that attracts and re¬
pels, and that is attracted and repelled?” But to this
question he was never able to give a satisfactory answer.
Indeed, how could he have been able ? For, as Dr Price
argues, “ exclusive of attraction and repulsion, he affirms
matter to be absolutely nothing; and therefore, though
we were to allow it the power of attracting and repelling,
yet, as it is nothing but this power, it must be the power
of nothing, and the very idea of it be a contradiction.”
If there be any class of truths intuitively certain, that These ar-
class comprehends the two following propositions: J*owergumems
fallacious*
Disquisitions on Matter and Spirit, and Correspondence with Dr Price. 2 Free Discussion between Dr Price and Dr Priestley.
654
METAPHYSICS.
Of the cannot be without a subject; and Nothing can act where it
of Matter ^ If’ therefore> therc be powers of attraction and re-
v A ‘ \ pulsion (which shall be considered afterwards in the chap¬
ter on Motion), there must be a subject of those powers;
and if matter, whether solid or unsolid, be the subject, it
cannot possibly attract or repel at a distance. Sir Isaac
Newton, in his letters to Dr Bentley, calls the notion that
matter possesses an innate power of attraction, or that it
can act upon matter at a distance, and attract and repel
by its own agency, “ an absurdity into which, he thought,
no one could possibly fall.” Hence it follows, that the
appearances from which Dr Priestley infers the penetra¬
bility of matter must be fallacious appearances, since they
contradict an intuitive and necessary truth. The facts
which he instances are, indeed, such as would make most
other men suspicious of fallacy ; and in his reasonings from
them he sometimes takes for granted the truth to be
proved. The links of a chain used for electrical purposes,
supposing them to be in contact with each other, can
touch only with very small surfaces. The electrical fluid
is of considerable density, and incapable of being absorbed
within a very narrow compass. This is evident, because
it passes not through paper and other porous bodies with¬
out making a passage for itself, and leaving a visible aper¬
ture behind it; and although it assimilates with metals,
and passes through them more easily than through other
bodies, yet it is plain that it requires a certain quantity of
metal to conduct it; for when the conductor falls short of
the necessary quantity, it is melted or dissipated by the
force of the fluid, 'lids being the case, it follows that the
links of a chain may be in actual contact (we do not posi¬
tively affirm that they are), and yet the fluid become vi¬
sible in passing from link to link ; for if the point of contact
be too small to absorb the whole fluid, part of it must pass
without any metallic conductor through the atmosphere,
and thus become apparent to the eye of the spectator.
With ‘respect to light, it is obvious that there cannot
possibly be any demonstration, in the logical sense of the
word, that it is reflected by a power of repulsion acting at
some distance from the body; for, in the opinion of all
mankind, the primary and solid atoms of matter are too
minute to fall under the cognizance of our senses, how¬
ever assisted by art; and therefore, if light appears to be
reflected at a distance from the surface of the body, we
must conclude, either that between the point of reflection
and the apparent surface of the body there are solid atoms
unperceived by us, or that light is reflected by the agency
of some other substance than matter. One of these con¬
clusions, we say, must be drawn, because they are both
possible; and there is no other alternative but to admit
mitted who have thought sufficiently on the subject; but Ofs,
who will admit Dr Priestlev’s nronnsitinn wbpn ^ Jo
and ir
Mode
who will admit Dr Priestley’s proposition when it is trans¬
lated into common English, viz. “ that the component no¬
things of the hardest bodies do not actually touch one
another, is demonstrable from their being brought nearer
together by cold, and by their being removed farther from
each other by heat ?”
Dr Priestley owns, that if matter be solid it could act Most ad
upon other matter by impulse. But we are certain that,quaten0
whatever it be, it can act upon nothing in the manner^'011 °f
which he describes; and therefore, to use the words of"131161.
Dr Price, “ matter, if it be any thing at all, must consist
of solid particles or atoms occupying a certain portion of
space, and therefore extended, but at the same time sim¬
ple and uncompounded, and incapable of being resolved
into any other smaller particles. It must likewise be the
different form of these primary particles, and their differ¬
ent combinations and arrangement, that constitute the dif¬
ferent bodies and kinds of matter in the universe.” This
is exactly agreeable to the doctrine of Newton, wdio, after
considering the question in every point of view, concludes,
that “ in the beginning God formed matter in solid, massy’
hard, impenetrable, moveable particles, of such sizes and
figures, and with such other properties, as most conduced
to the end for which he formed them ; and that those pri¬
mary particles being solid, are incomparably harder than
any porous bodies compounded of them, even so very hard
as never to w^ear or break in pieces, no ordinary power
being able to divide what God himself made one in the
creation.” To talk, as Dr Priestley does, of matter being
certain centres of various attractions and repulsions ex¬
tending indefinitely in all directions, and to describe these
centres as not being physical points or solid atoms, is
either to say that nothing attracts and repels, or it is to
introduce the divine agency as the immediate cause of all
our sensations. The former branch of the alternative Dr
Priestley disclaims, the latter he seems willing to admit.
But if it be his meaning that all our sensations are caused
by the immediate agency of God or created spirits, his
scheme differs not from that of Berkeley, except in being
less elegantly expressed and less ingeniously supported.
Berkeley’s scheme is evidently possible. The commonly-
received scheme is likewise possible. It remains, there¬
fore, wdth the reader, whether he will adopt the system of the
Bishop of Cloyne, or admit, with all other philosophers, that
matter exists; that it consists of parts actually distinct and
separable; and that each of these parts is a monad or solid
atom, which requires no foreign agency to keep it united.
one of them, or to suppose that a thing may act where it
is not, which is as clearly absurd and impossible as that
whatever is, is not. Again, when part of a beam of light
has entered any transparent substance, how does Dr
Priestley know that it goes on in a right line, without the
least interruption, till it comes to the opposite side ? This
he can know only by his senses; but the beam may meet
with ten thousand interruptions from objects which the
senses cannot perceive, and may describe a zig-zag line,
of which the deflections are so small as to elude the keen¬
est eye aided by the most powerful glass.
That the component particles of the hardest bodies do
not all actually touch one another, is indeed evident from
the effects of cold and heat upon those bodies; but it
does not therefore follow that those bodies have no com¬
ponent particles, but only that they are fewer in number
than we are apt to imagine ; that all the solid matter in
the universe might possibly be compressed within a very
narrow sphere; and that it is held together in different
bodies and different systems by a power foreign from it¬
self. Ihese are truths which all philosophers have ad-
CHAP. IV.—OF SPACE AND ITS MODES.
Having considered bodies in their substance, essences, The nc-
and qualities, and proved that they have a real existencecessaivaih
independently of us and our conceptions, we proceed now tojunctso^
inquire into the nature of space, motion, number, and du-bod^
ration. Ihese are commonly called the adjuncts of body,
and are supposed to be absolutely inseparable from its ex¬
istence. It does not indeed appear that actual motion is
a necessary adjunct of body, considered as a mere solid,
extended, and figured substance; but it is certainly ne¬
cessary to the existence of organized and animated bodies,
and the capability of being moved enters into our concep¬
tions of all bodies whatever. Of these adjuncts, that which
first demands our attention is space ; for without a know¬
ledge of its nature we could not have an adequate idea of
motion, and without motion we could have no idea of time.
Every body7 is extended; and between two bodies not Notion'■
in actual contact, we perceive that a third body may be space. ^
easily introduced. That which admits of the introduction “I31"1'
of the third body is what we call space, and if it be totally
Of S) 'C
and 5
Mod:-
METAPHYSICS.
void of matter, it is called pure space. Whether there be
any space absolutely pure, has been disputed; but that
^ such space is possible admits of no dispute. Were any
one body, a cannon ball, for instance, to be annihilated,
and the circumambient air, with every other material sub¬
stance, kept from rushing into the space which the ball had
occupied, that portion of space, with respect to matter,
would be empty or pure space ; whether it would neces¬
sarily be filled with mind, shall be considered afterwards.
Pure space, therefore, is conceivable ; and it is conceived
as having three dimensions, length, breadth, and depth,
which are generally called the three simple modes of space.
In this respect it agrees with body; but the agreement
proceeds no farther, for space is conceived as destitute of
solidity, without which the existence of body is inconceiv¬
able. It has been formerly observed, that whatever may
be distinctly conceived may possibly exist; but with re¬
spect to the existence of pure space, whatever is possible
is real, for it shall be shown in the next section, that were
there no space absolutely pure or void of matter, there
could be no motion. Our business at present is to inquire
what the nature of space is, and what notion we ought to
have of its existence.
Many modern philosophers consider space as something
entirely distinct both from body and mind ; some of them
ascribe to it no less than four of the attributes of the
Deity, eternity, immobility, infinity, and necessary exist¬
ence ; and a few of them have gone so far as to call infinite
space the sensorium of the Deity. “ The supposal of the
existence of any thing whatever,” says Dr Clarke,1 “ ne¬
cessarily includes a presupposition of the existence of
space. Nothing can possibly be conceived to exist with¬
out thereby presupposing space, which, therefore, I appre¬
hend to be a property or mode of the self-existent sub¬
stance; and that, by being evidently necessary itself,
it proves that the substance of which it is a property must
be also necessary.” Elsewhere he says, that “ space is a
property or mode of the self-existent substance, but not of
any other substances. All other substances are in space,
and are penetrated by it; but the self-existent substance
is not in space, nor penetrated by it, but is itself (if I may
so speak) the substratum of space, the ground of the ex¬
istence of space itself.” He acknowledges, however, that
such expressions as “ the self-existent substance is the
substratum of space, or space is a property of the self-ex¬
istent substance, are not, perhaps, very proper; but what
I mean,” says he, “ is this: The idea of space (as also of
time or duration) is an abstract or partial idea ; an idea of
a certain quality or relation, which we evidently see to be
necessarily existing, and yet which (not being itself a sub¬
stance) at the same time necessarily presupposes a sub¬
stance, without which it could not exist.”
These opinions respecting space have been adopted by
succeeding philosophers of great merit, and particularly by
Dr Price, who says, that “ it is a maxim which cannot be
disputed, that time and place are necessary to the exist¬
ence of all things. Dr Clarke,” continues he, “ has made
use of this maxim to prove that infinite space and duration
are the essential properties of the Deity, and I think he
was right.”
Had authority any weight in philosophy, we know not
what modern writers we could oppose to the celebrated
names of Clarke and Price, unless it were Bishop Berkeley,
Dr Law, bishop of Carlisle, and the author of Ancient
Metaphysics. But the question is not to be decided by
authority. Learned and acute as Dr Clarke was, his asser¬
tions respecting space are contradictory and inconsistent.
655
If nothing can possibly be conceived to exist without there- Of Space
y piesupposing the existence of space, how can space be and its
a property or mode of the self-existent substance ? Are Modes,
propei ties piior in the order of nature, or even in our con-V 1
ceptions, to the substances in which they inhere ? Can we
fiame an abstract idea of figure, or extension, or solidity,
before we conceive the existence of any one figured, ex¬
tended, or solid substance ? These are questions which
every man is as capable of answering as Doctors Clarke
and Price, provided he can look attentively into his own
mind, and tiace his ideas to their source in sensation ; and
if he be not biassed by the weight of great names, we are
persuaded he will find, that if it be indeed true, that the
supposition of the existence of anything whatever neces¬
sarily includes a presupposition of the existence of space,
space cannot possibly be a property or mode of the self-ex¬
istent substance, but must of necessity be a substance itself.
It is, however, not true, that the supposal of the exist- Space ne-
ence of any thing whatever necessarily includes a pre-sup-cessarY to
position of the existence of space. The idea of space jstheexist-
indeed so closely associated with every visible and tangible ence ^ •
object, that we cannot see the one nor feel the other with-eVei>lling*
out conceiving them to occupy so much of space. But
had we never possessed the senses of sight and touch, we
could not have supposed the existence of space necessary
to the existence of any thing whatever. The senses of
smelling, tasting, and hearing, together with our internal
powers of consciousness and intellect, would certainly have
compelled us to believe in our own existence, and to sup¬
pose the existence of other things ; but no object either of
consciousness, smelling, tasting, or hearing, can be con¬
ceived as occupying space. Space and every thing which
fills it ai. e conceived as of three dimensions ; but whoever
supposed or can suppose an odour, a taste, or a sound, to have
length, breadth, and depth ; or an object of consciousness to
be an ell or an inch in length ?
Let us suppose that body and all the visible world had
a beginning, and that once nothing existed but that Being
who is alone of necessary as well as eternal existence;
space, say the followers of Dr Clarke, would then exist
likewise without bounds or limits. But we desire to know
of these gentlemen what sort of a being this space is. It
is certainly not substance ; neither is it a property ; for we
have seen that the very notions of it, which lead men to
suppose its existence necessary, render it impossible to be
a property of the self-existent Being. Is it then nothing ?
It “ is in one sense it is nothing actually existing; but it
is something potentially; for it has the capacity of receiv¬
ing body whenever it shall exist. It is not, and cannot
become, any thing itself, nor hath it any actual exist¬
ence ; but it is that without which nothing corporeal
could exist.” And for this reason it was that Democritus
and Epicurus made space one of the principles of na¬
ture ; nay, for the same reason, Aristotle has made pri¬
vation one of his three principles of natural things, mat¬
ter and form being the other two. But although the pri¬
vation of one form be doubtless necessary before matter
can receive another (for a piece of wax or clay cannot re¬
ceive the form of a globe before it lose the form of a square),
yet Aristotle never dreamed that the privation of the square
was any property of the globe, or that privation itself was
to be reckoned a real being. On the contrary, he expressly
calls it ro [in ov, or the mo being. In this way, if we please”,
we may consider space, and call it the privation of fulness
or of oody. \\ e have indeed a positive idea of it, as well
as of silence, darkness, and other privations ; but to argue
f rom such an idea of space, that space itself is something
I-1An^nft^Metnaphy^sBeing and Attributes of God’ and Correspondence with a Gentleman in Gloucestershire, passim.
656 METAPHYSICS.
Oi Space real, seems altogether as good sense as to say, that because position which by no means includes in it the contact of Ofs
Modes 'T6 ^ave a different idea of darkness from that of light, of the walls of an empty room. The reason why the walls of and!?
\silence from that of sound, of the absence of any thing from an empty room do not touch, is that they are distant; but Mode-!
that of its presence ; therefore darkness, silence, absence, is distance, in the abstract, any thing really existing ? Two^v-
must be real things, and have as positive an existence as individuals differ, or there is a difference between them; but
light, sound, and body ; and to deny that we have any po- is difference itself any thing really external ? Bodies are
sitive idea, or, which is the very same thing, any idea at long, broad, thick, heavy; but are length, breadth, density,
all, of the privations above mentioned, will be to deny what weight, properly any thing ? Have they any real separate
is capable of the most complete proof, and to contradict archetypes or external archetypes? Or can they exist but
common sense and daily experience. There are therefore in some substances ?
ideas, and simple ones too, which have nothing ab extra The reason why so many philosophers have considered The fli
correspondent to them; no proper archetype, or objec- space as a real external thing, seems to be this. Every cy of sip
five reality ; and we do not see why the idea of space may bodily substance is extended ; but space is conceived toP°®'g ^
not be reckoned of that number. To say that space must be that which contains body, and therefore to space wespaceare
have existence because it has some properties (for instance, likewise attribute extension. Extension is a quality whichth“g'
penetrability, or the capacity of receiving body), seems1 to can have no existence but as united with other qualities
be the same thing as to urge that darkness must be some- in some substance ; and it is that of which, abstracted
thing because it has the capacity of receiving light; silence from all substances, we can, properly speaking, form no
the property of admitting sound ; and absence the property idea. We understand the meaning of the word, however,
of being supplied by presence. To reason in this manner and can reason about that which it denotes, without re-
is to assign absolute negations; and such as, in the same garding the particular substance in which extension may
way, may be applied to nothing, and then call them posi- inhere; just as we can reason about whiteness without
tive properties ; and so infer that the chimera, thus clothed regarding any one white object, though it is self-evident
with them, must needs be something. that whiteness, abstracted from all objects, cannot figure
Space no- But it is said, that as we cannot conceive space to be anni- in the mind as an idea. Qualities considered in this man-
thing but hilated, it must be some real thing of eternal and necessary ner are general and relative notions, the objects of pure in-
ejdstence ex’stence* ^ thls argument had not been used by writers tellect, which make no appearance in the imagination, and
of body. £reat merit, and with the best intention, we should not are far less, if possible, to be perceived by sense ; but it is
have scrupled to call it the most contemptible sophism that extremely painful to the mind to dwell upon such notions,
ever disgraced the page of philosophy. Whatever has now and therefore the.ever-active fancy is always ready to fur-
an actual existence, must from eternity have had a possible nish them with imaginary substrata, and to make that which
existence in the ideas of the divine mind. Body, as an was a general and invisible notion be conceived as a par-
extended substance, has now an actual existence, and ticular ideal object. In the case of extension this is the
therefore it must from eternity have had a possible exist- more easily done, that the notion which we have of a real
ence in the ideas of the divine mind ; but the possible ex- substratum or substance, the support of real qualities, is
istence of body is all that we can conceive by space, and obscure and relative, being the notion of something we
therefore this argument, upon which so much stress has know not what. Now, by leaving, if we can, solidity and
been laid, amounts to nothing more, than that what has figure entirely out of our conception, and joining the notion
from eternity been possible, can at no period have been of something with the notion of extension, we have at once
impossible. It is evident that the capacity or potentiality the imaginary substratum of an imaginary quality, or the
of every thing existing must have been from eternity ; but general notion of extension particularized in an imaginary
is capacity or potentiality, a real being ? All the men and subject; and this subject we call space, vainly imagin-
women who shall succeed the present generation to the end ing that it has a real external and independent existence,
of time have at this moment a possibility of existence, nor Whether this be not all that can be said of space, and whe-
can that possibility be conceived as an impossibility ; but ther it be not absurd to talk of its having any real proper-
is it therefore any thing actually existing, either as a sub- ties, every man will judge for himself, by reflecting upon
stance or a quality ? his own ideas, and the manner in which they are acquired.
It has been urged that space must be something more We ourselves have no doubt about the matter. We con-
than the mere absence of matter, because if nothing be sider pure space as a mere notion relative to the existence
between bodies, such as the walls of a room, they must ne- of corporeal substance, as in truth nothing more than the
cessarily touch. But surely it is not self-evident that absence of body, where body is possible ; and we think the
bodies must necessarily touch if nothing be between them ; usual distinction between absolute and relative space, if
nor of the truth of this proposition can anything like a proof taken as real, the grossest absurdity. We do not, however,
be brought. It is indeed intuitively certain, that “ things, pretend to dictate to others, but recommend it to every
when they are in contact, have nothing between them ;” man to throw away all respect for great names, to look at-
and hence it has rashly been inferred, that things, when tentively into his own thoughts, and on this, as on all me-
they have nothing between them, are in contact; but this taphysical subjects, to judge for himself,
is an illegitimate conversion of the proposition. Every lo- Having said so much of space in general, we need not Place,
gician knows, that to convert a proposition, is to infer from waste much time upon its modes. Indeed the only mode^31* i;
it another whose subject is the predicate, and whose predi- of space, after considering it with respect to the three di-
cate is the subject, of the proposition to be converted; but mensions of body, which now demands our attention, is
we are taught by Aristotle, and by common sense, that an that which we cd\\ place. For, as in the simplest mode of
universal affirmative can only be converted into a par- space we consider the relation of distance between any
ticular affirmative. “ Things, when they are in contact, two bodies or points ; so, in our idea of place, we consider
have nothing between them,” is an universal affirmative the relation of distance between any thing, and any two
proposition ; and therefore it can only be converted into or more points, which, being considered as at rest, keep
the following particular affirmative : “ Some things, when the same distance one from another. Thus, when we find
they have nothing between them, are in contacta pro- any thing at the same distance now at which it was yester-
1 See N otes on King’s Origin of Evil, and Law’s Inquiry into the Ideas of Space, &c.
ofi:>
tio
METAPHYSICS.
un
? hiii
placo
day from two or more points with which it was then com¬
pared, and which have not, since the comparison was made,
“"'changed their distance or position with respect to each
other, we say that the thing has kept its place, or is in
the same place ; but if it has sensibly altered its distance
from either of these points, we then say that it has changed
its place.
From this view of the nature of place, we need not ob¬
serve that it is a mere relation ; but it may be worth while
to advert to this circumstance, that a thing may without
falsehood be said to have continued in the same place, and
at the same time to have changed its place according to
the different objects with which it is compared. Thus, if
two persons find a company of chess-men standing each
upon the same square of the chess-board where they left
them, the one may with truth affirm that they are all in
the same place, or unmoved, and the other may with equal
truth affirm that they have all changed place. The former
considers the men only with respect to their distances from
the several parts of the chess-board, which have kept the
same distance and position with respect to one another.
The latter must consider the men with respect to their
distance from something else; and finding that the chess¬
board, with every thing upon it, has been removed, we
shall suppose, from one room to another, he cannot but
say that the chess-men have changed their place with re¬
spect to the several parts of the room in which he former¬
ly saw them.
This modification of distance, however, which we call
place, being made by men for their common use, that by it
they may designate the particular position of objects where
they have occasion for such designation, they determine
this place by reference to such adjacent things as best
serve their present purpose, without regarding other things
which, for a different purpose, would better determine the
place of the same object. Thus, in the chess-board, the
use of the designation of the place of each chess-man being
determined only within that chequered piece of wood, it
would cross that purpose to measure it by any thing else;
but when these very chess-men are put up in a box, if any
one should ask where the black king is, it would be proper
to determine the place by reference to something else than
the chess-board, such as the parts of the room or closet
which contain the box.
That our idea of place is nothing but such a relative po¬
sition of things as we have mentioned, will be readily ad¬
mitted, when it is considered that we can have no idea of
the place of the universe. Every part of the universe has
place, because it may be compared with respect to its dis¬
tance from other parts supposed to be fixed. Thus the
earth and every planet of our system has a place, which
may be determined by ascertaining its distance from the
sun, and from the orbits of the other planets; and the
place of the system itself may be ascertained by comparing
it with two or more fixed stars ; but all the systems taken
as one whole can have no place, because there is nothing
else to which the distance and position of that whole can
be referred. It is indeed true that the word place is some¬
times used, we think improperly, to denote that space or
portion of space which any particular body occupies; and
in this sense, no doubt, the universe has place, as well as
the earth or solar system ; but to talk of the place of the
universe in the other and proper sense of the word, is the
grossest absurdity.
657
CHAP. V. OF MOTION.
yility Mobility, or a capacity of being moved, is essential to
Aunevery corporeal substance; and by actual motion are all
‘ operations of nature performed. Motion, therefore, if
VOL. XIV.
it may be called an adjunct of body, is certainly the most Of Mo-
important of all its adjuncts ; and to ascertain its nature tion.
and origin demands the closest attention of the metaphy-'
sician, as well as of the mechanician and astronomer. With
the Jaws of motion, as discovered by experience, we have
at present no concern; they are explained and fully esta¬
blished in other treatises of this work. (See Mechanics,
Motion, and other articles.) The principal questions which
we have to consider are, “ What is motion ? and by what
power is it carried on ?”
For an answer to the first of these questions, the mo¬
dern metaphysician refers every man to his own senses,
because, in his apprehension, the word motion denotes a
simple idea which cannot be defined. Amongst theancients,
the Peripatetics were of a different opinion ; and Aristotle,
whose love of dialectics made him define every thing, has
attempted to give two definitions of motion. As some
learned men have laboured to revive this system, we shall,
out of respect to them, mention those definitions, and make
such remarks upon them as to us appear proper.
The author of Ancient Metaphysics having observed, Peripatetic
that both nature and art propose some end in all their definitions
operations; that wdien the end is obtained, the thing ope-°fmotion.
rated upon is in a state of perfection or completion ; and
that in the operations of both nature and art there is a
progress, and by consequence a change from one thing to
another ; adds, that this change is motion. Motion, there¬
fore, according to him, is a change or progress to the end
proposed, or to that state of perfection or completion which
Aristotle calls JmXs^s/a. It is not enough, however, that
we know to what the change or progress is made; to have
an adequate idea of motion, we must likewise know from
what it proceeds. Now, it is evident that every thing ex¬
isting, whether by nature or art, had, before "it existed,
a possible existence ; and therefore, adds the same author,
things do in some sort exist even before they exist. This
former kind of existence is said by Aristotle to be iv dvva-
IJjU, that is, in power or capacity. In this way, plants exist
in their seeds ; animals in the embryo ; works of art in the
idea of the artists and in the materials of which they are
made ; and, in general, every thing in the causes which
produce it. From this power or capacity there is a pro¬
gress to energy or to actual existence; so that w^e are now
able to answer the question, “ from what and to what
motion is a change ?” for it is universally true of all mo¬
tion, that it is a change from capacity to energy.
“ Having thus discovered that motion lies betwixt capa¬
city and energy, it is evident,” he says, “ that it must have
a connection with each of them; and from this double
connection Aristotle has given us two definitions of it; one
of them taken from the energy, or end to which it tends;
the other from the capacity from which it begins. The
first is expressed in two words, viz. gvsgysiu anXyig, or im¬
perfect energy ; the other is brsXs^sia rov ev duveejasi, q h
dvvcc/Mi, “ The perfection of what is in capacity, consider¬
ed merely as in capacity.” The meaning of the last words
is, that nothing is considered in the thing that is moved but
merely its capacity; so that motion is the perfection of
that capacity, but not of the thing itself. It is something
more, adds the learned author, than mere capacity; for it
is capacity exerted, which, when it has attained its end,
so that the thing has arrived at that state to which it is
destined by nature or art, ceases, and the thing begins to
exist Ivsgyg/a, or actually.
By all the admirers of Aristotle, this latter definition has
been preferred to the former ; for what reason, it is diffi¬
cult to say. They both involve in the thickest obscurity
that which, viewed through the senses, is very easily un¬
derstood ; and on this, as on many other occasions, Aris¬
totle was certainly guilty of darkening counsel by words
without knowledge. The author, whose comment on this
4 o
658
METAPHYSICS.
wonderful definition Are have faithfully abridged, admits
(that it is not intelligible till we know what change and pro¬
gress are ; but is it possible to conceive any change to take
place in bodily substances without motion ? or, if we were
called upon to explain what progress is, could we do it better
than by saying that it is motion from something to some¬
thing ? It is likewise very obvious, that before we can have
an adequate idea of motion, we must, according to this de¬
finition, know perfectly what the words capacity, energy,
and perfection denote ; and yet nothing can be more true
than that perfection denotes a complex conception, which
may be easily defined by resolving it into the simple ideas
and notions of which it is compounded, whilst motion is
not susceptible of any such resolution. The perfection of
a knife is compounded of the temper of the steel and the
sharpness of the edge ; the perfection of a system of phi¬
losophy consists of the importance of the subjects treated,
the strength of the author’s arguments, and the perspicuity
of his style and manner; but of what is the motion of a
ball, or an atom, or any thing else, compounded ? We are
aware that to this question the modern Peripatetics will re¬
ply, that it is not the motion of a ball or an atom, nor of any
one thing, that their master has so learnedly defined, but
motion abstracted from all individuals, and made an object
of pure intellect; and they will likewise affirm, that by the
word perfection used in the definition, he does not mean any
one kind of perfection as adapted to any particular object
or end, but perfection abstracted from all objects and all
ends. The perfection of nothing and the motion of no¬
thing (for such surely are that motion and that perfection
which are abstracted from all objects and ends) are strange
expressions. To us they convey no meaning; and we have
reason to think that they are equally unintelligible to men
of greater acuteness. In a word, motion must be seen or
felt; for it cannot be defined. To call it the act of chang¬
ing place, or a passage from one place to another, gives no
information ; for change and passage cannot be conceived
without previously conceiving motion.
Peripatetic The Peripatetics, having idly attempted to define motion,
division of proceed next to divide it into four kinds or classes. This
motion ab- division was by the father of the school pretended to be
sard. made from the effects which it produces, and was said by
him to belong to three categories, viz. quality, quantity,
and where (see Category). The first kind is that well-
known motion from place to place, which falls under the
category last mentioned ; the second is alteration, by which
the quality of any thing is changed, the substance remain¬
ing the same. This belongs to the category of quality.
The third is increase, and the fourth diminution, both be¬
longing to the category of quantity. The ancient atomists,
and all the modern metaphysicians of eminence, have with
great propriety rejected this division, as being nothing but
a collection of absurd distinctions where there is in nature
no difference. It has already been shown, that body has
no other real qualities than solidity, extension, and figure;
but of these the first cannot be altered without destroying
the substance; for every thing which is material is equal¬
ly solid. The extension of a body may indeed be enlar¬
ged, and its figure may be altered, whilst the substance re
mains the same; but that alteration can be made only by
moving from their places the solid atoms of which the body
is composed. Aristotle’s second kind of motion, therefore,
does not differ from the first; nor do the third and fourth
differ from these two. For a body cannot be increas¬
ed without acquiring new matter, nor diminished without
losing some of the matter of which it was originally com¬
posed ; but matter can neither be added nor taken away
without motion from place to place; for there is not now
any creation de novo; and we have no reason to imagine
that, since the original creation, a single atom has ever been
annihilated. It is therefore beyond dispute, that local mo¬
tion is the only motion conceivable; and indeed, as far as om
we are capable of judging from what we know of body, it tif
is the only motion possible. 'wy!
This has given rise to a question which has been debat-
ed amongst modern philosophers, though, as far as we know,'fq
it w7as never agitated amongst the ancients, viz. “ Whether, bodyej
if there were but one solid body existing, that body could ed, the!
possibly be moved.” Bishop Berkeley seems to be of opi-c°uldb
nion that it could not; because no motion can be conceiv-mo^011,
ed but what has a direction towards some place, and the
relation of place necessarily supposes the existence of two
or more bodies. Were all bodies, therefore, annihilated
excepting one globe, it would be impossible, he thinks, to
conceive that globe in motion. With respect to the ori¬
gin of our ideas of motion, his reasoning appears unan¬
swerable ; but we do not perceive how it concludes against
the possibility of motion itself as existing in a single body.
It has been already shown in the chapter on Simple Ap¬
prehension and Conception, that although nothing can be
conceived which may not possibly exist, yet many things
may be possible which avc have not faculties or means to
conceive. In the present instance, were this solitary globe
animated as our bodies are, were it endowed Avith all our
senses and mental powers, it certainly would not acquire
any idea of motion, though impelled by the greatest force.
The reason is obvious. It would have no objects with
Ayhich to compare its place and situation at different pe¬
riods of time ; and the experience of a ship at sea in calm
weather affords sufficient proof that motion which is equa¬
ble cannot be perceived by any other means than by such
a comparison. When the waves swell and the ship pitches,
it is indeed impossible that those who are on board should
not perceive that they are actually in motion; but even
this perception arises from comparing their position with
that of the waves rising and falling around them ; whereas,
in the regions of empty space, the animated globe could
compare its position Avith nothing, and therefore, whether
impelled by equal or unequal forces, it could never acquire
the idea of motion. It may perhaps be thought, that if
this solitary globe Avere a self-moving animal, it might ac¬
quire the idea of motion by inferring its existence from the
energy which had produced it. But hoiv, we w'ould ask,
could any animal in such circumstances be self-moving? Mo¬
tion is the effect of some cause ; and it has been already
shown that we have no reason whatever to suppose that
any being can be the real and primary cause of any effect
which that being can neither conceive nor will; but, as
motion can be perceived only by the senses, a solitary
animal could have no idea of motion previously to its own
exertions, and therefore could neither conceive nor will
any exertion to produce it. Let us, however, suppose,
that without any end in view it might spontaneously ex¬
ert itself in such a manner as Avould produce sensible mo¬
tion were it surrounded Avith other corporeal objects;
still we may venture to affirm, that, as long as it should
remain in absolute solitude, the being itself would ac¬
quire no idea of motion. It would indeed be conscious
of the mental energy, but it could not infer the existence
of motion as a consequence of that energy ; for the idea of
motion can be acquired only by sense; and by the sup¬
position there are no objects from which the senses of this
spherical animal could receive those impressions, without
which there can be no perception, and of course no ideas. Answer?!
Let us now suppose that, whilst this animated globe isintlieaf'
under the influence either of external impulse or of its own®rniati'“
spontaneous energy, other bodies are suddenly brought
into existence; wmuld it then acquire the idea of motion?
It certainly Avculd, from perceiving its own change of
place Avith respect to those bodies; and although at first
it would not perhaps be able to determine whether itself or
the bodies around it w7ere moving, yet a little experience
P
Vhetfcr
lotion
■ould 1'
issibftin
lilies
METAPHYSICS.
0f]v,. would decide this question likewise, and convince it that
tio the motion was the effect either of its own mental energy
or of that external impulse which it had felt before the other
bodies were presented to its view. But it is obvious that
the creation of new bodies at a distance can make no real
alteration in the state of a body which had existed before
them ; and, therefore, as this animated globe would now
perceive itself to be moving, we may infer, with the ut¬
most certainty, that it was moving before, and that the
motion of a single body, though not perceivable by the
senses, might possibly be produced in empty space.
Having thus seen that a single body is capable of mo¬
tion in empty space, the next question that occurs on this
,mmm subject is, whether it would be possible to move a body
)ace ; 30-in-sPace that is absolutely full ? Such are the terms in
itelv 11.which this question is usually put; and by being thus ex¬
pressed, it has given rise to the dispute amongst natural
philosophers about the existence of a vacuum. Perhaps
the dispute might have been avoided had the question
been more accurately stated. For instance, had it been
asked, whether motion would be possible, could matter be
supposed absolutely infinite, without any the least inter¬
stice or vacuity amongst its solid parts ? We apprehend that
every reflecting man would have answered in the nega¬
tive. At any rate, the question ought to be thus stated
in metaphysics, because we have seen that space, though
a positive term, denotes nothing really existing. Now it
being of the very essence of every solid substance to ex¬
clude from the place which it occupies every other’solid
substance, it follows undeniably, that not one particle of
an infinite solid could be moved from its place without the
previous •annihilation of another particle of equal extent,
but that annihilation would destroy the infinity. Were
matter extended to any degree less than infinity, the mo¬
tion of its parts would undoubtedly be possible, because a
sufficient force could separate those parts, and introduce
amongst them vacuities of any extent; but without vacui¬
ties capable of containing the body to be moved, it is ob¬
vious that no force whatever could produce motion. This
being the case, it follows, that however far we suppose the
material universe to be extended, there must be vacuities
in it sufficient to permit the motion of the planets and all
the other heavenly bodies, which we plainly perceive to
revolve round a centre ; and, if so, the next question to
be determined is, what can operate in vacuo upon such
immense bodies, so as to produce a regular and continued
motion?
I hat all bodies are equally capable of motion or of rest,
eni'^aS ^een as completely proved by natural philosophers as
,] any thing can be proved by observation and experience.
It is indeed a fact obvious to the most superficial observer;
for if either of these states were essential to matter, the
other would be absolutely impossible. If rest were essen¬
tial, nothing could be moved ; if motion were essential, no¬
thing could be at rest, but every the minutest atom would
have a motion of its own, which is contrary to universal
experience. With respect to motion and rest, matter is
wholly passive. No man ever perceived a body inanimate
begin to move, or, when in motion, to stop without resist¬
ance. A billiard ball laid at rest on the smoothest surface,
would continue at rest to the end of time, unless moved
by some force extrinsic to itself. If such a ball were struck
by another ball, it would indeed be moved with a velocity
proportioned to the impetus with which it was struck ; but
the impelling ball would lose as much of its own motion
as was communicated to that upon which the impulse was
made. It is evident, therefore, that in this instance there
is no beginning of motion, but only the communication of
motion from one body to another; and we may still ask,
where had the motion its origin? If the impelling ball
was thrown from the hand of a man, or struck with a racket,
659
Of Mo-
tion
it is plain, that by a volition of the man’s mind the motion
was fn st given to his own arm, whence it proceeded through
the racket from one ball to another; so that the ball, the'
lacket, and the arm, were mere instruments, and the mind
of the man the only agent or first mover. That motion can
be begun by any being which is not possessed of life, con¬
sciousness, and will, or what is analogous to these, is to us
altogether inconceivable. Mere matter or inanimate body
can operate upon body only by impulse ; but impulse,
although from the poverty of language we are sometimes
obliged to talk of its agency, is itself merely an effect; for
it is nothing more than the contact of two bodies, of which
one at least is in motion. An infinite series of effects
without a cause is the grossest absurdity ; and therefore
motion cannot have been communicated from eternity by
the impulse of body upon body, but must have been origi-
nafly produced by a being who acts in a manner analogous
to the energies of the human will.
But though motion could not have been begun except by Motion
the energy of mind, it is generally believed that it might produced
be continued by the mere passiveness of body; and it is a hw impulse
law of the Newtonian philosophy, that a body projected incan onlJ
empty space would continue to move in a straight line forbe in a
ever. The only reason which can be assigned for this lawwIght
is, that since body continues to move at all after the im-
petus of projection has ceased, it could not of itself cease
to move without becoming active ; because as much force
is lequued to stop a body in motion as to communicate mo¬
tion to the same body at rest. Many objections have been
made to this argument, and to the Jaw of which it is the
foundation ; but as we do not perceive their strength, we
shall not undertake any formal examination of them. If
a single body could exist and have motion communicated
to \\,m vacuo by the force of projection, we are persuad¬
ed that, from the very passiveness of matter, that motion
would never have an end; but it is obvious that it could be
moved only in a straight line, for an impulse can be given
in no other direction.
The heavenly bodies, however, are not moved in straight The New-
ines, ut m curves round a centre; and therefore their tonian doc-
inotion cannot have been originally communicated merely trine re-
by an impressed force of projection. This is admitted byspectin?
all philosophers; and therefore the Newtonians supposellfflnio,tion
that the planets are moved in elliptical orbits by the joint veidv bT’
agency of two forces acting in different directions. One dies/
of these forces makes the planet tend directly to the centre
about which it revolves; the other impels it to fly off in a
tangent to the curve described. The former they call gra¬
vitation, which some of them have affirmed to be a property
inherent in all matter; and the latter, which is a projectile
force, they consider as impressed ab extra. By the joint
agency of such forces, duly proportioned to each other, Sir
Isaac Newton has demonstrated, that the planets must ne¬
cessarily desciibe such orbits as by observation and expe¬
rience they are found actually to describe. But the ques¬
tion with the metaphysician is, whether such forces be
real ?
With respect to projection, indeed, there is no difficulty; Mutual at
but that bod.es should mutually act upon each other at a traction “f
distance, and through an immense vacuum, seems at- first the hea-
sight altogether impossible. If the planets are moved byvenl>Tho-
the forces of gravitation and projection, they must neces-dies’
saiily move in vacuo ; for the continual resistance of even
the rarest medium would in time overcome the force of the
gieatest impetus ; but it they move in vacuo, how can they
be attracted by the sun or by one another ? It is a self-
evident truth, that nothing can act but where it is present
either immediately or mediately; because every thin-
which operates upon another must perform that operation
either by its own immediate agency or by means of some
instrument. I he sun and planets are not in contact; nor,
METAPHYSICS.
660
Of Mo- if the motion of these bodies be in vacuo, can any thing
tion- material pass as an instrument from the one to the other.
We know indeed by experience, that every particle of un¬
organized matter within our reach has a tendency to move
towards the centre of the earth ; and we are intuitively
certain, that such a tendency must have some cause; but
when we infer that cause to be a power of attraction inhe¬
rent in all matter, which mutually acts upon bodies at a dis¬
tance, drawing them towards each other, we employ a lan¬
guage which is perfectly unintelligible.1 Nay, more; we
may venture to affirm that such an inference is contrary to
fact. The particles of every elastic fluid fly from each
other ; the flame of a fire darts upwards with a velocity for
which the weight of the circumambient air cannot account;
and the motion of the particles of a plant, when growing, is
so far from tending towards the centre of the earth, that
when a flower-pot is inverted, every vegetable in it, as soon
as it is arrived at a sufficient length, bends itself over the
side of the pot, and grows with its top in the natural posi¬
tion.
These bo- Sensible of the force of these arguments against the pos-
dies cannot gibiiity 0f an attractive power in matter which operates at
!>e two ^ a distance’ other philosophers have supposed that the hea-
fm-ce's ah ven^y bodies are moved in elliptical orbits by means of two
extra. forces originally impressed upon each planet, impelling it
in different directions at the same time. But if the ten¬
dency of the planets towards the centre of the sun be of the
same kind with that of heavy bodies towards the centre of
the earth (and if there be such a tendency at all, we have
no reason to suppose it different), it cannot possibly be the
effect of impulse. A body impelled or projected in vacuo
would continue to be moved with an equable velocity, nei¬
ther accelerated nor retarded as it approached the object
towards which it was directed ; but the velocity of a body
tending towards the centre of the earth is continually acce¬
lerated ; and as we cannot doubt but that the same thing
takes place in the motion of a body tending towards the
centre of the sun, that motion cannot be the effect of im¬
pulse or projection.
Nor by the Some of the Newtonians therefore have supposed “ that
agency of all kinds of attraction consist in fine imperceptible particles
niate- or invisible effluvia, which proceed from every point in the
nal uid. surface 0f tiie attracting body, in rectilineal directions
every way, which, in their progress, lighting on other
bodies, urge and solicit them towards the superior attract¬
ing body; and therefore,” say they, “ the force or intensity
of the attracting powyer in general must always decrease as
the squares of the distances increase.” The inference is
fairly drawn from the fact, provided the fact itself were
real or possible. But it is obvious, that if fine imperceptible
particles or invisible effluvia were thus issued from every Ofu
point in the surface of the sun, the earth and other planets tion°
could not move in vacuo, and therefore the projectile mo-
tion would in time be stopped by the resistance of this power¬
ful medium. Besides, is it not altogether inconceivable, nay
impossible, that particles issuing from the sun should draw
the planets towards that centre ? would they not rather of
necessity drive them to a greater distance ? To say that
after they have reached the planets, they change their mo¬
tion, and return to the place whence they set out, is to en¬
due them with the powers of intelligence and will, and to
transform them from passive matter to active mind.
These difficulties in the theories of attraction and im¬
pulse have set philosophers upon fabricating numberless
hypotheses. Even Sir Isaac Newton himself, who never con¬
sidered gravitation as any thing more than an effect, con¬
jectured that there might be a very subtile fluid or ether
pervading all bodies, and producing not only the motion of
the planets, and the fall of heavy bodies to the earth, but
even the mechanical part of muscular motion and of sensa¬
tion. Others, again, have supposed that fire, or light, or
the electric fluid, is the universal agent; and some few
have acknowledged, that nothing is sufficient to produce
the phenomena but the immediate agency of mind.
With respect to the interposition of any material fluid,
whether ether, fire, light, or electricity, it is sufficient to
say that it does not remove any one difficulty which en¬
cumbers the theory of innate attraction. All these fluids
are elastic ; and of course the particles of which they are
composed are distant from each other. Whatever motion,
therefore, we may suppose to be given to one particle or
set of particles, the question still recux-s, how is it commu¬
nicated from them to others ? If one body can act upon
another at the distance of the ten thousandth part of an
inch, we can perceive nothing to hinder its action from ex¬
tending to the distance of ten thousand millions of miles.
In the one case as well as in the other, the body is acting
where it is not present; and if that be admitted to be pos¬
sible, all our notions of action are subverted, and it is vain
to reason about the cause of any phenomenon in nature.
This theory of the intermediate agency of a subtile fluid The hypo-
differs not essentially from the vortices of Descartes, whichttiesesof
appeared so very absurd to Cudworth, that, with a boldness
becoming a man of the first genius and learning, he re- an(j ’
jected it, and adopted the plastic nature of Plato, Aristotle, worth.
and other Greek philosophers. That incomparable scholar
observes, that matter, being purely passive, the motion of
the heavenly bodies, the growth of vegetables, and even
the formation of animal bodies, must be the effect either
of the immediate agency of God, or the agency of a plastic
1 A different opinion on this point is held by Mr Dugald Stewart in his Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. We shall,
however, claim the same liberty of dissenting occasionally from him that he has claimed of dissenting from Newton, Locke, Clarke,
and Cudworth, from whom he differs widely in thinking it as easy to conceive how bodies can act upon each other at a distance, as
how one body can communicate motion to another by impulse. “ I allow,” says he (p. 79), “ that it is impossible to conceive in what
manner one body acts upon another at a distance through a vacuum ; but 1 cannot, admit that it removes the difficulty, to suppose
that the two bodies are in actual contact. That one body may be the efficient cause of the motion of another body placed at a dis¬
tance from it, I do by no means assert; but only that we have as good reason to believe that this may be possible, as to believe that
any one natural event is the efficient cause of another.”
If by efficient cause be here meant the first and original cause of motion, we have the honour to agree with the learned professor ;
for we are persuaded, that body inanimate is not, in this sense of the -word, the cause of motion either at hand or at a distance. But it
he mean (and we think he must, because such was the meaning of Newton, from whom he professes to differ), that we can as easily
conceive one body to be the instrumental cause of the motion of another from which it is distant, as we can conceive it to communicate
motion by impulse, we cannot help thinking him greatly mistaken. We will not indeed affirm, with the writer whom he quotes,
“ that although the experiment had never been made, the communication of motion by impulse might have been predicted by rea¬
soning a prioribecause we are not certain, that without some such experiment we should ever have acquired adequate notions of
the solidity of matter. But if all corporeal substances be allowed to be solid, and possessed of that negative power to which philoso¬
phers have given the name of vis inertias, we think it may be easily proved a priori, that a sufficient impulse of one hard body upon
another must communicate motion to that other; for when the vis inertice, by which alone the one body is kept in its place, is less than
the vis impetus with which the other rushes to take possession of that place, it is evident that the former body must give way to the
latter, which it can do only by motion, otherwise the two bodies would occupy one and the same place, which is inconsistent with
their solidity. But that a substance possessed of a vis inertias should make another substance possessed of the same negative power
quit a place to which itself has no tendency, is to us not only inconceivable, but apparently impossible, as implying a direct contra¬
diction.
, nature employed as an instrument by Divine Wisdom,
j That they aie not the effect of (rod s immediate agency, he
•"'thinks obvious from several circumstances. In the first
place, they are performed slowly and by degrees, which is
not suitable to our notions of the agency of Almighty
Power. Secondly, many blunders are committed in the
operations of nature, such as the formation of monsters,
&c. which could^ never be were things formed by the im¬
mediate hand of God. He is therefore of opinion, that
after the creation of matter, God employed an inferior
agent to give it motion and form, and to carry on all those
operations which have been continued in it since the be¬
ginning of the world. This agent he calls plastic nature ;
and consult is it as a being incorporeal, which penetrates
the most solid substance, and, in a manner which he pre¬
tends not to explain otherwise than by analogy, actuates
the universe. lie does not look upon it as a being endued
with perception, consciousness, or intelligence, but merely
as an instrument which acts under Divine Wisdom, accord¬
ing to certain laws. Pie compares it to art embodied ; and,
quoting liom Aiistotle, saj's, “ If the art of the shipwright
were in the timber itself, operatively and effectually, it would
there act just as natuiedoes. He calls it a certain lower
life than the animal, w hich acts regularly and artificially for
ends of which it knows nothing. It may be, he says, either
a lower faculty of some conscious soul, or else an inferior
kind of life or soul by itself, but depending in either case
upon a higher intellect. He is aware with what difficulty
such a principle will be admitted by those philosophers who
have divided all being into such as is extended and such as
is cogitative ; but he thinks this division improper. He
wouul divide beings into those which are solid and extend¬
ed, and those which have life or internal energy. Those
beings which have life or internal energy he would again
divide into such as act with consciousness, and such as act
without it; the latter of which is this plastic life of nature.
To piove that such an instrument is possible, or that a be¬
ing may be capable of operating for ends of which it knows
nothing, he instances bees and other animals, wdio are im¬
pelled by instinct to do many things necessary to their own
preservation, without having the least notion of the pur¬
pose for which they work. (See Instinct.) He observes,
that there is an essential difference between reason and in¬
stinct, although they are both the attributes of mind or in¬
corporeal substance ; and that therefore, as we know of
two kinds of mind differing so widely, there is nothing to
hinder us from inferring a third, with powers differing as
much from instinct as instinct differs from reason. Man¬
kind are conscious of their own operations, know for what
purpose they generally act, and can, by the power of reflec¬
tion, take a retrospective view of their actions and thoughts,
making as it wrere the mind its own object. Brutes are
conscious of their own operations, but they are ignorant of
the purposes for which they operate, and altogether incap¬
able of reflecting either upon their past conduct or their past
thoughts. Between their intellectual powers and those of
man there is a much greater difference than there is be¬
tween them and a plastic nature, which acts as an instru¬
ment of Divine Wisdom, without any consciousness of its
own operations. Aristotle, from whom principally the
learned author takes this notion of this plastic nature, com¬
pares it, with respect to the Divine Wisdom which directs
and superintends its operations, to a mere builder or me¬
chanic working under an architect, for a purpose of which
the mechanic himself knows nothing. The words of the
btagyrite are, “ We account the architects in every thing
more honourable than the mere workmen, because they
understand the reason of the things done; whereas the
METAPHYSICS.
661
other, as some inanimate things, only work, not knowing OfMo-
what they do, just as the fire burns; the difference between tion-
them being only this, that inanimate things act by a cer-
tain nature in them, but the workman by habit.”1
Still further to prove that a being may be endowed with Possibility
some vital energy of a subordinate kind, and yet be des-of these
titute of consciousness and perception, the learned author hypotheses,
observes, that there is no reason to think that the souls of
men in sound sleep, lethargies, or apoplexies, are con¬
scious of any thing; and still less, if possible, to suppose
that the souls of embryons in the womb are, from the very
first moment of their arrival there, intelligent and con¬
scious beings; neither can we say how we come to be so
differently affected in our souls by the different motions
made upon our bodies, nor are we always conscious of
those energies by which we impress fantastic ideas on the
imagination. But if it be possible for the souls of men to
be for one instant void of consciousness and intelligence,
it follows that consciousness is not absolutely necessary to
those energies and motions by which life is preserved.
I o this it may be added, upon the best authority,2 “ tha*-
where animal or vegetable life is concerned, there is in
every case a different relation between the cause and ef¬
fect, and seemingly depending upon the concurrence or
influence of some farther principle of change in the sub¬
ject than what subsists in inanimate matter, or in the
causes and effects that are the objects of mechanical and
chemical philosophy. Now to this principle of vegetable
life, without which, in a seed or in a plant, vegetation will
neither begin nor continue, though light, heat, air, earth,
and water, should concur in the utmost perfection, Cud-
worth expressly compares his plastic nature in the uni¬
verse. It is so far, says he, from being the first or hio-h-
est life, that it is indeed the last and lowest of all Iwes
being really the same thing with the vegetative.
These arguments, if the phenomena of elective attrac-Argu-
tions in chemistry be added to them, demonstrate, wementsf°r
think, the possibility of such a principle; and to thoseits
who are inclined to affirm that no such thing can exist
because, according to the description of it given by Cud-
worth and the ancients, it is neither body nor spirit in the
proper sense of the words, w^e beg leave to ask, in the
words of Locke, “ who told them that there is and can be
nothing but solid beings which cannot think, and thinking
beings that are not extended, which is all that they
mean by the terms body and spirit?” All the Greek phi¬
losophers who were not materialists, and even the inspired
writers of the Old and New Testaments, constantly dis¬
tinguish between the spirit and the sow/of a man, callino-
the former sometimes i/oug, and sometimes ‘Tn/su/jja, and the
latter ; and St Paul, who, before he was a Christian
was learned in philosophy, describes the constituent parts
of man as three, mw/M, tru/ta, spirit, soul, and body.
Ibis distinction, setting aside the authority with which it
comes to us, seems to be well founded ; for there are many
operations carried on in the human body without any con¬
scious exertion of ours, and which yet cannot be account¬
ed for by the laws of mechanism. Of these, Cudworth
instances the motion of the diaphragm and other muscles
which cause respiration, and the systole and diastole of
the heart, neither of which, he thinks, can be the effect
of mere mechanism. But, as we are not conscious of any
energy of soul from which they proceed, even whilst we
are awake, and still less, if possible, whilst we are asleep
he attributes them, not to the intellect or rational mind,
but to this inferior vital principle called which, in
his opinion, acts the same part in the system of the hu¬
man body which the plastic nature acts in the system of
1 Metaphys. lib. i. cap. i.
Gregory’s Philosophical and Literary Essays.
662
METAPHYSICS.
Of Mo- the world. To make the resemblance still lore striking,
tion. he observes, that even the voluntary motion f our limbs,
although it proceeds ultimately from an ei rgy of will,
seems to be the effect of that energy employig some in¬
strument which pervades the sinews, nerves md muscles
of the body ; and if the human spirit or employ the
instrumentality of a plastic nature or ^v^ti i moving the
small machine of the body, it seems to be fa from incre¬
dible that the Divine Wisdom should emplo the instru¬
mentality of a plastic nature in moving the £eat machine
of the universe.
Celestial But we need not insist further on the possn'lity of such
motions an instrument. Whatever may be thought f the argu-
tT* thcf °n ments Cudworth, of which some are, to s the least of
agency of plausible, though others appear to us have very
something little strength, Dr Clarke has proved, with abrce of rea-
incorpo- soning not inferior to mathematical demonsration, that
real. the motions of the heavenly bodies are carri .l on by the
agency of something very different from i itter, under
every possible form. “ For, not to say that, seeing mat¬
ter is utterly incapable of obeying any laws the proper
sense of the word, the very original laws of otion them-
* selves cannot continue to take place but by : mething su¬
perior to matter continually exerting on it a ertain force
or power, according to such certain and deti mined laws,
it is now evident beyond question, that the odies of all
plants and animals could not possibly have een formed
by mere matter according to any general la s of motion ;
and not only so, but that most universal pri iple of gra¬
vitation itself, the spring of almost all the eat and re¬
gular inanimate motions in the world, answe.ng not at all
the surfaces of bodies, by which alone they an act upon
one another, but entirely to their solid conants, cannot
possibly be the result of any motion originay impressed
upon matter.” For although it is true that te most solid
bodies with which we are acquainted are al very porous,
and that therefore a subtile material fluid m ht penetrate
the bodies of the planets, and operate upon item with a
force exerted internally, still it is self-evi nt that the
greatest quantities of such a fluid could nt enter into
those bodies which are least porous, and wh ’e the great¬
est force of gravitation resides; “ and, then >re, this mo¬
tion must of necessity be caused by someth g which pe¬
netrates the very solid substance of all bod ,, and conti¬
nually puts forth in them a force or power otirely differ¬
ent from that by which matter acts upon rm .er.”1 This,
as the same able writer observes, is an evide demonstra¬
tion, not only of the world’s being original) made by a
Supreme Intelligent Cause ; but, moreover, tat it depends
every moment upon some superior being for he preserva¬
tion of its frame, and that all the great motms in it are
caused by some immaterial power perpetual! and actually
exerting itself every moment in every part ’ the corpo¬
real universe. This preserving and govening power,
whether it be the immediate power and actio of the same
Supreme Cause that created the world, or le action of
some subordinate instruments appointed by im to direct
and preside respectively over certain parts lereof, gives
us equally in either way an elevated idea c Providence.
\v e know with certainty that real and origi d powrer can
belong only to a being endowed with intellig ice and will;
and, therefore, if the existence of Cud worth’s plastic nature Ofv
be admitted, and we see not why it should be called ' Ut1fUl11-
question,‘it can be considered only as an instrument
ployed by Divine Wisdom, as a chisel or a saw is employ-
ed by the wisdom of the mechanic. ^
Nor let it be imagined, that this ancient theory of mo tv
tion is in any degree inconsistent with the mathematicalrv i?0'
principles of Sir Isaac Newton’s astronomy, or with the cal-ikw
dilations derived from those principles. Having foundedwitl1'he
his astronomy on analogy between the phenomena of pro.piinciP1(*
jectile and planetary motions, he assigned the same or si.ofNewt011-
milar forces existing in nature as the efficient causes of
both. And indeed, both in the act of deriving his prin¬
ciples from the projectile phenomena, and afterwards for
the purpose of applying them to the planetary, it was ne¬
cessary to analyze the elliptical motion of the heavenly bo¬
dies into a compound of two simple motions in right lines
produced by the action of these different forces ;°and this
might also be useful for the purposes of teaching and de¬
monstration, just as we find it necessary, in almost all parts
of science, to separate wdiat in nature is inseparable, for the
convenience and assistance of the understanding. The
planetary motions, however, are very probably simple and
uncompounded, for no experiments can be tried in those
distant regions ; and the astronomy of Newton, which is
only the application of his mathematical principles to their
mensuration from their analogy to projectile motions, does
not at all require that the forces of gravitation and projection
be assigned as their real existent causes.2 It is sufficient
for the analogy, on which the whole philosophy is founded,
that the phenomena of motion are known from experiments
and observations to be the same in both instances; that
the principles or general laws mathematically established
from the forces of the one are transferred to the phenome¬
na of the other; and that the proofs and operations de¬
duced from these principles in the latter case, are con¬
firmed by facts and experience, the first and final test of
truth.3
.taiiJ
elfi
V(|fi
UfB
one*
las*
tiifi
irel
lit
tfaril
li/;8
iije
i
ail a
id
ilijecti
lust
Icli I
liiclll
1 liiie
lescie
ueutsa
is of
iiige
bik
tine
il if
CHAP. VI. OF NUMBER.
jptol
fa i
“ Amongst all the ideas that we have, as there is none,’’Unity,
says Mr Locke,4 “suggested to the mind by more ways, so as an idea,
there is none more simple, than that of unity, or one. It™°ct^
has no shadow of variety or composition in it. Every ob-fromeverj
ject our senses are employed about, every idea in our un-jn(|jvj,]Ual.
derstandings, every thought of our minds, bring this idea
along with it; and therefore it is the most intimate to our
thoughts, as well as it is, in its agreement to all other things,
the most universal idea we have ; for number applies itself ■
to men, angels, actions, thoughts, every thing that either
doth exist or can be imagined.” He seems likewise to be
of opinion, that we have the idea of unity before that of
many ; and that it is by repeating the simple idea of unity
in our own minds that we come by the complex ideas of two,
three, or more. In this opinion he is joined by Pere Buffier,
who observes, that it is impossible to explain the nature of
unity, because it is the most simple idea, and that which
perhaps first occurred to the mind.
That unity is a simple idea, must be granted; but it cer-
jtdsbej
fence i
MS6SW(
lilbj
tatse
ule bit
y, \
■ttiiig
fast
fame
faft
fanes,
far a
fact
fake
'fa
1 Evidence of Natural and Revealed Religion.
2 Indeed Sir Isaac himself is very far from positvely assigning them as the real causes of the phenomena. The purpose for which
they were introduced into his philosophy he clear explains in the following words : “ Eadem ratione qua projectile vi gravitatis in
orbem flecti posset et terram totam circumire, p .est et luna, vel vi gravitatis, si modo gravis sit, vel alia quacunque vi qua in ter¬
rain urgeatur, retrain semper a cursu rectilineo tt am versus et in orbem suum flecti; et absque tali vi luna in orbe suo retinerinon
potest. Hsec vis, si jusio minor esset, non satis i cteret lunam a cursu rectilineo: si justo maior, plus satis flecteret, ac de orbe ter¬
ram versus deduceret. Requiritur quippe ut sit^ ta magnitudinis: et mathematicorum est invenire vim, qua corpus in dato quovi
orbe data cum velocitate accurate retineri possit; vicissim invenire viam curvilineam in ouam corpus e dato quovis loco data cum
velocitate egressum data vi flectatur.” {Principi Wathem. def. v.) 1 1
c 3 Tatham’s Chart and Scale of Truth. 4 Essay, book ii. chap. xvi. s First Truths.
ijjOfNum
ber.
litya
■ticu-
rela-
metaphysics.
tainly did not first occur to the mind, nor can it be abstract¬
ed from all individuals, and apprehended, in Locke’s sense
'of the word, as a general idea. Let any man look into his
own mind, and then say whether he has a general idea of
one or of unity as abstracted from every individual object
mental and corporeal. In particular, when he thinks he
has completely abstracted it from body and mind, sensa¬
tions, ideas, actions, and passions, &c. let him be sure, be¬
fore he pronounce it a general abstract idea, that he is not
all the while contemplating the idea of its name, or of that
numerical figure by which it is marked in the operations
of arithmetic. Both these ideas are in themselves particu¬
lar ; and become general in their import, only as represent¬
ing every individual object to which unity is in any sense
applicable. But, in the chapter on Abstraction, we have
said enough to convince every person capable of convic¬
tion, that they are employed as signs for whole classes of
663
objects.
Instead of being an abstract general idea, unity, as the
basis of number, is in fact nothing but a mere relation,
which cannot be conceived without the related objects;
and so far is it from being the first idea that occurred to
the mind, that it is certainly the result of a comparison,
made by the intellect, of two or more objects. The ideas
which first occur to the mind are, beyond all doubt, those
which are called ideas of sensation ; and many such ideas
every child receives before he is capable of comparing ob¬
jects and forming to himself notions of number. Unity, or
the idea of one, is indeed the element of the science of
arithmetic, just as a mathematical point is the element of
the science of geometry; but accurate notions of these ele¬
ments are, in the progress of knowledge, subsequent to
ideas of many and of surfaces. There is reason to believe
that persons totally illiterate have no notion at all of ma¬
thematical points ; and we think it possible to conceive an
intelligent and conscious being in such a situation as that
he could not acquire a notion of unity or one. Were a
child never to see or feel two objects of the same kind, we
doubt if he would think of numbering them, or of making
such a comparison of the one with the other as would sug¬
gest to his mind the relations of one and tw o ; for these re¬
lations imply both a sameness and a difference of the ob¬
jects beyond the power of a child to ascertain. The dif¬
ference indeed would be perceptible to the senses, but the
senses would perceive no sameness or agreement. A guinea,
a shilling, and a ball of lead, impress upon the mind dif¬
ferent sensations ; and therefore a child undoubtedly dis¬
tinguishes these objects from one another ; but what could
make him derive from this his first idea of the relation of
number ? A guinea, a shilling, and a ball of lead, are not
one, two, three, in any sense which a child can compre¬
hend. fo be convinced of this, let any man throw a guinea,
a shilling, and a ball of lead upon a table, and ask a clown
what is their number. From being accustomed to retail
the names of number as signs, without affixing to them any
idea of the things signified, he will probably answer with
quickness three, or perhaps one, two, three. But if he be
urther asked in what respect they are one, two, three, we
eheve his answer will not be so ready. They are not one,
two, three guineas, or shillings, or balls of lead. A philo¬
sopher knows th a to be three pieces of the same first OfiNum-
a er under dif rent forms, and can therefore apply to her.
them the relatio of number with truth and propriety;'
but of the first m ter a clown is entirely ignorant, and of
couise cannot cah hem one, two, three, in any sense which
is at once true an to him intelligible.
To make it sti more evident that it is only by com¬
paring together tl igs of the same kind that our first ideas
of unity and num r are formed, let us suppose that no
created being had therto existed except the animated and
intelligent globe entioned in the last chapter, and we
think it will be gn ted that such a being in solitude could
never acquire the lea of unity. Let us next suppose a
cubical body to b( reated, and exhibited to the senses of
this spherical man The consequence would be a sensation
or feeling entirely ew, but that feeling would not be one
of unity ; for, as ie author of Ancient Metaphysics has
somewhere well o' erved, unity is no object of sensation.
The sensation wmid be one of colour, hardness, softness,
roughness or smooiness, &c.for beyond these the empire
of the senses doe not reach. Again, let another body
be created of a couir and figure totally different from the
colour and figure o the cube, and the spherical man would
then experience nt sensations having no agreement with
those which he ha formerly felt. These different kinds
of sensations migh be compared together; but the result
of the comparison /ould not be the ideas which are de¬
noted by the word one and two, but merely that which
is expressed by di rence or dissimilarity. Were another
cube, however, of xactly the same size and colour with
the former to be b. ught into existence, and both to be at
once presented to e view of the spherical man, the ru¬
diments of the id of number would then be generated
in his mind, becai he could not but perceive the cubes
to be in one respe: different and in another the same ;
different as being stinct from each other, and agreeing
in their effects upo the organs of sensation.
It appears, theref e,that mankind must have made some Notion of
progress in classim things according to their genera and number,
species, before the acquired any correct ideas of the re¬
lation of number, o thought of using numerical names or
figures as general a discriminating signs ; for we say one,
two, three, &c. onl with respect to the species or genus
of which each of tl things denoted by these numbers is
an individual; and there be any thing which has no ge¬
nus or species, neit er number nor unity can, in the origi¬
nal sense of the w ds, be predicated of it.1 We say in¬
deed that there is me God; but perhaps we do not al¬
ways attend to the eaning of the expression. Language
was formed to ansv • the common purposes of life ; and
those purposes are est answered by denoting individuals
by the name of the mcies or genus to which they belong.
But God belongs to o species or genus, unless he be said
improperly to be o the universal genus of Being; and
therefore the true n ming of the word “ one,” when joined
to the verb “ is,” a: transferred from the creature to the
Creator, in such a si tence as “ There is one God,” seems
to be nothing mor than an affirmation that God exists,
and that to him the elation of number cannot be applied.
In a word, unity an lumber are merely relations between
T are. haPPy .to find our notions on this subject confirmed by Mr Dugald Stewart “ Without the power of attending sepa-
0j rately to things which our senses present to us in a state of union, we never,” says this ble writer, “ could have had any idea of
6 number: for, before we can consider different objects as forming a multitude, it is necessar that we should be able to apply to all of
le lem (,ne common name ; or, in other words, that -we should reduce them all to the same enus. The various objects, for example,
:ai snimale and inanimate, which are at this moment before me, I may class and number in a ariety of different ways, according to the
fli vie'v 01 tneni that I choose to take. I may reckon successively the number of sheep, of c* s, of horses, of elms, of oaks, of beeches ;
yj or may first reckon the number of animals, and then the number of trees ; or I may at ore reckon the number of all the organized
tei s!‘. stances which my senses present to me. But whatever be the principles on which my c ssification proceeds, it is evident that the
Hu 0 ’jects numbered together must be considered in those respects only in which they agree ' ih each other; and that if I had no power
nt sePar&ting the combinations of sense, I could never have conceived them as forming plurality.” (Elements of the Philoie^hu
It, °fthe Human Mind, chap, iv.).
664
METAPHYSICS.
Ot Time, the individuals of the same species or genus of being ; and
' men acquire ideas of these relations at the same time and
by the same means that they are led to class things into
species and genera. As to the processes of addition and
subtraction, and the various purposes to which number is
applied, these things belong to the science of arithmetic,
and do not fall under the province of the metaphysician,
whose sole object is to ascertain the real nature and causes
of things. It may, however, be worth while to observe,
that Locke, whose notions of number seem to have been
different from ours, owns, that a man can hardly have any
ideas of numbers of which his language does not furnish
him with names. But if units were either real things, or
even positive ideas, we see not how names could be neces¬
sary to their existence ; whereas, if they be nothing more
than mere relations, it is obvious that they cannot be con¬
ceived but as relative either to beings actually existing, or
to names which are the signs of actual beings.
CHAP. VII. OF TIME.
Time a
mode of
duration.
Whilst the
When St Augustin was asked what time is, he replied,
“ Si non rogcs. intelligoan answer from which it may
be inferred that he thought the nature of time could not
be explained by a logical definition. Time and eternity are
commonly considered as the two modes of duration; and
if duration be taken in what Locke thinks its true and ori¬
ginal sense, to denote permanence of existence, with a kind
of resistance to any destructive force, the distinction seems
to be sufficiently proper. It is indeed the best that we can
make or comprehend ; for duration, time, and eternity, are
subjects which have perplexed philosophical minds in all
ages, and of which, if we have any adequate notions, it is
very difficult to express these notions in-language. Instead of
attempting it by previous definitions, the method in which
the ancients generally began their inquiries, we shall pur¬
sue the better course of induction recommended by Lord
Bacon, and endeavour to show by what means we acquire
the notion of that mode of duration which is called time,
in contradistinction to eternity. We begin with time, be¬
cause we ourselves exist in it, and it is in some sense fa¬
miliar to us. If we be able to trace our notions of this mode
of duration to their source, we may then give a definition
of it founded upon fact and universal experience, and after¬
wards proceed to consider the other mode in conjunction
with infinity, to which it is nearly allied.
It has already been observed, that every man, whilst
mind is oc-awake iias a train of sensations and ideas constantlv pass-
cupied by • .1 , , • • , • , . .. ' 1
one idea in such a manner that the one suc-
there isnoceetis other ,n a regular order. It is not possible,
perception either by detaining in the mind one idea to the exclusion
of time. of all others, to stop the course of this succession entire¬
ly; or, by hurrying some ideas off the stage, and calling
others in their place, to quicken its progress beyond a cer¬
tain degree. One man indeed has naturally a quicker suc¬
cession of ideas than another; and all men can, by great
exertions, accelerate or retard in a small degree the natu¬
ral current of their thoughts. A studious man lays hold,
as it were, of a particular idea, which he wishes to con¬
template, and detains it in the imagination, to the exclu¬
sion of all others ; a man of wit calls remote ideas into
view with a rapidity of which a cool and phlegmatic rea-
soner cannot form any conception ; and a forcible sensation
takes full possession of the mind, to the exclusion of all
ideas whatever. Whilst the attention is wholly occupied
by one idea, or by one sensation, the mind has no notion
whatever of time ; and were it possible to detain such idea
or sensation alone in the mind till the hand of a clock
should move from the number of one hour to that of an¬
other, the hour, as marked on the dial-plate and measured
by the motion of the hand, would appear but as one instant Of
absolutely void of duration. For the truth of this asser¬
tion we appeal to the experience of our readers. Such of
them as have ever been engaged in deep study must often
have had their attention so fixed upon one object, that
large portions of time, as measured by the clock, have
passed away wholly unheeded ; and every man who has
seen a very striking and uncommon object, must remem¬
ber that when the sensation was first impressed upon his
mind, all other objects, ideas, and notions, and amongst the
rest the notion of time, were for a while excluded.
No sensation, however, keeps possession of the whole Sue
mind after it has ceased to be new; nor can the most vi-ofi1
gorous exertions long preserve any one idea from being§lvt e
driven off the stage by the succeeding train. Now this ''
cept jf
succession of ideas appearing and disappearing in theirtim!
turns, is that which, when compared with the permanency
of ourselves and other things, gives us our first and justest
notion of time; for whilst we are thinking, or whilst a se¬
ries of ideas is successively passing through our minds and
vanishing, we know that we ourselves and "the things around
us exist; and this existence, or continuation of existence,
commensurate with the train of our fleeting ideas, is what
we call the duration of ourselves and the things around us.
We are aware that the first notions of time have been
often said to be derived from motion as perceived by our
senses in the objects around us. It is observed by Euclid,
that “ if there were no motion, there could be no sound,
nor any sense of hearing.” “ He might have added,” says
the author of Ancient Metaphysics, “ nor any other per¬
ception of sense. Further, without motion there would
have been no visible world, nor generation or production
of any kind here below ; and, among other things, time
could have had no existence.” All this is certainly true;
but that corporeal motion, though the original source of all
our ideas, is not that which immediately suggests to us
the notion of time, will be readily granted by him who
considers that motion itself is perceived by us only when
it excites or accompanies a constant succession of percep¬
tions and ideas. Motion, when equable and very slow,
such as that of the hour-hand of a common watch, is not
perceived by us in its course ; nor can w e discover that the
thing has moved at all, till after we have been sensible of
the lapse of a considerable portion of what is commonly
called time, when we discover that the hand of the watch
has changed its place with respect to other objects which
we know to be fixed. The same is true of motion remark¬
ably quick: “ Let a cannon ball,” says Locke, “ pass through
a room, and in its way take with it any limb or fleshy
parts of a man ; it is as clear as any demonstration can be,
that it must strike successively the two sides of the room;
it is also evident that it must touch one part of the flesh
first, and another after, and so in succession ; and yet I
believe nobody who ever felt the pain of such a shot, or
heard the blow against the two distant walls, could per¬
ceive any succession either in the pain or sound of so swift
a stroke.”
Of these tw o phenomena a satisfactory account may be The
easily given ;,from which we think it will at the same timefessl(
be apparent, that the succession of the train of ideas in the^sl
mind is the measure and standard of all other successions. au 0t
We know that the energy of mind which reviews a train succe
of sensible ideas is of the very same kind with that which sions
attends to a series of passing sensations ; and therefore it
is natural to suppose that we can pay attention to sensa¬
tions and ideas passing with nearly equal velocities. But
it has been shown, that every sensation remains in the
mind or sensorium for a very short space after the object
which excited it is taken away; whence it follows, that a
body communicating to‘the organs of sense a series of si¬
milar impressions succeeding each other with remarkable
(|Dfjme. rapidity, cannot possibly excite a train of similar and dis-
—■'tinct sensations ; because the effects of the first and second
metaphysics.
665
. .  cmui OCV.UI1U
impressions not having vanished when those of the third
and fourth arrive, the whole train of effects must neces¬
sarily coalesce into one uniform sensation. This reason¬
ing is confirmed by experience. Similar sounds succeeding
each other at considerable intervals are all distinctly per¬
ceived, and if the motion be accelerated gradually, it may
be carried to a great degree of velocity before the sounds
be confounded and coalesce into one. Sir William Herschel
having, by means of a clock, produced sounds or clicking
noises, which succeeded each other with such rapidity tha't
the intervals between them were, as far as could be judged
the smallest possible, found that he could evidently distin¬
guish one hundred and sixty of them in a second of time ;
but beyond that he could by no effort of attention distin¬
guish one sound from another. The same philosopher
tried anothei experiment on visible sensations. By means
of the same handle and work of the clock, he caused a
wheel in it to turn till it acquired the velocity of once in a
second. He continued to increase the velocity, and ob¬
served it whilst revolving at the rate of twenty times round
in thirteen seconds, and could still distinguish the teeth
and spaces from each other; whence it appears, by a com¬
putation given at length, that he had two hundred and
forty-six distinct visible sensations generated by equable
motion in a second of time. The teeth of the wheel, he
owns, were not so far visible as to show their shape dis¬
tinctly, much less could they have been counted; but he
very plainly distinguished the circumference to be divided
into teeth and spaces; and he supposes that the same di¬
vision might still have been seen though the motion had
been a little faster, as far perhaps as two turns in a second,
equal to three hundred and twenty sensations.1 The
reason why the division could not be seen whilst the wheel
moved more rapidly than twice round in a second of time,
was doubtless the continuance of that agitation in the brain
from which each sensation proceeded, until a new impres¬
sion caused a new agitation, which coalesced with the for¬
mer and removed all distinction. Hence it is plain, that
no external succession can be perceived which moves with
a gieater velocity than that of which the internal train of
sensations and ideas is capable. On the other hand, an
external succession which moves with less rapidity than
that to which the internal flowr of ideas may be reduced,
either has not sufficient force to generate sensations at all,
or the successive impressions from which the sensations
proceed follow one another at such distances as to permit
the natural train of ideas to intervene between them, and
thus destroy the perception of the succession entirely.
To us, therefore, it seems evident that the constant and
regular succession of ideas in the mind of a waking man is
the measure and standard of all other successions; of which,
if any one either exceeds the pace which our ideas are
capable of, or ialls short of it, the sense of a constant and
continued succession is lost, and we perceive it not ex¬
cept with certain intervals of rest between. Hence it is not
motion, but the constant train of ideas in our minds, that
suggests to us our first notion of time, of which motion no
otherwise gives us any conception, than as it causes in our
minds a constant succession of sensations ; and we have as
clear a notion of time by attending to the train of ideas
succeeding each other in our minds, as by a train of sensa¬
tions excited by constant and perceptible motion.
That it is merely by comparing the permanent existence
of things with the fleeting succession of ideas in our own
minds that we acquire our notions of time, may perhaps
be still more evident from the following narrative quoted
y r Beattie,2 from L Histoire de V Academic Hoy ale des
Sciences pour l Annie 1719. “A nobleman of Lausanne, Of Time.
as he was giving orders to a servant, suddenly lost his' v 
speech and ail his senses. Different remedies were tried
without effect. At last, after some chirurgical operations,
at the end of six months, during all which time he had ap¬
peared to be m a deep sleep or delirium, his speech and
senses were suddenly restored. When he recovered, the
servant to whom he had been giving orders when he was
first seized with the distemper, happening to be in the
room, he asked whether he had executed his commission
not being sensible, it seems, that any interval of time, ex¬
cept perhaps a very short one, had elapsed during his ill-
ness. If this story be true, here was a man, who, by the
train of ideas vanishing at once from his mind, lost the
perception of what was to others six months of time; and
had all mankind been in this state, the same portion of
time would have been irrecoverably lost even to the annals
of chronology.
Vi e are aware of an objection to any inference which
may be urawn respecting the present question, from the
case of this nobleman. It may be said that he had lost,
together with the perception of time, the perception of
every thing besides ; and that, therefore, motion may still
be the cause from which a waking man derives his notions
of time. But, in reply to this objection, we beg leave to
as , whether, if a ball had been put in motion on a table,
and the nobleman had been told, that a body moved with
t le velocity of that ball would have been carried over so
many thousand miles of distance during the time that he
lay in a state of insensibility, he could from such informa¬
tion alone have formed any tolerable notion of the length
of time during which he was insensible ? He certainly
could not, for want of a standard by which to measure the
rapidity of the motion. He would, indeed, have known in¬
stantly that he had been insensible for a very considerable
length of time, because he had the evidence of former ex¬
perience that a body carried by perceptible motion over a
great extent of distance would have generated in his mind
a vast train of successive sensations; but unless he had
attended this ball during part of its course, and compared
with the permanency of other objects the series of sensa¬
tions which it generated in his mind, he would not have been
able to guess, with, any thing approaching to accuracy, the
length of time it would take to pass over a thousand miles.
.he same insensibility of duration happens to every man
in sound sleep. From having notions of time, such as they
aie, formed in our minds, we never indeed suppose, how¬
ever soundly we may have slept, that the moment at which
we awake in the morning is contiguous to that in which we
fell asleep at night. The reason is obvious. Every man
has been awake whilst others were sleeping, and has known
by experience, that if they had been awake likewise, a train
of ideas would have passed through their minds which must
have suggested to them the notions of time. Most men,
too, have been frequently awake for entire nights, and have
thus acquired a notion of time as going on incessantly,
whether perceived by them or not; and this motion being
closely associated with our ideas of night and morning, we
inevitably suppose a portion of time to have elapsed ’be-
tween them, though unperceived by us in our sleep. But
were a man to sleep without dreaming from Sunday night
till Tuesday morning, and then to awake at his usual hour
as marked on the clock, there are numberless instances on
record to convince us, that he would not of himself sup¬
pose, nor perhaps be very easily persuaded, that more than
one night had elapsed between the time of his falling asleep
and the moment at which he awoke.
It being thus evident, that our conception of time is sug¬
gested by that comparison which we inevitably make of
4) p
VOL. XIV'.
1 Watson’s Treatise on Time.
3 Essay on Truth.
666
METAPHYSICS.
Of Time, the existence of things permanent with the train of ideas
s incessantly passing through our minds, we may now per¬
haps be able to answer the question, “ What is time ?” It
must of necessity be one of three things, viz. either the
ideal succession itself; or a certain quality inherent in all
objects ; or merely the relation of co-existence between
things that are permanent and the trains of fleeting ideas
which succeed each other on the theatre of the imagina¬
tion. It is not the first of these ; for in every train of
thought, the appearance of any one idea in the mind oc¬
cupies no more of the extension of time, than a mathema¬
tical point occupies of the extension of distance. Ten
thousand mathematical points added together would make
no part of a line; and ten thousand ideas made to coa¬
lesce, if that were possible, would not occupy any part of
that mode of duration which is called time. A point is the
boundary of a line, but no part of it; the appearance of
an idea in the mind is instantaneous; and an instant is
the boundary, but no part of time. Hence it follows, that
were every thing instantaneous, like ideas in a train, there
could be no such thing as time, since nothing could be
said to have, in that sense of the word, any duration. That
time is not a quality inherent in all objects, is likewise ob¬
vious ; for we have seen, that were ideas as permanent as
objects, the notion of time could never have been acquired.
Succession, although it does not itself constitute time, is
essential to its existence ; and were all motion to cease, and
the attention of men to be immoveably fixed upon one in¬
variable object or cluster of objects, time would likewise
cease.
Time a It remains, therefore, that time can be nothing else than
mere reia- t]ie reiatj0n of co-existence apprehended between things
existence" t^a*'are Pel'manent ant* those trains of fleeting ideas which
L v ’ incessantly succeed each other on the theatre of the imagi¬
nation. Thus, whilst a man is steadily looking at one ob-
ect, which, from its being common, does not occupy his
vhole mind, he may be conscious of a thousand ideas stari¬
ng up in his imagination, and each in its turn vanishing the
nstant in which it appeared. Every one of these ideas had
in existence as well as the object at which he is looking;
mt the existence of each of them was instantaneous and
n succession, whilst the existence of the external object
;S permanent. The object, therefore, as contrasted with a
train of ideas, is said to endure or to exist in time, whilst
each idea is destitute of duration, and exists in no time.
Objections T° this theory some objections occur, which it will be
answered, incumbent upon us to obviate. It may be said, that al¬
though each idea considered by itself is instantaneous,
and occupies no time ; yet the whole train, when taken to¬
gether, without being compared with any thing external,
is perceived to occupy a considerable portion of that mode
of duration ; and that, therefore, time itself must be some¬
thing more than a mere relation between a fleeting suc¬
cession of ideas and objects of more permanent existence.
But how, we beg leave to ask, is the whole train perceiv¬
ed to occupy any portion of time ? Is it not by being com¬
pared with our own existence ? A man, whilst a train of
ideas is passing through his mind, may be suddenly de¬
prived of all his external senses, and then indeed it will be
impossible for him to compare the fleeting existence of
this internal succession with the more permanent existence
of external things; but, whilst he thinks at all, he must
be conscious of his own existence, and cannot avoid per¬
ceiving, that whilst his ideas pass in constant succession,
each making an instantaneous appearance in his mind, he
himself remains unchanged. Now, what is it that this per¬
ception suggests to the mind ? Evidently nothing more
than the relation of co-existence between a fleeting succes¬
sion and a permanent object; for were it possible that the
man could be deprived of memory as well as of his senses,
and still have ideas succeeding each other in his mind, he
would then think all objects equally fleeting; he would in- Of Time:
deed be himself a mere succession of instantaneous distinct
persons, and could have no notion whatever of time. His
existence, though it should seem to endure half a century
as estimated by others, must to himself appear to pass away
like a flash of lightning.
It may be still further objected to our theory, that time
is measured by motion; and that it seems very absurd to
talk of measuring a relation, especially a mere ideal rela¬
tion, by a real external thing. In answer to this objection,
which at first sight appears formidable, we beg leave to ob¬
serve, that all relations are equally ideal; and that many of
them may yet be said to be measured by real external things,
with as much propriety as time can be said to be measured
by motion. When a man wishes to ascertain the relation of
quantity which one body bears to another, though he knows
that such a relation has no other than an ideal existence,
and cannot be conceived but in conjunction with the relat¬
ed bodies, he applies to them successively some common
standard ; and having discovered the relation which each
bears to that, he compares the one relation with the other,
and thus ascertains the relation sought. Just so it is with
respect to motion measuring time. That which to each in¬
dividual constitutes real time, is the relation of co-existence
between the fleeting succession of his own ideas and other
things of a more permanent nature. But a man has often
occasion to ascertain the time of things external which fall
not under the inspection of his senses; and in society all
men have transactions with one another to be performed in
some determinate portion of time, although there are not,
perhaps, two men existing whose ordinary trains of thought
flow with precisely the same rapidity. To remedy these
inconveniences, it was necessary to invent some common
standard, by means of which men might ascertain the du¬
ration of actions performed at a distance, and be able to keep
appointments made with each other. The only standard
proper for these purposes is such a constant and equable
motion as has suggested a flux of perceptions common to
all men in ail ages and countries; and hence motions of
the heavenly bodies have been universally made use of as
the common regulators of time. These motions, however,
do not constitute real and natural time, any more than a
foot or a yard applied to two distant bodies constitutes the
relation of quantity which these bodies bear to each other.
They are merely stated measures, to be differently applied
according to the different purposes which we have in view.
Thus, if a man in Europe wishes to know what would
to him have been the real and natural time of an action
performed in the East Indies, he has only to be told that
it was co-existent, we shall suppose, with a diurnal revo¬
lution of the earth ; and by comparing this common mea¬
sure with his usual flow of thought, he can form some no¬
tion of the extent of that train of ideas which, had he
been present, would to him have been successively co-ex¬
istent with the action in question. But when persons
have an appointment tp keep, this common measure ol
motion must be differently, or rather partially, applied. In
such cases, it is no part of their intention to compare their
own existence with that of the whole train of ideas which
may pass in the mind of each ; for the result of such a
comparison, which alone constitutes true and natural time,
would not be the same in perhaps any two men; but their
purpose is, to compare their own permanent existence only
with that train of sensations which shall be excited in the
mind by the perceptible motion of the sun, or any other body
fixed upon, which moves equably; and such a train must
consist of an equal number of instants in all men. Neither
the sun nor the hour-hand of a common watch moves with
such apparent rapidity as to keep pace with the interna
flow of thought of which the most phlegmatic man is con¬
scious. That these bodies move at all, is known only by
METAPHYSICS.
667
flnfiity their visible change of place during the lapse of a consi-
ml E:r- derable portion of real time; and as there is in their course
nitr a certain number of places distinctly marked, to which
alone it is agreed that the attention is to be turned, it is
impossible that of time so computed two men can have
different notions. Such time, however, is but partial; and
the method of ascertaining it, when compared with that
by which we ascertain real time, has a striking resem¬
blance to that by which we ascertain the relation of par¬
tial quantity between two distant bodies. When it is our
purpose to ascertain the relation of real quantity which
one body bears to another, we apply the common standard
to each in every dimension of length, breadth, and depth ;
but when we have no other viety than to ascertain the re¬
lation of length which the one bears to the other, we ap¬
ply the common standard to each in that dimension only.
Just so it is with regard to real and partial time. When
an individual wishes to ascertain wdiat would to him have
been the duration of any action which he did not see per¬
formed, he applies the common standard to the existence
of that action, and to the usual flow of his own thoughts;
but when two men talk of the duration of any action, or
agree to meet upon such a day, they compare the existence
of the action, or the distance intervening between the pre¬
sent moment and the day of meeting, only with that par¬
tial train of sensations which by the common standard is
generated in an equal number, and in the same order, in
the minds of both.
memst It will be said, that if time be nothing more than a mere
ve h* a relation subsisting between trains of ideas or other fleet-
ginnig. jng objects, and things of a more permanent existence, and
if the universe really had a beginning, either time must
have had a beginning likewise, or the Deity cannot be
immutable. We allow the force of the argument; but in¬
stead of an objection, we consider it as a confirmation of
the truth of our theory. The Deity, who is immutable,
exists not in time, but in eternity ; and that these, though
from the poverty of language they are both called modes
of duration, are yet very different from each other, we
shall endeavour to prove in the next chapter.
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CHAP. VIII.—OF INFINITY AND ETERNITY.
As corporeal substance is certainly not infinite, and as
the present material system has in itself every evidence
of its not being eternal, it may seem strange, perhaps, to
the reader, that we should treat of infinity and eternity
amongst the adjuncts of body. But in modern metaphysics
these words are used in a vague sense to denote the ex¬
tent of space and time ; and in this chapter it is our in¬
tention to do little more than ascertain their meaning, and
to show, in opposition to some celebrated names, of what
subjects they may not be predicated. There is a mathe¬
matical and a metaphysical infinity, which, although often
confounded, ought to be kept distinct. In mathematics,
extension is said to be divisible in infinitum, and number
is sometimes considered as infinite ; but in metaphysics
these modes of expression are extremely improper. A
positive and metaphysical infinite is that which has no
limits, and to which no addition can be made ; but it is
obvious that there is no number which may not be en¬
larged, nor any positive idea of extension which has not
limits, and which may not be either increased or dimi¬
nished. The infinity of the mathematician is termed in¬
finity of power, and that of the metaphysician absolute in¬
finity. The first consists in this, that a being, however
great or small it be supposed, may still be conceived to Oflnflnity
possess more greatness or minuteness than we can form and Eter-
an idea of even after the utmost stretch of human thought. nit-y-
Thus, when it is said, that all extension as such is infinite-
ly divisible, it is not meant that every extended substance
contains an infinite number of real parts ; for then the
parts of an inch would be equal to those of a league; but
the meaning is, that in ideal extension we can never reach
the end of ideal division and subdivision. In like man¬
ner, when it is said that number is infinite, the meaning is
not that any positive number is without limits, or the pos¬
sibility of increase, but that we might go on for ever, add¬
ing unit to unit, without approaching nearer to the end of
the process. If, therefore, the mathematician would speak
properly, and without the affectation of paradox, he ought
to say that all extension, as such, is indefinitely divisible, and
that unit might be added to unit without end; but these
phrases suggest notions very different from that of a me¬
taphysical infinite, which is something positive to which
nothing can be added.1
lhat there is something positively infinite, has been Space and
very seldom questioned ; but it has been warmly disputed time,
amongst metaphysicians what subjects are infinite. Dr
Clarke and his adherents have contended that space and
time are real things; that they are bodies of necessary
existence ; that the former impresses us with the idea of its
infinity, and that the latter is positively eternal. “ Time
and space, ’ say*' Dr Clarke,2 “ are the sine qua non of all
other things, and of all other ideas. To suppose either of
them finite, is an express contradiction in the idea itself.
No man does or can possibly imagine either of them to be
finite; but only either by non-attention or by choice he
attends perhaps to part of his idea, and forbears attend¬
ing to the remainder. They who suppose space to be
nothing but a relation between two bodies, are guilty of
the absurdity of supposing that which is nothing to have
real qualities; for the space which is between two bo¬
dies is always unalterably just what it was, and has the
very same dimensions, quantity, and figure, whether these
or any other bodies be there or anywhere else, or not at
all; just as time or duration is the same, whether you
turn your hour-glass or no, or whether the sun moves or
stands still, or whether there was or was not any sun, or
any material world at all. To set bounds to space is to
suppose it bounded by something which itself takes up
space, and that is a contradiction ; or else that it is bound¬
ed by nothing, which is another contradiction. To sup¬
pose space removed, destroyed, or taken away, amounts to
the absurd supposition of removing a thing away from it¬
self; that is, if in your imagination you annihilate the
whole of infinite space, the whole of infinite space will
still remain ; and if you annihilate any part of it, that part
will still necessarily remain, as appears by the unmoved
situation of the rest; and to suppose it divided or divi¬
sible amounts to the same contradiction.”
The absurdity of considering space as a real external
thing has been already evinced in Chapter IV. where it was
shown how we acquire the notion, and what kind of no¬
tion it is. Space, as was there observed, may be con¬
ceived either as the mere absence and possibility of body ;
or as ideal extension, united to and inhering in an ideal
substratum. Taken in the former sense, it is an object of
pure intellect; in the latter it is an idea or form in the
imagination. That the absence of body or matter is the
sine qua non of all other things, and all other ideas, Dr
Clarke was not disposed to affirm, when he made the di¬
vine substance to pervade every material atom in the uni-
1 Aristotel. Phys. Auscult. lib. ix. cap. ix. page 492.
2 Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of God, and Correspondence with a Gentleman of Gloucestershire.
668
METAPHYSICS.
If
Of Infinity verse ; and to talk of the absence of body being infinite
and Fter- is a palpable contradiction, unless Berkeley’s doctrine be
v _ .true, that the material world has no existence. To say
that the possibility of matter is infinite, is to use language
which has no other meaning than that, however far the
material world be on all sides extended, its extension may
still be conceived greater and greater in infinitum. This
is a position which no philosopher, ancient or modern, has
ever denied; but it is so far from implying that we have
a positive idea of the infinity of the material world, or of
any adjunct of the material world, that it is absolutely
inconsistent with such infinity. Whatever is capable of
perpetual increase must certainly have limits, and ever}'
new addition is the limit of that to which the addition
was made.
Neither Taken in the second acceptation as an ideal extension
space nor united with an ideal substratum, space is so far from being
timecanbe jnfjnjte jn any sense 0f t}ie word, that we will venture to
infinite. ^ assert no man ever contemplated such a form in his own
imagination, without conceiving it to be bounded. Of
this, at least, we are certain, that when we have attempted
to frame a positive idea of pure space, it has not been in
our power to divest that idea of limits. Those who can
frame in their minds real and positive ideas wholly ab¬
stracted from every individual object, may indeed perform
in this way many feats above our abilities ; but as we pos¬
sess no such powers of abstraction, every thing which we
can call an idea is limited in the same manner that the
object itself is limited from which the idea was derived.
Thus the largest expansion that we ever beheld is that of
the concave hemisphere ; and when we try to form the lar¬
gest positive idea of pure space, all that we can do is to
figure to ourselves that concave empty of body. We may,
indeed, suppose its diameter to be either a million or ten
thousand millions of miles, and we may go on enlarging it
in infinitum; but when we return from this process of
intellect to the contemplation of the ideal forms of the
imagination, none of these forms appears to us larger or
more extended than the hemisphere, which is the object
of sense, and they all appear to be bounded, and bounded
in the very same way.
With respect to the eternity of time, again, we think Dr
Clarke equally mistaken as with respect to the infinity of
space. Of time, indeed, we cannot, properly speaking,
have any idea or mental form. Time, as we have seen, is
a mere relation, and is in itself the creature of the mind,
which has no external idiatum. It is suggested, however,
by the fleeting succession of our ideas, compared with the
more permanent existence of other objects ; and there¬
fore succession is essential to it. But nothing which has
parts, whether co-existent or in succession, can be posi¬
tively infinite. For, in an infinite series of successive
generations of men, for instance, there will be several infi¬
nites that are parts of one another, and by consequence
one greater than another which, as has been well ar¬
gued,1 is an express contradiction, since the greater must
necessarily bound the less, and exceed its limits by so
much as it is greater than it; that is, must make it not in¬
finite. Infinite generations contain an infinitely greater
infinity of particular men. An infinite number of men
must have twice as many hands, and ten times as many
fingers, and so on. Infinite time has an infinity of ages ;
these a much greater infinity of years, days, hours, &c.
Space likewise, according to Dr Clarke, has three dimen¬
sions, all infinite. It must therefore contain an infinity of
surfaces, an infinitely greater infinity of lines, and a still
infinitely greater infinity of physical points. The case is
the same in number itself, which, if we suppose it to con- Ofin|,
tain an absolute infinity of thousands (and we may as well and}!
do that as imagine it to comprehend an infinity of units), ait
will contain ten times as many hundreds, fifty times as^'-vf!"'
many scores, and so on. All this is only the indefiniteness
of number, which we in vain attempt to turn into a posi¬
tive infinite, with which it is totally incompatible. For let
us add one to any of these infinite series of generations,
ages, lines, or numbers, which we know to be always in
our power, and if it was absolutely infinite before, here is
one more than infinite. If it only becomes infinite now,
then one finite added to another finite makes infinity. If
it be no larger after the addition than it was before^ then
one part added to another adds nothing; all which are
absurdities. The same will appear if we subtract a part
from this supposed absolute infinite, which may be done
in any of the before-mentioned subjects, as well as in every
thing which admits of parts, or may be taken in pieces by
the mind.
To this kind of reasoning Dr Clarke replies as follows: Them
“ I o endeavour to prove that there cannot possibly be reply t
any such thing as infinite time or space, from the impos-
sibility of an addition of finite parts ever composing or
hausting an infinite, or from the imaginary inequality of^”1
the number of years, days, and hours, that would be con¬
tained in the one, or of the miles, yards, and feet, that
would be contained in the other, is supposing infinites to
be made up of numbers of finites; that is, it is supposing
finite quantities to be aliquot or constituent parts of infi¬
nite, when indeed they are not so, but do all equally, whe¬
ther great or small, whether many or few, bear the very
same proportion to an infinite, as mathematical points do
to a line, or lines to a superficies, or as moments do to
time, that is, none at all. No given number or quantity
can be any aliquot or constituent part of infinite, or be
compared at all with it, or bear any kind of proportion to
it, or be the foundation of any argument in any question
concerning it.”
If it be indeed true, and it is that for which we con¬
tend, that no given number or quantity can be any aliquot
or constituent part of infinite, or be compared at all with
it, then it undeniably follows, not that miles, yards, and
feet are no constituent parts of space, or years, days, and
hours constituent parts of time, but that space and time
cannot possibly be positive infinites. This, we say, fol¬
lows undeniably; for nothing is more evident than that
all quantities of the same kind, from the largest to the
least, bear a certain proportion to each other; and upon
the supposition that space is a real extending thing, miles,
yards, and feet are included in it, and bear to it the rela¬
tion of parts to a whole. The same is true of time, days,
and hours. To affirm, for no proof is offered, that all
finite quantities, whether great or small, whether many or
few, do equally bear the very same proportion to an infi¬
nite, as mathematical points do to a line, or as moments
do to time, is plainly to beg the question, “ that space
considered as a real extended thing is infinite,” and to
beg it, too, in opposition to the common sense and reason
of mankind.* Mathematical points we all know to be no¬
thing real, but merely negations of extension ; but suppos¬
ing space to be something real and extended, can any man
persuade himself that a mile or a million of miles of this
space is likewise a mere negation of extension ? With him
who can bring himself into this persuasion, we do not pre¬
tend to argue. He is possessed of faculties, whether true
or false, of which we are destitute.
That finite quantities, w'hether these be great or small, do
1 Dr Law’s Inquiry into the Ideas of Space, Time, Immensity,
Origin of Evil.
and Eternity. See also the same writer’s translation of King’s
METAPHYSICS.
Of/anity all equally bear the same proportion to an infinite in power,
snifter- is indeed true; but it is no great discovery; for such an
'^infinite, as we have seen, is nothing but the continued pos-
sibility of repeating the same mental process of addition
or multiplication ; and he who can go on for ever adding,
in his own imagination, foot to foot, or hour to hour, will
find it equally easy to add, in the same manner, league to
league, or age to age. If he can perform the one opera¬
tion, he must likewise have power to perform the other;
and he cannot but perceive that it is as impossible to come
to an end of adding league to league, or age to age, as of
adding foot to foot, or hour to hour; but then he must
know that these leagues, and feet, and ages, and hours, are
not real external things, but mere ideas and notions in his
mind. If such powers of ideal multiplication and addition
be what Dr Clarke means by the ideas of space and time,
it is indeed a contradiction to suppose either of them li¬
mited ; for that would be to suppose our powers different
from what we know them to be by consciousness and ex¬
perience. But to confound powers with the objects of
those powers, is certainly very inaccurate ; and to suppose,
because we can go on for ever adding one portion of ideal
sPace or time to another, that therefore our ideas of space
and time are in themselves positively infinite, is a contra¬
diction ; for to an idea positively infinite it is obvious that
nothing can be added. Either, therefore, space and time
do not impress us with the ideas of their positive infinity ;
or we cannot have the power of adding league to league,
and age to age, without end.
“ But, says Dr Clarke, “ to suppose space removed,
destroyed, or taken wholly away, amounts to the absurd
supposition of removing a thing from itself; that is, if in
your imagination you remove the whole of space, the whole
of space will still remain.” True, every man has ideas of
space treasured up in4iis imagination, which the sound of
the very word space will at all times bring into his imme¬
diate view ; and whilst he has such ideas, it is impossible
that he should not have them ; which is all the mystery of
the matter, and amounts to nothing more than that a thing
cannot be and not be at the same instant. When the doc¬
tor affirms, that if “ you annihilate any part of space, that
part will necessarily remain, as appears by the unmoved
situation of the rest,” we are not certain that we perfect¬
ly understand him. A man may surely think of a cubical
inch without also thinking of a foot or a yard ; and he may
suppose the inch taken away from the foot or the yard, and
these ideal quantities so much lessened by the subtraction.
But if the doctor be here again confounding the powers
of the mind with the positive ideas of space, the sentence
when explained will be found to contain nothing to his pur¬
pose. Every man has the power of contemplating in idea
millions of miles, and millions of ages, and of adding mile
to mile, and age to age, without end; and if he try to de¬
prive himself of any part of this power, or to fix a limit
to the mental process of addition, he will find that in spite
of himself his imagination will ramble beyond the limit
assigned, and that he has attempted an utter impossibility.
This, however, is so far from being a proof that his ideas
of space and time are positively infinite, that, as we have
already observed, it is a proof of the contrary.
But, says this great man and his followers, “ space and
time are the sine qua non of all other things and all other
ideas. The supposal of the existence of any thing what¬
ever includes necessarily a presupposition of the existence
of space and time ;” and, therefore, if there be any thing
infinite and eternal, space and time must likewise be so.
To every corporeal substance, and every idea of such
licnn.efU^Stance, sPace ant^ are indeed necessary; for every
relatn ^las extension and duration, and every idea of a par-
eithd? tjcular body, being nothing but a secondary perception in
the imagination or the memory, must have the same relation
669
!arke'
'! ion
ace a
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lore t
mgs
tali
to imaginary extension that the object from which it was Of Infinity
derived has to extension which is real. Every idea, too, and Eter-
winch remains in the imagination whilst a train of other nit3r-
ideas passes successively in view, or whilst external things
are perceived to change, has real time. But will any man
pretend that consciousness, our notion of power, our acts of
willing, or even tastes, sounds, and smells, are extended, or
that the supposition of their existence necessarily implies a
presupposition of the existence of space ? We acquire our
ideas of extension and of space by means of our senses of
touch and sight; and we learn from experience that things
external and extended are the causes of our sensations of
taste, and sound, and smell. I he effects are in our minds
closely associated with the ideas of their causes; and it is
not perhaps easy to think of a particular sound, taste, or
smell, without at the same time thinking of the object by
which it was first excited in the mind; but if we had been
originally formed with the powers of consciousness, think¬
ing, and willing, and with no other senses than those of
tasting, smelling, and hearing, it is obvious that we never
could have had the idea of space ; and therefore, that idea
cannot possibly be necessary to the presupposition of every
thing else. To consciousness, thinking, and willing, space
is so tar from being necessary, that we cannot perceive any
the most distant relation between them. It is not more
difficult to conceive a part greater than the whole, than it
is to conceive an ell of consciousness, of thought, or of
will; nor is it in the power of any man to make space and
sweetness coalesce in his mind so as to form of these two
simple ideas one complex conception. The very reverse
is the case with respect to the objects of sight and touch.
I he idea of every thing which we see and "handle neces¬
sarily coalesces in the mind with the idea of space, nor
can we possibly separate the one from the other; but the
things which we see and handle are neither infinite nor
capable of infinity.
With respect to time, the same observations will be
found to be as applicable as with respect to space. What¬
ever is liable to change exists in time, and cannot be eter¬
nal ; but if there be any immutable being who views at once
all things which to us are past, present, and to come, the ex¬
istence of such a being is not commensurable with time.
I hat such a being is possible, no man can doubt who re¬
flects, that if we had one permanent idea invariably in the
mind, we should never have acquired the notion of succes¬
sion or of time ; and that if there were actually no change
in nature, theie could not possibly be in nature any such
thing as time. Every man, therefore, who can conceive
existence without change must be convinced, that the sup¬
position of the existence of any thing whatever does not
necessarily include the presupposition of the existence of
time, and that there may be an eternity distinct from time,
as well as an infinity distinct from space; nay, that that
which is properly infinite and eternal cannot possibly oc¬
cupy either space or time.
If it be asked, What kind of infinity and eternity they infinity
are which have no relation to space and time ? Cudworth, and eter-
treading in the footsteps of the ancients, has long ago an- nity.
swered, that they are “ absolute perfection and necessary
existence.” For, according to him, infinite understanding
and knowledge are nothing else but perfect knowledge”
which has in it no defect or mixture of ignorance, but knows
whatsoever is knowable. In like manner, infinite power is
nothing else but perfect power, which has in it no defect or
mixture of impotency ; a power which can do every thing
which is possible or conceivable. Lastly, infinity of dura”
tion, or eternity, is really nothing else but perfection, as
including in it necessary existence and immutability; so
that it is a contradiction to suppose such a being to have
bad a beginning, to cease to be, or to suffer or be affected
by any change whatsoever. And because infinity is perfec-
670
METAPHYSICS.
The idea
of succes¬
sion.
Of Mind tion, therefore, whatever includes in its idea or essence
m general. any thing of imperfection, as every positive idea of num-
her, corporeal magnitude, and successive duration evident¬
ly does, cannot be truly and properly infinite.
It must indeed be confessed, that the idea of succession
so insinuates itself into our usual ideas of existence, and
is so closely connected with the existence of all finite be¬
ings, that we find it extremely difficult to imagine the
eternal existence of God any otherwise than as an eternal¬
ly continued series or succession. Our constant conver¬
sation with material objects, and the associations thence
arising, make it almost impossible for us to consider things
abstracted from time and space ; yet we have the evidence
of experience and consciousness that an idea may be con¬
ceived without relation to space and time, and that space
and time cannot be made to coalesce with some of our no¬
tions. The same must be true with respect to infinity and
eternity ; for we have seen that neither space, nor time, nor
any thing else which consists of parts, whether continuous
or successive, can be supposed to be positively infinite, as
the supposition implies the most palpable contradiction.
But that there may be perfect power, perfect knowledge,
and permanent invariable existence, is so far from implying
any contradiction, that even we, whose faculties are all so
very limited, can yet make some advances towards the
conception of such perfections. Thus, every man of com¬
mon understanding knows that some things are in them¬
selves possible, and others impossible, to be performed by
any power. Of these possibilities and impossibilities a
philosopher knows more than an illiterate man; and one
philosopher knows more than another. An intellect more
perfect; knows more of them than any man ; and that in¬
tellect which knows them all must be absolutely perfect,
and incapable of impi’ovement, because it knows every
thing which is to be known. The same is true of perfect
power ; but we shall treat of real infinity and eternity more
at large when we come to demonstrate the being and at¬
tributes of God. At present it is sufficient to have shown
that nothing can be positively infinite but a being abso¬
lutely perfect, which can produce all things possible and
conceivable, and upon which all other things must depend.
PART III.
OF MINDS AND THEIR POWERS.
CHAP. I.—OF MIND IN GENERAL.
Minds of
different
orders.
or to have their actions influenced by motives, their minds Of Mim
are inferior to ours, although still perfectly distinct from111 geners
mere extended, inert, and divisible substances. Mind,
Mind dis- The science of metaphysics comprehends every thing into
tinguished the existence, the nature, or the causes of which any inquiry
from body. may made, But all things of which we have any no¬
tion or idea may be divided into mind and body, with their
various powers, and qualities, and adjuncts. By body is
meant that which is solid, extended, inert, and divisible ;
and its several adjuncts are space, motion, number, and
time. The only mind with which we are intimately ac¬
quainted is our own ; and we know that it is possessed of
the powers of sensation, perception, retention, conscious¬
ness, reflection, reason, and will. These are totally dif¬
ferent from extension, solidity, divisibility, and motion ;
and therefore it is proper to distinguish the being of which
they are powers by another name than that of body.
Of bodies there are various kinds, possessing various sen¬
sible qualities; and hence from analogy it is reasonable to
conclude, that there may be various classes of minds en¬
dowed with different kinds or degrees of power. For this
indeed we have much stronger evidence than that of ana¬
logy. Brute animals evidently possess the powers of per¬
ception and spontaneity, with some degree of consciousness;
but as they do not appear to reflect upon their own conduct,
therefore, considered with respect to its powers, is evi¬
dently different from body, considered with respect to its
qualities. This is indeed a truth which has seldom or never
been controverted ; but it has been long and warmly dis¬
puted, whether mind and body be not both composed of
the same first matter.
Hobbes supposed that every material atom is endowed Hjpoti e
with the faculty of sensation, but that for want of memory sis of
each sensation is momentaneous, being instantly and whol-Hobbes,
ly effaced as soon as its cause is removed. Though this
hypothesis is too absurd to require a formal and laboured
confutation, it may not be improper to observe, that, if it
were true, the hairs of a man’s head would feel extreme
pain when pinched by the hot iron of the hair-dresser,
and that the nails of* his fingers would be severely tortur¬
ed when under the operation of the knife or the file.
Others, again, have supposed that each atom of matter Other hv
has a tendency towards sensation and perception ; and thatpotheses.
when a sufficient number of these atoms are brought to¬
gether in a certain order, the united tendencies produce
the actual powers which distinguish mind from gross body.
This supposition is, if possible, more absurd than that of
Hobbes. Sensation and perception are of such a nature,
that a mere tendency towards them is inconceivable. A
thing must either be sensible and percipient, or insensible
and inert; there is evidently no medium. Or if we could
suppose each individual atom to have a tendency towards
sensation, it would by no means follow that a number of
such atoms brought together in any possible order would
become one sentient, thinking, and active being. A num¬
ber of bodies laid upon an inclined plane have each a ten¬
dency to roll downw ards ; but if th^declivity of the plane
be not such that their separate tendencies may over¬
come the resistance opposed to each individual body by
friction, the united tendencies of all these bodies when
brought together will not be sufficient to overpower the
resistance of their united frictions. It is just so with re¬
spect to sensation and perception. If the tendency of one
atom cannot overcome one degree of inertness, the ten¬
dency of a thousand atoms will not overcome a thousand
degrees of the same inertness.
We have just mentioned these absurd suppositions, that Only two
our article might be complete ; but it is proper to inform opinions a!
the reader, that, so far as we know or are aware, neither of0
them has for many years been maintained by any philo-.t
sopher of eminence either at home or abroad. The opi¬
nions on this subject which at present divide the republic
of letters are two, and these alone are worthy of exa¬
mination. One party maintains that perception, memory,
reason, and will, &c. are the powers of a being which
must be immaterial and indivisible ; the other alleges, that
as we know nothing of these powers but from our own
consciousness, and as we can trace them in ourselves to
the brain and no farther, we have no reason to suppose
that they are the powers of any substance distinct from
matter. Both parties, however, distinguish that which in
man is the subject of thought from his external organs
of sense, and agree to call it by the name of mind; al¬
though the one considers it as composed of the same first
matter with the dust of the ground, whilst the other be¬
lieves it to have no property whatever in common with that
matter.
Were we to adopt some of the ancient methods of phi¬
losophizing, this important question might soon be decided.
A most respectable writer, who has laboured to restore
the metaphysics of Plato and Aristotle, attempts to con¬
fute the materialists, by laying down what they must think
arbitrary definitions of mind and matter, and then show-
METAPHYSICS.
671
Of (find ing that the one is not the other. “ In all the parts of the
in c<ieral-material world,” says he, “ there is a perpetual motion ;
■ '“'''for the celestial bodies move constantly in one respect or
another, and all here below is in a continual vicissitude of
generation and corruption, which cannot be without mo¬
tion. Now, where there is motion, there must be some¬
thing that moves. What is moved I call what moves
I call mind!' From this definition he undertakes to prove
that mind must be immaterial. “ That there is a relation
between moving and being moved,” says he, “ nobody can
deny; and the relation is no other than that of action
and passion. But the nature of relation is such, that it
must necessarily be between two things at least; and it is
further necessary, that the two things related should exist
together. Hence,.if there be that which moves, there
must be a different thing that is moved ; and wherever the
one is, the other must necessarily be ; so that nothing can
move itself. This being established, I say that what moves
must be either material or immaterial; for the one of
these being the negation of the other, there can be no
middle betwixt them, because a thing must necessarily
be or not be. If then it be immaterial, there is an end of
the question ; but if it be said to be material, then I say
that it must be moved itself before it can move any thing
else, for it is only in that way that body can move body.
If then it must be first moved itself, but cannot itself move
itself, what is it that moves itself? If it be answered that
it is another material mover, then I repeat the same ques¬
tion, to which the same answer must be given ; and so we
have an infinite series of material movers, without any be¬
ginning or principle of motion. Now this is absurdj and
contradictory to this first principle of natural philosophy,
admitted by all philosophers ancient and modern, that no¬
thing can be produced without a cause?
Thetro- For the immateriality of the human mind, and of every
P^r£‘. being endowed with the powers of perception and thought,
S -the learned writer has better arguments; but it is upon
tiom " chiefly that he rests his persuasion, that mind is the
only mover in the universe. It is needless to observe, that
in the very definitions and axioms upon which this reason¬
ing is built, the thing to be proved is taken for granted ;
for if it be self-evident that what moves is, in the author’s
sense of the word, mind, that what is moved is body, and
that nothing can move itself, all reasoning on the subject
is superfluous. This, however, is so far from being self-
evident, that a materialist may reply, that “ every animal
moves itself, and yet every animal is nothing more than a
system ot matter.” This position, whether true or false,
c can neither be proved nor confuted by arguments a priori
f( founded on general definitions. That animals move them-
si selves, and that to the senses they appear to be nothing
else than systems of matter, are facts which cannot be con-
ti troverted. If we would know whether they have in them
a a principle of motion which is not material, we must sub-
n mit to the laws of induction, and, by investigating the es-
s sential qualities of matter, endeavour to ascertain whether
a a material system can be rendered active. That we our-
& selves have active powers, we know by the most complete
o of all evidence, our consciousness of their energies; and
it it has been already shown, that such powers as we expe-
r rience in ourselves cannot exist but in a subject possessed
o of will and understanding. The question, therefore, to be
fi first decided between the materialists and immaterialists
is is, whether the powers of consciousness, understanding,
a and will, can result from the particular organization of a
system of matter. If they can, then we have no reason to
a attribute them in man to any other source. If these
p powers appear necessarily to require an immaterial prin-
c ciple for their support, it will probably be granted that
a an immaterial principle is the source of every power and
e every motion in the universe ; and the doctrine of mind,
in the strictest sense of the word, will be sufficiently esta- Of the
blished. Substance
of the
Human
CHAP. II.—OF THE SUBSTANCE OF THE HUMAN MIND. ^
The most celebrated materialist of this, or perhaps of any Arguments
other century, was Dr Priestley, who having in his own for the im-
imagination divested matter of solidity, and reduced it to materiality
mere centres of attraction and repulsion, observed, that “ ifof tiie J.1U-
one kind of substance be capable of supporting all the known man muid‘
properties of man, that is, if those properties have nothing
in them that is absolutely incompatible with one another,
we shall be obliged to conclude (unless we openly violate
the rules of philosophizing, which will not authorize us to
multiply causes or kinds of substance without necessity^),
that no other kind of substance enters into his composi¬
tion ; the supposition being manifestly unnecessary, in or¬
der to account for any appearance whatever. All the pro¬
perties that have hitherto been attributed to matter may
be comprised under those of atti'action and repulsion. Be¬
sides these, man is possessed of the powers of sensation or
perception, and thought. But if, without giving the reins
to our imaginations, we suffer ourselves to be guided in
our inquiries by the simple rules of philosophizing above
mentioned, we must necessarily conclude that these
powers also may belong to the same substance that has also
the properties of attraction, repulsion, and extension, which
I as well as others call by the name of matter. The rea¬
son of the conclusion is simply this, That the powers of
sensation or perception, and thought, as belonging to man,
have never been found but in conjunction with a certain
organized system of matter; and therefore that those
powers necessarily exist in, and depend upon, such a sys¬
tem. This at least must be our conclusion, till it can be
shown that these powers are incompatible with the other
known properties of the same substance; and for this I
see no sort of pretence.”
I his is what Dr Priestley has called the proper and di¬
rect proof that the sentient principle in man is the material
substance of the brain ; and he enforces it by the follow¬
ing observations : “ Had we formed a judgment concern¬
ing the necessary seat of thought by the circumstances
that universally accompany it, which is our rule in all
other cases, we could not but have concluded that in man
it is a property of the nervous system, or rather of the
brain ; because, as far as we can judge, the faculty of
thinking, and a certain state of the brain, always accom¬
pany and correspond to one another, which is the very
reason why we believe that any property is inherent in
any substance whatever. There is no instance of any man
retaining the faculty of thinking when his brain was de¬
stroyed ; and whenever that faculty is impeded or injured,
there is sufficient reason to believe that the brain is dis¬
ordered in proportion; and therefore we are necessarily
led to consider the latter as the seat of the former. More¬
over, as the faculty of thinking in general ripens and comes
to maturity with the body, it is also observed to decay with
it; and if, in some cases, the mental faculties continue
vigorous when the body in general is enfeebled, it is evi¬
dently because in those particular cases the brain is not
much affected by the general cause of weakness. But, on
the other hand, if the brain alone be affected, as by a blow
on the head, by actual pressure within the skull, by sleep,
or by inflammation, the mental faculties are universally af¬
fected in proportion. Likewise, as the mind is affected in
consequence of the affections of the body and brain, so the
body is liable to be reciprocally affected by the affections
of tlie mind, as is evident in the visible effects of all strong
passions, hope or fear, love or anger, joy or sorrow, exul¬
tation or despair. These are certainly irrefragable argu-
67
o
METAPHYSICS.
of the
Human
Mind.
Of the ments, that it is properly no other than one and the same
Substance thing that is subject to these affections, and that they are
necessarily dependent upon one another. In fact, there
is just the same reason to conclude, that the powers of
sensation and thought are the necessary result of a parti¬
cular organization, as that sound is the necessary result of
a particular concussion of the air. For in both cases equal¬
ly the one constantly accompanies the other ; and there
is not in nature a stronger argument for a necessary con¬
nection of any cause and any effect. To adopt an opinion
different from this, is to form an hypothesis without a single
fact to support it.”
Although the ingenious author thinks, that if there be
any foundation for the established rules of philosophizing,
this reasoning ought to be conclusive, he yet subjoins, for
the greater satisfaction of his readers, some additional ar¬
guments, or rather, as he says, distinct illustrations of the
great argument. They are as follow :
1. “ I hat the faculty of thinking necessarily depends,
for its exercise at least, upon a stock of ideas, about which
it is always conversant, will hardly be questioned by any
person. But there is not a single idea of which the mind
is possessed but what may be proved to have come to it
from the bodily senses, or to have been consequent upon
the perceptions of sense. The notion, therefore, of the
possibility of thinking in man, without an organized body,
is not only destitute of all evidence from actual appear¬
ances, but is directly contrary to them ; and yet these ap¬
pearances ought alone to guide the judgment of philoso¬
phers.
2. “ I he only reason why it has been so earnestly con¬
tended for, that there is some principle in man that is not
material, is, that it might subsist, and be capable of sen¬
sation and action, when the body is dead. But if the mind
wras naturally so independent of the body as to be capable
of subsisting by itself, and even of appearing to more ad¬
vantage after the death of the body, it might be expect¬
ed to discover some signs of its independence before death,
and especially when the organs of the body were obstruct¬
ed, so as to leave the soul more at liberty to exert itself;
as in a state of sleep or swooning, which must resemble
the state of death, in which it is pretended that the soul
is most of all alive, most active, and vigorous. But, judg¬
ing by appearances, the reverse of all this is the case.
3. “ It the mental principle was, in its own nature, im¬
material and immortal, all its particular faculties would be
so too ; whereas we see that every faculty of the mind
without exception is liable to be impaired, and even to be¬
come wholly extinct, before death. Since, therefore, all
the faculties of the mind, separately taken, appear to be
mortal, the substance or principle in which they exist
must be pronounced to be mortal too.
4. “ If the sentient principle in man be immaterial, it
can have no extension ; it can neither have length, breadth,
nor thickness; and consequently every thing within it, or
properly belonging to it, must be simple and indivisible.
Let us now consider how this notion agrees with the phe¬
nomena of sensation and ideas. It will not be denied, but
that sensations or ideas properly exist in the soul, because
it could not otherwise retain them, so as to continue to
perceive and think after its separation from the body.
Now, whatever ideas are in themselves, they are evident¬
ly produced by external objects, and must therefore cor¬
respond to them ; and since many of the objects or arche¬
types of ideas are divisible, it necessarily follows, that the
ideas themselves are divisible also. But how is it possible
that a thing (be the nature of it what it may) that is divi¬
sible should be contained in a substance, be the nature of
Ofthi
Subsist
of#
Hum;,
Mind
it likewise what it may, that is indivisible ? If the arche¬
types of ideas have extension, the ideas which are expres¬
sive of them, and are actually produced by them accord¬
ing to certain mechanical laws, must have "extension like¬
wise ; and therefore the mind in which they exist, whether v
it be material or immaterial, must have extension also. ”
But how any thing can have extension and yet be imma¬
terial, without coinciding writh our idea of mere empty
space, I know not.”
To the argument, which is here chiefly insisted upon asThear,
being agreeable to the established rules of philosophizing, wentsai
a very able reply has been made, which we shall give inhered,
the words of its elegant and spirited author. But before
we attempt to dig up the foundation of the doctor’s sys¬
tem, it may not be improper to demolish, if possible, the
additional buttresses by which it is strengthened. An ex¬
perienced general, before he storms a citadel which he
knows to be strongly fortified and skilfully defended, will
take care to raze every less important redoubt from which
the enemy might annoy him in his rear.
Because the faculty of thinking in general ripens, comes
to maturity, and decays with the body, and the body, on
the other hand, is affected by the affections of the mind,
Ur Priestley affirms that we have the same reason to con¬
clude, that the powers of sensation and thought are the
necessary result of a particular organization, as that sound
is the necessary result of a particular concussion of the air.
This argument is conclusive only upon the supposition that
there is no positive evidence whatever of the immateria¬
lity of the being which is the subject of thought. If the
other reasonings for the materiality or immateriality of the
mind be of equal weight, this argument ought doubtless
to turn the balance ; but if there be the smallest prepon-
derancy in behalf of the immaterialists, it is a mere beg¬
ging of the question to attempt to counteract it by any in¬
ference which can be drawn from the mutual affections of
the body and mind. If two such heterogeneous beings as
an immaterial mind and an organized body can be suppos¬
ed united in one person, they must necessarily affect each
other ; and to affirm, on account of this reciprocal affection,
that they are one and the same, is equally absurd as to
say that an electrician and his apparatus are one and the
Dr Priestley himself did not at first perform his
electrical experiments w ith so much ease as after he had
acquired facility by long practice, nor could he even yet
perform them so neatly with a bad as with a good appa¬
ratus.
That which the doctor calls the first illustration of his
argument might be admitted, and the force of the argu¬
ment itself be consistently denied. Some kind of orga¬
nized body may be necessary to the mind as an instrument
without which it could not exert its faculties ; but it would
certainly be rash to infer that the mind must therefore be
a system of matter. An anvil and a hammer are neces¬
sary to the exercise of the blacksmith’s craft; but what
wrould be thought of him who should from this fact con¬
clude, that the blacksmith himself must be a system of
iron. Phis, therefore, instead of illustrating the great ar¬
gument, appears to be wholly foreign to the question in
debate; and it has in fact been admitted by Dr Price,1
and thousands of others who reject the doctrine of mate¬
rialism, as an impious absurdity. The second illustration,
however, is more to the purpose ; and as it is not new, we
shall give it an old answer.
\V hy do not we perceive external objects in our sleep
or in a swmon ? “ Because,” says Mr Wollaston,2 “ the
passages are become impracticable, the windows shut, and
the nerves, being obstructed, or somehow rendered for the
Correspondence with Dr Priestley.
Religion of Nature Delineated.
p
P
tor
tatic
I ’
I •
Ofre time useless, can transmit no information to it. Why,
Subs ice however, does it notreason and think about something or
of'1 other? Because all the marks by which things are re-
S membered being for the present choked up or disorder-
J^ed, the remembrance of those objects about which it is
wont to employ itself, and even of the words (or other
signs) in which it uses to reason, and to preserve the de¬
ductions and conclusions it makes, are all suspended, at least
for the time; and so its tables being covered, its books
closed, and its tools locked up, the requisites for reason¬
ing are wanting, and no subject offers itself to exercise its
thoughts, it having yet had little or no opportunity to take
in higher objects and more refined matter for contempla¬
tion. And, to conclude, if it be demanded, why any one
should imagine that the soul may think, perceive, act,
after death, when it doth not do this in sleep, &c. ? The
answer is, because those enclosures and impediments which
occasioned the forementioned intermissions, and those
great limitations under which it labours at all times, will
be removed with its enlargement out of the body. When
it shall in its proper vehicle be let go, and take its flight
into the open fields of heaven, it will then be bare to the
immediate impressions of objects; and why should not
those impressions which affected the nerves, that moved
and affected the vehicle and soul in it, affect the vehicle
immediately when they are immediately made upon it,
without the interposition of the nerves ? ' The hand which
feels an object at the end of a staff, may certainly be al¬
lowed to feel the same much better by immediate contact
without the staff. Nor was the opinion, that the soul is
united to some fine vehicle, which dwells with it in the brain,
and goes off with it at death, peculiar to Mr Wollaston. It
was thought extremely probable by Dr Hartley, and shall
afterwards be shown to have been a very ancient opinion ;
but we do not quote it at present as either well or ill found¬
ed, but only as sufficient, in conjunction with the reasonino-
of its author, to obviate the force of Dr Priestley’s second
illustration of his argument for the materiality of mind, pro¬
vided the argument itself be not more powerful than any
which the immaterialists can bring against it.
The doctor s third illustration we have already obviated,
when we accounted for the mind and the body mutually
affecting each other ; and we might refer to Dr Price’s an¬
swer to the fourth, as being, in our opinion, a full confuta-
tion of it. But as that author’s notions of mind and ideas
differ in some respects from our own, we shall examine this
objection to the doctrine of the immaterialists, upon prin¬
ciples which Dr Priestley would perhaps have been more
inclined to admit.
That the sentient principle in man, if it be immaterial,
can have no extension, is a truth which,\we think, cannot
be controverted; and if so, every thing in that principle
must be simple and indivisible. Thus far we agree with
Dr Priestley; but with respect to what follows we differ
from him entirely. The agitation in the brain, which is
the immediate cause of sensation, must indeed correspond
to the impression ab extra by which it is produced, and
therefore must have the property of extension ; but that
agitation, whatever it be, is not itself sensation, any more
than a bludgeon is a blow, or a sword is a wound. Dr
rnestley, indeed, in answer to Dr Price, affirms that, ac¬
cording to Hartley’s theory, ideas are only vibrations in
. the brain; but whoever shall take the trouble to examine
that theory himself, will not find that its author ever ad¬
vances such an opinion, or considers vibrations as any
thing more than the instruments by which sensations and
'deas are excited in the sentient principle. A real and
proper idea, as we have often repeated, is nothing else
METAPHYSICS.
673
t ian a fainter sensation ; but no sensation, from whatever Of the
cause it may proceed, is itself extended; nor could we, Substance
without memory, the reasoning faculty, and the power of of the
local motion, have acquired from mere sense any notion Humaa
of extension at all. (See Sect. III. Chap. I. Part I.) Sen-. Mmd; ,
sations and ideas are those appearances, if we may say so,
which vibrations or some other motion in the brain excite
in the mind ; but a half appearance is an absurdity. A
man may vievy half a tree with his eyes, and he may con¬
template the idea of halt a tree in his mind, but he cannot
have half a view or half an idea of any thing. Sensations
and ideas result from the mutual agency of the brain and
sentient principle upon each other; and if the agency of
the brain be vibration, more of it may vibrate at one time
than at another ; but surely the mere relation between its
agency at any time and the agency of the mind, can nei-
tner have extension nor be divisible, for who ever thought
of extending or dividing relations? On this subject it is
extremely difficult to write with perspicuity and precision,
and what we have said may very possibly be misunderstood.
Our notion is to our own mind clear and determinate ;
but language, which was not invented by metaphysicians,
wants words in which it may be properly expressed. Per¬
haps the reader may understand what we mean, when we
say that a sensation or an idea is the instantaneous effect
of the. mutual agency of the brain and sentient principle.
Of this we think every man, by a little attention, may be
perfectly convinced, though it may be impossible ever to
discover the precise nature of this agency ; and if so, it is
plain that sensations and ideas cannot be divided, for no
instantaneous effect of any kind is divisible. A sensation,
and of course a simple and original idea, neither has ex¬
tension itself, nor suggests the notion of extension ab ex¬
tra. By running the hand or any other member along a
solid body, we feel continued resistance; this feeling,0or
the idea of this feeling, becomes in time so closely asso¬
ciated with all our sensations of touch and sight, that the
one cannot be separated from the other, and these associa¬
tions are what Dr Priestley calls extended ideas. Upon
the whole, then, we think it apparent that our sensations,
and the relicts of our sensations, are unextended and indi¬
visible ; and that though they suggest to us the existence
of extended things ab extra, the sentient being may be
unextended and indivisible.
Having thus examined Dr Priestley’s auxiliary argu- The sen-
ments for the materiality of mind, we now proceed to con- tient prin-
sider his main and direct proof. To this, as we have ob-c*plecan-
served, so able a reply has been made, that it would be in-not.be ma-
justice to our readers not to lay it befofe them, in the wordsteriab
of its author. “ I readily acknowledge,” says this acute
and spirited essayist,1 “ that the power of sensation or per¬
ception never having been found but in conjunction with
a certain organized system of matter, we ought, as philo¬
sophers, to conclude that this power necessarily exists in,
and results from, that organized system, unless it can be
shown to be incompatible with other known properties of
the same substance. On the other hand, it must be ad¬
mitted, that constant conjunction implies necessary con¬
nections only when reasons cannot be discovered to prove
the conjunction to be accidental and arbitrary. In the pre¬
sent instance it is alleged, that discerptibility is a property
of matter absolutely incompatible with the property of
sensation or perception ; or, in other words, that sensation
is a power or property incapable of division. But as the
power of the entire system is clearly nothing more than the
sum or aggregate of the powers of all the parts, it neces¬
sarily follows, that the primary particles of which the sys¬
tem is composed must, upon the material hypothesis, pos-
vol. xiv.
1 Essays, Philosophical, Historical, and Literary, vol. ii.
4 Q
METAPHYSICS.
674
Of the sess distinct powers of sensation, and that those powers
Substance combined constitute the indivisible power of sensation be-
Human ^n.£ing to the system; or, in other words, that the indi-
Mind. visible power of sensation is a divisible power, nay, an in-
finitely divisible power, if matter be, as philosophers in
general allow, an infinitely divisible substance, a conclu¬
sion obviously and grossly ridiculous. We are then com¬
pelled to acknowledge that sensation or perception is not
the property of a material substance ; that is, if the common
mode of expression be retained, it is the property of an
immaterial substance; or, to avoid verbal contention, it is
a property not resulting from, or necessarily connected
with, the organical system, but a property wholly foreign,
superinduced, and adventitious.
“ In opposition to this reasoning, the materialists affirm,
that entire systems may possess, and they think themselves
warranted to pronounce that organized systems of matter
actually do possess, powers essentially different from those
which inhere in the several parts. Amongst various fa¬
miliar though striking illustrations of this truth, it has been
said, that a rose possesses the property of sweetness or fra¬
grance, a globe the property of sphericity, a harpsichord
the property or power of producing harmony, aqua regia
the property of dissolving gold, &c. though the component
particles of these different organized systems are them¬
selves totally destitute of the powers and properties here
enumerated.
“ The immaterialists, in reply, assert that it is not only
false in fact, but a direct contradiction, and an absolute
impossibility in the nature of things, that a system should
possess any property which does not inhere in its compo¬
nent parts. To assert that the power of the whole is the
sum or aggregate of the powers of all the parts, is an
identical and self-evident proposition, the whole and all
the parts being terms precisely synonymous. Whoever,
therefore, calls in question the truth of this axiom, must
maintain that the power of the whole is something differ¬
ent from the power of all the parts, or that the power of
the whole is not the power of the whole.
“ It will be easy to demonstrate the correspondence of
facts with this plain and simple theory. For this purpose,
it is necessary to observe, that the properties of matter,
or what are generally denominated such, may be divided
into real and nominal, which Locke and others have called
primary and secondary qualities. Figure, magnitude, and
motion, are qualities really inherent in matter ; but figure,
magnitude, and motion, eternally varied, can produce only
different combinations of figure, magnitude, and motion.
There are also powers or qualities, vulgarly considered as
inherent properties of matter organically disposed, which
are really and truly qualities or affections of the mental or
percipient principle, and have no existence when not per¬
ceived. Thus the sweetness or fragrance of the rose, con¬
sidered as mere sweetness and fragrance, can be nothing
but an affection of the mind; considered as a quality of
the rose, they can mean nothing more than a certain ar¬
rangement, configuration, and motion of parts, which in
some inexplicable manner produces the sensation of sweet¬
ness. In this instance, therefore, the power of the whole
is plainly the aggregate of the powers residing in the parts,
by the motion and organization of which a certain effect
is produced upon a foreign and percipient substance.
“But a globe, we are told, possesses the property of
sphericity, though not a single particle amongst that infi¬
nite number of which the globe is constituted is itself of
a spherical form. The fallacy of this illustration is, how¬
ever, as easily demonstrable as that of the former. The
sphericity of a globe is evidently the sum or aggregate of
the curvilineal or convex parts which compose its surface ;
and the property of the whole is neither more nor less than
the combined properties of all its parts. No one doubts,
that by new compositions or arrangements of material par- Oft
tides possessing magnitude, figure, and motion, an endless SuLst;,
diversity of phenomena may be produced, to which it may °ftl
be necessary to apply new names. New names, however, ^uni
do not constitute new properties; and though we give tovj^1
a globe the appellation of an entire system, and ascribe to
it the property of sphericity, we know at the same time
that it is really nothing more than a collection of thousands
of millions of particles, actually separate and distinct, ar¬
ranged in that particular form which we denominate sphe¬
rical. But this can never be regarded as in the remotest
manner analogous to the creation of the power of percep¬
tion, in consequence of a certain organical arrangement or
disposition of impercipient particles. Though sphericity is,
indeed, the property of the entire sphere, yet every part
of the sphere, if divided, possesses its share of sphericity.
But if the percipient principle be divided, what would be¬
come of the power of perception ? A sphere equally di¬
vided becomes two hemispheres; does a perception, when
divided in like manner, become two demi-perceptions ?
“ The same reasonings may easily be transferred, and
applied to the harpsichord. Can any one be absurd enough
to affirm that the power of harmony resides in the harpsi¬
chord, as the power of perception does in the mind ? After
the utmost skill of the artificer has been exerted, we dis¬
cover nothing more in the harpsichord than new modifica¬
tions of the old properties of figure, magnitude, and mo¬
tion, by means of which certain vibrations are communi¬
cated to the air, which, conveyed by the medium of the
auditory nerve’s to the sensorium, produce the sensation
of harmonic sounds. These new modifications are there¬
fore attended, indeed, wdth new and very wonderful ef¬
fects ; but then those effects are produced upon, and are
themselves modifications of, the sentient or percipient fa¬
culty. And though it is wholly incomprehensible to us in
what manner these effects, that is, these sensations, are
produced, we well know, and perfectly comprehend, that
they are not new powers belonging to any organized sys¬
tem of matter; that they have no existence but in a mind
perceiving them; and that they are far from militating
against that grand and universal axiom, that the power
of the whole is nothing more than the united powers of
all the parts.
“ As to the last instance adduced, of the power of aqua
regia to dissolve gold, though neither the spirit of salt, nor
the spirit of nitre of which it is compounded, separately
possesses that power, it is plain, that from the union of these
two substances, certain new modes of configuration and
motion result; and the solution of gold is the consequence
of this new arrangement and motion of the parts. But the
particles of which the menstruum is composed were always
possessed of the properties of figure and motion ; and what
is styled a new property is clearly nothing more than a
new effect of the old properties differently modified. In a
word, the advocates for materialism may safely be chal¬
lenged to produce, in the whole compass of nature, a case
which bears the least analogy to that which these instances
are most unphilosophically adduced to prove and to illustrate.
It is an absurdity which transubstantiation itself does not
exceed, to maintain that a whole is in reality any thing dif¬
ferent from its component parts ; and all nature rises up in
confutation of an assertion so monstrous and extravagant.
To affirm that perception can arise from any combination
of impercipient particles, is as truly ridiculous as to affirm
that a combination of the seven primary colours with the
four cardinal virtues may constitute a planet. It is equiva¬
lent to an assertion, that an epic poem might be composed
of parallelograms, cones, and triangles. In a word, it is
an absurdity not less real, and a little less obvious, than that
of the blind man who thought that the idea of a scarlet co¬
lour resembled the sound of a trumpet.”
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METAPHYSICS.
[te’s!!
miom
If matter be taken in the common acceptation to be a
solid, extended, and inert substance, this reasoning for the
immateriality of the sentient principle in man appears to us
to have the force of demonstration, which no difficulties or
partial objections, arising from our inability to conceive the
band of union between two such heterogeneous substances
as mind and body, can ever weaken, and far less overturn.
But the modern materialists deny that matter is either solid
or inert. “ All those facts,” say they, “ which led philoso¬
phers to suppose that matter is impenetrable to other mat¬
ter, later and more accurate observations have shown to be
owing to something else than solidity and impenetrability,
viz. a power of repulsion, which for that reason they would
substitute in its place. The property of attraction or re¬
pulsion, says Dr Priestley, appears to me not to be pro¬
perly what is imparted to matter, but what really makes it
to be what it is; insomuch that, without it, it would be no¬
thing at all; and as other philosophers have said, ‘ Take
away solidity, and matter vanishes/ so I say, ‘ Take away
attraction and repulsion, and matter vanishes.’ ” If this be
admitted, the ingenious author hopes that we shall not con¬
sider matter with that contempt and disgust with which it
has generally been treated, there being nothing in its real
nature that can justify such sentiments respecting it.
We know not why, upon any hypothesis, matter should
be viewed with contempt and disgust. Whether penetra¬
ble or impenetrable, every consistent theist considers it as
one of the creatures of God, perfectly fitted to answer all
the purposes for which it was intended; but were it really
destitute of solidity, and endowed with the powers of at¬
traction and repulsion, we should still be obliged to consider
it as incapable of the powers of sensation and thought. If
we have any notion at all of what is meant by centres of
attraction and repulsion (of which indeed we are far from
being confident), it appears to us to be intuitively certain,
that nothing can be the result of any possible combination
of such centres, but new and more enlarged spheres of at¬
traction and repulsion. But surely consciousness, sensa¬
tion, and will, are as different from attraction and repulsion,
as a cube is from the sound of a trumpet, or as the sensa¬
tions of a felon in the agonies of death are from the attrac¬
tion of the rope by which he is hanged. If this be admitted,
and we are persuaded that it will not be denied by any man
whose understanding is not clouded by an undue attach¬
ment to paradoxes, the sentient principle cannot possibly
be matter; for if, when the powers of attraction and repul¬
sion are taken aw^ay, matter vanishes, and if consciousness
and sensation are not attraction and repulsion, it is not
more evident that three and two are not nine, than that the
substance which attracts and repels cannot be that which is
conscious and percipient.
Locke, who was certainly no materialist, as he repeated¬
ly affirmed, and indeed demonstrated, that thought could
never be the result ol any combinations of figure, magnitude,
and motion, was nevertheless of opinion that God by his al-
mighty power might endow some systems of matter with
the faculties of thinking and willing. It is always with re-
uctance that we controvert the opinions of so great a man ;
and it is with some degree of horror that we venture in any
case to call in question the power of Omnipotence. But
Omnipotence itself cannot work contradictions ; and it ap¬
pears to us nothing short of a contradiction to suppose the
individual power of perception inhering in a system which
is itself extended and made up of a number of separate and
distinct substances. For let us suppose such a system to
be six feet long, three feet broad, and two feet deep (and
we may as well suppose a system of these dimensions to be
percipient as one that is smaller), then it is plain that every
idea must be extended, and that part of it must be in one
place and part in another. If so, the idea of a square inch
wdl be six feet long, three feet broad, and two feet deep;
675
Human
Mind*
aJ\d’ what is still harder to be digested, the several parts of Of the
tns i ea will be at a great distance from each other, with- Substance
out any bond of union amongst them. The being which ofthe
apprehends one extremity of the idea is, by the supposi¬
tion, six feet distant from the being which apprehends the
other extiemity; and although these two distinct beings
belong to one system, they are not only separable, but
actually separated from each other, as all the particles of
matter are. hat is it, then, that apprehends as one the
whole of this extended idea ? Part of it may be apprehend¬
ed by one particle of matter, and part of it by another;
and there is nothing which apprehends or can apprehend
the whole. Perhaps it will be said, that the power of appre¬
hension is not divided into parts, but is the power of the
one system, and therefore apprehends at once the whole
idea. But a power Or faculty cannot be separated from its
subject, power which inheres in nothing being confessedly
impossible; and a material system is not one subject in
which any individual power or faculty can inhere. There
must, therefore, be united to the system some one being,
which is the subject of thought, and which is unextended
as well as indivisible. This, we say, follows undeniably.
For let us suppose that an extended being without separate
parts is possible, and that such a being is percipient; it is
obvious that the whole of any one of its perceptions could
not be in one place. Now, although we should grant to Dr
Priestley and other materialists that every idea of an ex¬
tended substance has itself three dimensions, and is incor-
poiated and commensurate with the whole percipient sys¬
tem ; what, upon this supposition, shall we think of con¬
sciousness and of the perception of truth ? Is consciousness
or truth extended ? If so, one side or superficies of con¬
sciousness, or of a truth, may be greater or less than an¬
other, above or below, to the right or to the left; and it
will be very proper and philosophical to speak of the length,
breadth, and depth, of consciousness or of truth. But
surely to talk of the place or the extension of these things,
is as absurd as to talk of the colour of sound, or the sound
pf a triangle; and we might as well say that consciousness
is green or red, as that it is an ell or an inch long; and that
truth is blue, as that it has three dimensions.
This reasoning is somewhat differently stated by Cud- Cudworth’s
worth, who observes, that if the soul be an extended sub-statement
stance, “ it must of necessity be either a physical point of this rea-
(that is, the least extension possible, if there be any suchSoning*
least extension), or else it must consist of more such physi¬
cal points joined together. As to the former of these, it is
impossible that one single atom, or smallest point of exten¬
sion, should be able to perceive distinctly all the variety of
things, that is, take notice of all the distinct and different
parts of an extended object, and have a description or deline¬
ation of the whole of them upon itself (for that would be to
make it the least, and not the least, possible extension at
the same time). Besides, to suppose every soul to be but
one physical point, or the smallest possible extension, is to
suppose such an essential difference in matter or extension,
as that some of the points thereof should be naturally de¬
void of all life, sense, and understanding; and others, again,
naturally sensitive and rational. And even should this ab¬
surdity be admitted, it would yet be utterly inconceivable
how there should be one, and but one, sensitive and rational
atom in every man ; how this atom of so small dimensions
should actuate the whole system, and how it should con¬
stantly remain the same from infancy to old age, whilst all
the other parts of the system transpire perpetually, and are
succeeded by new matter.
“ But ifs according to the second hypothesis, souls be ex¬
tended substances, consisting of many points one without
another, and all concurring in every sensation, then must
every one of these points perceive either a point only of the
object, or else the whole. Now, if every point of the ex-
676
METAPHYSICS.
Of the
§ubstance
of the
Human
Mind.
Futile at¬
tempt to
prove the
impossibi¬
lity of im¬
material
substance.
tended soul perceives only a point of the object, then there
is no one thing in us that perceives the whole, or that can
compare one part of the object with another. On the
other hand, if every point of the extended soul perceive
the whole object at once, then would there be innumer¬
able perceptions of the same object in every sensation, as
many, indeed, as there are points in the extended soul.
And from both these suppositions it would alike follow that
no man is one single percipient or person, but that in every
man there are innumerable distinct percipients or persons ;
a conclusion directly contrary to the infallible evidence of
consciousness.”
Cogent as these arguments for the immateriality of the
sentient principle appear to be, they have nevertheless been
treated with the most sovereign contempt by a writer who
professes to be a disciple of Dr Priestley’s, but who seems
not to have learned the modesty or the candour of his mas¬
ter. Dr Priestley labours to prove, that to account for the
phenomena of perception and volition, &-c. it is not neces¬
sary to suppose an immaterial principle in man. Mr Cooper
with greater boldness affirms, and undertakes to demon¬
strate, with all the parade of mathematical precision, that
such a principle is impossible.1 Though the authority of
this philosopher in such inquiries as dfipend not immediate¬
ly upon the retort and the furnace, is certainly not great,
he yet utters his dogmas with such confidence, that it may
not be improper to examine the chief arguments upon which
they rest.
“ Suppose,” says he, “ the soul to have no common pro¬
perty with matter, then no thing can act upon any other
but by means of some common property. Of this we have
not only all the proof that induction of known and acknow¬
ledged cases can furnish, but that additional proof also
which arises from the impossibility of conceiving how the
opposite proposition can be true. But by the supposition
the soul has no property in common with matter, and
therefore the soul cannot act upon matter. But by the
supposition of every system of immaterialism (except those
of Malebranche, Berkeley, and Leibnitz), it is deemed an
essential property of the soul that it acts upon the body,
or upon matter; therefore the soul can and cannot act upon
matter at the same time, and in the same respect. But
this is a contradiction in terms; and as two contradictions
cannot both be true at the same time, the supposition of
the existence of an immaterial soul cannot be true ; that is>
the soul does not exist.”
This reasoning, as the reader will observe, is carried on
with all the pomp of mode and figure. The propositions
hang upon each other like the several steps of an alge¬
braical process ; but as in such processes one error unwarily
admitted produces a false result, so in demonstrative rea¬
sonings one unsound argument admitted into the premises
is necessarily productive of error in the conclusion. When
the author affirms, “ that no thing can act upon any other
but by means of some common property,” he affirms, with¬
out the shadow of proof, what is certainly not self-evi¬
dent. He says, indeed, that of this we have all the proof
that induction of known and acknowledged cases can fur¬
nish ; but unless consciousness be calculated to deceive
us, this is unquestionably a mistake. Matter, he repeat¬
edly affirms, has no other properties than those of attrac¬
tion and repulsion ; but a man moves his arm by a mere
energy of will, and, therefore, according to this demon¬
strator, an energy of will must be either material attrac¬
tion or material repulsion. If so, it is reasonable to con¬
clude that when a man draws his hand towards his head,
the centre of his brain exerts its power of attraction; and
that when he extends his arm at full length before him,
the same centre exerts its power of repulsion. W’e beg
pardon of our readers for detaining them one moment up- !
on such absurdities as these; yet we cannot dismiss the
argument without taking the liberty to ask our all-knowing
author, how it comes to pass that the same centre some¬
times attracts and sometimes repels the same substance at'
the same distance; nay, that it both attracts and repels
substances of the same kind, at equal distances, and at the
very same instant of time? This must be the case when
a man puts one hand to his head and thrusts another from
him; and, therefore, if these operations be the effect of at¬
traction and repulsion, it must be of attraction and repul¬
sion to which induction of known and acknowledged cases
furnishes nothing similar or analogous, that is, of such at¬
traction and repulsion as, according to Mr Cooper’s mode of
reasoning, does not exist. The truth is, that we are not
more certain that we ourselves exist, than that an energy
of will is neither attraction nor repulsion ; and, therefore,
unless all matter be endued with will, it is undeniable
that, whatever be the substance of the soul, one thing acts
upon another by a property not common to them both. In
what manner it thus acts, we pretend not to know; but
our ignorance of the manner of any operation is no argu¬
ment against the reality of the operation itself when we
have for it the evidence of consciousness and daily expe¬
rience ; and when the author shall have explained to ge¬
neral satisfaction howr material centres attract and repel
each other at a distance, we shall undertake to explain
how one thing acts upon another with which it has no
common properties.
Suspicious, as it should seem, that this reasoning has not
the complete force of mathematical demonstration, the au¬
thor supports his opinion by other arguments. “ What¬
ever we knowr,” says he, “ wejmow by means of its pro¬
perties, nor do we in any case whatever certainly know
any thing but these ; and we infer in all cases the existence
of any thing which we suppose to exist from the existence
of its properties. In short, our idea of any thing is made
up of a combination of our ideas of its properties. Gold is
heavy, ductile, tenacious, opaque, yellow, soluble in aqua
regia, &c. Now, let any one suppose for an instant that
gold is deprived of all these, and becomes neither heavy,
nor ductile, tenacious, opaque, yellow, soluble, &c.; what
remains ? will it be gold ? Certainly not. If it have other
properties, it is another substance. If it have no proper¬
ties remaining, it is nothing. For nothing is that which
hath no properties. Therefore, if any thing lose all its
properties, it becomes nothing; that is, it loses its exist¬
ence. Now the existence of the soul is inferred, like the
existence of every thing else, from its supposed properties,
which are the phenomena of thinking, such as perception,
recollection, judgment, and volition. But in all cases of
perfect sleep, of the operation of a strong narcotic, of apo¬
plexy, of swooning, of drowning where the vital powers
are not extinguished, of the effects of a violent blow' on the
back part of the head, and all other leipothymic affections,
there is neither perception, recollection, judgment, nor vo¬
lition ; that is, all the properties of the soul are gone, are
extinguished. Therefore, the soul itself loses its existence
for the time. If any man shall say, that these properties
are only suspended for the time, I would desire him to ex¬
amine what idea he annexes to this suspension ; whether
it be not neither more nor less than that they are made
not to exist for the time. Either no more is meant, or it
is contradictory to matter of fact; and, moreover, if more
be meant, it may easily be perceived to involve the arche¬
typal existence of abstract ideas, and to contradict the
axiom impossibile est idem esse et non esse.”
1 Tracts Ethical, Theological, and Political, vol. i.
*
metaphysics.
677
I man
lund.
of the
Human
Mind.
the For the benefit of short-sighted inouirers it is tn °i
fiance wished that the author had favoured the public with this sion llie soul' ito n"T'™! mUSt be.attI'“ction »"■! repul- Of the
, Ua proof, which utigh, have been so easily brought forward Tac«i a™ % SUb»S,”C°
for we can discern no connection whatever between the e,ic. „ , 1..’ or S011nity. Hut these comprise
■ pension of the exercise of the powe“ of “he S Ind X 3 f0P y £ m?ter’,as s,'ch’ llas «=™r been sup-
archetypal existence of abstract ideas, or the absurf nro! d T*"*83- T‘>erefore aot.l is matter, or materM.
position that it is possible for the same thing to he and not n t '• C f;ui,Posl I011 !t 13 immaterial; therefore it does
E, be. We think, however, that we undermnd enoughs a c„ntmdicti™r’” "g Wh°Se
this reasoning which he has given us, to be ab'e in nm i\r„ n ' ,
nounce with some confidence that it is nothing to the nur mnil 0C!Pe!’ ,we see’ st;^ proceeds in the direct road of
—- , noming to the pui- mathematical demonstration ; but in the present instance
we beg leave to stop him in the very beginning of his
course, and to ask him wfiere the universe exists ? When
he shall have given such an answer to this question as men
of common sense may be able to comprehend, we may per-
haps attempt to tell him where an unextended soul exists.
If tiiis demonstration be not a collection of words without
meaning, the existence of space as a real thing is taken
for granted. Space, therefore, has extension, and of course
pose. r or, in the first place, we beg leave to observe, that
between the properties of gold and the powers of thinking,
&c. there is no similarity ; and that what may be true when
affirmed of the one, may be false when affirmed of the other.
I he powers of the mind are all more or less active ; but the
enumerated properties of gold are all passive. We know
by the most complete of all evidence, that the exercise of
power may be suspended, and yet the power itself remain
*■ , , - ' «/  I   X IJ-iClllX
unimpaired ; but to talk of the suspension of the pnprm'p« i . Ul UUuIst;
-    .... .{e blun 01 tne enerSies %ure ; but we believe Mr Cooper will find some difficulty
of what was never energetic, if it be not to contradict the
axiom, impossibile est idem esse et non esse, is certainly to
employ words which have no meaning. Yet even this ar¬
gument from the properties of gold might have led the
author to suspect that something else may be meant by the
suspension of the exercise of powers, than that those powers
are made not to exist for the time. In a room perfectly
dark, gold is not yellow; but does it lose any of its essen¬
tial properties, and become a different substance, merely by
being carried from light to darkness ? Is a man, whilst in
a dark room, deprived of the faculty of sight, and is one of
the powers of his mind made not to exist for the time ?
The author will not affirm that either of these events takes
place. He will tell us that gold exhibits not its yellow
appearance merely because the proper medium of light
passes not from it to. the eye of the percipient, and that it
is only for want of the same medium that nothing is seen
by us in perfect darkness. Here, then, by his own con¬
fession, is a power of the mind, and a property of an ex¬
ternal object, both suspended in their energies, without
being annihilated ; and no proof has yet been brought that
all the powers of the mind may not in the same manner be
suspended in their energies without being made not to ex¬
ist. As light is necessary to vision, but is not itself either
the thing which sees or the thing which is seen, so may
the brain be necessary to the phenomena of thinking, with¬
out being either that which thinks, or that which is thought
upon; and as actual vision ceases when light is withdrawn,
although the eye and the object both continue to exist, so
niay the energy of thinking cease when the brain is ren-
deied unfit for its usual office, although the being which
t links, and the power of thought, continue to exist, and to
exist unimpaired. That this is actually the case, every man
inust be convinced who believes that in thinking he exerts
t e same powers to-day which he exerted yesterday; and
therefore our author’s second demonstration of the non¬
existence of mind is, like his first, founded upon assertions
which cannot be granted.
T^not^eroi these pretended demonstrations is as follow’s :
If the soul exist at all, it must exist somewhere ; for it is
impossible to frame to one’s self an idea of any thing exist-
lna> ivInch exists nowhere. But if the soul exist some-
u here, by the terms it occupies space, and therefore is ex-
ended ; but whatever has extension, has figure in conse¬
quence thereof. The soul, then, if it exist, hath the pro¬
perties of extension and figure in common with matter,
t oreover>by the supposition of every immaterial hypothesis
(except those of Malebranche, Berkeley, and Leibnitz), it
acts upon body, or upon matter; that is, it attracts and
Iepels, and is attracted and repelled, for there is no con-
eeiva e affection of matter but what is founded on its pro¬
perties of attraction and repulsion ; and if it be attracted
in ascertaining the figure of infinite space. The mind cer¬
tainly acts upon body. For this we have the evidence of
consciousness and experience; but we have no evidence
whatever that it must therefore attract and repel, and be
attracted and repelled. It has been already observed, that
the mind, whatever be its substance, acts upon the body by
energies of will.. What these are, every man knows with
the utmost certainty and precision ; whilst we may venture
to assei t, that no man knows precisely what corpuscular
attraction and repulsion are, even supnposig the existence
of such povrers to be possible. W hen we speak of attrac¬
tion and repulsion, we have some obscure notion of bo-
efies acting upon each other at a distance; and this is all
that we know of the matter. But when we think of an
energy of the human will, the idea of distance neither
enters nor can enter into our notion of such an energy.
These are facts which we pretend not to prove by a ma¬
thematical or a chemical process. Every man must be
convinced of their truth by evidence more complete than
any proof, viz. immediate consciousness of his own thoughts
and volitions. I his being the case, we may turn Mr
Cooper s artillery against himself, and, because mind acts
upon body by powers different from attraction and repul¬
sion, argue that body neither attracts nor repels ; and were
it true, as it is certainly false, that one thing could not act
upon another but by means of some property common to
both, we might infer that every atom of matter is endowed
with the powers of volition and, intelligence, and, by conse¬
quence, that every man is not one but ten thousand con¬
scious beings; a conclusion which our philosopher seems
not inclined to admit.
Having finished his demonstrations, the author states Objections
other objections to the doctrine of immaterialism, which, as to the doc-
they are not his own, nor new, have greater weight. “ It trine ofim-
appears no more than reasonable,” says he, “ that if thematerialism
doctrine of materialism be rejected as inadequate to explain answered‘
the phenomena, these latter should at least be explained
in some manner or other better upon the substituted than
rejected hypothesis ; so that it is reasonable to require of an
immaterialist that his supposition of a distinct soul should
explain the rationale of the phenomena of thinking. But,
strange to say, so far from attempting to explain these phe¬
nomena on the immaterial hypothesis, it is acknowledged
on all hands, that, even on this hypothesis, the phenomena
aie inexplicable. This objection it would certainly be no
difficult task to obviate ; but from that trouble, small as it
is, we are happily exempted by the objector himself. “ I
would have it understood,” says he, “ that no materialist ever
undertook to say how perception results from our organiza¬
tion. YV hat a materialist undertakes to assert is, that per¬
ception, whatever it be, or however it results from, does
actually result from our organization.” According to Mr
CTS METAPHYSICS.
the ^ Cooper, then, the rationale of thinking is equally inexpli- bodies acting upon each other at a distance; but as he takes Of
oftbe06 Cable materialists and immaterialists ; and the truth is, the liberty to substitute assertions for arguments, we beg Subi j
Human t5iat we knoyv the rationale of hardly any one operation in leave in our turn to assert, that those ideas neither are, nor of I
Mind. see that the stroke of a racket produces mo- can be, more, clear and adequate than our notion of per- Hu'
v^—v—ti011 a billiard ball; but how it does so, we believe no ception, consciousness, and will, united in one being. Mill
man can say. Of the fact, however, we are certain ; and That extension is no otherwise inseparable from our no-'
we know that the motion is produced by some power, about tions of existence than by the power of an early and perpe-noting
the effects of which we can reason with precision. In like tual association, is evident from this circumstance, that, had rabid '
manner we know with the utmost certainty, that we our- we never possessed the senses of sight and touch, we neverallnot
selves possess the powers of perception and volition ; and could have acquired any idea at all of extension. No manofe*
that these powers cannot be conceived as either an ell or who has thought on the subject will venture to affirm, thatence'
an inch in length. How they result from the mutual agency it is absolutely impossible for an intelligent being to’exist
of an immaterial and material substance upon each other, with no other senses than those of smell, taste, and hear-
we are indeed profoundly ignorant; but that such is the ing. Now it is obvious that such a being must acquire
fact, and that they are not the result of mere organization, some notion of existence from his own consciousness. But
we must necessarily believe, so long as it is true that the into that notion extension could not possibly enter; for
power of the entire system is nothing more than the sum neither sounds, tastes, smells, nor consciousness, are ex-
or aggregate of the powers of all its parts. The immate- tended; and it is a fundamental article of the materialist’s
rial hypothesis contains in it something inexplicable by creed, that all our ideas are relicts of sensation. Since,
man. The material hypothesis likewise contains, by the then, existence may be conceived without extension, it may
confession of its advocates, something that is equally inex- be inferred that they are not inseparable from each other;
plicable; and is, besides, burdened with this glaring con- and since cogitation cannot be conceived with extension*
tradiction, that the whole is something different from all we may reasonably conclude, that the being which thinks
its parts. It is therefore no “ singular phenomenon in lite- is not extended.
rary history, that one hypothesis should be rejected as in- Mr Cooper, indeed, with his master, talks of extended
adequate to account for appearances, and that the hypo- ideas and extended thoughts. But we must assert, in the
thesis substituted should, even by the acknowledgment of words of Cudworth, that “ we cannot conceive a thought
its abettors, be such as not only not to explain the rationale to be of such a certain length, breadth, and thickness, mea-
of the appearances, but, from the nature of it, to preclude surable by inches, feet, and yards ; that we cannot conceive
all hopes of such an explanation.” This is exactly the case the half, or third, or twentieth part of a thought; and that
with respect to a vacuum in astronomy. That hypothesis we cannot conceive every thought to be of some determi-
does not in the least tend to explain the rationale of the nate figure, such as round or angular, spherical, cubical, cy-
motions of the planets ; but yet it must be admitted in pre- lindrical, or the like. Whereas if extension were insepa-
ference to a plenum, because upon this last hypothesis mo- rable from existence, thoughts must either be mere non-
tion is impossible. entities, or extended into length, breadth, and thickness;
Whether “ Supposing the existence of the soul, it is an unfortunate and consequently all truths in us being nothing but com¬
as much circumstance,” says Mr Cooper, “ that we cannot properly plex thoughts, must be long, broad, and thick, and of some
ay p assert positively any thing of it at all. Were this the case, determinate figure. The same must likewise be affirmed
the soul as*1 woul(1 indeed be a very unfortunate circumstance; but of volitions, appetites, and passions, and of all other things
of the bo- can we n(?t assert positively as many things of the soul as belonging to cogitative beings, such as knowledge and
dy. we can of the body ? Can we not say with as much pro- ignorance, wisdom and folly, virtue and vice, that these
priety and certainty, that the soul has the powers of per- are either all of them absolute nonentities, or else extended
ception and volition, &c. as that the body is solid and ex- into three dimensions, and measurable not only by inches
tended, or as that matter has the powers of attraction and and feet, but also by solid measures, such as pints and
repulsion ?” We know perfectly what perception and voli- quarts. But if this be absurd, and if these things belong-
tion are, though we cannot have ideas or mental images of ing to soul and mind, though doubtless as great realities at
them; and if our author knows what attraction and repul- least as the things which belong to body, be unextended,
sion are, we believe he will not pretend to have ideas of then must the substances of souls or minds be themselves
them entirely abstracted from their objects. “ But grant- unextended, according to that of Plotinus, vovs ou diugru;
ing the soul’s existence, it may be asked,” says he, “ of dip’ iawroy, and therefore the human soul cannot be ma-
what use is an hypothesis of which no more can be asserted terial.”
than its existences” We have just observed that much Mr Cooper employs many other arguments to prove the Alleged
more can be asserted of the soul than its existence, viz. materiality of the sentient principle in man ; but the forcematerialii
that it is something of which perception and will are pro- of them extends no farther than to make it in the highest
perties; and he himself asserts nothing of matter, but that degree probable, that the mind cannot exert its faculties ex-^ ^
it is something of which attraction and repulsion are pro- cept in union with some organized corporeal system. Thiscl^e
perties. js an opinion which we do not feel ourselves inclined to con-
“ This soul, of which these gentlemen (the immaterial- trovert; and therefore we shall not make any particular
ists) are conscious, is immaterial essentially. Now I deny,” remarks upon that part of our author’s reasonings. That
says our author, <c that we can have any idea at all of a an immaterial and indiscerptible being, such as the soul, is
substance purely immaterial.” He elsewhere says, that no- not liable to be dissolved with the body, is a fact which can-
thing can exist which is not extended, or that extension is not be controverted ; for that which has no parts can perish
inseparable from our notions of existence. Taking the only by annihilation ; and of annihilation the annals of the
word idea in its proper sense, to denote that appearance world afford no instance. That an immaterial being, en-
w hich external objects make in the imagination, it is cer- dowed with the powers of perception and volition, &c. may
tainly true that we can have no idea of an immaterial sub- be capable of exerting these powers in a state of separation
stance; but neither have we, in that sense, any idea of from all body, and that at least one immaterial Being does
matter abstracted from its qualities. Has Mr Cooper any actually so exert them, or other powers analogous to them,
idea of that which attracts and repels, or of attraction and are truths which no man whose arrogance does not surpass
. repulsion, abstracted from their objects ? He may per- his judgment will venture to deny; but the question at
baps have, although we have not very adequate ideas of present between the most rigid immaterialists and their
,ifJc
iE Si!
le 3
METAPHYSICS,
0|he opponents is, whether there be ground to think that the
itijance human soul is such a being ?
of be Now, when Mr Baxter and his followers confidently
jJ’j" affirm, that human perception must necessarily subsist af-
. JP ^ > ter the dissolution of the present mortal and perishable
iMhiin of system, and that the soul, when disencumbered of all body,
Ba»r and will have its faculties greatly enlarged, they affirm wffiat
othei to us appears incapable of proof. That a disembodied
soul may perceive, and think, and act, and that its powers
of intellection may have a wider range than when they
were circumscribed by a corporeal system, which permit¬
ted their action upon external objects only through five
organs of sense, is certainly possible ; and the argument by
which the materialists pretend to prove that it is not possi¬
ble, is one of the most contemptible sophisms that ever dis¬
graced the history of philosophy. To affirm, that because
our intellectual powers, an their embodied state, seem to
decay with the system to which they are united, the mind,
when set free, must therefore have no powers at all, is
equally absurd as to say, that because a man shut up in a
room which has but one window sees objects less and less
distinctly as the glass becomes more and more dimmed, he
must in the open air be deprived of the power of vision.
But because the human soul may, for any thing that we
see to the contrary, subsist, and think, and act, in a sepa¬
rate state, it does not therefore necessarily follow that it
will do so; and every thing that we know of its nature
and its energies leads us to think, that without some kind
of body by which to act as by an instrument, all its powers
would continue dormant. There is not the shadow of a
reason to supposfe that it existed and was conscious in a
prior state ; and as its memory at present unquestionably
depends upon the state of the brain, there is all the evi¬
dence of which the case will admit, that if it should sub¬
sist in a future state divested of all body, though it might
be endowed with new and enlarged powers of perception,
it could have no recollection of what it did and suffered in
this world, and therefore would not be a fit object either
of reward or of punishment.
This consideration has compelled may thinking men,
both Pagans and Christians, to suppose that at death the
'ouh ries?0U^ C£!n^es wit^ a fine material vehicle, which is its
with a immediate sensorium in this world, and continues to be
ine i te- the seat of its recollection in the next. Such, as we have
seen, was the opinion of Mr Wollaston and Dr Hartley;
it was likewise the opinion of Cudworth and Locke, who
held that the Supreme Being alone is the only mind
wholly separated from matter; and it is an opinion which
even Dr Clarke, one of the ablest advocates for immate-
rialism, would not venture positively to deny. Nor is
this opinion peculiar to a few moderns. Cudworth, after
giving a vast number of quotations from Pythagoreans
and Platonists, which prove to a demonstration that they
held the Deity to be the only mind which perceives and
acts without the instrumentality of matter, observes,
“ From what hath been said, it appeareth that the most
ancient assertors of the incorporeity and immortality of
the human soul yet supposed it to be always conjoined
with some body.” Thus Hierocles plainly: “ The ra¬
tional nature having always a kindred body, so proceeded
from the demiurgus, that neither itself is body, nor yet
can it be without body ; but although itself be incorporeal,
yet its whole form is terminated in a body.” Agreeably to
this, the definition which he gives of a man is, “ a rational
soul, together with a kindred immortal bodyand he af¬
firms, that our present animated terrestrial body, or mor¬
tal man, is nothing but siduXov avdguvov, “ the image of the
true man,” or an accession from which it may be separated.
Neither does he affirm this only of human souls, but also
of all other rational beings whatsoever below the Supreme
Deity, that they always naturally actuate some body.
679
Notf
l|
ileatLie
tlfii
SI rial v i
itde,
Wherefore a demon or angel, which by Hierocles are used Of Per-
as synonymous words, is also defined by him, after the®onal Iden-
same manner, to be “ a rational soul, together with a lucidtity.
Aod accordingly, Proclus upon Plato’s Timaeus V v~'~"
affirms, “ That every demon, superior to human souls,
hath both an intellectual soul and an ethereal vehicle, the
entireness thereof being made up or compounded of these
two things.” So that there is hardly any other difference
between demons or angels and men, according to these
philosophers, but only this, that the former are lapsable into
aerial bodies only, and no further; but the latter into ter¬
restrial also. Now, Hierocles positively affirms this to have
been the true cabbala and genuine doctrine of the ancient
Pythagoreans, entertained afterwards by Plato: “And
this was the doctrine of the Pythagoreans, which Plato
afterwards declared ; he resembling every soul both human
and divine (that is, in our modern language, every creat¬
ed rational being) to a winged chariot and a driver or cha¬
rioteer both together;” meaning by the chariot an animat¬
ed body, and by the charioteer the incorporeal soul ac¬
tuating it.
That this Pythagorean opinion of the Deity’s being the The Py-
only mind which thinks and acts without material organs Biagorean
was very generally received by the ancient Christians, notk’n .of
might be proved by a thousand quotations. We shall con- th,e
tent ourselves with producing two from the learned Ori-?heSy
gen: “ Solius Dei,” says this philosophic father of the Christians,
church, “ id est, Patris, Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, naturae id
proprium est, ut sine materiali substantia, et absque ulla
corporeae adjectionis societate, intelligatur subsistere.”
“ Materialem substantiam opinione quidem et intellectu
solum separari, a naturis rationalibus, et pro ipsis, vel post
ipsas affectam videri; sed nunquam sine ipsa eas vel vixisse,
vel vivere: solius namque Trinitatis incorporea vita exis-
tere putabitur.” Should Mr Cooper and his friends ask,
What is the use of a soul which cannot act without the in¬
strumentality of matter ? or why we should suppose the ex¬
istence of such a substance ? we beg leave, in our turn, to
inquire of these gentlemen, What is the use of a brain which
cannot see without eyes ? and why they should suppose
all our sensations to terminate in such an internal system,
since the vulgar certainly suppose their sensations to sub¬
sist in their respective organs ? How this ancient notion,
which makes body so essential a part of man, is consistent
with the immortality of the human soul, we shall inquire
in a subsequent chapter ; in which we shall endeavour to
ascertain what kind of immortality we have reason to ex¬
pect, and upon what evidence our expectation must rest.
Previously to this inquiry, however, it is necessary to enter
upon another, which is of the first importance, and which
every materialist has endeavoured to perplex ; we mean
that which concerns personal identity; for if, as has been
often said, no man is the same person two days successive¬
ly, it is of but little importance to us whether the soul be
mortal or immortal.
CHAP. III.—OF PERSONAL IDENTITY.
Whether we are to exist in a future state, as it is the Personal
most important question which can possibly be asked, so it identity,
is the most intelligible one which can be expressed in lan¬
guage. Yet strange perplexities have been raised about
the meaning of that identity or sameness of person which
is implied in the notion of our living now and hereafter, or
indeed in any two successive moments ; and the solution
of these difficulties has been stranger than even the difficul¬
ties themselves. To repeat all that has been said on the
subject would swell this chapter to a disproportionate bulk.
We shall therefore content ourselves with laying before
our readers the sentiments of Bishop Butler, and the fan-
680
METAPHYSICS.
Of Per.
sonaiIden
tity.
Easily un¬
derstood
and ascer¬
tained by
conscious¬
ness and
memory.
But these
do not
make per¬
sonal iden
tity.
cies and demonstrations of the philosopher of Manchester.
•W e are induced to adopt this course, because we think that
the illustrious Bishop of Durham has exhausted the sub¬
ject, by stating fairly the opinions which he controverts,
and by establishing his own upon a foundation which can¬
not be shaken, and which are certainly not injured by the
objections of Mr Cooper.
“ When it is asked,” says this philosophical prelate,1 “ in
what personal identity consists ? the answer should be the
same as if it were asked in what consists similitude or
equality ? that all attempts to define would but perplex
it. Yet there is no difficulty at all in ascertaining the idea
or notion : For as, upon two triangles being compared or
viewed together, there arises to the mind the notion of si¬
militude, or upon twice two and four the notion of equa¬
lity; so likewise, upon comparing the consciousness of
one’s self or one’s own existence in any two moments,
there as immediately arises to the mind the notion of per¬
sonal identity. And as the two former comparisons not
only give us the notions of similitude and equality, but
also show us that two triangles are similar, and that twice
two and four are equal; so the latter comparison not only
gives us the notion of personal identity, but also shows us
the identity of ourselves in these two moments, the pre¬
sent, suppose, and that immediately past, or the present
and that a month, a year, or twenty years past. In other
words, by reflecting upon that which is myself now, and
that which was myself twenty years ago, I discern they
are not two, but one and the same self.
“ But though consciousness of what is present and re¬
membrance of what is past do thus ascertain our personal
identity to ourselves, yet, to say that remembrance makes
'personal identity, or is necessary to our being the same
persons, is to say that a person has not existed a single
moment, nor done one action, but what he can remember,
indeed none but what he reflects upon. And one should
really think it self-evident, that consciousness of personal
identity presupposes, and therefore cannot constitute, per¬
sonal identity, any more than knowledge, in any other case,
can constitute truth, which it presupposes.
“ The inquiry, w hat makes vegetables the same in the
common acceptation of the word, does not appear to have
any relation to this of personal identity ; because the word
same, when applied to them and to person, is not only ap¬
plied to different subjects, but is also used in different
senses. When a man swears to the same tree, as having
stood fifty years in the same place, he means only the same
as to all the purposes of property and uses of common life,
and not that the tree has been all that time the same in
the strict philosophical sense of the word ; for he does not
knowr whether any one particle of the present tree be the
same with any one particle of the tree which stood in the
same place fifty years ago. And if they have not one com¬
mon particle of matter, they cannot be the same tree in the
proper and philosophic sense of the word same ; it being
evidently a contradiction in terms to say they are, wdien
no part of their substance and no one of their properties is
the same ; no part of their substance, by the supposition ;
no one of their properties, because it is allowed that the
same property cannot be transferred from one substance to
another ; and, therefore, when we say that the identity or
sameness of a plant consists in a continuation of the same
life, communicated under the same organization to a num-
bei of particles of matter, whether the same or not, the
word same, when applied to life and to organization, can¬
not possibly be understood to signify what it signifies in
this very sentence, when applied to matter. In a loose and
popular sense, then, the life, and the organization, and the Off
plant, are justly said to be the same, notwithstanding thesouall
perpetual change of the parts. But, in a strict and philo- tit]'
sophical manner of speech, no man, no being, no mode oY—v
being, no any thing, can be the same with that with which it
has indeed nothing the same. Now sameness is used in this
latter sense wdien applied to persons. The identity of these,
therefore, cannot subsist with diversity of substance.
“ The thing here considered, and demonstratively, as I
think, determined, is proposed by Mr Locke in these words:send i
Whether it (that is, the same self or person) be the sameffijis.
identical substance ? And he has suggested what is a much
better answer to the question than that which he gives it
in form ; for he defines a person a thinking intelligent be¬
ing, &c. and personal identity, the sameness of a rational
being ; and then the question is, whether the same rational
being is the same substance ? which needs no answer ; be¬
cause being and substance are in this place synonymous
terms. The ground of the doubt, whether the same per¬
son be the same substance, is said to be this, that the con¬
sciousness of our own existence in youth and in old age, or
in any two joint successive moments, is not the same indivi¬
dual action, that is, not the same consciousness, but differ¬
ent successive consciousnesses. Now it is strange that this
should have occasioned such perplexities ; for it is surely
conceivable that a person may have a capacity of knowing
some object or other to be the same now which it was when
he contemplated it formerly; yet in this case, where, by
the supposition, the object is perceived to be the same, the
perception of it in any two moments cannot be one and the
same perception. And thus, though the successive con¬
sciousnesses which we have of our own existence are not
the same, yet are they consciousnesses of one and the same
thing or object; of the same person, self, or living agent.
I he person of whose existence the consciousness is fell
now, and was felt an hour or a year ago, is discerned to be,
not two persons, but one and the same person ; and there¬
fore is one and the same.
“ Mr Locke’s observations upon this subject appear hasty
and he seems to profess himself dissatisfied w’ith the supposi- tionsof
tions which he has made relating to it. But some of those personal
hasty observations have been carried to a strange lengthidentitJ'
by others, whose notion, when traced and examined to the
bottom, amounts, I think, to this: £ That personality is not
a permanent, but a transient thing; that it lives and dies,
begins and ends, continually; that no one can any more
remain one and the same person two moments together,
than two successive moments can be one and the same mo¬
ment ; that our substance is indeed continually changing;
but whether this be so or not, is, it seems, nothing to the
purpose, since it is not substance, but consciousness alone,
which constitutes personality; which consciousness, being
successive, cannot be the same in any two moments, nor
consequently the personality constituted by it.”2 Hence
it must follow, that it is a fallacy upon ourselves to charge
our present selves with any thing we did, or to imagine
our present selves interested in any thing which befell us
yesterday; or that our present self will be interested in
what will befall us to-morrow; since our present self is not
in reality the same with the self of yesterday, but another
self or person coming in its stead, and mistaken for it; to
which another self will succeed to-morrow. This, we say,
must follow ; for if the self or person of to-day and that of
to-morrow are not the same, but only similar persons, the
person of to-day is really no more interested in what will
befall the person of to-morrow, than in what will befall any
other person. It may be thought, perhaps, that this is not
1 Dissertation tirst, subjoined to the Analogy of Iteligion, Natural and Revealed.
Answer to Dr Clarke’s third Defence of his Letter to Mr Dodweli, second edition, p. 44, 5G, et seq.
*
Of.er- a just representation of the opinion we are speaking of,
wna.den-because those who maintain it allow that a person is the
1 , same as far back as his remembrance reaches ; and indeed
they eniP]°y the words identity and same person, nor will
language permit these words to be laid aside. But they
cannot, consistently with themselves, mean that the person
is really the same ; for it is self-evident, that the personal¬
ity cannot be really the same, if, as they expressly assert,
that in which it consists is not the same. “ And as, con¬
sistently with themselves, they cannot,” says Butler,’“ so I
think it appears they do not, mean that the person is really
the same, but only that he is so in a fictitious sense, in such
a sense only as they assert; for this they do assert, that any
number of persons whatever may be the same person. The
bare unfolding this notion, and laying it thus naked and
°Pen> seems the best confutation of it* However since
great stress is said to be put upon it, I add the followino-
things: v b
ihitlos First, This notion is absolutely contradictory to that
cxpoiiion. certain conviction, which necessarily and every moment
rises within us, when we turn our thoughts upon ourselves
when we reflect upon what is past, and look forward to
what is to come. All imagination of a daily change of that
living agent which each man calls himself, for another, or
of any such change throughout our whole present life, is
entirely borne down by our natural sense of things. Nor
is it possible for a person in his wits to alter his conduct
with regard to his health or affairs, from a suspicion, that
though he should live to-morrow, he should not however
be the same person he is to-day.
Secondly, It is not an idea or abstract notion, or qua-
!ity, but a being only, which is capable of life and action,
of happiness and misery. Now all beings confessedly con¬
tinue the same during the whole time of their existence.
Consider, then, a living being now existing, and which has
existed for any time alive : this living being must have done,
and suneied, and enjoyed, what it has done, and suffered,
and enjoyed, formerly (this living being, I say, and not
another), as really as it does, and suffers, and enjoys, what
it does, and suffers, and enjoys this instant. All these suc¬
cessive actions, sufferings, and enjoyments, are actions, en¬
joyments, and sufferings, of the same living being; and
they are so prior to all considerations of its remembering
or forgetting, since remembering or forgetting can make
no alteration in the truth of past matter of fact. And sup¬
pose this being endued with limited powers of knowledge
and memory, there is no more difficulty in conceiving it
to have a power of knowing itself to be the same being
which it was some time ago, of remembering some of its
actions, sufferings, and enjoyments, and forgetting others,
than in conceiving it to know, or remember, or forget, any
thing else.
“ Thirdly, Every person is conscious that he is now the
same person or self he was as far back as his remembrance
reaches ; since, when any one reflects upon a past action of
ms own, he is just as certain of the person who did that ac¬
tion, namely, himself (the person who now reflects upon
it), as he is certain that the action was at all done. Nay,
very often a person’s assurance of an action having been
done, of which he is absolutely assured, arises wholly from
the consciousness that he himself did it; and this he, per¬
son, or self, must either be a substance or the property of
some substance. If he, if person, be a substance, then
consciousness that he is the same person, is consciousness
that he is the same substance. If the person, or he, be the
property of a substance, still consciousness that he is the
same property is as certain a proof that his substance re¬
mains the same, as consciousness that he remains the same
metaphysics.
681
substance would be; since the same property cannot be Of Per
transferred from one substance to another. sonallden-
But though we are thus certain that we are the same tit^-
agents, living beings, or substances, now, which we were" 
as far back as our remembrance reaches, yet it is asked
whether we may not possibly be deceived in it. And this
question may be asked at the end of any demonstration
wliatever, because it is a question concerning the truth
of perception by memory; and he who can doubt whether
perception by memory can in this case be depended upon,
may doubt also whether perception by deduction and rea¬
soning, which also include memory, or indeed whether in¬
tuitive perception itself, can be depended upon. Here,
then, we can go no farther ; for it is ridiculous to attempt
to prove the truth of our faculties, which can no otherwise •
be proved than by the use or means of those suspected fa¬
culties themselves.”
Tins reasoning, which we believe will to most men appear Obiections
unanswerable, Mr Cooper hopes tooverturn by the following to thisr«i.
o servations : “ If all imagination of a daily change in us soning an-
be borne down by our natural sense of things, then,” saysswered-
ie, “aoes our natural sense of things positively contradict
<nown fact; for a daily, a momentaneous, change in us, that
is, in our bodies, does actually take place.” true, a daily
change in our bodies does take place, and so likewise does
a daily change in our clothes; but surely no man was ever
Jed by his natural sense of things to suppose that his limbs
or external organs were the seats of sensation and will, any
more than that his coat or his shoes were any real parts of
his trunk or of his feet. But it is only that which thinks
and wills that any man considers, in this case, as himself
or his person ; and if our natural sense of things, or con¬
sciousness, tells us, that what thinks and wills has conti¬
nues. the same from a distance of time as far back as we
can remember, it is certain, that whether it be material or
immaterial, it has continued from that period, otherwise we
cannot be certain of any thing. “ But,” says our philoso¬
pher, “ other known and ascertained facts are frequently
borne down by our natural sense of things : For how many
thousand years before the days of Copernicus was the mo¬
tion of the earth round the sun entirely borne down by
our natural sense of things, which made us give full credit
to the motion of the sun round the earth ? Do not the
genei ality of mankind believe, upon the evidence of their
natural sense of things, that every part of their body re¬
mains exactly the same to-day as it was yesterday ?”
I o the former of these questions we answer positively,
that before the days of Copernicus the motion of the earth
round the sun was not borne down by our natural sense
of things, but by ill-founded hypotheses and inconclusive
reasonings. By the natural sense of things, nothing can
be meant, in this place, but the evidence of consciousness,
or of external sensation ; but the actual motion either of
the sun or of the earth is not perceived either by consci¬
ousness or by sensation. Of consciousness nothing is the
object but the internal energies and feelings of our own
minds ; and, with regard to the motion of the sun or of the
earth, nothing is perceived by the sense of sight but that,
after considerable intervals of time, these two great bodies
have repeatedly changed their places in the heavens with
respect to each other. This is all that on this subject our
natural sense of things leads us to believe ; and is not this
infallibly true ? Afterwards, indeed, by taking for grant¬
ed the truth of piopositions, for which neither sense nor
consciousness affords the shadow of evidence, the vulgar
now, and all mankind formerly, reasoned themselves into
the opinion, that the earth stands still, and that the sun
moves round it. In vulgar philosophy it is taken for grant-
VOL. xiv.
Tracts, &c.
4 R
682
METAPHYSICS.
Of Per- ed, that in the universe there is not a relative but an ab-
sonal Men-solute upwards and an absolute downwards ; that our heads
are absolutely upward, and our feet downward ; and that
V~"’~ v ^ " were the earth to revolve round its axis, these positions
would be reversed, that our heads would be placed be¬
neath our feet, and that we ourselves would fall from the
earth into empty space. Upon these false hypotheses the
vulgar reason correctly. They know that bodies cannot
change their place without motion; they know that in the
time of their remembrance the sun and the earth have
been perpetually varying their places with respect to each
other ; they know that they themselves have never fallen,
nor had a tendency to fall, into empty space ; and hence
they infer that it is the sun, and not the earth, that moves.
But will any man say that the absurd suppositions from
which this conclusion is logically deduced, have the evi¬
dence either of sensation or of consciousness, as the per¬
manency of that living agent which each man calls him¬
self has ?
To our author’s second question we likewise reply with
confidence, that the generality of mankind do not believe,
upon their natural sense of things, that every part of their
body remains exactly the same to-day as it was yester¬
day. It would be strange indeed if they did, after having
repeatedly experienced the waste of increased perspira¬
tion or sweating; after having witnessed men emaciated
by sickness, and again restored to plumpness in health ;
and after having perhaps lost whole limbs, which certainly
their natural sense of things teaches them to consider as
parts of their body. In all these cases the generality of
mankind are as sensible of changes having taken place in
their bodies as he who has attended ever so closely to
physiological inquiries, although not one of them has the
least imagination of a change having taken place in the
living agent which each man calls himself.
Bishop Butler observes, that if the living agent be perpe¬
tually changing, it is a fallacy upon ourselves to charge our
present selves with any thing which we did, to imagine our
present selves interested in any thing which befell us yes¬
terday, or that our present self will be interested in what
will befall us to-morrow. To this judicious observation our
daring philosopher replies, “ that as the man ol to-mor¬
row, though not in all points the same with, yet depends
for his existence upon, the man of to-day, there is suffi¬
cient reason to care about him.” Could he have said, that
as the man of to-day depends for his existence on the man
of to-morrow, there is sufficient reason for the present
man to care about the future man; or that as the man of
to-morrow depends for his existence on the man of to¬
day, there is to-day sufficient reason for the future man to
care about the present man ; we should, in either case, if
the anachronism had been kept out of sight, have seen the
force of his argument. Every man has sufficient reason
to care about the ox upon which he is to be fed; but we
cannot so clearly perceive what reason the ox has to care
about the man.
Not satisfied, it would seem, with this reply, our author
proceeds to affirm, “ that the man of to-morrow, possess¬
ing a reminiscence of the actions of the man of to-day,
and knowing that these actions will be referred to him
both by himself and others (which is certainly knowing
that both himself and others are most iniquitous wretches),
they cannot be indifferent to the man of to-day, who looks
forward to the properties of the man of to-morrow that is,
the reminiscence and knowledge of a future man consti¬
tute all the relation that subsists between a present man
and his actions, a discovery worthy of an original genius.
But as on the subject of personal identity we pretend to
no originality, we shall leave this proposition to the medi¬
tation of our readers, and take the liberty to ask our au-
tho* a question or two respecting this same reminiscence^
which he is graciously pleased to acknowledge as a pro- Of Ter.
perty. soaalldei,
He defines identity, “ the continued existence of any %•
being unaltered in substance or in propertiesand he re-
peatedly acknowledges that no identical quality or pro¬
perty can be transferred fi-om one subject to another. Let
us now suppose that a man has a reminiscence of an indi¬
vidual action performed a month ago, and that this remi¬
niscence is accompanied with a consciousness that the ac- *
tion was performed by himself. This supposition, whether
true or false, may certainly be made ; for it implies no¬
thing more than what every man firmly believes of him¬
self in every act of remembrance. Let us again suppose,
that, at the distance of ten or of twenty years, the man
known by the same name has a reminiscence of the same
action, with a consciousness that he himself performed it.
Is this reminiscence the same with the former, or is it a
different reminiscence? If it be the same, either the per¬
son remembering at the distance of ten or twenty years
is the same with him who remembered at the distance of
a month, or there is an identical quality transferred from
one substance to another, which is admitted to be impos¬
sible. If reminiscence be itself a real and immediate qua¬
lity of any substance, and not the mere energy of a power,
and if the one reminiscence be different from the other,
the subjects in which these two different qualities inhere
must likewise be different. Yet the man who has the re¬
miniscence at the distance of a month, has the evidence
of consciousness that the action was performed by him;
and the man who has the reminiscence at the distance of
ten or twenty years, has likewise the evidence of con¬
sciousness that the same action was performed by him, and
not by another. By the confession of Hume and of all phi¬
losophers, consciousness never deceives; but here is the evi¬
dence of one consciousness in direct opposition to another;
and therefore,, as two contradictory propositions cannot both
be true, either the one reminiscence is the same with the
other, or reminiscence is no real quality. That one act of
reminiscence should be numerically the same with another
which followed it at the distance of twenty years, is plainly
impossible ; whence it should seem, that reminiscence itself
is no real and immediate quality of any substance. But if
this be so, what is reminiscence ? We answer, It is plainly
neither more nor less than the energy of a power which,
though dormant between its energies, remains unchanged
from the one to the other, and which being itself the real
and immediate quality of a subject, that subject must like¬
wise remain unchanged. That powers may remain dor¬
mant, and yet unchanged, every man must be convinced,
who, having struck any thing with his hand, knows that he
has power to repeat the stroke, and yet does not actually
repeat it. Two blows with the hand immediately following
each other are numerically different, so that the one cannot
with truth be said to be the other; but we have the evi¬
dence of external sense, that they are both struck by the
same member. In like manner, two energies of reminiscence
directed to the same object, and succeeding each other at
any interval of time, cannot possibly be one and the same
energy ; but as the latter energy may include in it the for¬
mer as well as the object remembered by both, we have
the evidence of consciousness that both are energies of the
same power; and we have seen, that to suppose,them any
thing else, may be demonstrated to involve the grossest
absurdities and contradictions. .
Mr Cooper has other arguments to obviate the force o
Bishop Butler’s demonstration of personal identity; sue
as, that a “ high degree of similarity between the two suc¬
ceeding men is sufficient to make the one care about t e
other ; and, that “ a good man, knowing that a future being
will be punished or rewarded as the actions of the piesen
man deserve, will have a sufficient motive to do right an
METAPHYSICS.
Of r- to abstain from wrongBut if there be any one of our
sonal @n- readers who can suffer himself to be persuaded by such as-
tit sertions as these, that the living agent which he calls him-
—' self is perpetually changing, and at the same time that
such change is consistent with the expectation of future
rewards and punishments, he would not be reclaimed from
his error by any reasoning of ours. We shall therefore
trust such trifling to every man’s judgment, and proceed
to examine our author’s demonstration, that personal iden¬
tity has no existence. But here it is no part of our purpose
to accompany him through his long chemical ramble, or to
controvert his arguments for the non-identity of vegetable
and animal bodies. The only thing to which, after Bishop
Butler, we have ascribed identity, is that which in man is
sentient and conscious ; and the non-identity of this thing,
whatever it be, Mr Cooper undertakes to demonstrate from
the known properties of sensations and ideas.
’rctei:- 1 his demonstration sets out with a very ominous circum-
d dei.n- stance. The author, after conducting impressions ab extra
uratic, from the extremities of the nerves to the brain, affirms,
683
liat^n. that sensations and ideas are nothing but “ motions in the
mali
itj ism- bnim perceived that is, when a man thinks he is looking at
' xjssib a mountain, not only at rest, but to appearance immove¬
able, he is grossly deceived; for he perceives nothing all
the while but motion in his brain. Were not the desire of
advancing novelties and paradoxes invincible in some minds,
we should be astonished at finding such an assertion as this
fall from the pen of any man who had paid the slightest
attention to the different energies of his own intellect.
Motions in the brain, as we have repeatedly observed, are
the immediate causes of our sensations; but is it conceiv¬
able, is it possible, that any thing should be the cause of
itself ? The motion of a sword through the heart of a
man is the immediate cause of that man’s death ; but is
the sword or its motion death itself, or can they be con¬
ceived as being the sensations of the man in the agonies of
death ? But sensations and ideas, whatever they be, exist
in succession ; and therefore, argues our demonstrator, no
two sensations or ideas can be one and the same sensation
or idea. The conclusion is logically inferred j but what
purpose can it possibly serve ? What purpose ? Why, it
seems “ sensations and ideas are the only existences whose
existence we certainly know (a charming phrase, the exist¬
ence of existences, and as original as the theory in which
it makes its appearance); and therefore, from the nature
of sensations and ideas, there is no such thing as permanent
identity. Indeed ! what then, we may be permitted to ask,
is the import of the word we in this sentence ? Does it de¬
note a series of sensations and ideas, and does each sensa¬
tion and each idea certainly know not only itself, but all
its ancestors and all its descendants ? Unless this be ad¬
mitted, we are afraid that some other existence besides sen¬
sations and ideas must be allowed to be certainly known,
and even to have something of a permanent identity. Nay,
we think it has been already demonstrated (see the Chapter
on lime), that were there not something permanent, there
could be no time, and of course no notion of a first and
last, or indeed of succession, whether of sensations or ideas.
And therefore, if we have such a notion, which the author
here takes for granted, and upon which, indeed, his demon¬
stration rests, it follows undeniably that there is something
permanent, and that wre know there is something permanent,
which observes the succession of sensations and ideas.
I!* de All this, indeed, Mr Cooper in eftect grants ; for he is
^' sha n^)t muc^ started at the appearance of contradictions in
bejjfjh® theory. “I find,” says he, “by perpetually repeated
impressions which I perceive, that my hands, body, limbs,
&c. are connected, are parts of one whole. I find, by per¬
petually repeated perceptions, also, that the sensations ex¬
cited by them are constantly similar, and constantly differ¬
ent from the sensations excited by others.” He has, then,
repeated perceptions; but how can this be possible, if he OfPer-
be not different from the perceptions, and if he do not re-sonal Iden-
main unchanged whilst the perceptions succeed each other thy-
at greater or less intervals of time? A striking object^ v^
passing with rapidity before the eyes of a number of men
placed beside each other in a line of battle, would undoubt¬
edly excite a succession of sensations ; but surely that suc¬
cession would not take place in the mind of any individual
in the line, nor could any single man in this case say with
truth that he had repeated perceptions of the object. In
like manner, were that which is sentient perpetually chang¬
ing, no man could possibly say or suppose that he had re¬
peated perceptions of any thing ; for, upon this supposition,
the man of to-day would have no more connection with the
man who bore his name yesterday, or twenty years ago,
than the man in the line had with the first.
Upon the whole, we cannot help thinking that Bishop
Butler s demonstration of personal identity remains un¬
shaken by the batteries of Mr Cooper. It rests, indeed,
upon the solid basis of consciousness and memory; and if
implicit credit be not given to the evidence of these facul¬
ties, wre cannot proceed a single step in any inquiry what¬
ever, nor be certain of the truth even of a mathematical
demonstration.
But as we have ourselves supposed, that to sensation, A difficul-
reminiscence, and every actual energy of the mind ofman, fcy remov-
the instrumentality of some material system is necessary,ed-
it may perhaps be thought incumbent on us to show how
the perpetual flux of the particles of matter which com¬
pose the brain, as well as all the other parts of the body,
can consist with the identity of the person who perceives,
remembers, and is conscious. If this cannot be done, our
hypothesis, ancient and plausible as it is, must be given
up ; for of personal identity it is impossible to doubt. In
this case, however, we perceive no difficulty ; for if there
be united to the brain an immaterial being, which is the
subject of sensation, consciousness, and will, it is obvi¬
ous that all the intellectual powers which properly con¬
stitute the person must be inherent in that being. The
material system, therefore, can be necessary only as an
instrument to excite the energies of those powers; and
since the powers themselves remain unchanged, why
should we suppose that their energies may not be conti¬
nually exerted by successive instruments of the same
kind, as well as by one permanent instrument ? the powers
of perception and volition are not in the material system,
any more than the sensation of seeing is in the rays of
light, or the energy of the blacksmith in the hammer
with which he beats the anvil. Let us suppose a man to
keep his eye for an hour steadily fixed upon one object.
It will not surely be denied, that if this could be done, he
would have one uninterrupted and unvaried perception of
an hour’s duration, as measured by the clock. Yet it is
certain that the rays of light which alone could occasion
that perception would be perpetually changing. In like
manner, a blacksmith, whilst he continues to beat his an¬
vil, continues to exert the same power, whether he uses
one hammer all the time, or a different hammer at each
stroke. The reason is obvious. The eye, with all its con¬
nections of brain and mind in the one case, and the person
of the smith in the other, remain unchanged ; and in them
alone reside the faculty of sensation, and the power of
beating, though neither the faculty nor the power can be
exerted without material instruments. But were it possi¬
ble that millions of men could in the space of an hour take
their turns in rotation with each new ray of light, it is self-
evident that in this case there would be nothing perma¬
nent in sensation; and therefore there could not be one
uninterrupted and unvaried perception, but millions of
perceptions, during the hour, totally distinct from and un¬
connected with each other. Let us now suppose a man
684
METAPHYSICS.
Of the Im. to fix his eye upon an object for the space of a minute,
^ the ^ ant^ at t?ie ^*stance a day or a month to fix it upon the
Soul. same object a second time. He could not, indeed, in this
—--y case> have one uninterrupted and unvaried perception, but
he would be conscious of the energy of the very same fa¬
culty the second time as well as the first. Whereas, were
one man to view an object to-day, and another to view the
same object to-morrow, it is obvious that he who should be
last in the succession could know nothing of the energy of
that faculty by which the object was perceived the first
day, because there would not be any thing common to the
two perceptions.
Tims, then, we see that personal identity may with truth
be predicated of a compound being, though the material
part be in a perpetual flux, provided the immaterial part
remain unchanged ; and that of such a being only is a re¬
surrection from the dead possible. For since the motions
of the brain do nothing more than excite to energy the
permanent powers of the mind, it is of no sort of conse¬
quence to that energy whether there motions be continu¬
ed by the same numerical atoms, or by a perpetual succes¬
sion of atoms arranged and combined in the very same
manner. We shall, therefore, be the same persons at the
resurrection as at present, whether the mind be united to
a particular system composed of any of the numberless
atoms which have in succession made parts of our present
bodies, or to a system composed of totally different atoms,
provided that new system be organized in exactly the
same manner with the brain or material vehicle which is
at present the immediate instrument of perception. This,
we say, is self-evident; but were the immaterial part to
change with the changing body, a resurrection of the same
persons would be plainly impossible.
CHAP. IV. OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
fore one step towards the proof of its immortality ; and, inOfth
the opinion of many philosophers, whose hopes ought to mortal
rest upon a surer basis, it was alone a complete proof. oftt
“ They who hold sensitive perception in brutes,’’ says a Sou
pious writer,1 “ to be an argument for the immateriality
of their souls, find themselves under the necessity of allow¬
ing those souls to be immortal.”
The philosophers of ancient Greece, however, did notlheGi
feel themselves under any such necessity. Whatever wereP^W
their opinions respecting the souls of brutes, they clearly Phersl>
perceived that nothing which had a beginning of existence^1
could be naturally immortal, whether"its substance were ^ ^
material or immaterial. “ There never was any of the an-absoW
cients before Christianity,” says the accurate Cudworth,eternity
“ that held the soul’s future permanency after death, who
did not likewise assert its pre-existence ; they clearly per¬
ceiving, that if it were once'granted that the soul was ge¬
nerated, it could never be proved but that it might be
also corrupted. And therefore, the assertors of the soul’s
immortality commonly began here, first to prove its pre¬
existence, proceeding thence to establish its permanency
after death. This is the method of proof used in Plato:
“ Our soul was somewhere before it came to exist in this
human form, and thence it appears to be immortal, and as
such will subsist after death.”
To give this argument for immortality any strength, it
must be taken for granted, not only that the soul existed
in a prior state, but that it existed from all eternity ; for
it is obvious, that if it had a beginning in any state, it may
have an end either in that state or in another. Accord¬
ingly, Plato asserts in plain terms its eternity and self-ex¬
istence ; which, as we learn from Cicero, he infers from its
being the principle of motion in man. “ Quin etiam ce¬
teris, quae moventur, hie fons, hoc principium est moven-
di. Principii autem nulla est origo. Nam ex principio
oriuntur omnia ipsum autem nulla ex re alia nasci potest:
nec enim esset id principium, quod gigneretur aliunde.”2
This, it must be acknowledged, is very contemptible rea¬
soning; but the opinion which it was intended to prove
was held by all the philosophers. They were unanimous
in maintaining the substance of the soul, though not its per¬
sonality, to be eternal a parte ante, as well as ad partem
post; and Cicero, where he tells us that this opinion
passed from Pherecydes Syrus to Pythagoras, and from
Pythagoras to Plato, expresses their notion of the soul’s
duration by the word sempiternus ;z which, in its original
and proper sense, is applicable only to that which has nei¬
ther beginning nor end.
Indeed, none of the philosophers of ancient Greece ap¬
pear to have believed a creation (see Creation) possible;
for it was a maxim universally received amongst them, Be
nihilo nihil Jit, in nihilum nil posse reverti, that nothing
can come from nonentity or go to nonentity. This max¬
im, as held by the theistical philosophers, the learned
Cudworth labours to interpret in a sense agreeable to our
notions of the origin of the world; but even the questions
urged by himself must convince every competent reader
that on this occasion he labours in vain. For instance,
when Aristotle writes of Parmenides and Melissus, that
“ They say that no real entity is either made or destroy¬
ed,” what can be his meaning, except that those philoso¬
phers taught that nothing could be either created or an¬
nihilated ? He testifies the same thing of Xenophanes
and Zeno, when he says that it was a fundamental princi¬
ple ol their philosophy, “ That it is impossible that any
thing should be made out of nothingand of Empedo¬
cles, when he relates, “ That' he acknowledges the very
The im- _ Wherever men have been in any degree civilized, and
mortality in some nations where they have been in the most savage
aVeneral' state’ \las been the general persuasion that the mind or
bedief in sou^ subsists after the dissolution of the body. The origin
all nations. this persuasion, about which disputes have been raised,
no Christian hesitates to attribute to revelation. The Egyp¬
tians, from whom the Greeks derived many of their theo¬
logical and philosophical principles, appear to have taught
the immortality of the soul, not as a truth discovered by
the exertions of human reason, but as a dogma derived
to them from the earliest ages by tradition. This indeed
may be confidently inferred from the character and con.
duct of their first Greek disciples. Those early wise men
who fetched their philosophy immediately from Egypt,
brought it home as they found it, in detached and inde¬
pendent portions. Afterwards, when schools were formed,
and when man began to philosophize by hypothesis and
system, it was eagerly inquired upon what foundation in
nature the belief of the soul’s immortality could rest; and
this inquiry gave rise to the various disquisitions concern¬
ing the substance of the soul, which have continued to ex¬
ercise the ingenuity of the learned to the present day. It
was clearly perceived, that if consciousness, thought, and
volition, be the result of any particular modification of
matter and motion, the living and thinking agent must
perish with the dissolution of the system; and it was no
less evident, that if the being which perceives, thinks, and
wills, be not material, the mind of man may subsist after
the resolution of the body into its component particles.
The discovery of the immateriality of the mind was there¬
i’-tl
en
ns
of i
1 See the Procedure, Extent, and Limits of the Understanding.
Qusest. Tuscul. lib* i. cap. xxiii. 3 Qy^egt. Tuscul* lib. i.
METAPHYSICS.
685
t'lfthe i|-
eHent ] i-
jsoph:
Ofthtim-same thing with other philosophers, namely, that it is im-
1 ortaiy possible that any thing should be made out of nothing, or
oft: perish into nothing.” But it is needless to multiply quo-
So1 tations respecting the opinions of single philosophers. Of
all the physiologers before himself and Plato, Aristotle
says, without exception, “ That they agree in this opi¬
nion, that it is impossible that any thing should be made
out of nothing j”1 and he calls this the common principle
of naturalists, plainly intimating, that they considered it
as the greatest absurdity to suppose that any real entity
in nature could either be brought from nothing or redu¬
ced to nothing.
tern . The author of the Intellectual System, in order, perhaps,
ifmatir, to hide the impiety of this principle, endeavours to per-
prin ile suade his readers that it was urged only against the hypo-
,hp<!- thesis of forms and qualities of bodies considered as real
entities, distinct from matter. But how it could be sup¬
posed to militate against that particular opinion, and not
against the possibility of all creation, is to us perfectly
inconceivable. The father of the school which analyzed
body into matter and form, together with by far the great¬
er part of his followers, taught the eternity of both' these
principles, and therefore maintained, as strenuously as any
atomist, the universal maxim, De nihilo nihil Jit. Even
Plato himself, whose doctrine of ideas is supposed to wear
a more favourable aspect than Aristotle’s forms, to the
truths of revealed religion, taught the eternity of matter;
but whether as a self-existing substance, or only as an
emanation from the Deity, is a question which has been
disputed. That he admitted no proper creation, may be
confidently inferred from Plutarch, who, writing upon the
generation of animals, according to the doctrine laid down
in the Timaeus, has the following passage: “ It is there¬
fore better for us to follow Plato, and to say and sing that
the world was made by God. For as the world is the best
of all works, so is God the best of all causes. Neverthe¬
less, the substance or matter out of which the world was
made, was not itself made, but was always ready at hand,
and subject to the artificer, to be ordered and disposed
by him. For the making of the world was not the pro¬
duction of it out of nothing, but out of an antecedent bad
and disorderly state, like the making of a house, garment,
or statue.”2
If, then, this be a fair representation of the sentiments
of Plato, and surely the author understood those senti¬
ments better than the most accomplished modern scholar
can pretend to do, nothing is more evident than that the
founder of the academy admitted of no proper creation, but
only taught that the matter which had existed from eter¬
nity in a chaotic state, was in time reduced to order by the
Demiurgos or Supreme Being. And if such were the sen¬
timents of the .divine Plato, we cannot hesitate to adopt the
opinion expressed by the excellent Mosheim, which the read¬
er will probably be pleased to have in his own words: “ Si
a Judaeis discedas, nescio an ullus antiquorum philosopho-
rum mundum negaverit mternum esse. Omnes mihi seter-
num prolessi videntur esse mundum : hoc uno vero dis-
junguntur, quod nonnulli ut Aristoteles, formam et mate-
riam simul hujus orbis, alii vero, quorum princeps facile
Plato, materiam tantum aeternam, formam vero, a Deo com-
paratam, dixerunt.”3 4
Mow, it is a fact so generally known, as not to stand in
need of being proved by quotations, that there was not
amongst them a single man who believed in the existence
of mind as a being more excellent than matter, and essen¬
tially different from it, who did not hold that the superior Of the Im-
was at least of equal antiquity with the inferior substance, mortality
So true is this, that Synesius, though a Christian, yet having of the
been educated in one of the schools of philosophy, could not, SouL,
be induced, even by the hopes of a bishopric, to dissemble
this sentiment: “ I shall never be persuaded to think my
soul younger than my body.”4 This man probably believed,
upon the authority of the Scriptures, that the matter of
the visible world was created in time; but he certainly
held, with his philosophic masters, that his own soul was as
old as any atom of it, and that it had consequently existed
in a prior state before it animated his present body.
those who maintained that the world was uncreated,Thean-
maintained upon the same principle that their souls were cients sup*
likewise uncreated ; and as they conceived that all bodies Posed a11
were formed of one first matter, so they conceived all souls sou*s ema;
to be either emanations from the one first Mind, or discerpt- uS'fkJt
ed parts of it. Aristotle, who distinguishes between the Mind,
intellectual and the sensitive souls, says expressly of the for¬
mer, that it “ enters from without, and is divine adding
this reason for his opinion, that “ its energy is not blend¬
ed with that of the body.”5 As to the Stoics, Cleanthes
held, as StobsBus informs us,^ that u every thing was made
out of one, and would again be resolved into one.” But
let Seneca speak for them all. “ Quid est autem, cur non
existimes in eo divini aliquid existere, qui Dei pars est ?
Totum hoc, quo continemur, et unum est, et Deus: et sor
ch ejus sumus, et membra.”? “ Why should you not be¬
lieve something to be divine in him, who is indeed part of
God? Ihat whole in which we are contained is one, and
that one is God; we being his companions and members.”
Epictetus says, “ The souls of men have the nearest rela¬
tion to God, as being parts or fragments of him, discerpt-
ed and torn from his substance.” Plato writes to the very
same purpose, when, without any softening, he frequently
calls the soul God, and part of God. And Plutarch says,
that “ Pythagoras and Plato held the soul to be immortal;
for that, launching out into the soul of the universe, it re¬
turns to its parent and original.”8 He, at the same time, de¬
clares his own opinion to be, that “ the soul is not so much
the work and production of God, as a part of him ; nor is it
made by him, but from him and out of him.”9 But it is
needless to multiply quotations. Cicero delivers the com¬
mon sentiments of his Greek masters on this head, when
he says,10 “ A natura deorum, ut doctissimis sapientissi-
misque placuit, haustos animos et libatos habemus.” And
again: “ Humanus autem animus decerptus ex mente di-
vina : cum alio nullo, nisi cum ipso Deo (si hoc fas est dic-
tu), comparari potest.”
Whilst the philosophers were thus unanimous in main-They dif-
taining the soul to be a part of the self-existent substance, fered as to
they differed in opinion, or at least expressed themselves tl16 mode
differently, as to the mode of its separation from its divine0.^ sePara*
parent. Cicero and the Stoics talk as if the Supreme tlon■
Mind were extended, and as if the human soul were a part
literally torn from that mind, as a limb can be torn from
the body. The Pythagoreans and Platonists seem to have
considered all souls as emanations from the divine sub¬
stance rather than as parts torn from it, much in the same
way as rays of light are emanations from the sun. Plato,
in particular, believed in two self-existent principles, name¬
ly, God and matter. The former he considered as the Su¬
preme Intelligence, incorporeal, without beginning, end.
or change; and distinguished it by the appellation of ro
ayaiov, the Good. Matter, as subsisting from eternity, he
1 Physic, lib. i. cap. v.
2 Plut. Op. tom. ii. p. 1014.
3 Notes on Cudworth’s Intellectual System.
4 Epist. 105.
3 De Gencratione Animulium, lib. ii. cap. iii.
6 Eclog. Phys. c. xx.
7 Epist. 92.
8 De Placitis Philosopherum, lib. iv. cap. vii.
9 Plato, Quasi.
10 Dc Divinatione, lib. i. cap. xlix.
686 METAPHYSICS.
Of the Im-considered as without any one form or quality whatever,
mof thty anc* as ^avin" a natural tendency to disorder. Of this
°S(J chaotic mass God formed a perfect world, after the eternal
y y-t-'pattern in his own mind, and endowed it with a soul or
emanation from himself. In the language of Plato, there¬
fore, the universe, being animated by a soul which proceeds
from God, is called the son of God; and several parts of
nature, particularly the heavenly bodies, are gods. The hu¬
man soul, according to him, is derived by emanation from
God, through the intervention of this soul of the world;
and receding farther from the first intelligence, it is infe¬
rior in perfection to the soul of the world, though even that
soul is debased by some material admixture. To account
more fully for the origin and present state of human souls,
Plato supposes,1 that “ when God formed the universe, he
separated from the soul of the world inferior souls, equal
in number to the stars, and assigned to each its proper ce¬
lestial abode; but that those souls (by what means, or for
what reason, does not appear) wTere sent down to the earth
into human bodies, as into sepulchres or prisons.” Pie as¬
cribes to this cause the depravity and misery to which hu¬
man nature is liable, and maintains, that it “ is only by
disengaging itself from all animal passions, and rising above
sensible objects to the contemplation of the world of in¬
telligence, that the soul of man can be prepared to return
to its original state.” Not inconsistently with this doc¬
trine, the same philosopher frequently speaks of the soul of
man as consisting of three parts, or rather he seems to have
thought that man has three souls; the first the principle of
intelligence, the second of passion, and the third of appe¬
tite ; and to each he assigns its proper place in the human
body. But it was only the intellectual soul that he consi¬
dered as immortal.
Aristotle taught, in terms equally express, that the hu¬
man soul is a part of God, and of course that^ts substance
is of eternal and necessary existence. Some of his followers,
indeed, although they acknowledged two first principles,
the active and the passive, yet held, with the Stoics, but
one substance in the universe; and to reconcile these two
contradictory propositions, they were obliged to suppose
matter to be both active and passive. Their doctrine on
this subject is thus delivered by Cicero : “ De natura ita
dicebant, ut earn dividerent in res duas, ut altera esset ef-
ficiens, altera autem quasi huic se praebens, ea quae effice-
retur aliquid. In eo, quod efficeret, vim esse censebant;
in eo autem quod efficeretur, materiam quandam ; in utro-
que tamen utrumque. Neque enim materiam ipsam coherere
potuisse, si nulla vi contineretur, neque vim sine aliqua
materia ; nihil est enim, quod non alicubi esse cogatur ”2
“ They divided nature into two things, as the first prin¬
ciples ; one of which is the efficient or artificer, the other
that which offers itself to him for things to be made out
of it. In the efficient principle, they acknowledged ac¬
tive force; in the passive, a certain matter; but so that
in each both of these were together; forasmuch as neither
the matter could cohere together unless it were contained
by some active force, nor the active force subsist of itself
ivithout matter ; because that is nothing which may not be
compelled to be somewhere.” Agreeably to this strange
doctrine, Arrian, the interpreter of Epictetus, says of him¬
self, “ I am a man (a part of the ro vav, or universe'), as an
hour is part of the day.”
Aristotle himself is generally supposed to have believed
in the eternal existence of two substances, mind and mat¬
ter ; but, treating of the generation of animals, he says,3
“ the universe there is a certain animal heat, so that
i Enfield’s Abridgement of Brucker’s History of Philosophy.
1 Academica, lib. i. cap. vi.
a De Generatione Animalium, lib. iii. cap. xi.
4 Tutcul. lib, i. cap. iii.
after a manner all things are full of mind ; wherefore theyOftheT
are quickly completed (or made complete animals) when mortal;
they have received a portion of that heat.” This heat,
from which, according to Cicero,4 the Stagyrite derived Soul
all souls, has, it must be confessed, a very material appear-
ance; insomuch that the learned Mosheim seems to have
been doubtful whether he admitted of any immaterial prin¬
ciple in man. But for this doubt there appears to us to be
no solid foundation. Aristotle expressly declares, that “ this
heat is not fire, nor any such power, but a spirit which is
in the seeds or elementary principles of bodies.”5 And as
the excellent person himself acknowledges that Aristotle
taught the existence of two principles, God and matter,
not indeed subsisting separately, but eternally linked to¬
gether by the closest union, we think it follows undeni¬
ably, that this heat, from which he derived all souls, must
be that mind which he called God, and which he consider¬
ed as the actuating soul of the universe.
Upon these principles neither Aristotle nor the Stoics They mail
could believe, with Plato, that in the order of nature there tained th
was first an emanation from the Supreme Mind to animatenecessary
the universe, and then through this universal soul otherb.utnot,(li
emanations to animate mankind. The Stagyrite believed tmctfsl
that the Supreme Mind himself is the soul of the world, souL '
and that human souls are immediately derived from him.
The genuine Stoics, acknowledging but one substance, of
necessity considered both the souls and bodies of men as
portions of that substance, which they called <ro sv; though
still they affected to make some unintelligible distinction
between body and mind. But, howTever the various schools
differed as to those points, they were unanimous as to the
soul’s being a part of the self-existing substance ; and Ci¬
cero gives their whole system from Pacuvianus, in words
which cannot be misunderstood:
Quicquid est hoc, omnia animat, format, alit, auget, creat,
Sepelit, recipitque in sese omnia, omniumque idem est Pater:
Indidemque eadem, quae oriuntur de integro, atque eodem oc-
cidunt.
To these verses he immediately subjoins the following
query : “ Quid est igitur, cur, cum domus sit omnium una,
eaque communis, cumque animi hominum semper fuerint,
futurique sint, cur ii, quid ex quoque eveniat, et quid quam-
que rem significet, perspicere non possint ?”6 And upon
the same principle he elsewhere argues, not merely for the
immortality, but for the eternity and necessary existence,
of the soul: “ Animorum nulla in terris origo inveniri po¬
test : His enim in naturis nihil inest, quod vim memorise
mentis, cogitationis habeat; quod et prseterita teneat, et
futura provideat, et complecti possit praesentia ; quae sola
divina sunt. Nec invenietur unquam, unde ad horninem
venire possint, nisi a Deo. Ita quicquid est illud, quod
sentit, quod sapit, quod vult, quod viget, caeleste et divi-
num est; ob eamque rem ceternum sit necesse est'.'t This
was indeed securing the future permanency of the soul in
the most effectual manner; for it is obvious, that what
had not a beginning can never have an end, but must be
of eternal and necessary existence. But when the ancients
attributed a proper eternity to the soul, we must not sup¬
pose that they understood it to be eternal in its distinct and
personal existence. They believed that it proceeded or
was discerpted in time from the substance of God, and
would in time be again resolved into that substance. This
they explained by a close vessel filled with sea-water, which,
swimming a while upon the ocean, does, upon the vessel’s
breaking, flow in again, and mingle with the common mass.
5 De Generatione Animalium, lib. ii. cap. iii.
6 De Divinatione, lib. i. p. 57.
7 Frag, de Consolatione.
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METAPHYSICS.
i.They only differed about the time of this re-union; the
morti ty greater part holding it to be at death, but the Pythagoreans
oft' not till after many transmigrations. The Platonists went
801 _ between these two opinions, and rejoined pure and unpol-
luted souls immediately to the Universal Spirit; but those
which had contracted much defilement were sent into a
succession of other bodies, to be purged and purified, be¬
fore they returned to their parent substance.1
Utn.-.r A doctrine similar to this of Plato has been held from
loctri time immemorial by the Brahmins in India, whose sacred
idibtbebooks; teach, “ That intellect is a portion of the Great
jLiranijis. 0f the uniVerse, breathed into all creatures, to ani¬
mate them for a certain time; that after death it animates
other bodies, or returns like a di'op into that unbounded
ocean from which it first arose ; that the souls of men are
distinguished from those of other animals, by being en¬
dowed with reason and with a consciousness of right and
wrong; and that the soul of him who adheres to right as
far as his powers extend, is at death absorbed into that di¬
vine essence, never more to reanimate flesh. On the other
hand, the souls of those who do evil are not at death dis¬
engaged from all the elements, but are immediately clothed
with a body of fire, air, and akash (a kind of celestial ele¬
ment, through which the planets move, and which makes
no resistance), in which they are for a time punished in
hell. After the season of their grief is over, they re-ani¬
mate other bodies; and when they arrive through these
transmigrations at a state of purity, they are absorbed into
God, where all passions are utterly unknown, and where
consciousness is lost in bliss.”'2
Whether the Greeks derived their notions of the divi¬
nity and transmigration of souls from the east, or whether
both they and the Brahmins brought the same doctrines at
different periods from Egypt, it is foreign to the purpose
of this article to inquire. Certain it is, that the philoso¬
phers ol Greece and India argued in the very same manner,
and upon the very same principles, for the natural immor¬
tality of the soul; and that the immortality which they
taught was wholly incompatible with God’s moral govern¬
ment of the world, and with a future state of rewards and
punishments. That this is true of the doctrine of the Brah¬
mins, is evident from the last-quoted sentence; for if the
soul, when absorbed into the Divine essence, loses all con¬
sciousness of what it did and suffered in the body, it can¬
not possibly be rewarded for the virtues it practised upon
earth. That the philosophers of Greece taught the same
cessation of consciousness, might be inferred with the ut¬
most certainty, even though we had not Aristotle’s express
declaration to that purpose. For as they all believed
their souls to have existed before these were infused into
their bodies, and as each must have been conscious that
he remembered nothing of his former state, it was impos¬
sible to avoid concluding, that in the future state of his
soul as little would be remembered of the present. Ac¬
cordingly Aristotle teaches, that “ the active intellect only
is immortal and eternal, but the passive corruptible.”3
Gudworth thinks this a very doubtful and obscure pas¬
sage; but Wax-burton, whose natural acuteness often dis¬
covered the sense of ancient authors when it had escaped
the sagacity of abler scholars, has completely proved, that
by the active intellect is xneant the substance of the soul,
and by the passive its particular perceptions. It appears
therefore that the Stagyrite, fx-om the common px-inciple
of the soul’s being a part of the Divine substance, draws a
conclusion against a future state of rewards and punish¬
ments; which, though all the philosophers, except Socrates,
embraced, yet all were not so forward to avow-.
687
ncom:
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That the hypothesis of the soul’s being a part of the Of the Im-
Divine substance is a gross absurdity, we surely need not mortality
spend time in proving. The argument long ago urged of the
against it by St Augustin must ere now have occurx-ed to ‘Siouiff
every reader. In the days of that learned father of theJ^X^
church, it was not wholly given up by the philosophers ;absurd’in
and, in his excellent work of the City of God, he thus ex-itself,
poses its extravagance and impiety: “ Quid infelicius
credi potest, quam Dei partem vapulare, cum puer vapu-
lat? Jam vero partes Dei fieri lascivas, iniquas, impias,
atque omnino damnabiles, quis ferre potest nisi qui pror-
sus insanit ?”
But although this hypothesis be in the highest degreeYet.it is
absurd, and wholly untenable, we apprehend it to be the the only
only principle from which the natural or essential immor-PrinciPle
tality of the soul can possibly be inferred. If the soul had f™m wljich
a beginning, it may have an end ; for nothing can be more ^ pgl\n.
evident, than that the being which had not existence ofit-ferred to
sell, cannot of itself have perpetuity of existence. Human be immor-
works, indeed, continue in being after the power of the tab
workman is withdrawn from them ; but between human
works and the Divine there is this immense difference,
that the former receive from the artist nothing but their
form, whereas the latter receive from the Creator both
their form and their substance. Forms are nothing but
modifications of substance ; and as substances depend up¬
on God and not upon man, human wox-ks are continued in
being by that fiat of the Creator, which made the sub¬
stances of which they are composed susceptible of differ¬
ent fox ms, and of such a nature as to retain for a peidod of
time whatever form may be impressed upon them. Human
works, therefore, are continued in being by a power dif¬
ferent from that by which they are finished; but the
works of God depend wholly xxpon that power by which
they wei’e ox-iginally brought into existence ; and wex’e the
Creator to withdraw his supporting energy, the whole
creation would sink into nothing.
Self-evident as this truth certainly is, some eminent Baxter’s
philosophers seem to have questioned it. “ No substance argument
or behig,” says Mr Baxter,4 “ can have a natural tendency for the.im-
to annihilation, or to become nothing. That a being which “ortality
once exists should cease to exist, is a real effect, and mustSconclu1
be produced by a real cause. But this could not be plant- sive.
ed in the nature of any substance or being to become a
tendency of its nature ; for it could not be a free cause,
otherwise it must be a being itself, the subject of the at¬
tribute freedom, and therefore not the property of another
being, nor a necessary cause, for such a cause is only the
effect of something imposing that necessity, and so no
cause at all.”
That the author’s meaning in this argument is good,
cannot, we think, be controverted; but assuredly he has
not expressed himself with his usual accuracy. He seems
to confound causes with the absence of causes, and the
effects of the former with the consequences of the latter.
The visible world was brought into existence by the ac¬
tual energy of the power of God ; and as the visible world
had nothing of itself, it can remain in existence only by a
continuance of the same energy. This energy, therefore,
is at the present moment as real a cause as it was six
thousand years ago, or at any period when it may have
been.first exerted; and the visible world is its real and
permanent effect. But would the ceasing of this energy
be likewise a cause ? It would certainly be followed by
the annihilation of the visible world, just as the withdraw¬
ing of the sunbeams would be followed by darkness on
the earth. Yet as no one has ever supposed that darkness,
2 ^ aiburton s Divine Legation. a Z)e Anima, lib. iii. cap. vi.
bee Preliminary Dissertation to Dow’s History of Hindustan. 4 Inquiry into the Nature of the Human Soul, vol i. sect. 3.
METAPHYSICS.
688
Of the Im-a nonentity, is a positive effect of the sun or of his beams,
mortality but only a mere negative consequence of their absence ; so,
of the we think, no one who believes in creation can consider
- 0U that destruction which would inevitably follow the with-
'"”'v drawing of the energy by which all things are supported, as
the positive effect of a contrary energy, or as any thing
more than a negative consequence of the ceasing of that
volition or energy of power by which God at first brought
things into existence. For “ where the foundation of ex¬
istence lies wholly in the power of an infinite being pro¬
ducing, the ground of the continuance of that existence
must be wholly in the same power conserving ; which has,
therefore, with as much truth as frequency, been styled a
continued creation.”1
The force of this reasoning Mr Baxter certainly saw,
when he said, that “ a tendency to persevere in the same
state of nature, and a tendency to change it, are contra¬
dictories, and impossible to be planted in the same subject
at once; or, not to urge the contradiction, if the last pre¬
vailed, the remaining in the same state for any given time
would be impossible. We forget the true cause of all these
tendencies, the will of God, which it is absurd to suppose
contrary to itself. The tendency in matter to persevere
in the same state of rest or motion, is nothing but the wall
of the Creator, who preserves all things in their existence
and manner of existence ; nor can we have recourse to
any other cause for the preservation of immaterial sub¬
stance in its existence. Therefore these tendencies are to
be ascribed to the will of God, and it is absurd to suppose
them contrary.’’
Analogical All this is unquestionably true. The existence or non¬
evidence. existence of matter and of created spirits depends wholly
upon the will of God; and we cannot suppose him to be
willing to-day the reverse of what he willed yesterday, be¬
cause we know that all his volitions are directed by un¬
erring wisdom. We have likewise the evidence of expe¬
rience, that nothing is ever suffered to perish except parti¬
cular systems, which perish only as systems by a decom¬
position of their parts. A being which, like the soul, has
no parts, can suffer no decomposition ; and therefore, if it
perish, it must perish by annihilation. But of annihilation
there has not hitherto been a single instance; nor can we
look for a single instance, without supposing the volitions
of God to partake of that unsteadiness which is character¬
istic of man. Corporeal systems, when they have served
their purpose, are indeed resolved into their component
parts ; but the matter of which they were composed, so
far from being lost, becomes the matter of other systems
in endless succession. Analogy, therefore, leads us to con¬
clude, that when the human body is dissolved, the imma¬
terial principle by which it was animated will continue to
think and act, either in a state of separation from all body, or
in some material vehicle to which it is intimately united, and
which goes off with it at death ; or else that it will be pre¬
served by the Father of Spirits, for the purpose of animat¬
ing a body in some future state. When we consider the
different states through which that living and thinking in¬
dividual, which each man calls himself, goes, from the mo¬
ment that it first animates an embryo in the womb, to the
dissolution of the man of fourscore; and when we reflect
likewise on the wisdom and immutability of God, together
with the various dissolutions of corporeal systems, in which
we know that a single atom of matter has never been lost;
the presumption is certainly strong, that the soul shall sub¬
sist after the dissolution of the body. But when we take
into the consideration the moral attributes of God, his jus¬
tice and goodness, together with the unequal distribution
of happiness and misery in the present world, this pre-Ofy
sumption from analogy amounts to a complete moral proof sity an
that there shall be a future state of rewards and punish- Liberty
ments; and if we estimate the duration of the rewards byV>“V'«,
the benevolence of him by whom they are to be conferred
we cannot imagine them shorter than eternity.
CHAP. V.—OF NECESSITY AND LIBERTY.
In the preceding chapter, we have adverted to that great Free a®,
moral proof of a future state, and the immortality of thecy impfe
soul, which arises from the relation in which man, as ainacc°M
being accountable for his conduct, stands to a God of al-ableness'
mighty power, infinite wisdom, and perfect justice. But
the circumstance of accountableness implies freedom of
agency; for it is contrary to all our notions of right and
wrong that a man should be either rewarded or punished
for actions which he was necessitated or compelled to
perform.
Human actions are of three kinds: One where we actErayma!
by instinct, without any view to consequences ; one where has power
we act by will, in order to obtain some end ; and one where todoffllat
we act against will. It is the second kind of actions only116*
which confers upon the agent merit or demerit. With
respect to the first, he acts blindly (see Instinct), with¬
out deliberation or choice ; and the external act follows
from the instinctive impulse, no less necessarily than a
stone by its gravity rails to the ground. With respect to
the last, he is rather an instrument than an agent; and it
is universally allowed, that were a strong man to put a
sword into the hand of one who is weaker, and then to
force it through the body of a third person, he who held
the sword would be as guiltless of the murder as the sword
itself. To be entitled to rew ards, or liable to punishment,
a man must act voluntarily; or, in other words, his actions
must proceed from that energy of mind which is termed
volition; and we believe it has never been denied, that
all men have power to do whatsoever they will, both with
respect to the operations of their minds and to the motions
of their bodies, uncontrolled by any foreign principle or
cause. “ Every man,” says Dr Priestley, “ is at liberty
to turn his thoughts to whatever subject he pleases, to
consider the reasons for or against any scheme or proposi¬
tion, and to reflect upon them as long as he shall think
proper; as well as to* w alk wherever he pleases, and to
do whatever his hands and other limbs are capable of
doing.” Without such liberty as this, morality is incon¬
ceivable.
But although philosophers have in general agreed with Different
respect to the power which a man has to perform such ac-oPinl0l?s
lions as he wills, they have differed widely in opinion re-i^Jof
specting the nature of his volitions. That these are the^o,,,
result ot motives, has seldom or never been questioned; but
w hether that result be necessary, so that the agent possess¬
es no self-determining power to decide between different
motives, has been warmly disputed by men equally can¬
did, impartial, and intelligent. The principal writers on
the side of necessity are, Hobbes, Collins, Hume, Leib¬
nitz, Lord Kames, Hartley, Edwards, Priestley, and per¬
haps Locke. On the other side are, Clarke, King, Law,
lleid, Butler, Price, Bryant, Wollaston, Horsley, Beattie,
and Gregory. To give a short view of this celebrated
question is all that our limits will permit; and as we do not
think ourselves competent to settle the dispute, it were
perhaps a thing desirable to give the opposite reasonings
in the words of those eminent authors themselves. It
1 See Stillingfleet’s Origines Sacra, where this question is treated in a very masterly manner, by one of the ablest metaphysicians
ot the seventeenth century.
1
Of N t*
sity (1
Libey-
.'i
ume;
•hemitif
ticcessr-
ill
METAPHYSICS.
689
must, ho vever, be obvious to the reader, that the style constant and universal experience proves that human ac- Of Neces-
and manner o so many different writers are extremely tions are governed by certain inflexible laws; and that a sity and
various, and that to introduce them all into our abstract man cannot exert his self-motive power but in pursuance Liberty,
would render the whole a mass of confusion. We shall, of some desire or motive v —
therefore, select one writer to plead the cause of necessi- “ Had a motive always the same influence actions nro-
ty» supplying h,8 defects from those who, though inferior ceeding from it would appear no less necessary than the
to him on the whole, may yet have argued more ably on actions of matter. The various degrees of influence that
some particular points which the question involves ; and motives have on different men at the same time, and on
to this combined reasoning we shall subjoin such answers the same man at different times, occasion a doubt bv
as to us appear most conclusive. Hartley, Hume, and suggesting a notion of chance. Some motives, however,
Priestley, are perhaps the most profound reasoners on the have such influence as to leave no doubt: a timid female
side of necessity; but there is so much more perspicuity has a physical power to throw herself into the mouth of a
in the arguments of Lord kames, that we cannot help pre- lion roaring for food, but she is withheld by terror no less
fernng them, as being upon the whole better calculated to effectually than by cords: if she should rush upon a lion,
give the ordinary reauei a fair view of the subject. would not every one conclude that she was frantic ? A
Into actions done with a view to an end,” says his man, though in a deep sleep, retains a physical power to
lords up, esme and will enter; desire to accomplish act, but he cannot exert it. A man, though desperately
he end goes first; the will to act in order to accomplish in love, retains a physical power to refuse the hand of
His mistress ; but he cannot exert that power in con-
the end, is next; and the external act follows of course.
It is the will, then, that governs every external act done
as a mean to accomplish an end ; and it is desire to ac¬
complish the end that puts the will in motion ; desire, in
this view, being commonly termed the motive to act. But
what is it that raises desire ? The answer is ready: It
is the prospect of attaining some agreeable end, or of evad¬
ing one that is disagreeable. And if it be inquired, what
makes an object agreeable or disagreeable ? the answer is
equally ready; It is our nature that makes it so. Cer¬
tain visible objects are agreeable, certain sounds and cer¬
tain smells: other objects of these senses are disagreea¬
ble. But there we must stop, for we are far from being
so intimately acquainted with our own nature as to assign
the causes.
“ With respect to instinctive actions, no person, I pre¬
sume, thinks that there is any freedom. With respect to
voluntary actions, done in order to produce some effect,
the necessity is the same, though less apparent at first
view. The external action is determined by the will, the
will is determined by desire, and desire by what is agree-
ble or disagreeable. Here is a chain of causes and effects, ^ ,11U11VC,
not one link of which is arbitrary, or under command of weight after many vibrations
tradiction to his own ardent desire, more than if he
were fast asleep. Now, if a strong motive have a neces¬
sary influence, there is no reason for doubting but that
a weak motive must also have its influence, the same
in kind, though not in degree. Some actions, indeed, are
strangely irregular; but let the wildest actions be scru¬
tinized, there will always be discovered some motive or
desire, which, however whimsical or capricious, was what
influenced the person to act. Of two contending motives,
is it not natural to expect that the stronger will prevail,
however little its excess may be ? If there be any doubt,
it must arise from a supposition that a weak motive may
be resisted arbitrarily. Where, then, are we to fix the
boundary between a weak and a strong motive? If a
weak motive can be resisted, why not one a little stronger,
and why not the strongest ? Between two motives op¬
posing each other, however nearly balanced, a man has
not an arbitrary choice, but must yield to the stronger.
The mind, indeed, fluctuates for some time, and finds it¬
self in a measure loose: at last, however, it is determined
by the more powerful motive, as a balance is by the greater
the agent: he cannot will but according to his desire; he
cannot desire but according to what is agreeable or dis¬
agreeable in the objects perceived: nor do these qualities
“ Such, then, are the laws that govern our voluntary ac¬
tions. A man is absolutely free to act according to his
own will; greater freedom than which is not conceivable.
i i 1 , -i   > tuan wmuii is not conceivaoie.
depend on Ins inclination or fancy; he has no power to* At the same time, as man is made accountable for his con-
mn p a pam.f.d — * i duct to his Maker, to his fellow-creatures, and to himself,
he is not left to act arbitrarily; for at that rate he would
be altogether unaccountable : his will is regulated by de¬
sire, and desire by what pleases or displeases him. Thus,
with regard to human conduct, there is a chain of laws
established by nature, no one link of which is left arbi¬
trary. By that wise system, man is made accountable ; by
it he is made a fit subject for divine and human govern¬
ment ; by it persons of sagacity foresee the conduct of
others; by it the prescience of the Deity with respect to
human actions is clearly established.”
Of the doctrine of necessity, a more perspicuous or plau¬
sible view than this is not to be found in any work with
which we are acquainted. It is indeed defective, perhaps, as
his lordship only hints at the nature of that relation which
subsists between motive and action; but, from his comparing
the fluctuations of the mind between two contending mo¬
tives, to the vibrations of a balance with different weights in
the opposite scales, there is no room to doubt but that he
agreed exactly in opinion with Mr Hume and Dr Priestley.
Now, both these writers hold, that the relation of mo-Mr Hume
   13 a a.ug.c otatcu u> uiuiio us ueneve tives to volition and action is the very same with that which and Dr
_ ever a man acted against his own will or desire who subsists between cause and effect in physics, as far as they Priestley,
was not compelled by external force. On the contrary, are both known to us. “It is universally allowed,” says
make a beautiful woman ugly, nor to make a rotten car
cass smell sweetly.
“ Many good men, apprehending danger to morality
from holding our actions to be necessary, endeavour to
break the chain of causes and effects above mentioned;
maintaining, that whatever influence desire or motives may
have, it is the agent himself who is the cause of every ac¬
tion; that desire may advise, but cannot command ; and,
therefore, that a man is still free to act in contradiction
to desire and to the strongest motives.
“ That a being may exist which in every case acts
blindly and arbitrarity, without having any end in view, I
can make a shift to conceive ; but it is difficult for me even
to imagine a thinking and rational being, that has affec¬
tions and passions, that has a desirable end in view, that
can easily accomplish this end, and yet after all can fly or
remain at rest, without any cause, reason, or motive, to
sway it. If such a whimsical being can possibly exist, I
am certain that man is not that being. There is not, per¬
haps, a person above the condition of a changeling but
can say why he did so and so, what moved him, what he
intended. Nor is a single fact stated to make us believe
VOL. xiv.
Sketches of the History of Man, book iii. sketch ii. part i. sect. 8.
4 s
690 M E T A P
Of Neces- Mr Hume,1 “ that matter, in all its operations, is actuated
sity and by a necessary force ; and that every natural effect is so
- 1 > Prccisely determined by the energy of its cause, that no
other effect, in such particular circumstances, could pos¬
sibly have resulted from it. The degree and direction of
every motion is, by the laws of nature, prescribed with
such exactness, that a living creature may as soon arise
from the shock of two bodies, as motion in any other de¬
gree or direction than what is actually produced by it.
Would we, therefore, form a just and precise idea of ne¬
cessity, we must consider whence that idea arises when
we apply it to the operation of bodies. But our idea of
this kind of necessity and causation arises entirely from
the uniformity observable in the operations of nature,
where similar objects are constantly conjoined together,
and the mind is determined by custom to infer the one
from the appearance of the other. These two circum¬
stances form the whole of that necessity which we ascribe
to matter. Beyond the constant conjunction of similar
objects, and the consequent inference from one to the
other, we have no notion of any necessity or connection.”
He then gives a pretty long detail to prove a great uni¬
formity among the actions of men in all nations and ages ;
and concludes that part of his argument with affirming,
“not only that the conjunction between motives and vo¬
luntary actions is as regular and uniform as that between
the cause and effect in any part of nature ; but also, that
this regular conjunction has been universally acknowledged
among mankind, and has never been the subject of dispute
either in philosophy or common life.” He afterwards ob¬
serves, “That men begin at the wrong end of this ques¬
tion concerning liberty and necessity, when they enter
upon it by examining the faculties of the soul, the influ¬
ence of the understanding, and the operations of the will.
Let them first discuss a more simple question, namely, the
operations of bodj^, and of brute unintelligent matter, and
try whether they can there form any idea of causation and
necessity, except that of a constant conjunction of objects,
and subsequent inference of the mind from one to another.
If these circumstances form in reality the whole of that
necessity which we conceive in matter, and if these cir¬
cumstances be also universally acknowledged to take place
in the operations of the mind, the dispute is at an end; at
least must be owned to be thenceforth merely verbal.
When we consider how aptly natural and moral evidence
link together, and form only one chain of argument, we
shall make no scruple to allow that they are of the same
nature, and derived from the same principles. Between a
connected chain of natural causes and voluntary actions,
the mind feels no difference in passing from one link to
another; nor is less certain of a future event which de¬
pends upon motives and volitions, than if it were connect¬
ed with the objects present to the memory and senses by
a train of causes, cemented together by what we are pleased
to call a physical necessity. The same experienced union
has the same effect on the mind, whether the united ob¬
jects be motives, volition and action, or figure and motion.
We may change the names of things, but their nature and
their operation on the understanding never change.”
Dr Priestley, in words a little different, teaches the very
same doctrine which was taught by Mr Hume. “In every
determination of the mind,” says he,2 “ or in cases where
volition and choice are concerned, all the previous circum¬
stances to be considered are the state of mind (including
every thing belonging to the will itself), and the views of
things presented to it; the latter of which is generally
called the motive, though under this term some writers
comprehend them both. To distinguish the manner in
H Y S IC S.
which events depending upon will and choice are produced, OfNJ
from those in which no volition is concerned, the former sity a
are said to be produced voluntarily, and the latter media- Life
nically. But the same general maxims apply to them's,“V
both. We may not be able to determine a priori how a
man will act in any particular case; but it is because we
are not particularly acquainted with his disposition of
mind, precise situation, and views of things. But neither
can we tell in which way the wind will blow’ to-morrow,
though the air is certainly subject to no other than ne¬
cessary laws of motion.
“ It is universally acknowledged, that there can be no
effect without an .adequate cause. This is even the foun¬
dation on which the only proper argument for the being
of a God rests. And the necessarian asserts, that if, in
any given state of mind, with respect both to disposition
and motives, two different determinations or volitions be
possible, it can be so on no other principle, than that one
of them shall come under the description of an effect with¬
out a cause; just as the beam of a balance might incline
either way, though loaded with equal weights. It is ac¬
knowledged, that the mechanism of the balance is of one
kind, and that of the mind of another ; and, therefore, it
may be convenient to denominate them by different words;
as, for instance, that of the balance may be termed a phy¬
sical, and that of the mind a moral mechanism. But still,
if there be a real mechanism in both cases, so that there
can be only one result from the same previous circum¬
stances, there will be a real necessity, enforcing an abso¬
lute certainty in the event. For it must be understood,
that all that is ever meant by necessity in a cause, is that
which produces certainty in the effect.”
Such is the nature of human volitions, according to every vie^nf
necessarian of eminence who has written upon the subject human
since the days of Hobbes; and if this theory be just, ifhberty.
there be a constant and inseparable conjunction of motives
and actions similar to that of cause and effect in physics,
it is obvious, that in volition the mind is as inert as body
is in motion. Ibis consequence is indeed avowed and in¬
sisted upon by Hume, Priestley, and their adherents; whilst
the advocates of human liberty, on the other hand, contend
for an absolute exemption of the will from all internal ne¬
cessity, arising from its own frame and constitution, the im¬
pulse of superior beings, or the operations of objects, rea¬
sons, or motives. By this, however, they do not mean, that
between motives and volitions there is no relation what¬
ever, or that a man can ever choose evil as evil, or refuse
good as good. Such an assertion would be contrary to
consciousness and universal experience. But what they
endeavour to prove is, that the conjunction of motive and
volition is not inseparable, like that of cause and effect in
physics ; that a man may in most cases choose according
to any one of two or more motives presented to his view;
that by choosing any thing, he may make it in some mea¬
sure agreeable by his own act, or, to speak more properly,
may bend his desire to it; that in volition, the mind is not
inert; and that, therefore,we are under no necessity to act
in a particular manner in any given case whatever.
lhat the conjunction of motive and action is not con¬
stant like that of cause and effect in physics, and that by
consequence the mind in forming volitions is not inert,
has been evinced by Dr Gregory with the force and pre¬
cision of mathematical demonstration. Former writers on
the side of liberty had often observed, that upon the sup¬
position of the inertia of mind, a man, with equal and op- ,
posite motives presented at once to his view, would, dur¬
ing their continuance, remain perfectly at rest, like a ba¬
lance equally loaded in both scales. The observation is
•* Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, sect. 8.
2 The Doctrine of Philosophical Necessity illustrated.
Ihe
Offices- admitted to be just by all the advocates for necessity •
sitynd but they contrive to evade its consequences, by denying
Liboy. that in any given case a man can be at once assailed by
— two equal and opposite motives. Thus, when it is said
that a porter, standing with his face due north, must re¬
main in that position at perfect rest, as long as equal mo¬
tives shall at once be offered to him for travelling eastward
and westward, the necessarians admit the force of the ar¬
gument; but when it is added that a guinea, offered for
every mile that he should travel in each of these opposite
directions, ought therefore to fix him at rest till one of the
offers be withdrawn, they deny that the desire of gaining
the guineas is the whole of the motives which operate
upon his mind. He may have, say they, some secret rea¬
son which we cannot discern for preferring the one direc¬
tion to the other; and that reason, added to the guinea
will make him go eastward or westward, just as an ounce’
thrown into either scale of a balance poised by equal
weights will make that scale preponderate. Though we
think that this solution of the difficulty can satisfy no man
who is not already biassed to the necessarian system; and
though, even were it to be admitted, it seems to militate
against the constant conjunction of motives and actions,
unless it can be proved that the porter must travel the
road which he has been necessitated to choose with reluc¬
tance and a heavy heart; yet as it may admit of endless
quibbling upon ambiguous words, the philosophical world
is much indebted to Dr Gregory1 for an argument which,
in our opinion, can neither be overturned nor evaded, and
which demonstrates that the conjunction of motive and
action cannot be constant and inseparable, like that of
cause and effect in physics.
His reasoning is to this purpose : Suppose a porter to be
metaphysics.
691
r. tr , : » : ^ • suppose a porter to De
Mil offered a guinea for every mile that he shall travel directly
tioriu. eastward. If there be no physical cause or moral motive
ant. ^ keep him at rest, or to induce him to move in another
direction, there cannot be a doubt, upon either hypothesis,
but he will gladly embrace the proposal, and travel in the
direction pointed out to him, till he shall have gained as
much money as to satisfy his most avaricious desires. The
same thing would have happened if a guinea had been
offered for every mile that he should travel due south. In
these two cases taken separately, the relation between the
man s motions and his actions would be strikingly analogous
to that between a single impulse and motion in physics.
Let us now suppose the two offers to be made at the same
instant, and the man to be assured, that if he travel east-
ward he can have no part of the reward promised for his
travelling to the south, and that if he travel southward
ie can have no part of the Reward promised for his tra¬
velling to the east. What is he to do in this case ? If
Jus mind be inert in volition, and if the two motives operate
upon him with the same necessity that causes operate in
physics, it is obvious that the man could travel neither to¬
wards the east nor towards the south, but in a diagonal di-
rectmn from north-w est to south-east; and this he must do
willingly, although perfectly satisfied that he could gain
nothing by his journey. As this inference is contrary to
tact and universal experience, the doctor very justly con¬
cludes that the premises from which it is deduced by ma¬
thematical reasoning must also be false and absurd ; or, in
other words, that the relation between motive and action
cannot be that of constant conjunction, like the relation
between cause and effect in physics.
He uses many arguments of the same kind, and equally
convincing, to prove the absurdity of supposing the inert-
icss of mind, and only an occasional conjunction of mo-
aves and actions; but we forbear to quote them, both be-
cause we w,sh his book to be read, and because we think Of Neces
the single argument which we have borrowed from him suf- sity ,„d
ficient to demolish the theory of Priestley and Hume, which Wberty.
rests wholly upon the hypothesis of the constant coniunc-' r—
tion of motive and action. J
But is it then not really true, that the external action is
determined by the will, the will by desire, and desire by
what is agreeable or disagreeable ? That the external ac¬
tion is universally determined by the will, is certainly true ;
but that the will is necessitated and universally determined
by the desire, is as certainly false. If Potiphar’s wife was
handsome, and made her proposals to Joseph with any de¬
gree of xemale address, and if his constitution wms like that
of other young men, there cannot be a doubt but that he
felt a desire to do what she requested of him ; yet we know
that he willed to do otherwise, and, in direct opposition to
his desire, fled from the room. Perhaps it may be said, that
Ins volition to flee was the effect of a contrary and stronger
desire not to sin against God ; but this is confounding the
reader, by calling two energies of mind, between which
there is little or no similarity, by the same name. He per¬
ceived or knew, that to comply with his mistress’s request
would be to sin against God; he knew that he ought not
to sin against God, and therefore he chose or determined
himself not to do it. We can easily conceive how the pre¬
sence, attitudes, and address, of the lady might be agree¬
able to him, and excite desire. There may very possibly
be more than one of our readers who, during the course of
their lives, have experienced something of the same kind ;
ut could abstract truth be in the same way agreeable, so
as to excite in his mind a desire of virtue sufficient to an¬
nihilate or banish the desire of the woman ? As well may
it be said that one sensation can annihilate another, that
the beautiful colours of the rainbow can remove the sensa-
tion of stench from the mind of him who is plunged into
the midst of a dunghill, or that the smell of a rose can make
a man insensible to the pain of a stroke inflicted by a
bludgeon. In fact, sensual desire, and the perception of
duty, are things so totally different, that to consider them
as operating against each other, like different weights in the
opposite scales of a balance, is as absurd as to suppose that
sound can operate against colour, or colour against smell.
A man may prefer sound to colour, or colour to smell, and
act accordingly; but the determination must be wholly-
his own, unless these two sensations be themselves either
agents or physical causes of the same kind, like the weights
in the opposite scales of the balance.
Ihe advocates for liberty do not pretend, that in mat-
ters of importance a man ever acts without some motive or not aW,
reason for Ins conduct. All that they insist upon is, that determiS
etween two or more motives of different kinds he has a themselves
liberty of choice, and that he does not always determine ^7 the
himself by that which he knows to be the greatest. With- stron8est
out such freedom, they think men might be often broughtm0UVe'
into situations where they could not act at all, and where
inaction would at the same time be in the highest decree
absurd, thus, were two bags of gold, containing each a
thousand or ten thousand guineas, to be placed on the same
table, before a man whose family is perishing for want, and
were the man to be told that he might take either of them,
but not both, is it conceivable that !ie would be held in
perpetual suspense between the two ? No ; he would in¬
stantly and with alacrity take up one of them, without feel¬
ing the least regret for the want of the other. This ac¬
tion would, indeed, be the consequence of a very powerful
motive, the desire to obtain honestly that wealth of which
he and his family stood so much in need. That motive,
however, being general, would draw him equally to both
Essay on the Relation between Motive and Action.
692
METAPHYSICS.
OfNeces-bags; and it remains with the necessarians to say by what
sity and e]se than a self-determining power he could take either the
Liberty. one or the other. When it is affirmed, that such self-de¬
termination would be an effect without a cause, the advo¬
cates of liberty cannot help thinking that their antagonists
are guilty of advancing as an argument a petitio principu ;
for the affirmation is true only if the mind in volition be
inert, and the inertia of the mind is the sole question at
issue. If the mind be not inert, it is plain, that in conse¬
quence of a man’s self-determination, no effect would be
produced without a sufficient cause. At any rate, motives
cannot be causes. In the proper sense ot the word, a
cause is that which produces an effect; but the production
of an effect requires active power; and power being a qua¬
lity, must be the quality of some being by whom it may
be exerted. Power may be dormant, and therefore power
without will produces no effect. Are motives, then, real
beings endowed with power and will? No; they are only
views of things or mental conceptions, which in the strictest
sense of the word are passive ; and between two motives
the mind determines itself, without receiving an impulse
from either.
Nor is it only between motives of equal force that men
have the power of determining themselves. Whoever be¬
lieves in a future state of rewards and punishments, and
yet acts in a manner which he knows to be offensive to
Him who is to be the future and final judge, unquestion¬
ably prefers to the strongest of all motives, another which
even to himself appears to have comparatively but very
little strength. Whether there be men who occasionally
act in this manner, is a question which can be decided only
by an appeal to every one’s consciousness. That there
are, we can have no doubt; for wre never met with a single
individual, not biassed by system, who was not ready to
acknowledge, that during the course of his life he had
done many things, which at the time of action he clearly
perceived to be contrary to his true interest. Without a
self-determining power in his mind, this could never be
the case. Did motives operate with the necessity of phy¬
sical causes, it is obvious that in every possible situation
the strongest must constantly prevail; and that he who in
certain circumstances had in time past done any particu¬
lar thing, would on a return of the same circumstances do
the very same thing in every time future. Dr Priestley,
indeed, wishes to persuade his readers that this is actually
the case. “ In every determination of the mind,” says he,
“ or in cases where volition and choice are concerned, all
the previous circumstances to be considered are the state
of mind (including every thing belonging to the will it¬
self), and the various views of things presented to itand
he affirms, that “ whenever the same precise circumstances
occur twice, the very same determination or choice will
certainly be made the second time that was made the first.”
This is an assertion of which no man can controvert the
truth, for it is an identical proposition. If in the circum¬
stances previous to the determination of the mind, every
thing belonging to the will itself must be included, it is
self-evident, that he who in any given circumstances has
acted a particular part, will, on a return of these circum¬
stances, act the same part a second time ; for this is only
saying, that he who bn two different occasions shall exert
volitions of the same tendency, will not on these occasions
exert volitions of which the tendencies are different. But
the question to be decided is, whether a man, in the same
general state of mind, possessed of the same degree of
health, and conscious of the same appetites, must, in ex¬
ternal circumstances perfectly alike, necessarily exert at
all times the same volitions. That the human mind is
under no such necessity, we think every man’s conscious- QfNece<
ness and experience may abundantly satisfy him ; for there sity and
are, perhaps, but very few who have not at one time re* Dberty..
sisted temptations, to which at another they have chosen
to yield.
That there is a relation between motives and actions, Ifthey^
must be confessed ; but that relation is neither necessity folly,'as
nor constant conjunction. If it were, all actions would bevveUas
perfectly rational; and folly, as well as merit and demerit, Ifer‘t j®l
would be banished from the conduct of men. What is the
particular nature of that relation which subsists between banished
the voluntary actions of men, and the motives from whichfromthe
they proceed, can be known to every individual only by world,
an attentive and unbiassed reflection on the operations of
his own mind. Without this reflection, no man can be
made to understand it by the reasonings of philosophers,
and with it no man can need the aid of those reasonings.
That a self-determining power, such as that for which we
plead, contributes to the sum of human happiness, has been
shown by Archbishop King and his ingenious translator,
who have proved, with the force of demonstration, that
the mind can take pleasure in the object of its choice,
although that object be in itself neither agreeable nor dis¬
agreeable to our natural appetitss ; and that if it could not,
it would be in vain in such a world as ours to hope for any
portion of felicity. Into that detail our limits will not per¬
mit us to enter; but to the reader -who wishes for further
information, we beg leave to recommend the last edition
of King’s Origin of Evil, by Dr Law, late bishop of Car¬
lisle ; without, however, vouching for the truth of all the
opinions advanced by either of those learned writers.
Before we conclude this chapter, it may be proper to ob¬
serve here, that it is only in volition that we are conscious
of any original active power in ourselves, and that without
such consciousness we could never have acquired the no¬
tion of active power. In our desires and appetites, we
neither are active nor suppose ourselves active. Lord
Karnes, and most necessarians, confound desire with voli¬
tion ; but that they are perfectly distinct is plain from this
circumstance, that we daily desire many things which we
know to be wholly out of our owm power,1 whereas no man
ever willed what he did not believe to be in his own power.
We all desire or wish that our children may be virtuous,
wise, and happy ; and although we are conscious that it is
not in our power to make them so, we cannot banish the
desire from our breasts. But madmen only have ever willed
virtue, and wisdom, and happiness, to any person; and it
there ever was a man so extravagantly mad as to exert such
a volition as this, he must at the time have fancied himself
a divinity, and therefore believed that the object of his
volition depended upon himself. When the astronomer,
whose character is so admirably drawn by our great mas¬
ter of moral wisdom,2 fancied himself the regulator of the
weather and the distributor of the seasons, he might will
either rain or sunshine as he thought proper, because he
considered the object of his volition as depending upon a
power imparted to him from heaven ; but though he might
desire, he could notwill, the rising or the falling of winds,
for these he confessed were not subjected to his authority.
In a word, without freedom in volition, power is inconceiv¬
able ; and therefore it is as certain that we are free agents,
as that we have any notion of active powers.
CHAP. VI. OF THE BEING AND ATTRIBUTES OF GOD.
It has been already observed, that as of bodies there are
various kinds, endowed with various properties ; so the pro¬
fs
r
1 Reid’s Essays on the Active Powers of Man.
2 Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia.
«
METAPHYSICS.
Of [e bability is, that of minds endowed with different powers, or
Beinj nd different degrees of power, the variety may be as great, or
Atlriiites perhaps greater. The existence and powers of our own
of( ^ minds are made known to us by consciousness and reflec-
tion ; and, from our dependent state, and the mutability of
the objects around us, we are necessarily led to infer the ex¬
istence of another mind, which is independent, unchange-
able, eternal, and the cause of all things which have a be¬
ginning of existence. Between that mind and our own we
can hardly avoid believing that there are many orders of
“ thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers but
as we possess no intuitive knowledge of such intermediate
beings, and cannot, from any thing which we perceive, dis¬
cern the necessity of their existence, they are not proper¬
ly the object of science. The existence, however, and
many of the attributes, of the One First Cause, are capa¬
ble of the strictest demonstration ; “ for the invisible things
of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen,
being understood by the things which are made.”
Of this great truth, the most important by far which
can occupy the mind of man, many demonstrations have
been given both by divines and by philosophers. We
shall lay before our readers such an one as to us appears
perfectly conclusive, being founded on the intuitive know¬
ledge which we have of our own existence, and therefore
independent of all theories about the nature and reality of
the material world.
omene Every man, whether he adopt the common theory or
idep il- that of Berkeley respecting matter, is conscious that he
lit Bing himself exists, and must therefore grant that something
'irotTi’r- nOVV ex*sts’ But if any thing exists now,1 then must
'nity. something have existed always; otherwise that thing
which now exists must either have been created by no¬
thing, that is, have been caused by no cause, or else it must
have created itself, acting before it existed. Both these
suppositions are so palpably absurd, that no atheist has
avowed them, either amongst the ancients or the moderns.
We must theretore admit, either that there is some one
independent being, which now exists, and always has ex¬
isted ; or that the things which we know to exist at pre¬
sent (every man’s self, for instance) were produced by
something which had its existence from something else,
which also depended upon some other cause, and so on in
an infinite series of caused or successive beings. But this
last supposition, though it has been often made, is as gross¬
ly absurd as either of the two former. For of this infinite
series, either some one part has not been successive to
any other, or else all the several parts of it have been suc¬
cessive. If some one part of it was not successive, then
it had a first part, w hich destroys the supposition of its in¬
finity.2 If all the several parts of it have been successive,
then have they all once been future; but if they have all
been future, a time may be conceived when none of them
had existence ; and if so, then it follows, either that all
the parts, and consequently the wdiole of this infinite
series, must have arisen from nothing, which is absurd;
or else that there must be something in the whole be¬
sides what is contained in all the parts, which is also ab¬
surd.
As the possibility or impossibility of an infinite series of
dependent beings is the main question at issue between the
atheists and us, we shall state the preceding reasoning in
a manner somewhat different. For this purpose, let us
suppose some one to affirm that the course of generation
has had no beginning, and consequently that the number
of successive births has been infinite. We would ask such
a person, whether, before the birth of Abraham, for ex-
693
ample,3 there had passed an infinite series of generations or Of the
not ? If not, the course of generation must have had aBemgand
beginning, which is the conclusion for which we contend.Attributes
But if the series past was infinite, then at the birth of Jo- , of God-
seph, the great-grandson of Abraham, it is evident that
more generations were past, and that the number then
was greater than that which was supposed to be infinite;
so that upon this supposition we have a number that is
both infinite and not infinite, which is a manifest contra¬
diction. Should it be said that the number of generations
was infinite, as well at the birth of Abraham as at the
birth of Joseph ; it will then follow, that one infinite may
be greater than another of the very same kind, and conse¬
quently that an infinite maybe bounded, that is, be finite.
But should it be alleged, that the number of births at
Abraham’s was finite, and became infinite when it reach¬
ed to Joseph s, it will then follow that one finite number
added to another may make an infinite number, which is
directly contrary to every possible notion of infinity. We
might argue in the same manner against an infinite series of
every kind, the very supposition of which involves the most
palpable contradictions. (See the Chapter on Infinity and
Eternity.)
from the impossibility of an infinite series it necessari-His dura-
ly follows, that there exists, and must have existed from tion is not
eternity, some one independent being, whose duration ctm-comme.nsu*
not be commensurate with succession, and to whom therate wi-h
relation of time is not applicable. Here will some atheists SUCCeSS1011"
presently imagine, that by the same mode of reasoning
they may disprove the existence of God; for do not they who
thus destroy the eternity of the world, destroy at the same
time the eternity of the Creator? If time itself be not
eternal, how can the Deity or any thing else be so ?
In urging these questions, it must be taken for granted
that time is essential to all existence, and that God can¬
not be eternal otherwise then by a successive flux of infi¬
nite time. But it has been already shown, in treating of
time, that successive duration is not essential to existence ;
that we can even conceive existence without succession; and
it may here be added, that if we suppose a perfect being
alone in nature, we shall find it impossible to imagine any
succession of ideas, any flux of moments, or any alteration
or increase whatever in his knowledge and essence. Such
duration as we are acquainted with can have no relation to
an immutable Being, whilst supposed to exist alone ; but
as soon as he determined to exercise his several attributes
in the production of something distinct from himself, then,
and not till then, have we reason to think that time, suc¬
cession, and increase, began. These atheistical questions,
therefore, instead of containing an objection to the exist¬
ence of a Deity, afford a plain demonstration of it; for *
since it is more evident that something now exists, than
that something must have existed from eternity, and since
it has been shown, that neither the world in its present
state, nor time, nor indeed any thing capable of change or
succession, can possibly be eternal, it follows that there
must necessarily be some Being who, in the order of na¬
ture, is before time, and who, in the stability and immu¬
table perfection of his own intelligence, comprehends at
once his yesterday, to-day, and for ever. “ The atheists,”
says the excellent Cudworth,4 “ can here only smile, or
make wry faces, and show their little wit in quibbling upon
nunc-stans, or a standing now of eternity; as if that stand¬
ing eternity of the Deity (which with so much reason hath
been contended for by the ancient genuine theists) were
nothing but a pitiful small moment of time standing still,
and as if the duration of all beings whatsoever must needs
See Notes to King’s Origin of Evil. * T«, iUK i,™ ^ly (Arist Phys. lib. viii. cap. v sect 4.)
See an Essay towards an Eviction of the Attributes of God, by Seth Ward Printed at Oxford, 1055. P ‘
intellectual System, book i. chap. 5.
694
Of the
Being and
Attributes
of God.
METAPHYSICS.
He is self-
existent,
and cannot
cease to be.
What ,is
meant dv
necessary-
existence.
Only one
necessarily
existent
being.
be like our own ; whereas the duration of every thing must
of necessity be agreeable to its nature; and therefore, as
that whose imperfect nature is ever flowing like a river,
and consists in continual motion and changes one after an¬
other, must needs have accordingly a successive and flow¬
ing duration sliding perpetually from present into past,
and always hasting on towards the future, expecting some¬
thing of itself which is not yet in being; so must that
whose perfect nature is essentially immutable have per¬
manent and unchanging duration, never losing any thing
of itself once present, nor yet running forward to meet
something of itself which is not j'et in being.’’
From the eternity of the Supreme Being we necessari¬
ly infer his independence or self-existence ; for that which
never had a beginning of existence cannot possibly have
any cause of that existence, or in any manner depend upon
any other being, but must exist of itself, or be self-exist¬
ent. Eternity ad partem post, or necessary existence, or
the impossibility of ever ceasing to be, follows from inde¬
pendence ; for to the nature of that which exists without
any cause, existence must be essential. But a being whose
existence is ol itself, and essential to its nature, cannot be
indifferent to existence or non-existence, but must exist
necessarily. And here it may be proper to observe, that
the word necessity, when applied to existence, may be
taken in two acceptations very different from each other;1
either as it arises from the relation which the existence of
that being, of which it is affirmed, has to the existence of
other things; or from the relation which the actual exist¬
ence of that thing has to the manner of its own existence.
In the former sense, when necessity of existence has re¬
lation to the existence of other things, it denotes that the
supposition of the non-existence of that thing of which
necessity is affirmed, implies the non-existence of things
which we know to exist. Thus, some independent being
does necessarily exist; because, to suppose no indepen¬
dent being, implies that there are no dependent beings,
the contrary of which we know to be true. In the second
sense, when the necessity of existence arises from the re¬
lation which the actual existence of any thing has to the
manner of its own existence, necessity means, that the
thing of which it is affirmed exists after such a manner as
that it never could in time past have been non-existent,
nor can in time future cease to be. Thus, every indepen¬
dent being, as it exists without a cause, is necessarily exist¬
ing, because existence is essential to such a being; so
that it never could begin to exist, and never can cease to
be. For to suppose a being to begin to exist, or to lose its
existence, is to suppose a change from nonentity to entity,
or vice versa; and to suppose such a change is to suppose
a cause upon which that being depends. Every being,
therefore, which is independent, that is, which had no
cause of its existence, must exist necessarily, and cannot
possibly have begun to exist in time past, or cease to be
in time future.
These two kinds of necessity, as applied to existence,
though they have been often confounded, are in themselves
perfectly distinct; for though a being cannot be necessa- ■
riiy existent in the former sense without being so in the
latter also, yet may it be necessarily existent in the latter
sense without being so in the former. For any thing that
we know to the contrary, there may be two or more beings
existing necessarily in the latter sense of the word neces¬
sity, that is, with regard to independence and the manner
of their own existence ; but in the former sense of the word,
or in relation to this system, there can be but one neces¬
sarily existent being; for it is obvious that no more are
necessary to account for the production of the dependent Of
beings which we know to exist. To suppose the non-exist- BeiL j
ence of all independent beings, implies the non-existence Attribu‘'
of all dependent beings, ourselves, and every thing else; ofG«
but to suppose the non-existence of all independent beings
except one, involves in the supposition no such absurdity.
Thus the phenomena of nature lead us, by the strictest
reasoning, to one First Cause, which is sufficient for their
production ; and therefore none but one First Cause can in
this sense of the word be necessary. And though several
more independent beings might possibly exist, yet they
would be no gods to us ; they would have no relation to us
demonstrable by reason, nor we any thing to do with them.
For if the supposition of their existence were not requisite
to the production of this system, which it obviously would
not be, we could not perceive any necessity for it at all; we
could never discover it by our own faculties, and there¬
fore it could be nothing to us. And although two or three
such beings should exist, and act in the formation and go¬
vernment of their respective systems, or agree in one; yet,
till their existence and operations were made known to us,
and a natural relation discovered, nothing could be due
from us to them. They would have no religious or moral
relations to us; and we should have no reason to call more
than one of them our creator, preserver, and governor,
which is the proper sense of the word God.
To show in this manner that there is only one eternal Impost
self-existent Being, which bears the relation of God to us, to (lemon,
seems to be going as far as is necessary, or as natural lightstratelht
will lead us. Those who endeavour to demonstrate that!lierecan
there cannot possibly be more than one self-existent Be-JJ™
ing, either reason in a circle, or proceed upon principlesentBeL.
which their antagonists cannot be compelled to admit.
When they deduce the divine unity from independence
or omnipotence, they evidently presuppose it in their de¬
finition of these attributes; and when they infer it from
the nature of space and duration, which they consider as
modes of the self-existent Being, they take it for granted
that space and duration have a real existence, independently
of us and our thoughts; and that the one is infinite and
the other eternal, contrary to what has been already proved,
we think, with the force of demonstration. The celebrated
Dr Clarke made much use of space and duration in his at¬
tempt to demonstrate that there can be but one self-exist¬
ent Being; but he argues for the same thing from the na¬
ture of necessity as applied to existence.
“ Necessity,” says he,2 “ absolute in itself, is simple andDrClarte’s
uniform and universal, without any possible difference, first de-
difformity, or variety, whatsoever; and all variety or dif-®onstra:
fere nee of existence must needs arise from some external tl0IJ
cause, and be dependent upon it, and proportionable to
the efficiency of that cause, whatsoever it be. Absolute
necessity, in which there can be no variation in any kind
or degree, cannot be the ground of existence of a number
of beings, however similar and agreeing; because, with¬
out any other difference, even number is itself a manifest
difformity or inequality (if I may so speak) of efficiency
or causality.’’
Such is this great man’s first argument from necessity,
to prove that there cannot be more-than one self-existent
Being. But what is this necessity which proves so much?
It is the ground of existence, he says, of that which exists
of itself; and if so, it must, in the order of nature, and in
that of our conceptions, be antecedent to that being of whose
existence it is the ground. Concerning such a principle,
there are but three suppositions which can possibly be
made; and all of them may be shown to be absurd and
1 Notes to King on Evil; and Law’s Inquiry into the Ideas of Space, &c.
2 Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of God, Prop. vii.
A
Oftli contradictory. We may suppose either the substance it-
eing id self, some property of that substance, or something extrin-
ttribu s s;c t0 both. t0 be this antecedent ground of existence prior
in the order of nature to the first cause.
One would think, from the turn of the argument which
here represents this antecedent necessity as efficient and
causal, that it were considered as something extrinsic to
the first cause.1 Indeed, if the words have any meaning
in them at all, or any force of argument, they must be so
understood, just as we understand them of any external
cause producing its effect. But as an extrinsic principle
is absurd in itself, and is besides rejected by Dr Clarke
who says expressly, that “ of the thing which derives not
its being from any other thing, this necessity or ground of
existence must be in the thing itself,” we need not say a
word more of the last of these suppositions.
Let us then consider the first; let us take the substance
itself, and try whether it can be conceived as prior or an¬
tecedent to itself in our conceptions, or in the order of
nature. Surely we need not observe that nothing can be
more absurd or contradictory than such a supposition. Dr
Clarke himself repeatedly affirms, and it would be strange
indeed if he did not affirm, that no being, no thing what¬
ever, can be conceived as in any respect" prior to the first
METAPHYSICS.
695
The only remaining supposition is, that some attribute
or property of the self-existent Being may be conceived
as in the order of nature antecedent to that being. But
this, if possible, is more absurd than either of the two pre¬
ceding suppositions. An attribute is attributed to its sub¬
ject as its ground or support, and not the subject to its at¬
tribute. A property, in the very notion of it, is proper to
the substance to which it belongs, and subsequent to it
both in our conceptions and in the order of nature. An
antecedent attribute, or antecedent property, is a solecism
as great, and a contradiction as flat, as an antecedent sub¬
sequent or subsequent antecedent, understood in the same
sense and in the same syllogism. Every property or at¬
tribute, as such, presupposes its subject, and cannot other¬
wise be understood. This is a truth so obvious and so for¬
cible, that it sometimes extorts the assent even of those
who upon other occasions labour to obscure it. It is con¬
fessed by Dr Clarke,2 that “ the scholastic way of proving
the existence of the self-existent Being from the absolute
perfection ot his nature, is bartgov vgors^ov. For all or any
perfections,” says he, “ presupposes existence, which is a
petitio principii.” It therefore properties, modes, or attri¬
butes in God, be considered as perfections (and it is im¬
possible to consider them as any thing else), then, by this
confession of the great author himself, they must all or
any of them presuppose existence. It is indeed imme¬
diately added in the same place, “ that bare necessity of
existence does not presuppose, but infer existence which
is true only if such necessity be supposed to be a princi¬
ple extrinsic, the absurdity of which supposition has been
already shown, and is indeed universally confessed. If it
be a mode or a property, it must presuppose the existence
of its subject, as certainly and as evidently as it is a mode
or a property. It might perhaps a posteriori infer the exist¬
ence ot its subject, as effects may infer a cause; but that
it should in the other way a priori, is altogether as impos¬
sible as that a triangle should be a square, or a globe a
parallelogram.
Doubtful, as it wrould seem, of the force of his first ar¬
gument, which even those who pretend to be convinced
)y it acknowledge to be obscure, the doctor gives a second,
vhich we must confess appears to us to be still more ob¬
scure, and if possible less conclusive. “ To suppose two Of the
or more distinct beings existing of themselves necessarily Being and
and independent of each other, implies,” he says “ thisAttributes
contradiction, that each of them being independent from ,^God-
the other, they may either of them be supposed to exist
alone; so that it will be no contradiction to suppose themonstra-
other not to exist; and consequently neither of them will tion of the
be necessarily existing. Whatsoever therefore exists ne-same au-
cessarily is the one simple essence of the self-existent Be_ tho.r e1ual-
ing; and whatsoever differs from that is not necessarily ^ incon'
existing, because in absolute necessity there can be no dif-C US1Ve‘
ference or diversity of existence.
Necessity is used here in two different senses,3 both
as absolute and relative. In the former, neither of the
two beings can exist without the other, that is, without our
supposing the other to exist also, since that is equally ne¬
cessary. In the latter, either of them may exist alone, i. e.
as without the help of the other, or without the supposition
of the other as requisite to its own existence. The con¬
sequence, therefore, that either of them may exist alone,
and so neither of them is necessary, is a mere equivoca¬
tion on necessity, using it both in an absolute and relative
sense at the same time. But as this is a question of the
highest importance, and as the author was a mgyi of great
worth, we shall consider his argument upon the supposi¬
tion that the word necessity has from the beginning to the
end of it the same invariable meaning.
It has already been observed, that there are only two
senses in which the word necessity can be applied to the
existence of any being ; and whether it be here used in the
one or the other of these senses, the reasoning, if resolved
into a syllogism, will appear to be inconclusive. If the
word be taken in that sense of necessity which arises from
the relation that dependent beings which we know to ex¬
ist bear to some one independent Being, the argument
will stand thus : from a known effect no more causes
can be necessarily inferred than what are sufficient to ac¬
count for that effect; but one self-existent and indepen¬
dent Being is sufficient to account for all the phenomena
of nature ; therefore, from the phenomena, &c. no more
than one such being can be necessarily inferred to exist.
But although no more than one independent being can in
this sense of the word necessarily exist, it by no means
follows from this syllogism, that two or more such beings
may not possibly exist. It is, indeed, a plain contradic¬
tion to say, that two or more self-existent beings are in
this sense necessary ; but surely there is no contradiction
in saying that two or twenty of such beings are possible.
We could not, therefore, by this argument convict a per¬
son of absurdity, who should affirm that two or more in¬
dependent beings actually exist. We might indeed deny
the existence of them all but one, because one is sufficient
to account for those phenomena, from which alone we
know that any independent being exists ; but because one
of them might be supposed to exist alone, so that it would
be no contradiction to suppose the other not to exist; we
know not how the doctor came to affirm, in direct opposi¬
tion to his own demonstration, that not one of them would
be necessarily existing.
Necessity, as applied to existence, in the other sense of
the word, arises, as we have seen, from the relation which
the actual existence of the being of which it may be af¬
firmed, has to the manner of that being’s existence. It is
the same necessity, we are told,4 with that which is the
cause of the unalterable proportion between two and four;
and it is considered as the formal cause or ground of the*
existence of an independent being. Were it not for the
2 P*ssertation on the Argument a priori, added to Law’s Inquiry into the Ideas of Space, Time, Immensity, &c.
4 Answer tt0 tn6 ?-X!jh fe“er', ,, , 3 Law’s Inquiry into the Ideas of Space, &c, chap. vL
Answer to the Sixth Letter from a Gentleman in Gloucestershire.
696
METAPHYSICS.
Of the strange expressions formal cause and ground of existence,
Being ami we should have no objection to this account of that ne-
cessity by which a being independent undoubtedly exists ;
but this kind of necessity is a principle which will not
support the superstructure which the learned author la¬
bours to raise upon it. The same necessity which is the
cause of the unalterable proportion between two and four,
is likewise the cause of the unalterable proportion between
three and six, between four and eight, and between five
and ten, &c. But if it can be the cause of so many dif¬
ferent proportions of the same kind, why may it not be
the formal cause or ground of existence to as many inde¬
pendent beings of the same kind, as well as to one ? The
following syllogism we apprehend to be legitimate both
in mode and figure, and its conclusion is directly contrary
to the proposition which the doctor deduces from the same
notion of necessity.
If necessity, considered as a formal cause or ground of
existence, be in one instance of its causality the formal
cause or ground of existence to many things of the same
kind, it may likewise, in every other instance of its causa¬
lity, be the formal cause or ground of existence to many
things of the same kind. But such necessity, in that in¬
stance causality where it is the formal cause or
ground or existence to the unalterable proportion between
two and four, is the formal cause or ground of existence
to many proportions of the same kind. Therefore, the
same necessity in that other instance of its causality
where it is said to be the formal cause or ground of exist¬
ence to one independent being, may undoubtedly be the
formal cause or ground of existence to many independent
beings of the same kind.
Thus it appears that necessity, in any sense in which
it can be properly affirmed of existence, cannot be the
foundation of any argument to prove the impossibility of
more than one self-existent being. It is indeed a prin¬
ciple from which we apprehend that no positive conclu¬
sion whatsoever can be deduced by reasoning a priori.
That necessity of existence may be predicated of a being
which is independent and uncreated, is self-evident; be¬
cause to the nature of such a being existence is essential.
But whilst that nature itself remains wholly incomprehen¬
sible by us, it is impossible that we should discover, by
our own unassisted reason, whether it can be the nature
of only one, or of more than one, independent being. To
argue from necessity, as if it were the cause or ground of
existence to such a being, is certainly absurd, if it be not
impious ; for if that to which existence is essential, does
not exist without any cause efficient or formal, we shall
be obliged to inquire after a cause or ground of this cause,
and thus be involved in all the absurdities and contradic¬
tions of an infinite series. We have insisted the longer
on this point, because necessity, as the foundation of the
argument a priori, has sometimes been employed to very
bad purposes. Attempts have indeed been made, from the
notion of necessary existence, to prove that the Supreme
Being cannot be a free agent, and to set the first prin¬
ciples of the religion of nature at variance with those which
are revealed in the Scriptures.
Necessity
a danger¬
ous prin¬
ciple.
oiiirii-
But although we are firmly persuaded that the divine Of the
unity cannot be demonstrated a priori, we are far from being ^
thinking it incapable of any proof. On the contrary, theAttritWi:
common arguments a posteriori, drawn from the order and ofGo(J'
harmony of the vvorld, have always satisfied us, and inour^T^
opinion must satisfy every person capable of proportion-q/gT'
ing his assent to evidence, that the Creator and Preserver highly nr
of such a system has but one will and one intelligence,^,
and therefore is himself but one being. But proof is one
thing, and demonstration is, in the proper sense of the
word, another.1 And if we cannot arrive at absolute cer¬
tainty concerning this important truth by the light of na¬
ture, we ought to be the more thankful for that revela¬
tion, which has put the unity of God beyond dispute to all
who believe the holy Scriptures.
The being which is self-existent and independent mustGod.,
be also omnipotent. That such a being has active power potent
in some degree, is shown at the same time and by the
same medium that we prove his existence; and since he
depends upon no cause for his existence or his power, he
cannot depend upon any for the exertion of that power,
and consequently no limits can be applied to it. Limita¬
tion is an effect of some superior cause, which in the pre¬
sent instance there cannot be; consequently, to suppose
limits where there can be no limiter, is to suppose an ef¬
fect without a cause. For a being to be limited or defi¬
cient in any respect,2 is to be dependent in that respect
on some other being which gave it just so much and no
more ; consequently that being which in no respect de¬
pends upon any other is in no respect limited or deficient.
In all beings capable of increase or diminution, and con¬
sequently incapable of perfection or absolute infinity, li¬
mitation or defect is indeed a necessary consequence of
existence, and is only a negation of that perfection which
is wholly incompatible with their nature; and therefore
in these beings it requires no further cause. But in a
being naturally capable of perfection or absolute infinity,
all imperfection or finiteness, as it cannot flow from the
nature of that being, appears to require some ground
or reason ; which reason, as it is foreign to the being it¬
self, must be the effect of some other external cause, and
consequently cannot have place in the first cause. That
the self-existent being is capable of perfection or absolute
infinity must be granted, because he is manifestly the sub¬
ject of one infinite or perfect attribute, namely eternity,
or absolute invariable existence. In this respect his ex¬
istence has been shown to be perfect, and therefore it may
be perfect in every other respect also. Now that which is
the subject of one finite attribute or perfection, must have
all its attributes infinitely or in perfection ; since to have
any perfections in a finite limited manner, when the sub¬
ject and these perfections are both capable of strict infi¬
nity, would be the absurdity before mentioned of positive
limitation without a cause. To suppose this eternal and
independent being limited in or by its own nature, is to sup¬
pose some antecedent nature or limiting quality superior
to that being, to the existence of which no thing, no qua¬
lity, is in any respect antecedent or superior. And to
suppose that there is no such thing as active power in a
Li
!L
::
ply
s!
1 John Gerhard and John Vossius both cite Gabriel Biel as acknowledging the unity of God to be incapable of rigid demonstra¬
tion ; and with the sentiments of that schoolman those two learned divines profess that their own agree.
Sed Biel (1 Sant. Dist. 2 Q. 10, art. 3) statuit “ quod tantum unum esse Deum, sit creditum et non demonstratum ratione natu-
rali nobis in via possibili.” Id nos ita interpretamur; etiamsi ex naturae libro rationes non contemnendce pro unitate divinae essen-
tiae asserenda erui possint, eas tamen ad fidei cordibus nostris ingenerandum, non satis efficaces esse. Ergo mens prius
confirmanda est ex verbo Dei, et illustribus testimoniis in quibus se Deus generi humano patefecit: Postea utiliter potest addi con-
sideratio philosophicarum demonstrationum. (Gerhard. Loc. Comm. tom. i. p. 106.)
Dissentit Gabriel Biel, qui ante annos hosce 140 Tubingensi Gymnasio prsefuit. Is censet probabiles magis rationes esse quam
evidentes et certas. Verum esto sane, ut solae non sint u.xi3ux7ix.a.i: At magnum iis pondus addit traditio vetus; turn autem quod
argumenta isthaec, si non prorsus u.’rooux.rtxa., saltern usque adeo probabilia sint, ut tv; *o\v(kiat patroni nihil uilius momenti adferre
valeant; cur plusquam unum statuere deum potius conveniat. (Voss. De Sdolatria, lib. i. c. ii.)
2 Notes to King on Evil.
I i
i s per
i
Wlr
sirif
iBeii
jinniji-
t'iice 11
eves
Of p being which is evidently the fountain of all power, is the
jnd grossest of all absurdities. The same method of reason
METAPHYSICS.
697
ictioii
' , O   ——W XXil-HUVA ui I UilSUIl*
■ittn'kes |0g win prove that knowledge and every other perfection is
,infinite in the Deity, when once we have proved that per¬
fection to belong to him at all; at least it will show, that
to suppose it limited is unreasonable, since we can find no
manner of ground for limitation in any respect; and this
is as far as we require to go, or perhaps as natural reason
will lead us.
Of the omnipotence of the Supreme Being, some phi¬
losophers, as well theists as atheists, have talked very ab-
surdly. Hobbes,1 with a view to make this attribute ap-
lfh«h DesPear.impossibie and ridiculous, affirms “ that God by his
lot limy omnipotence or infinite power could turn a tree into a
conti; syllogism.” And Descartes,2 though certainly no atheist,
childishly asserts, that all things whatever, even abstract
truth and falsehood, do so depend upon the arbitrary will
and power of God, as that if he had pleased, “ twice two
should not have been four, nor the three angles of a plane
triangle equal to two right ones.” But the true motion of
Omnipotence, so far from implying a power to turn a tree
into a syllogism, or to make twice two not equal to four,
implies only that the Being possessed of it can actually
perform whatever can be conceived by the most perfect
understanding, conception in this case being the measure
of possibility. Now every thing may be conceived by a
mind sufficiently enlarged, which does not involve in it a
direct contradiction ; but what we clearly discern to im¬
ply a contradiction, such as that a thing may be and not
be at the same instant, cannot be conceived by any intel¬
lect, or made to exist by any power. And thus has this
attribute%of the Deity been always stated, not only by the
wiser Christians, but also by most of the ancient philoso¬
phers, who expressly admit that “ nothing is exempted from
the divine power, but only to make that which has been
done to be undone.”
And here it may be asked, whether creation, in the pro-
Mibko per sense of the word, be within the compass of infinite
nil" power. All the ancient philosophers, who wrere unenlight¬
ened by the rays of divine revelation, held that it is not ;3
grounding their opinion on the well-known maxim, £x ni-
hilo nihil Jit. But this maxim will support no such conclu¬
sion. Ihe ancients, or at least the Peripatetic school, with
the metaphysics of which we are bestacquainted, considered
four kinds of causes, the efficient, the material, the formal,
and the final; and though they extended the maxim to the
first two, if not to all these causes, it is a self-evident truth
only when applied to the efficient cause. Without the ac¬
tual exertion of power, it is indeed most certain that nothing
could have been brought into existence; but it is so far from
being clear that pre-existent matter, or, as Aristotle chose
to express himself, a material cause, must be supposed for
infinite power to operate upon, that we think every man
inay discover complete evidence of the contrary in himself.
That sensation, intelligence, consciousness, and volition,
are not the result of any modifications of figure and mo¬
tion, is a truth as evident as that consciousness is not
swift, nor volition square. If, then, these be the powers or
properties of a being distinct from matter, which we think
capable of the most complete proof, every man who does not
believe that his mind has existed and been conscious from
eternity, must be convinced that the power of creation has
been exerted in himself. If it be denied that there is any
immaterial substance in man, still it must be confessed,
that, as matter is not essentially conscious, and cannot be
made so by any particular organization, there is some real
mg or entity, call it what you please, which has either
vatic:!
existed and been conscious from eternity, or which has been of the
in time brought from nonentity into existence by an exer-Being and
tion of infinite power. Attributes
lo tins perhaps some one may object, that upon our own of God-
supposition of the inability of the human mind to exert its^7,^^^,^
faculties except in union with some material and organized ^/LdeCtl°jn
system, the mind of every man may have existed from‘“’5',ered-
eternity without being conscious of its own existence; and
that, therefore, we have in ourselves no evidence of crea-
tion, but only of the union of two self-existent substances
which, in their prior state, had been distinct and separate
from each other. But such an objection as this which we
have now stated can arise from nothing but misapprehension
of our hypothesis, and of the reasons by which it has been
supported. We suppose, that to the exertion of the hu¬
man faculties, a body of some kind or other may be neces-
sary as an instrument, not merely from what we observe
o the dependence of perception and memory upon the state
of the brain, but because we cannot conceive a Creator of
infinite wisdom and goodness to immerse in systems of
matter, minds to which he knows that such systems must
always be useless, and often hurtful. We believe, there-
fore, that our souls and bodies were created and formed for
each other; but as our present adversaries admit not of a
Creator, we must ask them, How their self-existent souls
liave been disposed of from eternity, and by what power they
have all in due succession been united each to its proper
body 7 As before the union they were not conscious, they
comd not unite themselves; and to suppose them united
by some superior intelligence, is to suppose them in some
respects dependent upon that intelligence, which seems not
to accord with their self-existence. Whatever is =elf-ex-
istent and eternal must be independent; and if possessed
of any power, it cannot be conceived to have that power li-
mited. We repeat, therefore, that every man has in him¬
self sufficient evidence that creation is possible ; for if in¬
finite power can create an immaterial and percipient being,
it may surely be supposed capable of creating dead and un¬
intelligent matter.
But the creation of the material system may be shown The crea-
to be in the highest degree probable by other arguments, tion of the
I fie same reasoning which proves the impossibility of anIna,;erial
infinite series and of eternal time, proves that the universe s-vstem
cannot have existed from eternity in its present state. Butprobable*
if it has not existed from eternity in its present state, it
belongs to the opponents of creation to say what was’its
foi mei state. W e talk indeed of chaos ; but such language,
when a Creator is not admitted, is most unphilosophical
trifling. It appears from the most accurate inquiries which
have been made into the substance and essence of body,4
that the atoms of which each mass is composed are held
together by a foreign force. If by chaos be meant matter,
when this force is supposed to be removed, we must beg
leave to say, that of such a substance we have neither idea
nor notion, and cannot distinguish it from nonentity. The
oiiginal atoms of matter we believe indeed to require no
other agency to keep each entire than that fiat by which
it was cieated; but still, as those atoms are conceived to
be solid and extended, they must be capable of division by
infinite power; and if that fiat or influence which makes
them solid and extended were removed, they would lose
solidity and extension, and of course become nothin«■. So
far is it, therefore, from being true, that the creatTon of
matter appeals to be impossible, that we are compelled by
every thing which we know of it to believe that matter can¬
not possibly be self-existent.
‘Because it is undeniably certain, concerning ourselves,”
VOL. xiv.
Leviathan chap in. ’ Respond ad Objectionem Sextam, sect. C.
bee Moshenn s Dissertation on this Subject, in his Edition ofCudworth's Intellectual System
Baxter s Inquiry into the Nature of the Human Soul.
4 T
698
METAPHYSICS.
Of the says Cudworth,1 “and all imperfect beings, that none of
Being and these can create any new substance, men are apt to mea-
Attributes sure ap things by their own scantling, and to suppose it
v 0 0 " universally impossible for any power whatever thus to ere-
Observa- ate* ®ut s^nce ^ certain, that imperfect beings can
tions of themselves produce some things out of nothing pre-exist-
Cudworth. ing, as new cogitations, new local motion, and new modi¬
fications of things corporeal, it is surely reasonable to think
that an absolutely perfect being can do something more, that
is, create new substances, or give them their whole being.
And it may well be thought as easy for God, or an Omni¬
potent Being, to make a whole world, matter and all, oux
dncijv, as it is for us to create a thought or to move a finger,
or for the sun to send out rays or a candle light; or, lastly,
for an opaque body to produce an image of itself in a glass
or water, or to project a shadow; all these imperfect things
being but the energies, rays, images, or shadows of the
Deity. For a substance to be made out of nothing by God,
or a Being infinitely perfect, is not for it to be made out
of nothing in the impossible sense, because it comes from
Him who is all. Nor can it be said to be impossible for
any thing whatever to be made by that which hath not only
infinitely greater perfection, but also infinite active power.
It is indeed true, that infinite power itself cannot do things
in their own nature impossible ; and, therefore, those who
deny creation, ought to prove, that it is absolutely impossible
for a substance, though not for an accident or modification,
to be brought from non-existence into being. But no¬
thing is in itself impossible which does not imply contra¬
diction ; and though it be a contradiction to be and not to
be at the same time, there is surely no contradiction in
conceiving an imperfect being, which before was not, after¬
wards to be.” To call in question the possibility of crea¬
tion, because we have no adequate conception how a thing
can be brought into existence, would be in the highest de¬
gree absurd; for it may be doubted whether wTe have ade¬
quate conceptions of any thing excepting our owrn ideas and
their various relations.
God a free That Being which is self-existent, omnipotent, and omni¬
agent, but scient, is not a necessary, but a free agent; for active power
unchange- implies freedom, and infinite power infinite freedom. What,
therefore, has no bounds set to its power, what can have
no opposition made to its will, nor restraint laid on its ac¬
tions, must both will and act freely. If the Supreme
Cause wrere not a being endowed with liberty and choice,
but a mere necessary agent, then would it follow, as Dr
Clarke wTell observes,2 that nothing which is not could
possibly have been ; and that nothing which is could pos¬
sibly not have been; and that no mode or circumstance
of the existence of any thing could possibly have been in
any respect otherwise than it now actually is : all which
being evidently most false and absurd, it follows, on the
contrary, that the Supreme Cause is not a mere necessary
agent, but a Being endued with liberty and choice.
To this reasoning it has been replied,3 that Dr Clarke
“ must have known, that all those who contend against the
free agency of the Deity, do of course acknowledge, that
nothing could have happened, or does happen, or will happen,
but what actually has happened, or doth happen, or will
happen ; and that it is most false and absurd to deny it.”
It is, therefore, according to the necessarians, absolutely im¬
possible that at present there could exist upon this earth
more or fewer persons than are now actually'alive; that
the earth could move in any other direction than from west
to east, or that there could be more or fewer planets in the
solar system. Yet it is most certain that there have been
fewer persons on the earth than there are now; that there is
not a cultivated country in Europe which could not con- Qfthe
tain more popple than now inhabit it; that the comets Beings
move in very different directions from that of west to east;Attributes
and that as, until lately, we conceived there were only six ^God,
primary planets in the system, it is evidently possible that'^Y^'i
the system might contain more. Upon the supposition,
therefore, that the Supreme Being acts under a physical
necessity, the same things are possible and not possible at
the same time, which is the grossest of all absurdities. It
might have been objected with much more plausibility,
that the First Cause cannot possibly be free, because he
must needs do always what is best on the whole; but it
will be seen by and by, that amongst different created sys¬
tems, there is no reason for supposing any one absolutely
best.
if
of tn
of
to
let
for
But although this Being be free, and as such the author
of change in other beings, yet he must himself be unchange¬
able ; for all changes have a beginning, and consequently
are effects of some prior causes. But there can be nothing
prior to the existence of this Being, because he is eternal;
neither can there be any cause of his existence, because
he is independent; nor consequently any change in it, ex¬
cept we could suppose him to change himself, which is the
same absurdity as to produce himself, or to be at the same
time both effect and cause.
Omniscience, as well as some of the foregoing attributesOmnisci.
of the Supreme Being, may perhaps be more easily dedu-eixe,fc
ced in a different manner.4 We find in ourselves such qua-Pr®Te('10
lities as thought and intelligence, power and freedom, &c.a laereE!
for which wre have the evidence of consciousness as much as
for our own existence. Indeed it is only by our conscious¬
ness of these that our existence is made known' to our¬
selves. We know likewise that these are perfections, and
that to have them is better than to be without them. We
find also that they have not been in us from eternity. They
must, therefore, have had a beginning, and consequently
some cause, for the very same reason that a being which
begins to exist in time requires a cause. Now this cause,
as it must be superior to its effect, must have those perfec¬
tions in a superior degree; and if it be the first cause, it
must have them in an infinite or unlimited degree, since
bounds or limitation without a limiter would, as we have
already shown, be an effect without a cause.
It is indeed obvious that the omniscience of the Supreme
Being is implied in his very existence. “ For all things
being not only present to him, but also entirely depending
upon him, and having received both their being itself and
all their powers and faculties from him, it is manifest that
as he knows all things that are, and penetrates every part
of their substance with his all-seeing eye, so must he like¬
wise know all possibilities of things, that is, all effects that
can be. For, being alone self-existent, and having alone
given to all things all the powers and faculties with which
they are endued, it is evident that he must of necessity
know perfectly what all and each of these powers and fa¬
culties, which are derived wholly from himself, can possibly
produce. And seeing at one boundless view, or more pro¬
perly in his own ideas, all the possible compositions and di¬
visions, variations and changes, circumstances and depen¬
dencies of things, all their possible relations one to an¬
other, and their dispositions or fitnesses to certain and re¬
spective ends, he must without possibility of error know ex¬
actly what is best and most proper in every one of the num¬
berless possible cases, or methods of disposing things, and
understand perfectly how to order and direct the respective
means to bring about what he so knows to be in its kind,
or upon the whole, the best and fittest in the end. This is
sarj
ht
liier
ing
fora
man
inti
tEe
tiora
stan
tion,
lara
actic
neve
fores
have
that
with;
and
of e'
sity.’
that
now
gene
foreh
it is:
gene
man
yeto
and;
probi
tion
stanc
may]
it is’
encin
chain
offu
ange!
: great
foresi
neith
thing
2 dot
ceive
free;
berty
hew
woul(
show:
being
Intellectual System, book i. chap. v.
Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of God.
3 Cooper’s Tracts.
4 Notes to King on Evil.
OftU what is meant by infinite wisdom, or omniscience •”1 and
Sibils i1 Vs been readil7 Emitted by every man who believed
, Go. ‘V16 existence of a God’ as the creator and preserver of
all things.
Doubts, however, have been entertained by theists and
cnts.
METAPHYSICS.
699
ow'sBe pious theists, whether omniscience itself can certainly fore-
Itioftif know what are called contingent events, such as the actions
°* /re^ affeats ’ and some few there are professing even
to be Christians, who have boldly pronounced such know¬
ledge to be impossible. That we have no adequate notion
how events which are called contingent can be certainly
foreknown, must indeed be granted ; but we are not, there¬
fore, authorized to say that such knowledge is impossible,
unless it can be clearly shown to imply a contradiction!
ihey who suppose that it implies a contradiction, must
likewise suppose, that, where there is not a chain of neces¬
sary causes, there can be no certainty of any future event*
but this is evidently a mistake. “ For let us suppose that
there is in man a power of beginning motion, and of act¬
ing with what has been of late called philosophical free¬
dom ; and let us suppose farther that the actions of such a
man cannot possibly be foreknown; will there not yet be
in the nature of things, notwithstanding this supposition,
the same certainty of event in every one of the man’s ac!
tions, as if they were ever so fatal and necessary ? For in¬
stance, suppose the man, by an internal principle of mo¬
tion, and an absolute freedom of mind, to do some particu¬
lar action to-day, and suppose it was not possible that this
action should have been foreseen yesterday, was there not
nevertheless the same certainty of event as if it had been
foreseen, and absolutely necessary ? That is, would it not
have been as certain a truth yesterday, and from eternity,
that this action was in event to be performed to-day, not¬
withstanding the supposed freedom, as it is now a certain
and infallible truth that it is performed ? Mere certainty
°f event, therefore, does not in any measure imply neces¬
sity.”2 And surely it implies no contradiction to suppose,
that every future event which in the nature of things is
now certain, may now be certainly known by that intelli¬
gence which is omniscient. The manner how God can
foreknow future events, without a chain of necessary causes,
it is indeed impossible for us to explain ; yet some sort of
general notion of it may be conceived by us. “ For, as a
man who has no influence over another person’s actions, can
yet often perceive beforehand what that other will do ;
and a wiser and more experienced man, with still greater
probability, will foresee what another, with whose disposi¬
tion he is perfectly acquainted, will in certain circum¬
stances do ; and an angel, with still less degrees of error,
may have a further prospect into men’s future actions ; so
it is very reasonable to conceive that God, without influ¬
encing men’s wills by his power, or subjecting them to a
chain of necessary causes, cannot but have a knowledge
of future free events, as much more certain than men or
angels can possibly have, as the perfection of his nature is
greater than that ol theirs. ’Ihe distinct manner how he
foresees these things we cannot, indeed, explain ; but
'neither can we explain the manner of numberless other
things, of the reality of which, however, no man entertains
a doubt.”2 We must therefore admit, as long as we per¬
ceive no contradiction in it, that God always knows all the
free actions of men, and all other beings endued with li¬
berty, otherwise he would know many things now of which
he was once ignorant, and consequently his omniscience
would receive addition from events, which has been already
shown to be contrary to the true notion of infinity. In a
being incapable of change, knowledge has nothing what¬
ever to do with before or after. To every purpose of know- Of the
eege ant powei, all things are to him equally present. Being and
He knows perfectly every thing that is; and what to UsAttributes
is future he knows in the very same manner as he knows vof'GoJ*
what to us is present.
We have thus demonstrated the necessary existence of God infi.
a being who is eternal, independent, unchangeable, omni-n5tely per-
potent, free in his actions, and omniscient; and this is thefect’ alt-
bemg whom we worship as God. Eternity, independence su?cient’
immutability omnipotence, liberty, and omniscience, which preseT'
seem to be all the natural attributes which we can discover
in the divine nature, as they are conceived to be different¬
ly combined, make us speak of him in different terms. Plis
enjoying in an absolute manner every conceivable power
of perception, makes us call him a Being infinitely perfect.
His being capable of no want, no defect, no unhappiness of
any kind, denotes him to be all-sufficient in himself; and
the unlimited exercise of his knowledge and his power de¬
monstrates him to be omnipresent. That such a Bein«-
must be incomprehensible by us, and by every creature, is
a truth self-evident; and yet in all ages men of the best
intentions have been vainly attempting this impossibility.
I he manner of his omniscience, for instance, has been the
subject of much disputation amongst those who ought to
have reflected that they do not know how their own minds
are present to their own bodies. The celebrated Dr Clarke
and his adherents, who considered space as the sme qua
non of all other things, insisted that God must be infinitely
extended; and that, as wherever his substance is, there
ns attributes must be, it is thus that his knowledge and
ins power are present with every creature. But this no¬
tion labours under insuperable difficulties.
,1,l 0r’ -n 1 tlle, divil’e be infinitely extended, The man
then wdl there be part of ,t in this place and part in that! net „nim
t must be commensurate with all particular beings, so that divine om-
some will occupy more and some less of its dimensions niPresence
By tins account it will be very proper and philosophical tojncom,Pre*
saT> 1 lat God 13 n°t in heaven, but only a part of him .hensible*
and that an elephant or a mountain, a whale or a wicked
giant, have more of the essence or presence of God with
them, than the holiest or best man in the world, unless he
be of equal size ; all which, as has been well observed,4 are
at least harsh and grating expressions. As the attributes
of the Divine Being must be considered in the same man¬
ner with his substance, we shall likewise, upon this notion
of omnipresence, have a part of his knowledge and power
in this place, and a part of them in that; and of these parts
the one must be greater or less than the other, according
to the dimensions of the place with which it is commen-
surate ; winch is a supposition that appears to us harsher,
ir possible, than even the former.
Should it be said that the divine attributes are not to
be considered as having parts (though we see not how
they can be considered otherwise than as their subject)
they must then exist completely in every point of this
immense expansion. Be it so ; and what follows ? Whv
every point of this infinitely expanded being will be om-
mscient and omnipotent by itself; an inch of it will have
as much wisdom and power as a yard, a mile, or the whole •
and, instead of one infinite wisdom and power, we shall
have millions. For as these parts of the substance are
conceived distinctly, and one individual part is not an¬
other, so must the attributes be likewise conceived, and
the individual power and knowledge of one part be dis¬
tinct from that of another.” And if so, then it follows that
one point of tins expanded being has equal power and in¬
telligence with the whole; so that the notion of extension
1 Clarke's Demonstration, &c. a ibid.
4 W att’s Essays; and Law's Inquiries into the Ideas of Space, Time, Immensity, &c.
Ibid.
METAPHYSICS.
700
Of the being necessary to God’s presence with every creature,
Being and involves in it the most palpable contradiction. That God
Attributes js at au times and in all places so present with every crea-
v God. ^ j.ure ag ^ }iave an ai)SOlute knowledge of and power over
it, is indeed capable of the strictest demonstration ; but we
think it great presumption to assign the particular mode
of his presence, especially such an one as is neither agree¬
able to the nature of an absolutely perfect Being, nor in
the least necessary to the exercise of any one perfection
which he can be proved to possess. Philosophers and di¬
vines have offered several names for the manner in which
God is present with his works ; but we choose rather to
confess that the manner of his presence is to us, and proba¬
bly to every creature, wholly incomprehensible. Nor need
we be surprised or staggered at this, when we reflect that
the manner in which our own minds are present with our
bodies is to us as incomprehensible as the manner in which
the Supreme Mind is present with every thing in the uni¬
verse. That our minds’have a power over our limbs, we
know by experience; but that they are not extended nor
substantially diffused through them, is certain, because men
daily lose arms and legs, without losing any part of their
understanding, or feeling their energies of volition in the
smallest degree weakened. But we need not pursue this
subject farther. It has been confessed by one of the most
strenuous advocates1 for the extension of the Deity and all
minds, that “ there is an incomprehensibleness in the man¬
ner of every thing, about which no controversy can or ought
to be concerned.”
God’s mo- The moral attributes of God may be deduced from his
ral attri- natural perfections, and are immediate consequences of them
butes re- Vvhen exercised on other beings. They may be termed
natural his secondary relative attributes, as they seem to be the
perfections perfection of his external acts rather than any new inter-
1" nal perfections. And though the existence of any moral
quality or action is not capable of strict demonstration, De¬
cause every moral action or quality, as such, depends upon
the will of the agent, which must be absolutely free; yet
we have as great, assurance that there are moral qualities
in God, and that he will always act according to these quali¬
ties, as the nature of the thing admits, and may be as well
satisfied respecting it, as if it were capable of the most rigid
demonstration. This important point, however, cannot be
so clearly or so firmly established by abstract reasoning as
by taking a scientific view of the works of creation, which
evince the goodness, holiness, and justice of their Author,
as well as his perfect wisdom and infinite power. The
consideration, therefore, of the moral attributes of God,
together with his providence and the duties thence incum¬
bent on man, is the proper business of other articles.
How they At present we shall only observe, that by reasoning a
ought to ^priori from his existence and his natural perfections, we
conceived. miist necessarily infer that his actions are all the result of
unmixed benevolence. Every wise agent has some end in
view in all his actions, it being the very essence of folly to
act for no end; but there cannot be an end of action which
is not either selfish or benevolent. Selfishness is the off¬
spring of want and imperfection, and is therefore the source
of most human actions ; because men are weak and imper¬
fect beings, capable of daily additions to their happiness.
When the thief plunders a house at midnight, when the
highwayman robs a traveller on the road, and even when
the assassin murders the man who never injured him, it
will be found that their actions spring not from an innate
desire to inflict misery upon others, but from a prospect of
reaping some advantage to themselves. The object of the
thief and the robber is obvious; it is to gain money, which
is the means of procuring the comforts of life. Even the as- Of l
sassin has always the same selfish end in view ; either he is Sc-irg anc!
bribed to commit the murder, or he fancies that his horrid Attribute!5
deed will remove an obstacle from the way to his own hap- v^ ^
piness. But they are not vicious men only who act from sel-
fish considerations ; for much of human virtue, when traced
to its source, will be found to have its origin in the desire
of happiness. When a man gives his money to feed the
hungry and to clothe the naked, he believes that he is
acting agreeably to the will of Him to whom he and the
poor stand in the same relation, and he looks for a future
and eternal reward. By continuing the practice, he soon
acquires the habit of benevolence; after which, indeed, he
looks for no further reward, when performing particular
actions, than the immediate pleasure of doing good. This
selfishness of man is the necessary consequence of his pro¬
gressive state. But the Being who is independent, omni¬
potent, omniscient, and, in a word, possessed of every pos¬
sible perfection, is incapable of progression, or of having
any accession whatever made to his happiness. He is im¬
mutable, and must of necessity have been as happy from
eternity, when existing alone, as after the creation of ten
thousand worlds. When, therefore, he Mulled the exist¬
ence of other beings, he could have nothing in view but to
communicate some resemblance of his own perfections and
happiness. That he had some end in view, follows unde¬
niably from his infinite wisdom. That he could not have
a selfish end, follows with equal certainty from his own
infinite perfection; and as there is no medium, in the ac¬
tions of a wise Being, between selfishness and benevolence,
we must necessarily conclude that the creation was the
result of unmixed benevolence or perfect goodness. The
other moral attributes of the Deity, his justice, mercy, and
truth, ought therefore only to be considered as so many
different views of the same goodness in the Creator, and
various sources of happiness to the creature. These are
always subordinate to and regulated by this one principal
perfection and brightest ray of the Divinity.
“ Thus we conceive his justice to be exerted on any be¬
ing no farther than his goodness necessarily requires, in
order to make that being, or others, sensible of the heinous
nature and pernicious effects of sin,2 and thereby to bring
them to as great a degree of happiness as their several na¬
tures are capable of. His holiness hates and abhors all
wickedness, only as its necessary consequences are abso¬
lute and unavoidable misery; and his veracity or faith¬
fulness seems to be concerned for truth, only because it is
connected with and productive of the happiness of all ra¬
tional beings; to provide the properest means for attain¬
ing which great end, is the exercise of his wisdom.” Such
is the view of God’s moral attributes, which the abstract con¬
templation of his natural perfections necessarily suggests;
and whether this way of conceiving them be not attended
with less difficulty than the common manner of treating
them under the notion of two infinites diametrically oppo¬
site, must be left to the judgment of the reader.
But if the Creator and supreme Governor of all things The origffi
be a Being of infinite power, perfect wisdom, and pure be-oiev'
nevolence, how came evil into the works of creation ? This
is a question which has employed the speculative mind from
the first dawning of philosophy, and which will continue to
employ it until our faculties be enlarged in a future state,
when philosophy shall give place to more perfect know¬
ledge. To these meditations, as has been well observed,
humanity is not equal. Y olumes have been written on the
subject; but we believe that the following extract from
Dr Clarke contains all that can be advanced with cer-
1 Mr Jackson’s Existence and Unity, &c. p. 110. ^ Notes to King on Evil.
3 Johnson’s lie view of a free Inquiry into the Origin of Evil.
Utrib:
;)f G'i-
METAPHYSICS.
Of c tainty, and all that is necessary to vindicate the ways of
leing:“l God to man.
ies “All that we call evil,” says that able reasoner,1 “is ei¬
ther an evil of imperfection, as the want of certain facul¬
ties and excellencies which other creatures have; or na¬
tural evil, as pain, death, and the like; or moral evil, as
all kinds of vice. The first of these is not properly an evil;
for every power, faculty, or perfection, which any creature
enjoys, being the free gift of God, which he was no more
obliged to bestow than he was to confer being or exist¬
ence itself, it is plain, that the want of any certain faculty
or perfection in any kind of creatures, wdiich never belong¬
ed to their nature, is no more an evil to them, than their
never having been created or brought into being at all
could properly be called an evil.” To this we may add,
that as no created being can be self-existent and indepen¬
dent, imperfection is unavoidable in the creation, so that
the evil of defect (as it is most absurdly called) must have
been admitted, or nothing could ever have existed but
God. “ The second kind of evil, which we call natural
evil, is either a necessary consequence of the former, as
death to a creature on w'hose nature immortality was never
conferred ; and then it is no more properly an evil than the
former: or else it is counterpoised in the whole with as
great or greater good, as the afflictions and sufferings of
good men; and then also it is properly no evil: or else
it is a punishment; and then it is a necessary consequence
of the third and last sort of evil, viz. moral evil. And this
arises wholly from the abuse of liberty, which God gave to
his creatures for other purposes, and which it was reason¬
able and fit to give them for the perfection and order of
the whole creation ; only they, contrary to God’s intention
and command, have abused what was necessary for the
perfection of the whole, to the corruption and depravation
of themselves. And thus have all sorts of evils entered
into the world, without any diminution to the infinite good¬
ness of its Creator and Governor.”
But though evil could not be totally excluded from the
Til t Un*VerSe> are we not authorized to infer, from the infinite
e t power, wisdom, and goodness of the Creator, that the pre¬
sent system is upon the whole the very best system possi¬
ble ? Undoubtedly we are, if of possible systems there
can be a best; but this is so far from being evident, that
we think it implies a contradiction. A best of beings there
is, viz. God, who is possessed of infinite perfections; but
there cannot be a best of creatures or of created systems,
fo prove this, we need only reflect, that wdierever crea¬
tion stops, it must stop infinitely short of infinity; and that
how perfect soever we conceive any creature or system of
creatures to be, yet the distance between that and God is
not lessened, but continues infinite. Hence it follows that
the nature of God and his omnipotence is such, that what¬
ever number of creatures he has made, he may still add
to that number; and that however good or perfect the
system may be on the whole, he might still make others
equally good and perfect.
Ihe dispute, whether a being of infinite power, wdsdom,
and benevolence, must be supposed to have created the
best possible system, and the embarrassment of men’s un¬
derstandings about it, seem to have arisen from their tak¬
ing the words, (?oor/, batter, and best, for absolute qualities
inherent in the nature of things, wdiereas in truth they
are only relations arising from certain appetites. They
have indeed a foundation, as all relations have, in some-
thing that is absolute, and denote the thing in which they
701
B'heth
stem i
ssiblei
are founded; but yet they themselves imply nothing more Of the
than a relation of congruity between some appetite and Being and
its objects. This is evident; because the same object,Attributes
when applied to an appetite to which it has a congruity,
is good; and when applied to an appetite to which it has
no congruity, is bad. Thus, the earth and air to terrestrial that nues-
ammals are good elements, and necessary to their preser-tion.
vation; to those animals the wTater is bad, though it yet
affoi ds the best receptacle to fishes. Good, therefore, be¬
ing relative to appetite, that must be reckoned the best
creature by us which has the strongest appetites, and the
surest means of satisfying them all, and securing its own
permanent happiness. And though the substance of crea¬
tures is chiefly to be regarded as contributing to their per¬
fection, yet we have no way of measuring the perfection
of different substances, except by their qualities, that is,
by their appetites, by which they are sensible of good and
evil, and by their powers to procure those objects from
which they receive that sense of things which makes them
happy.
. ^ therefore, that whatever system we suppose No system
m nature, God might have made another equal to it; hisabs°hitely
infinite wisdom and power being able to make other crea-best-
tures equal in every respect to any that we know or can
conceive, and to give them equal or even stronger appetites,
and as certain or more certain ways of satisfying them.
We see^ in many cases, that very different means will ac¬
complish the same end. A certain number of regular pyra¬
mids will fill a space; and yet irregular ones will do it as
well, if what we take from the one be added to another;
and the same thing may be done by bodies of the most ‘
irregular and different figures in the same manner; and
therefore we may very well conceive, that the answering
of appetites, which is all the natural good that is in the
world, may as wrell be obtained in another system as in
this; provided we suppose, that where the appetites of the
sentient beings are changed, the objects are also suited to
them, and an equal congruity amongst the parts of the
whole introduced. This is so easily conceived, that, in an
indefinite number of possible worlds, we do not see why
it may not be done in numberless ways by infinite power
and wisdom.
If, then, it be plain that there might have been many God not
other worlds, or even but one, equal to this in all respects necessitat-
as to goodness, there could be no necessity, either physi-ed t0 cre-
cal or moral, that God should create the one rather than3*'6 *"*ie
the other, because nothing could make the one better, or topr6fent m
him more agreeable, than the other, except his own free mother ^
choice. Either, therefore, God must be possessed of abso-worlds.
Jute freedom, or, amongst a number of possibilities equally
perfect, he could not have made a choice, and so nothing
would ever have been created. It is not, then, as Leib¬
nitz and others argue, the natural and necessary goodness
of some particular things, represented by the divine ideas,
which determines God to prefer them to all others, if un¬
derstood of his first act of producing them; but it is his own
free choice, which, amongst many equal potential goods,
makes some things actually good, and determines them into
existence. When those are once supposed to exist, every
thing or action becomes good which tends to their happi¬
ness and preservation ; and to suppose that their all-perfect
Author had any other end in view than their preservation
and happiness, is the same absurdity as to suppose that
knowledge may produce ignorance ; power, weakness ; or
wisdom, folly. (H. H. H. h.)
Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of God.
702
METASTASIO.
JMetasta- METASTASIO, Pietho BuonaVentura, one of the
s'°' great masters of modern Italian poetry, was born at Rome
y—w' °n the 3d of January 1698. Though the son of a poor ar¬
tisan named Trapassi, he had nevertheless for his god¬
father the Cardinal Pietro Ottoboni, who gave to the infant
his own Christian name. The young Trapassi had scarcely
attained the age of ten, when his poetical talent displayed
itself by his surprising improvisations. One day when a
crowd of persons had assembled around him in the Campus
Martius, the celebrated jurisconsult Gravina appi’oacbed, and
having listened to his performance, bestowed on it some just
commendations; after which he offered the boy a piece of
money, which the latter nobly refused. Gravina, not less de¬
lighted with his spirit than charmed with his genius, went
immediately to the father of the boy, and without much diffi¬
culty persuaded him to abandon all concern about the edu¬
cation of his son, whom he undertook to instruct; and, in
point of fact, the generous jurisconsult taught him the ele¬
ments of Greek, Latin, and Italian literature. By a singular
caprice, the young man changed his name of Trapassi into
that of Metastasio, which, in Greek, has the same significa¬
tion ; and, according to the Roman usage, he prefixed to it
the title of Abbate. Gravina, though chiefly devoted to the
study of legislation, was also addicted to poetry, in the culti¬
vation of which he sought relief from graver and more labo¬
rious pursuits. Being particularly attached to the Greek
drama, he aspired to the glory of reviving it in Italy; and
he had already published five tragedies, on the ancient
model, when he became convinced that his pupil w^as much
better qualified than himself for the execution of this grand
project. At his instigation, accordingly, Metastasio, though
as yet only fourteen years of age, composed his Ghistino,
the great defect of which is too servile an imitation of the
ancients ; and at the same time, for his own satisfaction, he
amused himself in translating portions of the Iliad into Ita¬
lian verse. Nevertheless, Gravina, concerned about the for¬
tune of his pupil, wished that with the cultivation of letters
Metastasio should combine the study ofjurisprudence. To
this austere occupation the young poet sacrificed with re¬
gret the time which he was forced to take from the muses;
but Gravina died suddenly, leaving the greater part of his
property to his adopted son ; and Metastasio, though not
yet twenty years of age, thus found himself master of a con¬
siderable fortune. In an elegy entitled La Slrada della
Gloria, he bewailed the death of his benefactor, for whose
memory he cherished the most ardent and sincere regard;
but the numerous acquaintance whom his talents and for¬
tune procured him soon distracted his attention, whilst they
consumed his time; and so inconsiderately did the youth
abandon himself to this agitated life, that, at the end of two
years, he found he had made more creditors than friends,
the bequest of his patron being by this time nearlv ex¬
hausted.
In these circumstances, he took the resolution of quitting
Rome ; and, in 1721, went to establish himself at Naples,
in which city he began to devote himself entirely to the
theatre. Here a distinguished actress, called La Romanina,
contributed so much to the success of his first attempts in
the drama, that his gratitude for her exertions soon assumed
the character of attachment. Apostolo Zeno, Corneille,
and Racine, now became the objects of his continual study.
This is attested by several of his Italian biographers, parti¬
cularly by Mauro Boni, who has written with great care the
literary life of the poet; and hence it is not easy to discover
upon what authority Schlegel has alleged that Metastasio. Met
in order to preserve his originality pure, boasted of having ^
carefully avoided consulting the masterpieces of the French''—v
stage. It w’as also at Naples, and for La Romanina, that
the young poet composed his famous Didone abbandonata,
which was represented for the first time in the year 172T
The success of this production is inconceivable^ All the
great cities of Italy vied with one another in the pomp and
splendour of the representations; and the country was de¬
serted by its population, which rushed in a body to witness
the performance of the Didone. Being now in a condi¬
tion to satisfy his creditors, Metastasio lost no time in re¬
turning to Rome. In the eternal city he had no other re¬
sidence than that of La Romanina, who repeated and sung
his verses as soon as he composed them.
His reputation having now become general, the Emperor
Charles VI. in the year 1729 offered him the title of Poeta
Cesareo, or imperial laureat, with an annual allowance of
three thousand florins. In this situation he had the honour
to succeed Apostolo Zeno, who himself declared that a bet¬
ter choice could not be made. Before adopting a new coun¬
try, Metastasio did not neglect the comforts of his family,
having secured an asylum for the declining years of his
father, and made a provision for each of his sisters. To
them also he made over all his income in Italy, and he
constantly assisted with his counsel and with his means a
younger brother, who followed the profession of advocate
at Rome. At length it became necessary to quit La Ro¬
manina, and this separation cost him a severe struggle.
Having arrived at Vienna in the spring of the year 1730,
he had immediately the honour of being presented to the
emperor at the castle of Laxemburg. At the particular
request of the master of ceremonies to the apostolic nun¬
cio, Niccolo de Martinez, he took up his abode in the re¬
sidence of that functionary ; and it wms in this same house
that, some years afterwards, fortune brought together, in
two chambers situated the one above the other, two men
who have filled Europe with their renown, Metastasio and
Haydn. But the only benefits which the great musician,
then young and poor, derived from this fortuitous con¬
junction, were a knowledge of the Italian language, and
some counsels as to the best mode of attaining the truly
beautiful in art.
The Italian friends of the new imperial laureat had pre¬
dicted to him, when he quitted Rome, that the cloudy at¬
mosphere of Germany would freeze his imagination ; but
so far was this from being the case, that it never showed
itself more ardent or more prolific. Indeed, one cannot
help, even now, feeling some surprise in running over the
list of the various works which he composed during the first
years of his residence at Vienna, and amongst which may
be found several of those that have contributed most to ex¬
tend his reputation. Such are the Giuseppe Riconosciuto,
the Demofonte, and also the Olimpiade, which all Italy
agreed to surname the divine. A severe affliction, however,
served to temper the exultation of success. His faithful
friend La Romanina, the ministering angel of his genius,
had sunk into a premature grave. But even in this sorrow¬
ful occurrence he found an occasion for exemplifying the
innate excellence of his character. That celebrated can-
tatrice had, by her will, left him a legacy of twenty-five
thousand Roman crowns, a bequest which he generously
renounced in favour of poor Bulgurelli, the almost forgot¬
ten husband of La Romanina.1
1 “ \V hether Metastasio’s connexion with the Romanina was purely platonic,” says Dr Burney, “ or of a less seraphic kind, I
shall not pretend to determine ; but the husband residing in the same house with them,'both at Naples and at Rome, and the friendly
manner m which the poet always mentioned him in his letters to the wife, with the open manner in which he expressed his affliction
to him after her death, would, in England, be thought indications favourable to conjugal fidelity.” We do not know why they should
not be thought so in Italy as well as in England. “ But a chaste actress and opera singer,” he adds, “ is a still more uncommon phe¬
nomenon in Italy than in Britain.” The truth of this alleged fact may, howevei, be doubted ; and, at all events, we have not met
with a vestige of evidence to justify the insinuation which it is here employed to convey.
«
metastasio.
Meta'i
sio;
Metastasio was engaged upon a new piece, Attilio Kegolo,
when the unexpected death of his august protector dis-
^ concerted all his hopes. The Emperor Charles VI. had
scarcely been consigned to the tomb when his inheritance
was disputed by several powers. His daughter, Maria-
Theresa, a fugitive, had no longer a court, and still less a
theatre. Metastasio, however, took no steps to employ
his talents otherwise, and even celebrated by an ingenious
production, Amor Prigionero, the birth of the prince who
afterwards became Joseph II. It was at this period that Me¬
tastasio, though not yet more than forty-three, felt the first
symptoms of that nervous malady of which he complained
until the close of his career. He soon experienced the
most acute pains, and, to aggravate his sufferings, malevo¬
lence and calumny tracked his steps. He wished to re¬
turn to Italy, but could not accomplish his purpose. Hav¬
ing no longer occasion to labour for the theatre, which was
shut in consequence of the Seven Years’ War, he amused
himself with composing a number of cantatas in honour of
the young archduchesses ; produced La Contessa de Numi,
in which, whilst celebrating the birth of the son of the
Dauphin, he contrives to pay some graceful and flattering
compliments to the French nation ; and also translated se¬
veral satires of Juvenal and Horace. In 1760, his muse
roused herself to celebrate the marriage of Joseph II. His
opera of Alcide in bivio delighted the whole court, which
fancied in this production it discovered frequent allusions
to the character of the young prince.
Being already affluent, and loaded with the honourable
marks of regard which had been bestowed upon him, Me¬
tastasio no longer stood in need of ordinary favours; but
he was nevertheless very sensible of the distinction now
conferred upon him by Maria-Theresa, who addressed to
him several notes which were written with her own hand,
and filled with expressions of kindness and good will. A
few of these flattering billets have been preserved. They
are written in trench; and in one of them this great prin¬
cess says to the poet, “ Mon ancien maitre fait la gloire de
notre siecle, et plus encore de ceux a qui il s’est voue.” By
degrees, Metastasio withdrew entirely from the world, and
discontmued publication; but he by no means abandoned
the cultivation of letters. He occupied himself with learned
analyses of the Poetics of Aristotle and of Horace ; and
embodied in notes his luminous observations on JEschjdus,
Euripides, Sophocles, and Aristophanes. One of the en¬
joyments of his old age was the publication of the magni¬
ficent edition of his works, which was printed at Paris in
1780, under the direction of the learned Pezzana. Several
celebrated pieces in that beautiful collection, particularly
the Didone, the Adriano, the Semirami.de, and the Ales-
sandro, were re-touched with extreme care by their illus¬
trious author. Fie had, in his library, more than forty
editions of his works, published at different periods in the
first cities of Italy ; but he called that of Paris the glory
and the crown of his old age.
Ihese literary distinctions were to him the suitable re¬
ward of his long-continued labours. He never aspired to
any of those dignities which form the ordinary objects of
vulgar ambition. The Emperor Charles VI. several times
wished to confer upon him the titles of baron and aulic
councillor; but he always replied that his best title was
that of poet to his imperial majesty. The empress also of¬
fered him the cross of St Stephen; but he declined the
honour, excusing himself by saying, that he had no time to
perform the duties of knighthood. When Gorilla was crown¬
ed in the Capitol, Maria-Theresa expressed a desire to see
admitted to the same honour the man who for sixty years
had delighted Europe with his harmonious verses; and
Pope Clement XIV. warmly responded to the wish of the
empress. But the poet was inflexible ; he replied that he
"as too old to ascend the Capitol. Nevertheless the most
703
celebrated writers of the age rendered him homage. Vol- Meta.ta-
taire compared certain scenes of Metastasio to the most sio.
sublime productions of Greece ; he judged them “ worthy ' ^
of Corneille when he is not a declaimer, and of Racine
when he is not feeble.” Rousseau, in his Nouvelle Heloise,
declared that Metastasio was “ the only poet of the heart,
the only genius formed to excite emotion by the charm of
poetical and musical harmony.” This great writer merit¬
ed a still higher encomium ; he never replied with the
least bitterness, even to the most unjust criticisms ; and he
was always the first to encourage talent wherever he dis¬
covered it. Entertaining a deep conviction of the truths
of religion, Metastasio observed its precepts without os¬
tentation ; and in his old age, this sincere and unaffected
piety enabled him to support his sufferings with greater
patience and resignation. In the month of February 1780,
he believed that his end was approaching, and wishing to
consecrate to God the last efforts of his poetical genius,
he tiaced with a trembling hand, but a devout heart, the
touching verses beginning, Eternogenitor, &c. His strength
i eturned, however, and he had the grief to survive his
august benefactress, who died in the month of November
the same year. He was so sincerely attached to her, that,
on several occasions, he was heard to exclaim, “ Why have
I not descended to the tomb with my excellent mistress ?’’
But a gieat consolation was reserved for him in his last
days, inasmuch as he lived to witness the arrival of Pope
Pius VI. at Vienna. Ihe sovereign pontiff honoured him
with many proofs of his esteem, and, as a last token of re¬
gard, caused the nuncio Gerampi to convey to him, upon
the day of his death, the apostolical benediction. Metas¬
tasio expired on the 2d of April 1782, having attained the
advanced age of eighty-four years and three months. He
was interred in the church of St Michael; and, notwith¬
standing the formal request expressed in his will, his ob¬
sequies were magnificent. M. de Martinez, his heir, im¬
mediately caused to be struck in memory of his illustrious
friend a medal, with this legend, Sophocli halo. Of all the
poitiaits of him extant, none is so like the original as that
of Heiner, engraved by Mansfield, except it be the bust
executed at Vienna by V innazar. Metastasio possessed an
imposing figure ; he was tall and well-proportioned; and
his dark eyes had a striking expression. Fortune, indeed,
appears to have taken a pleasure in loading him with her ■
favours. Independently of a sumptuous establishment, and
a superb library, his succession realized a capital of more
than three hundred thousand francs, or above L.12,000
sterling.
Flie poetical works of Metastasio consist of sixty-three
lyrical tragedies and operas of various kinds; twelve ora¬
torios ; forty-eight cantatas or lyric scenes; a vast number
of elegies, idylls, canzonette, sonnets, and such like com¬
positions ; and, lastly, translations in verse from Latin au¬
thors, including one of Horace’s Art of Poetry. Amongst
his works in prose, besides those already mentioned, may
be reckoned a very extensive, interesting, and instructive
correspondence. Metastasio has found in France several
imitators, who have profited by his dramatic conceptions,
particularly Belloy and Delrieu; and Labouisse has like¬
wise imitated in French verse his cantatas, which, in as far
as respects their ordinary subject, may as well be classed
amongst the pastorals as referred to the head of lyric com¬
positions. From the year 1733 to the present time, there
have been innumerable editions of the works of Metasta¬
sio, many of them exceedingly defective and incomplete.
The most esteemed are the following, viz. 1. Paris, 1755,
in twelve vols. 8vo, under the direction of Calzabigi, and
dedicated to Madame de Pompadour; 2. Turin, 1757, in
fourteen vols. 4to, printed at the royal press, from the pre¬
ceding edition; 3. Paris, 1780, in twelve vols. large 8vo,
under the direction of Pezzana, who accented the prosody
704
M E T
MET
Metasta. for the benefit of french readers ; 4. Genoa, 1802, in six
si°- thick vols. 8vo, small character, an edition superintended
^ by the poet Massuccio, who enriched it with the posthu¬
mous works and unedited pieces published at Vienna in
1795, by Count Ajala, but omitted the correspondence ;
5. Padua, 1810. There appeared at Paris in 1761 a French
translation of the operatic tragedies by Richelet, in twelve
vols. 12mo.
The Italians have almost deified Metastasio ; but, ex¬
cepting on one point, where vthey have a sort of privative
jurisdiction, we may be permitted to question the proprie¬
ty of this idolatry. In relation to his style, they are the
natural, perhaps the only competent judges ; and this style
they regard as a model of purity, elegance, and harmony.
“ The style of Metastasio,” says an Italian critic, “ never
fails to please those who give way to their own emotions,
more than persons of profound meditation ; and I would
rather be accused of partiality to him whom I venerate
and love, than ranked with cold philosophers and deep
thinkers, whom I may respect, but cannot admire.’’ It is
in his pieces borrowed from Sacred Scripture that Metas¬
tasio has most strikingly exemplified the great beauties of
his style. As to the other attributes of his genius, they
have been variously estimated by critics. “ I know not
amongst the moderns,” says Laharpe in his Cours de Lit-
terature, “ a writer more precise than Metastasio. A peo¬
ple who may boast of such a poet cannot say that, if he
has attached himself exclusively to music, it is because
the words are bad. A lively and intelligent people could
never be insensible to the genius of Metastasio, displayed
in the interest of the situations, and in the beauty of the
dialogue and style. Nevertheless, it was at the court of
Vienna, and not in his own country, that this celebrated
writer found recompense and honour.” Rut a celebrated
German critic, William Schlegel, in his Course of Drama¬
tic Literature, has evinced a much deeper insight into the
dramatic system of the Italian poet, and more judiciously
discriminated the merits and defects of his works. “ The
reputation of Metastasio,” says he, “ has eclipsed that of
Apostolo Zeno, because, in proposing to himself the same
object, he had a much more flexible talent, and knew bet¬
ter how to accommodate himself to the convenience of the
musician. Perfect purity of diction, united with sustained
grace and elegance, have caused Metastasio to be regarded
by his countrymen as a classical author, and, so to speak, as
the Racine of Italy. He is pre-eminently distinguished for
exquisite sweetness in the verses which he intended to be
sung. Perhaps no poet ever possessed in the same degree
the power of concentrating, in a narrow compass, all the
most touching traits of a pathetic situation. The lyrical
monologues at the end of the scenes are the harmonious
expression, at once just and concise, of a particular dispo¬
sition of the soul. It must be confessed, however, that
Metastasio never paints the passions except in very gene¬
ral colours ; he does not amalgamate with the sentiments of
the heart any thing that appertains to the individual cha¬
racter, or is derived from universal contemplation. Thus
his pieces are not very powerfully conceived. When you
have read a few of them, you know them all. Yet we must
not be too severe. The heroes of Metastasio, it is true, are
all gallants ; in his heroines, too, delicacy often degenerates
into mawkish affectation ; but perhaps this effeminate poe¬
try has been blamed from a want of proper attention to
the nature of the opera.” Justice also requires that, in the
peculiar genius of the opera, we should recognise the ine-
• vitable cause of that languor and incongruity which too fre¬
quently disfigure the most beautiful productions of Metas¬
tasio. It is from yielding to the exigencies of this particu¬
lar species of composition that he has so often violated the
law of the unities, disfigured the characters of his heroes,
and broken the continuity of his style. He is less excusa-
Aletemp
sycbosi:
i»p-
ble in the lavish use of antitheses ; but this affectation is a Metasy ft
general vice amongst the poets of his country. The lyrical
drama, in general, requires a fortunate consummation or de¬
nouement ; and how often, in order to obey this usage, and
to have a brilliant chorus, or a final divertissement, has the
poet found himself under the necessity of inverting the tra¬
gic action, and denaturalizing his characters ? It is painful
to think that so many sacrifices to a frivolous fashion have,
from the immense development of the musical system which
has since taken place, been made altogether in vain.
Of the musical productions of Metastasio two have been
engraved ; one containing a collection of Canzoni, and the
other entitled Arie Sciolte and Coro con Sinfonia. The
famous duet Grazie agTInganni tuoi has not yet, as far as
we know', been published. The Pensieri di Metastasio,
ovvero Sentenze e Massime estratte dalle sue Opere, were col¬
lected and published at Paris in the year 1804. (a.)
METASTASIS, in Medicine, a transposition or settle¬
ment of a humour or disease in some other part. Some¬
times it signifies such an alteration of a disease as is suc¬
ceeded by a solution.
METELLUS, the surname of the family of the Caecilii at
Rome, of whom the best known were the following. First,
a general who defeated the Aclueans, took Thebes, and
invaded Macedonia. Second, Q. Cascilius, who rendered
himself illustrious by his successes against Jugurtha, king
of Numidia, from which he received the surname of Numi-
dicus. Another of this name, being high priest, saved from
the flames the palladium when Vesta’s temple was on fire.
He lost his sight and one of his arms in the action ; and the
senate, to reward his zeal and piety, permitted him to be
always drawn to the senate-house in a chariot, an honour
which no one had ever before enjoyed. He also gained a
great victory over the Carthaginians. Fourth, Q. Caecilius
Celer, who distinguished himself by his spirited exertions
against Catiline. He married the sister of Clodius, who
disgraced him by her incontinence and lasciviousness, and
died fifty-seven years before Christ. Fie wras greatly la¬
mented by Cicero, who shed tears at the loss of one of his
most faithful and valued friends. Fifth, L. Caecilius, a tri¬
bune in the civil wars of Caesar and Pompey. He favoured
the cause of Pompey, and opposed Caesar when he entered
Rome with a victorious army. He refused to open the
gates of Saturn’s temple, in which were deposited great
treasures; upon which they were broken open by Caesar, and
Metellus retired when threatened with death. Sixth, Q.
Caecilius, a warlike general who conquered Crete and Mace¬
donia, and was surnamed Macedonicus. He had four sons,
of whom three were consuls, and the other obtained a
triumph, all during their father’s lifetime. Seventh, a ge¬
neral of the Roman armies against the Sicilians and Cartha¬
ginians. Before he marched, he offered sacrifices to all the
gods excepting Vesta ; a neglect for which the goddess was
so incensed that she demanded the blood of his daughter
Metella. When Metella was going to be immolated, the
goddess placed a heifer in her stead, and carried her to a
temple at Lanuvium, of which she became the priestess.
Another, surnamed Dalmaticus, from his conquest over Dal¬
matia, in the year of the city 634. Cimber, one of the
conspirators against Caesar. It was he who gave the signal
to attack and murder the dictator in the senate-house.
Lastly, Pius, a general in Spain against Sertorius, on whose
head he set a price of a hundred talents and twenty thou¬
sand acres of land.
METEMPSYCHOSIS, formed from /isra, beyond, and
I animate or enliven, in the ancient philosophy, sig¬
nified the passage or transmigration of the soul of a man
after death into the body of some other animal. Pytha¬
goras and his followers held, that after death men’s souls
passed into other bodies of different kinds, according to
the manner of life which they had led. If they had been
bun
tosis
Thei
Meteip-
tosi
rj—sr'
1
MET
vicious, they were imprisoned in the bodies of miserable
beasts, there to do penance for several ages, at the expi¬
ration of which they returned again to animate human
forms. But if they lived virtuously, the body of some
happier brute, or even of a human creature, was destined
to be their new habitation. What led Pythagoras into
this opinion was, the persuasion which he had that the soul
was not of a perishable nature, and from which he conclud¬
ed that it must remove into some other body upon its
abandoning its actual habitation. Lucan treats this doc¬
trine as a kind of officious lie, contrived to mitigate
the apprehension of death, by persuading men that they
had changed their lodging, and only ceased to live in or¬
der to begin a new life. Reuchlin denies this doctrine,
and maintains that the metempsychosis of Pythagoras im¬
plied nothing more than a similitude of manners, desires,
and studies, which formerly existed in some person deceas¬
ed, and were subsequently revived in another. Thus, when
it was said that Luphorbus was revived in Pythagoras, no
more was meant than that the martial virtue which had
shone in Euphorbus at the time of the Trojan war, was
now in some measure revived in Pythagoras, by reason of
the gi eat respect he bore to the athletes. For those peo¬
ple, wondering how a philosopher should be so much taken
with men of the sword, he palliated the matter by sayin<>-
that the soul of Euphorbus, meaning thereby his genius°,
disposition, and inclinations, were revived in him ; and
this gave occasion to the report that the soul of Euphor¬
bus, who perished in the Trojan war, had transmigrated
into Pythagoras. Ficinus asserts that what Plato said of
the migration ofa human soul into a brute, is allegorically
said, and to be understood, only of those manners, affec¬
tions, and habits which have degenerated into a beastly
nature by vice. Serranus, though he allows some force to
this interpretation, yet rather inclines to understand the
metempsychosis as meaning a resurrection. Pythagoras is
said to have borrowed the notion of a metempsychosis
from the Egyptians; but others maintain that he received
it from the ancient Brahmins. It is still retained amongst
the Banians and other idolaters of India and China, and
forms the principal foundation of their religion ; indeed, so
bigoted are they to this tenet, that they not only forbear
eating any thing which has life, but many of them even
refuse to defend themselves against wild beasts. They
burn no wood, lest some little animalcule should be con¬
sumed in it; and are so very charitable, that they will re¬
deem from the hands of strangers any animals which they
hnd ready to be killed.
METEMPTOSIS (from fitra, post, and cr/wrw, carlo, I
rail), a term in chronology, expressing the solar equation
necessary to prevent the new moon from happening a day
too late. Metemptosis is contradistinguished fromproenw-
tosis, which signifies the lunar equation necessary to pre¬
vent the new moon from happening a day too soon. As
the new moons run a little backwards, that is, come a day
too soon at the end of 312 years and a half, by the proemp-
tosis a day is added every 300 years, and another every
I 2400 years. On the other hand, by the metemptosis, a
bissextile day is suppressed each 134 years, that is, three
times in 400 years. These alterations are never made but
at the end of each century, that period being very remark-
able, and rendering the practice of the calendar easy.
1 here are three rules for making this addition or suppres¬
sion o( the bissextile day, and, consequently, for changing
the index of theepacts. First, when there is a metemptosis
without a proemptosis, the next following or lower index
must be taken. Secondly, when there is a proemptosis
without a metemptosis, the next preceding or superior in-
dex is to be taken. Thirdly, when there are both a me-
I temptosis and a proemptosis, or when there is neither the
one nor the other, the same index is preserved. Thus, in
VOL. xiv.
M E T
705
1600, we had D ; in 1700, by reason of the metemptosis, Meteor
C was taken; in 1800, there was both a proemptosis and II
a metemptosis, therefore the same index was retained. In Meteoro-
1900 there will be a metemptosis again, when B will be, lite'
taken; and this will be preserved in 2000, because there
will then be neither the one nor the other. This is as far
as we need compute for it. But Clavius has calculated a
cycle of 301,800 years, at the end of which period the
same indices will return in the same order.
MEI EOR (by the Greeks called /xtriw^a, sublime or
high raised; by the Latins, impressiones, as making signs or
impressions in the air) commonly denotes any bodies in the
air which are ofa transitory nature. Hence it is extended to
t le phenomena of hail, rain, snow, and thunder; but is most
commonly confined to those unusual and fiery appearances
na™ed falling stars, ignesfatui, aurorceboreales, and the like.
METEOROLITE. This term is derived from the
Greek /Mrtuoct, a meteor, and A/doj, a stone, and denotes a
stony substance, exhibiting peculiar characters, and the
descent of which to the earth is usually accompanied by the
appearance and explosion of a fire-ball.
Luminous meteors have, in all ages, been observed in
the atmosphere. It is also well known that their disap¬
pearance has frequently been attended with a loud noise ;
but that they should moreover terminate in the fall of one
or more solid bodies to the earth’s surface, is a position so
repugnant to our ordinary conceptions of the tenor of phy¬
sical events, that wre cannot admit it as a fact upon slight or
scanty evidence. With all proper deference, however, to
some philosophers of name, we are not prepared to assert
that it implies impossibility. For who has explored the
higher regions of the atmosphere, or who knowrs what may
take place beyond its precincts ? If a solid result from the
combination of two aeriform substances, as the muriatic
acid and ammoniacal gases; if oxygen, the properties of
which are most familiar to us in the state of gas, can un¬
dergo fixation ; and if fluids can pass into crystalline forms •
is it too bold to presume, that the same or similar pro¬
cesses, effected in the grand laboratory of the atmosphere,
may be within the range of possible occurrences ? Every
thing around us proclaims that matter is subject to inces¬
sant change. New forms and new modifications are ever
spiinging into being. Can we doubt, then, that the same
pai tides, as they may happen to be affected or influenced
by various circumstances, may exist in the state of gas, of
aqueous vapour, or of a concrete mass ?
Again, it will not surely be seriously maintained, that,
from the rarity of a phenomenon, we are warranted to infer
its non-existence. The appearance of a comet is a rare, but
certainly not a fictitious occurrence. Nay, we may safely
advance a step farther, and assert, that the existence of a
phenomenon, if otherwise well attested, cannot be disprov¬
ed by our inability to explain it. How multiplied, in fact,
ai e the subjects, even of our daily and hourly observation,
which we cannot satisfactorily expound ? We cannot say
why a small seed should gradually unfold into a large tree,
why flame should produce heat, why the hand should act
in immediate subserviency to the will, or why a contusion
of the brain should induce stupor, alienation of mind, or
death. It is one thing to prove a fact, and it is another to
account for it.
From these premises it follows, that we are not entitled
to reject the existence of meteoric stones, provided this
be established by valid testimony. Should the historical
evidence, upon a fair and dispassionate review, be deemed
conclusive, we may afterwards examine the theories which
have been proposed for the solution of the appearance.
We are not aware that any passage can be cited from
the books of the Old lestament in direct corroboration of
the descent of stones from the atmosphere. The ingeni¬
ous and fanciful Edward King, indeed, in his Remarks con-
4 u
706
METEOROLITE.
Meteoro- cerning the Stones said to have fallen from the Clouds,
lite. both in these Days and in Ancient Times, adverts to the
13th verse of the xviiith Psalm : “ The Lord also thunder¬
ed in the heavens, and the Highest gave his voice ; hail¬
stones and coals of fire? This last expression has, no
doubt, been conjectured to denote real hard bodies, in a
state of ignition ; and the Greek term employed by the
cautious Seventy-two rather favours such an interpreta¬
tion. The same expression, however, occurs in the pre¬
ceding verse, without admitting this interpretation, and the
phrase seems to be only a figurative mode of describing
lightning. In the sober latitudes of the north, and even in
ordinary colloquial language, we talk of ‘‘ balls of fire,” and
“ thunderbolts,” without any reference to solid matter.
Mr King likewise quotes the 11th verse of the xth chapter
of Joshua : “ And it cam'e to pass, as they fled from before
Israel, and were in the going down to Beth-horon, that
the Lord cast down great stones from heaven upon them
unto Azekah, and they died ; they were more which died
with hailstones than they whom the children of Israel
slew with the sword.” Here the expression “ great stones”
is much less equivocal than “ coals of fire yet the context
hardly allows us to doubt, that the great stones were really
hailstones, or rather, perhaps, lumps of ice consolidated in
the atmosphere, such as occasionally fall in hot countries,
and such as alarmed the whole of Paris and its neighbour¬
hood in the year 1788. At any rate, the slaughter of the
Canaanites is represented as resulting from the special in¬
terposition of divine power, and the consideration of mi¬
racles is irrelevant to our present purpose.
If from sacred we turn to the early period of profane
history, we shall find the annals of public events very co¬
piously interspersed with notices of strange appearances,
many of which may be safely ascribed to the ascendency
which superstition long obtained over the human mind.
The scepticism of the learned is, however, sometimes not
less injudicious and indiscriminate than the credulity of
the savage; and he who should resolve every extraordi¬
nary event which is recorded by the writers of Greece and
Rome into a “ cunningly-devised fable,” would not be less
reprehensible for want of candour than the untutored rus¬
tic, who yields his assent to every alleged miracle, may be
taxed with want of discernment.
Although these general positions can scarcely admit of
any dispute, it becomes extremely difficult, after a lapse of
many ages, and in the collation of marvellous records, to
separate truth from falsehood. In our attempts to prose¬
cute this analytical process, we may sometimes advance a
certain length with perfect security, without being able to
trace uniformly the precise lines of demarcation. Thus,
in regard to the topic at present in discussion, we are aware
that in various periods of the world the vulgar have as¬
cribed a celestial origin to stones of a peculiar configura¬
tion ; as to certain modifications of pyrites, to belemnites,
orthoceratites, and others, which the subsequent observa¬
tions of naturalists have proved to be of mineral formation ;
and to the heads of arrows and sharpened flints, which
have been fashioned by the hand of man, and which, ac¬
cordingly, we are authorized to exclude from the ex-ter¬
restrial catalogue. But when substances dissimilar to these,
and not coinciding in any one character or circumstance
with modern specimens of atmospherical stone, are reported
by the ancients to have fallen from the clouds, the distance
of ages and the defectiveness of the documents may power¬
fully affect our appreciation of the reputed evidence.
When, therefore, we shortly touch upon a few of the many
instances which might be quoted from the annals of anti¬
quity, we mean not to vouch for the truth even of these
particular instances, but merely to admit their probability,
and the weight which the mention of them may be consi¬
dered to add to that of subsequent and recent narrations.
Through the midst of fable which envelopes the history Meteoro
of the bcetuli, we discern some characters which correspond lite.
with those of meteorolites. Thus, in the Athna., a poem
falsely ascribed to Orpheus, the which Falconet
properly classes with the bcetuli, is said to be “ rough, heavy,
and black.” Damascius, in an extract of his life of Isido- .
rus, preserved by Photius, relates, that the bcetuli fell on
Mount Libanus, in “ a globe of fire.” A fragment ofSan-
choniathon, preserved by Eusebius in his Prceparatio Evan-
gelii (i. 10), moreover informs us, that these stones were fa¬
bricated by the god Uranus or Heaven, one of whose four
sons was named Baetul. May not this mythological gene¬
alogy be regarded as merely emblematical of their descent
from the upper regions of the atmosphere ? In the same
chapter we are told that Astarte found a “ star” which had
“ fallen from heaven,” and honoured it with consecration in
the city of Tyre. The stone denominated “ the mother of
the gods,” if we can believe Appian, Herodian, and Mar-
cellinus, “ fell from heaven.” Aristodemus, cited by the
Greek scholiast on Pindar, asserts that it fell encircled by
fire, upon a hill, at the feet of the Theban bard. It is said to
have been of a black colour, and of an irregular shape.
Herodian expressly declares, that the Phoenicians had no
statue of the sun, polished by the hand, but only a certain
stone, circular below, and terminated acutely above, in the
form of a cone, of a black colour, and that, according to
report, it “ fell from heaven,” and was regarded by the
people as the image of the sun.
Amongst various instances which might be selected from
Livy, is that of a shower of stones on the Alban Mount, in
the reign of Tullus Hostilius, or about six hundred and
fifty-two years before the birth of Christ. When the se¬
nate were told that it had rained stones, they doubted the
fact, and deputed commissioners to inquire into the parti¬
culars, They were then assured that stones had really
fallen, “ baud aliter quam quum grandinem venti glomera-
tam in terras agunt.” On this occasion, the historian men¬
tions that similar events were celebrated by a festival of
nine days. “ Mansit solenne, ut quandocunque idem pro-
digium nuntiaretur, feriae per novem dies agerentur.”
But one of the most remarkable cases which occurs in
the records of antiquity, is that which is mentioned in the
fifty-eighth chapter of the second book of Pliny’s Natural
History, of a large stone which fell near Egospotamos, in
Thrace, in the second year of the seventy-eighth Olym¬
piad, or, according to our chronology, about four hundred
and sixty-seven years before the Christian era. Pliny
assures us that this extraordinary mass was still shown in
his day; and that it was as large as a cart, and of a burned
colour. The Greeks pretended that it had fallen from the
sun, and that Anaxagoras had predicted the day of its ar¬
rival upon the earth’s surface. According to Plutarch, in
the life of Lysander, the inhabitants of the Chersonesus
held the Thracian stone in great veneration, and exhibited
it as a public show. His account of its first appearance is
chiefly extracted from the relation of Daimachus of Fla*
tacae, and may be thus translated: “ During seventy-five
successive days before the stone fell, a large fiery body,
like to a cloud of flame, was observed in the heavens, not
fixed to one point, but wandering about with a broken ir¬
regular motion. By its violent agitation, several fiery frag¬
ments were forced from it, impelled in various directions,
and darted with the velocity and brightness of so many
shooting stars. After this body had fallen on the Cherso¬
nesus, and the people had assembled to examine it, they
could find no inflammable matter, nor the slightest trace
of combustion, but a real stone, which, though large, by
no means corresponded to the dimension of the flaming
globe which they had seen in the sky, but appeared to be
only' a piece detached from it.” Daimachus, it is true, may,
upon this occasion, have given way to his reputed love
|Mete-> of the marvellous; and we can easily believe that the
litei “ seventy-five continuous days” is either an error of the
copyist, or an original exaggeration ; yet, from the marked
coincidence of some of the circnmstannoe   
METEOROLITE.
coincidence of some of the circumstances with those more
fully detailed in the sequel, there arises the presumption
that a meteorolite really fell at the place and time above
mentioned.
From this period till near the close of the fifteenth cen¬
tury, any historical notices which we have been enabled
to collect are so vague and scanty, that, in this abridged
view of the subject, we may pass them over in silence.
Professor Bantenschoen, of the central school of Colmar,
first directed the attention of naturalists to some of the old
chronicles, which commemorate, with much naivete, and
in the true spirit of the times, the fall of the celebrated stone
of Ensisheim. The following account accompanied this
very singular mass, when it was suspended in the church.
“ In the year of the Lord 1492, on Wednesday, which
was Martinmas eve, the 7th of November, there happened
a singular miracle ; for, between eleven o’clock and noon,
there was a loud peal of thunder, and a prolonged confused
noise, which was heard to a great distance, and a stone fell
from the air, in the jurisdiction of Ensisheim, which weigh¬
ed 260 pounds, and the confused noise was, moreover, much
louder than here. There a child saw it strike on a field,
situated in the upper jurisdiction, towards the Rhine and
Inn, near to the district ol Gisgard, which was sown with
wheat; and did it no harm, except that it made a hole there;
and then they conveyed it from that spot, and many pieces
were broken from it, which the landvogt forbade. They,
therefore, caused it to be placed in the church, with the
intention of suspending it as a miracle, and many people
came hither to see this stone. So there were remarkable
conversations about this stone ; but the learned said that
they knew not what it was, for it was beyond the ordinary
course of nature that such a large mass should smite the
earth from the height of the air; but that it was really a
miracle of God, for before that time never any thing was
heard like it, nor seen, nor described. When the people
lound that stone, it had entered into the earth to the depth
of a mans stature, which every body explained to be the
will of God that it should be found ; and the noise of it was
heard at Lucerne, at Villing, and in many other places, so
loud, that it was believed that houses had been overturned.
And as the king (Maximilian) was here, the Monday after
St Catherine s day, of the same year, his royal excellency
ordered the stone which had fallen to be brought to the
castle, and after having conversed a long time about it
with the noblemen, he said the people of Ensisheim should
take it, and order it to be hung up in the church, and not
allow any body to take any thing from it. However, his
excellency took two pieces of it, of which he kept one, and
sent the other to the Duke Sigismund of Austria ; and they
spoke a great deal about this stone, which they suspended
in the choir, where it still is, and a great many people came
to see it.”
Again, frithemius, in his Hirsaiigiensian Annals, employs
language to this effect: “ In the same year, on the 7th day
of November, in the village of Suntgaw, near the townlet
of Ensisheim, not far from Basil, a city of Germany, a
stone, called a thunder-stone, of a prodigious size, for we
know from eye-witnesses that it weighed 255 pounds, fell
from the heavens. Its fall was so violent that it broke into
two pieces. The most considerable is still exhibited at
the door of the church of Ensisheim, suspended by an iron
chain, as a proof of the fact which we have mentioned, and
to preserve it in the public recollection.” We learn also
from Paul Lang, “ that there arose a furious storm on the
7th of November 1492, and that whilst the thunder roared,
and the heavens appeared all on fire, a stone of enormous
size fell near Ensisheim. Its form was that of the Greek
delta, with a triangular point. They still show it at Ensis-
iicim <is an astonishing phenomenon/*
It is worthy of observation that these chroniclers lived
at the period which they assign to the descent of the stone,
and that, although their names are hastening to oblivion,
Inthemius yielded to few of his contemporaries in labour
and learning; whilst Lang, a German Benedictine, had tra¬
velled in search of historical monuments, arraigned the
license of the Catholic clergy, and applauded the indepen¬
dence of Luther and Melancthon.
We are fully aware that Barthold has laboured to con¬
vince Ins readers {Journalde Physique), that the far-famed
mass of Ensisheim is merely argillo-ferrugineous, of second¬
ary formation, detached from an adjacent mountain, and
conveyed to the spot upon which it was found by some tor-
lent or land-flood. In this opinion we might partially ac¬
quiesce, did not the artlessness of contemporary and con¬
curring records militate against it, and had not the more
accurate analysis of Vauquelin detected the same consti¬
tuent parts as in the other stony and metalline substances
denominated meteoric. “ It is certainly composed of si¬
lica, observes this celebrated chemist, “ of magnesia, of
iron, of nickel, of sulphur, and of a small quantity of lime.
Particular trials have convinced me of the presence of sul¬
phur and nickel in the grains of malleable iron, and in the
pyrites, though in different proportions. This stone, then,
in every respect resembles others which have fallen from
the atmosphere.”
In the Commentary of Surius, a Carthusian monk of Co¬
logne, mention is made of a shower of large stones which fell
in Lombardy in 1510. These stones were harder than flint,
and smelled of sulphur. The heaviest, weighed 120 pounds.
1 he same event is more particularly related by Cardan, in
his work entitled De Rerum Varietate (lib. xiv. c. 72). Ac¬
cording to this author, near the river Adda, not far* from
Mdan, and at five o’clock in the evening, about 1120 stones
fell from the air, one of them weighing 120 pounds, and
another sixty pounds. Many were presented to the French
governor and his deputy. At three o’clock in the afternoon
the sky appeared as if in a general blaze; and the passage,
though somewhat ambiguous, would lead us to infer that
the meteor was visible for two hours. Like many of the
learned and unlearned of his day, Cardan instantly con¬
nects the extraordinary appearance with the political trans¬
actions of his district.
We shall next produce an interesting extract from the
memoirs of the Emperor Jehangire, written in Persian by
himself, and translated by Colonel Kirkpatrick.
“ A. H. 1030, or \&th year of the reign The following
is amongst the extraordinary occurrences of this period.
Early on the 30th of Furverdeen of the present year
(1620), and in the eastern quarter of the heavens, there
arose in one of the villages of the purgunnah of Jalindher
such a great and tremendous noise, as had nearly, by its
dreadful nature, deprived the inhabitants of the ‘place of
their senses. During this noise a luminous body was ob¬
served to fall from above on the earth, suggesting to the
beholders the idea that the firmament was raining fire. In
a short time, the noise having subsided, and the inhabi¬
tants having lecovered from their alarm, a courier was de¬
spatched to Mahommed Syeed, the aumul of the aforesaid
purgunnah, to advertise him of this event. The aumul,
instantly mounting his horse, proceeded to the spot. Here
he perceived the earth, to the extent of a dozen of yards in
length and breadth, to be burned to such a degree, that not
the least tiace of verdure or a blade of grass remained, nor
had the heat yet subsided entirely. Mahommed Syeed
hei eupon directed the aforesaid space of ground to be dug
up,, when the deeper it was dug the greater was the heat
of it found to be. At length a lump of iron made its ap¬
peal ance, the heat of which was so violent that one might
707
Meteoro¬
lite.
METEOROLITE.
108
Meteoro- have supposed it to have been taken from a furnace. Af-
lite. ter some time it became cold, when the aumul conveyed
it to his own habitation, from whence he afterwards de¬
spatched it in a sealed bag to court.
“ Here I had this substance weighed in my presence.
Its wreight was 160 tolahs.1 I committed it to a skilful ar¬
tisan, with orders to make of it a sabre, a knife, and a
dagger. The workman reported that the substance was
not malleable, but shivered into pieces under the hammer.
Upon this I ordered it to be mixed with other iron. Con¬
formably to my orders, three parts of the iron of lightning1
were mixed writh one part of common iron, and from the
mixture were made two sabres, one knife, and one dag-
ger.
Our limits will not permit us to give the whole of the
extract, nor the remarks of Mr Charles Greville and Co¬
lonel Kirkpatrick, which were read before the Royal So¬
ciety of London on the 27th of January 1803. We feel no
hesitation, however, in considering this document as some¬
thing very nearly approaching to direct evidence of the
fact in question.
The celebrated Gassendi informs us, that on the 27th of
November 1627, about ten o’clock in the morning, during
a very clear sky, he saw a flaming stone, of the apparent
diameter of four feet, fall on Mount Vaision, an eminence
situated between the small towns of Perne and Guil¬
laumes, in Provence. This stone was surrounded by a lu¬
minous circle of different colours, nearly resembling the
rainbow, and its fall was accompanied with a noise like the
discharge of artillery. It weighed fifty-nine pounds, and
its specific gravity was to that of common marble as four¬
teen to eleven. It was of a dark metallic colour, and ex¬
tremely hard. Though it was not subjected to chemical
analysis, and is not now to be found, the circumstances
which have been stated by the philosopher are sufficiently
minute to operate on the conviction of those who are wil¬
ling to be convinced.
From a curious book printed at Paris in 1672, and now
become very scarce, entitled “ Conversations tirees de
1’Academic de M. 1’Abbe Bourdelot, contenant diverses
Recherches et Observations Physiques, par le Sieur Le-
gallois,” we make the ensuing extract: “ A member pre¬
sents a fragment of two stones which fell near Verona,
one of which weighed 300, and the other 200 pounds.
These stones,” says he, “ fell during the night, when the
weather was perfectly mild and serene. They seemed to
be all on fire, and came from above, but in a slanting di¬
rection, and with a tremendous noise. This prodigy ter¬
ribly alarmed three or four hundred eye-witnesses, who
were at a loss what to think of it. These stones fell with
such rapidity that they formed a ditch, in which, after the
noise had ceased, the spectators ventured to approach them,
and examine them more closely. They then sent them to
Verona, where they were deposited in the academy, and
that learned body sent fragments of them to different places.”
That which accompanied the above intimation was of a yel¬
lowish hue, very easily pulverized, and smelled strongly of
sulphur. In the course of examining one of these stones,
M. Laugier, professor of pharmacy at Paris, has recently
detected the presence of chrome, by means of the caustic
alkali. The date of the Verona phenomenon, if we have
been correctly informed, is 1663.
In the Bornian collection there is a substance which is
designated “ Ferrum retractorium, granulis nitentibus ma-
trice virescenti immixtis (Ferrum virens, Lin.), cujus frag-
menta ab unius ad viginti usque librarum pondus, cortice
nigro scoriaceo circumdata, ad Plann, prope Tabor, circuli
Bechinensis Bohemiae, passim reperiuntur.” The follow¬
ing note is subjoined : “ Quas fragmenta, 3 Julii anni 1753, Meteor
inter tonitrua, e caelo pluisse creduliores quidam asserunt.” lite.
The expression '■'•creduliores quidamf it may be alleged, at
once destroys the evidence of this memorandum. It de¬
serves, however, to be noted, that in regard to our present
subject, what was formerly accounted the credulity of the
vulgar, may now, upon several occasions, be construed into
probability, if not into matter of fact; and that Mr Greville
has found the identical fragment to have the same compo¬
sition with the other meteoric stones. Hence we are com¬
pelled either to admit its super-terrestrial origin, or the ex¬
istence of a substance originally belonging to the earth,
and yet agreeing in character with those deemed atmo¬
spheric. The former branch of the alternative is perfectly
consonant with well-authenticated facts ; whereas, of the
latter, we are not warranted to pronounce that a single
case has hitherto been established to the perfect satisfac¬
tion of any chemist or mineralogist.
But we have now to direct our attention to a report of
M. de Lalande, inserted in the Historical Almanac of
Bresse for 1756. In the month of September 1753, about
one o’clock afternoon, when the weather was very hot,
and very serene, without the least appearance of clouds, a
very loud noise, like the discharge of two or three cannons,
was heard within the circumference of six leagues, but
was of very short duration. This noise was loudest in the
neighbourhood of Pont-de-Vesle; and at Liponas, a vil¬
lage three leagues from the last-mentioned place, it was
even accompanied with a hissing, like that of a cracker.
On the same evening there were found at Liponas and at
Pin two blackish masses, of a form nearly circular, but
very uneven, which had fallen on ploughed ground, and
sunk, by their own weight, to the depth of half a foot be¬
low the surface. One of them weighed about twenty pounds;
and a fragment of one of them, weighing eleven and a half
pounds, was preserved in the cabinet of M. Varenne de
Beost, at Dijon. The basis of these masses resembled a
grayish whinstone, and was very refractory; and some fer-
rugineous particles were disseminated in grains, filaments,
or minute masses, throughout the substance of the stone,
especially in its fissures. This iron, when subjected to a red
heat, became obedient to the magnet. The black coating
on the surface M. de Lalande ascribes to fusion, induced
by violent heat. This gentleman’s acknowledged respec¬
tability, and accuracy of observation, combined with the
circumstances which he has produced, circumstances, too,
which, if mis-stated, lay open to public investigation, power¬
fully plead in favour of his testimony.
On the 15th of September 1760, according to the Abbe
Bachelay, about half past four o’clock afternoon, there ap¬
peared near the Chateau de Chevabrie, in the neighbour¬
hood of Luce, a small town of the province of Maine, a
stormy cloud, from which proceeded a loud peal of thun¬
der, like the discharge of cannon, and followed by a noise
which was mistaken by several people for the lowing of
oxen. This sound was heard over a space of about two
leagues and a half, but unaccompanied by any perceptible
flame. The reapers in the parish of Perigue, about three
leagues from Luce, on hearing the same noise, looked up,
and saw an opake body, which described a curve, and fell
on soft turf, upon the high road from Mons, near which they
were at work. They all quickly ran up to it, and found a
sort of stone, neaidy half of which was buried in the earth,
and the whole so hot that it could not be touched. At first
they ran away in a panic ; but upon returning to the spot
some time afterwards, they found the stone precisely in the
same situation, and sufficiently cooled to admit of being
handled, and narrowly examined. It weighed seven ounces
1 A tolah is about 180 grains Troy weight.
This expression is equivalent to our term thunderbolt.
meteorolite.
709
=? “^2=ssslii| siii?l§?p£
SSEaSi-SsztiritE1 itsti"'l"‘''“!*5^“?"“?E“«"
instead of being repeated on each of the constirnpni-narte ctn„L ^11 >> „ t u 1 , .s* 'Vnen these
The substance was of a pale cinereous hue, speckled^ith of hardnek Some of them fill upL' Traw bitTofthlch
an infin.te number of small and shining metallic points, stuck to the stones, and incorporS wkh them ° I havp
visdile through a magnifying glass. That part of the outer seen one in this prkicamenl? It s at present a‘t La BaS
surface which remained above ground was incrusted with tide; but I cannot persuade the owLr to part with k
f:„!!in.?!i .kuf„0la lni,„ WhiCh See™cd \° have undergone fu- Those which fell on the houses produced a noise, not like
that of stones, but rather of a substance which had not yet
acquired compactness.” J
M. Baudin mentions, that, as M. Garris of Barbotan and
he were walking m the court of the Castle of Mormes, about
.     uw wave uuucigUIie IU-
sion, and which gave a few sparks when struck with steel.
The specific gravity of the mass was 3535. Two other
stones, nearly of the same characters, the one reported to
have fallen at Aire, in Artois, and the other in the Coten-
tin, in Normandy, were also presented to the academyln
the course of the same year, by M. Gurson de Boyaval, ho- 1790, when the air was perfectly calm an Thptk / ^
norary lieutenant-general of the bailliage of Aire, and the less, they found themselL sudLlt surroundpH^ ° f
younger Morand. According to the academical report, clear light, which obscured that nf fhp m dff bj ? 6
these three stones, when compared, presented no difference latter was nearly full. On ookine un thTv ohR°USH ‘ T
to the eye; they were of the same colour, and nearly of most in their zenith a fire-ball nf 7 observed’al“
the same grain, exhibiting metallic and pyritous particles, meter than that of the moon, dragging a tmULmlf seemed
A Wlt 3 iblaCk ferru^neous incrustation, to be five or six times longe; thaShe^metlr of its Cdf
Although the coincidence of lacts and circumstances, in and which gradually tapered to a noint • thp
three places so remote from one another, did not convince proaching to blood-red, though the rest of the met nr aP"
the academy tha, these stones had been conveyed to the of a palewhite. ThiUuminot prol^
earth by lightning, yet it induced them to invite naturalists velocity from south to north, and in^two seconds snlifinto
to piosecute the examination of the subject. portions of considerable sizp like thp-frorrm + p i 1
On the 20,h of November 1768, a sle fell at Mauer- fng bomb, fh^rtagment's becle SSsW btle
kircken, near the river Inn, in Bavaria, which weighed air, and some of them, as they fell assumed^h-it rWr, rpri
thirty-eight pounds, and was of a triangular form, being colour which had been observed at the point of the tail
bv^ hh!fino mC^eS m ,thickn.e®s* .Its faU wf accompanied Two or three minutes afterwards, M. Baudin and his friend
by a hissinfe noise, and great darkness in the atmosphere, heard a dreadful explosion, like the simultaneous firino- nf
phi® m„e.t.eo,rollte penetrated two feet and a half into the soil, several pieces of ordnance; but they were not sensible of
nlrl01 rf°rn|fr 7 111 the.cablnej; °.f.the Right Honourable any tremulous motion under their feet, although the concus-
Charles Grevdle, is now in the British Museum. sion of the atmosphere shook the windows hf their frames
rp/nn fheX9nrfimafkAab e CaS1VQhQat ha® beuen recorded occur- and threw down kitchen utensils from their shelves When
ed on the 2011 of August 1789, at Barbotan, near Roque- these gentlemen removed to the garden, the noise still
ort in the landes of Bourdeaux, and is thus related by continued, and appeared to be directly over their heads
i LomeJ» who was known to several members of the Some time after it had ceased, they heard a hollow sound
Institute, and happened to be at Agen when the meteor ap- rolling, in echoes, for about fifty miles, along the chain of the
peared. It was a very bright fire-ball, as luminous as the Pyrenees, and at the end of about four minutes gradually
sun, °f the size of an ordinary balloon, and, after inspiring dying away in distance. At the same time a strong suf
the inhabitants with consternation, burst and disappeared, phureous odour was diffused in the atmosphere.' The in-
A few days afterwards, some peasants brought stones, which terval which occurred between the disruption of the me-
wb7 fe Vror? the r"eteor; but the philosophers to teor and the loud report induced M. Baudin to coniecture
buLns Ul?m aUSe,d at thelr assertions as fa- that this fire-ball must have been at least eight miles fVom
bulous. The peasants would have now more reason to the earth’s surface, and that it fell about four miles from
laugh at the philosophers. One of these stones broke Mormes. “ The latter part of my conjecture ” says he
snmp ghn 16 r°v ° a r°tta?e’ and .kllled a herdsman and “ was soon confirmed by an account whmh we received of
tlTrirlt e\ ^ qU,e in’ Wh°- refeiwed ca Proces-verbal of a great many stones having fallen from the atmosphere at
e circumstances, also examined one of the specimens. Juillac and in the neighbourhood of Barbotan.” It appears
co A n?ucll.mc!re remarkable phenomenon, however, of the indeed, from the concurring testimony of intelligent oer-
1790 de®cr,Pt!0Ij’accurred n|ar vAgen> on the 24th of July sons worthy of credit, that the meteor really exploded at a
/owL An.lnbabltant oP bt Severe communicated the fol- little distance from Juillac, and that its fragments were
•, ^ Partli;u ars t0^- Darcet tbe chemist, who was then found lying in an almost circular space of nearly two miles
21 ,at PauriS- ?Ur town’s-People were yesterday very in diamlte?. Some of them weighed eigCenor tw^Ty
c i alarmed. About a quarter past nine o clock in the and a few, it is alleged, even fifty pounds. M. de Cams
sudd,enly aPPeai'ed in the atmosphere a procured one of eighteen pounds, which he transmitted to
li rj !*1 ’ dra,gg,ag a lon£ tJlai1?’ which diffused a very vivid the Academy of Sciences at Paris. That examined bv M
h over the horizon. Ihis meteor soon disappeared, Baudin was small, but heavy in proportion to its size black
tkLTollo^ ahv‘0ne h,Undref It was on .he outside, grayish wi.l/n, aEZCpe^sed^th .nany
4 ) followed by an explosion louder than that of a can- minute, shining, metallic particles.
underlie l Ulnde/'i • E,Very b0<|^ dreaded being buried In one of his ictters to Professor St Amand, M. Goyon
t e ruins of his house, which seemed to give way d’Arzas remarks, that these stones, though generally smooth
710
METEOROLITE.
3Ieteoro- on the outside, presented some longitudinal cracks or fis-
lite. sures, whilst their interior parts exhibited symptoms of me-
'“’■“V''""'' tallic veins, especially of a ferrugineous complexion. When
yet red hot, and scattered about in various directions, they
formed that magnificent fire-work, that shower of flame,
which enlightened the horizon over a large tract of coun¬
try ; for this extraordinary meteor was seen at Bayonne,
Audi, Pau, Tarbes, and even at Bordeaux and Toulouse.
At the last-mentioned place it excited but little attention, on
account of its great distance, and its appearing only a little
brighter than a shooting star. It, moreover, deserves to
be noted, that the meteorolites in question were found upon
a bare moor, of an extremely thin soil, on which no such
stones, or indeed stones of any description, had been ob¬
served within the memory of man. They who are solicitous
of additional information on this part of the subject may
consult the Journal des Sciences Utiles of Montpellier for
1790, and the Decade Philosophique for February 1796.
Our chronological series of cases has now brought us to
the fall of several meteorolites near Sienna, the particulars
of which, as reported by the Earl of Bristol and Sir William
Hamilton, are recorded in the first part of the Philosophi¬
cal Transactions for the year 1795 (p. 103). Mr King, like¬
wise, in the tract which we have already quoted, commu¬
nicates some interesting circumstances relative to this phe¬
nomenon, chiefly extracted from an account of it published
by Professor Soldani. Whilst we refer our readers to these
details, we cannot omit mentioning here, that, in regard
to aspect and composition, the Sienna stones are perfectly
analogous to the others already noticed, and very different
from any that occur in Tuscany. As the meteor from
which they were discharged appeared on the morning af¬
ter a violent eruption of Vesuvius, they were at first sup¬
posed to be volcanic, until cool reflection and examination
betrayed the extravagance of such a hypothesis. The pre¬
cise number of stones which were collected on this occa¬
sion is not specified ; but many of them were small, weigh¬
ing from a quarter of an ounce to two ounces. The date
of the Sienna meteor is the 16th of June 1794. On the 13th
of December in the following year, about three o’clock in
the afternoon, another of these singular stones, weighing
about fifty-six pounds, fell near the country-house of Cap¬
tain Topham, in Yorkshire. The captain’s report, which
is inserted in the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1796, is dis¬
tinct and satisfactory ; whilst the chemical examination of
the mass, detailed in Mr Howard’s paper in the Philoso¬
phical Transactions for 1802, affords a still more decisive
proof of its atmospheric origin. M. de Dree also found it
to correspond exactly in aspect and character with frag¬
ments of meteoric stones from Benares and Ville-Franche.
The original mass is larger than a man’s head.
Mr Southey, in his letters from Spain and Portugal,
transcribes the authenticated relation of another instance
of the descent of a stone from the clouds on the 19th of
February 1796. But we pass to some of the most import¬
ant details relative to the stone which is affirmed to have
fallen near Ville-Franche, in the department of the Rhone,
on the 12th of March 1798. When it was transmitted to
Professor Sage, member of the National Institute, he con¬
sidered it at first as only a pyritous and magnetical ore of
iron, although it bore no resemblance to any known species
of ore of that metal, inasmuch as it contained nickel, silica,
magnesia, and native iron, which shone like steel when
polished. “ It is of an ash-gray colour,” says M. Sage,
“ granulated, and speckled with gray, shining, and pyritous
metallic points. One of its surfaces is covered with a din¬
gy black enamel, about the third of a line in thickness.
This stone acts very powerfully on the magnetic needle.
When the senator Chasset transmitted it to me, it was ac¬
companied with an historical notice of similar import with
that of M. Delievre of Ville-Franche, who saw and de¬
scribed the phenomenon on the spot.” At six o’clock in
the evening, a round body, which diffused the most vivid
light, was observed in the vicinity of Ville-Franche, mov¬
ing westward, and producing a hissing like that of a bomb
which traverses the air. This luminous body, which was
seen at the same time at Lyons and on Mont Cenis, mark¬
ed its path by a red track of fire, and exploded, about two
hundred toises from the earth, with a tremendous report
and concussion. One of the flaming fragments fell on the
vineyard of Peter Crepier, an inhabitant of Sales. On the
spot where this portion of the meteor was seen to fall, and
in a fresh opening of about twenty inches in depth and
eighteen in width, was found a black mass, fifteen inches
in diameter, and rounded on one side.
An account of the same meteor was published in the
Journal de Physique by M. de Dree. From his minute
and deliberate investigation, it appears that the fire-ball
had scarcely fixed the attention of the inhabitants of Sales
and the adjacent villages, when its rapid approach, accom¬
panied by q terrible whizzing noise, like that of an irregu¬
lar hollow body, traversing the air with unusual velocity,
inspired the whole commune with alarm, especially when
they observed it passing over their heads, at an inconsider¬
able elevation. It left behind a long train of light, and
emitted, with an almost unceasing crackling, small vivid
flames, like little stars. Its fall was remarked, at the dis¬
tance of only fifty paces, by three labourers, one of whom,
named Montillard, let fall his coat and bundle of sticks, that
he might run the faster; whilst the other two, Chardon
and Lapoces, fled with equal precipitation to Sales, where
the alarm had become general. These three witnesses
attest the astonishing rapidity of the meteor’s motion, and
the hissing which proceeded from the spot where it fell.
So terrified was Crepier at the explosion, that he locked
himself up with his family, first in his cellar, and then in his
private apartment; nor did he venture abroad till next morn¬
ing, when, in the company of M. Blandel, Chardon, Lapo¬
ces, and many others, he repaired to the opening which
had been made by the fire-ball. At the bottom of this
opening, which was eighteen inches deep, including the
entire thickness of the mould, they found a large black
mass, of an irregularly ovoid form, having a fanciful re¬
semblance to a calf’s head. Although no longer hot, it
smelled of gunpowder, and was cracked in several places.
When the observers broke it, and discovered nothing but
stone, indifference succeeded to curiosity, and they coolly
ascribed its appearance to causes more or less whimsical
and supernatural. The original weight of this stone was
about twenty pounds. Its black vitrified surface gave fire
with steel. Its interior was hard, earthy, ash-coloured, of
a granular texture, presenting different substances scat¬
tered through it, namely, iron in grains, from the smallest
size to a line or even more in diameter, somewhat malle¬
able, but harder and whiter than forged iron ; white py¬
rites, both lamellated and granular, and in colour approach¬
ing to nickel; some gray globules, which seemed to pre¬
sent the characters of trap ; and a very few and small par¬
ticles of steatites, inclining to an olive hue. On account
of its heterogeneous composition, its specific gravity could
not be easily ascertained. One hundred parts of the mass
gave, according to M. Yauquelin, 46 of silica, 38 of oxide
of iron, 15 of magnesia, 2 of nickel, and 2 of lime. The
excess of this result was ascribed to the absorption of oxy¬
gen by the native iron during the process.
On the 19th of December 1798, about eight o’clock in
the evening, the inhabitants of Benares and its neighbour¬
hood observed in the heavens a very luminous meteor,
in the form of a large ball of fire, which exploded with a
loud noise, and from which a number of stones were pre¬
cipitated near Krakhut, a village about fourteen miles from
the city of Benares. Mr Davis, the judge and magistrate
Meteo'
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Mete-o
METEOROLITE.
of the district, affirmed that in brilliancy it equalled the
lit ^brightest moonlight. Both he and Mr Erskine, the as-
' sistant collector, were induced to send persons in whom
they could confide to the spot where this shower of stones
was asserted to have taken place, and thus obtained addi¬
tional evidence of the phenomenon, and several of the
stones, which had penetrated about six inches into fields
recently watered. Mr Maclane, a gentleman who resided
near Krakhut, presented Mr Howard with part of a stone,
which had been brought to him the morning after its de¬
scent, by the watchman who was on duty at his house, and
through the roof of whose hut it had passed, and buried
itself several inches in the floor, which was of consolidated
earth. Before it was broken, it must have weighed up¬
wards of two pounds. At the time that this meteor ap¬
peared, the sky was perfectly serene ; not the smallest ves¬
tige of a cloud had been seen since the 11th of the month,
nor was any observed for many days afterwards. “ Of these
stones,” says Mr Howard, “ I have seen eight nearly per¬
fect, besides parts of several others which had been bro¬
ken by the possessors to distribute among their friends.
The form of the more perfect ones appeared to be that of
an irregular cube, rounded off at the edges ; but the angles
were to be observed on most of them." They were of va¬
rious sizes, from about three to upwards of four inches in their
largest diameter; one of them, measuring four inches and a
quarter, weighed two pounds twelve ounces. In appearance
they were exactly syuilar ; externally they were covered
with a hard black coat or incrustation, which in some parts
had the appearance of varnish or bitumen ; and on most
of them were fractures, which, from their being covered
with a matter similar to that of the coat, seemed to have
been made in the fall by the stones striking against each
other, and to have passed through some medium, proba¬
bly an intense heat, previous to their reaching the earth.
Internally they consisted of a number of small spherical
bodies, of a slate colour, imbedded in a whitish gritty sub¬
stance, interspersed with bright shining spiculae, of a me¬
tallic or pyritical nature. The spherical bodies were much
harder than the rest of the stone ; the white gritty part
readily crumbled on being rubbed with a hard body ; and,
on being broken, a quantity attached itself to the magnet,
but more particularly the outside coat or crust, which ap¬
peared almost wholly attractable by it.”
I he history of the extraordinary shower of stones which
fell near L’Aigle, in Normandy, on the 26th of April 1803,
first appeared in the following artless letter, addressed by
M. Marais, an inhabitant of the place, to his friend in Pa-
ris. “ An astonishing miracle has just occurred in our
district. Here it is, without alteration, addition, or dimi¬
nution. It is certain that it is the truth itself. On Fri¬
day (26th of April), between one and two o’clock in the af¬
ternoon, we were roused by a murmuring noise like thun¬
der. On going out we were surprised to see the sky pret¬
ty clear, with the exception of some small clouds. We
took it for the noise of a carriage, or of fire in the neigh¬
bourhood. We were then in the meadow, to examine
whence the noise proceeded, when we observed all the
inhabitants of the Pont de Pierre at their windows, and in
gardens, inquiring concerning a cloud which passed in the
direction of from south to north, and from whence the
noise issued, although that cloud presented nothing extra¬
ordinary in its appearance. But great was our astonish¬
ment when we learned that many and large stones had
fallen from it, some of them weighing ten, eleven, and even
seventeen pounds, in the space between the house of the
buat family (half a league to the north-north-east of
L. Aigle) and Glos, passing by St Nicolas, St Pierre, &c.
vhich struck us at first as a fable, but which was after-
vards found to be true. 1 he following is the explanation
riven of this extraordinary event by all who witnessed it.
711
1 hey heard a noise like that of a cannon, then a double re- Meteoro-
port still louder than the preceding, followed by a rum- life,
bling noise, which lasted about ten minutes, the same whichv—»■
we also heard, accompanied with hissings, caused by these
stones, which were counteracted in their fall by the dif¬
ferent currents of air, which is very natural in the case of
such a sudden expansion. Nothing more was heard; but
it is remarkable, that, previously to the explosion, the do¬
mestic fowls were alarmed, and the cows bellowed in an
unusual manner. All the country people were much dis¬
mayed, especially the women, who believed that the end
of the world was at hand. A labourer at La Sapee fell pros¬
trate on the ground, exclaiming. < Good God, is it possi¬
ble that thou canst make me perish thus ? Pardon, I be¬
seech thee, all the faults I have committed.’ The most
trifling objects, in fact, might create alarm ; for it is not
improbable that history offers no example of sdch a shower
of stones as this. The piece which I send was detached
from a large one, weighing about eleven pounds, which was
found between the house of the Buats and Le Fertey. It
is said that a collector of curiosities purchased one of
seventeen pounds weight, that he might send it to Paris.
Every body in this part of the country is desirous of pos¬
sessing a whole stone, or a fragment of one, as an object of
curiosity. The largest were darted with such violence
that they entered at least a foot into the earth. They are
black on the outside, and grayish, as you see, within, seem¬
ing to contain some species of metal and nitre. If you
know before us of what ingredients they are composed,
you will inform us. One fell near M. Bois de la Ville,
who lives near Glos. He was much afraid, and took shel-
^ ,Um^er a ^ee’ ^as f°und a great number of them,
of different sizes, in his court-yard, his wheat field, &c.
without reckoning all those which the peasants have found
elsewhere. Numberless stories, more or less absurd, have
been circulated amongst the people. You know that our
country is feitile in such tales. Cousin Moutardier sends
one of these stones to Mademoiselle Hebert; and he is
not less eager than we are to know how these substances
can be compressed and petrified in the air. Do try to ex¬
plain the process. The person who gave me the largest
stone which I send to you went to take it at the moment
that it fell, but it was so hot that it burned him. Several
of his neighbours shared the same fate in attempting to
hit it. ihe elder Buat has just arrived, and desires us to
add, that a fire-ball was observed to hover over the mea¬
dow. Perhaps it was wildfire.”
At the sitting of the Institute on the 9th of May, Four-
croy read a letter from L’Aigle addressed to M. Yauquelin,
and which sufficiently corroborates the preceding state¬
ments. But we pass to the substance of M. Biot’s letter
addressed to the minister of the interior, and published in
the Journal des Debuts. I his very eminent philosopher
was deputed by government to repair to the spot, and col¬
lect all the authentic facts. He left Paris on the 5th of
June, and, instead of proceeding directly to L’Aigle, went
first to Alen^on, which lies fifteen leagues to the west-south¬
west of that place. He was informed on his way that a
globe of fire had been observed moving towards the north,
and that its appearance was followed by a violent explo¬
sion. From Alencon he journeyed through various villa¬
ges to L’Aigle, being directed in his progress by the ac¬
counts of the inhabitants, who had all heard the explosion
on the day and at the hour specified. Almost all the in¬
habitants of twenty hamlets, scattered over an extent of
upwards of two square leagues, affirmed that they were
eye-witnesses of a dreadful shower of stones which were
dai ted fiom the meteor. I he following is his summary
of the whole evidence. “ On Tuesday, 6th Floreal, year
11, about one o clock p. m. the weather being serene, there
was observed from Caen, Pont d’Audemer, and the envi-
METEOROLITE.
712
Mteoro- rons of Alen^on, Falaise, and Verneuil, a fiery globe, of a
leite. very brilliant splendour, and which moved in the atmo-
v'—sphere with great rapidity. Some moments after, there
was heard atL’Aigle, and in the environs of that town, in
the extent of more than thirty leagues in every direction,
a violent explosion, which lasted five or six minutes. At
first there were three or four reports, like those of cannon,
followed by a kind of discharge which resembled the firing
of musketry ; after which there was heard a dreadful rum¬
bling, like the beating of a drum. The air was calm, and
the sky serene, except a few clouds, such as are frequent¬
ly observed. This noise proceeded from a small cloud
which had a rectangular form, the largest side being in a
direction from east to west. It appeared motionless all
the time that the phenomenon lasted; but the vapours of
which it was composed wrere projected momentarily from
different sides, by the effect of the successive explosions.
This cloud w^as about half a league to the north-north-
west of the town of L’Aigle. It was at a considerable eleva¬
tion in the atmosphere, for the inhabitants of two hamlets,
a league distant from each other, saw7 it at the same time
above their heads. In the whole canton over which this
cloud w7as suspended, there was heard a hissing noise like
that of a stone discharged from a sling, and a great many
mineral masses, exactly similar to those distinguished by
the name of meteoric stones, wrere seen to fall. The district
in which these masses were projected forms an elliptical
extent of about two leagues and a half in length, and near¬
ly one in breadth, the greatest dimension being in a di¬
rection from south-east to north-west, forming a declina¬
tion of about 22 degrees. This direction, which the me¬
teor must have followed, is exactly that of the magnetic
meridian, wrhich is a remarkable result. The greatest of
these stones fell at the south-eastern extremity of the large
axis of the ellipse, the middle-sized in the centre, and
the smaller at the other extremity. Hence it appears that
the largest fell first, as might naturally be supposed. The
largest of all those that fell weighs seventeen pounds and
a half. The smallest which I have seen weighs about two
gros (a thousandth part of the last). The number of all
those which fell is certainly above two or three thousand.”
Any one who compares the various accounts of the L’Aigle
meteorwith a critical eye, may detect some apparent contra¬
dictions, which, however, on reflection, w7ill be found to be
strictly conformable to the truth. Thus, according to some,
the meteor had a rapid motion, others believed it station¬
ary ; some saw a very luminous ball of fire, others only an
ordinary cloud. Spectators, in fact, viewed it in different
positions with respect to its direction. They who happen¬
ed to be in its line of motion would see it stationary, for the
same reason that we fancy a ship under full sail to be mo¬
tionless when we are placed in its wake, or when we view
it from the harbour to which it is approaching in a straight
line. They, on the other hand, who had a side view of the
meteor, would reckon its progress more rapid, in propor¬
tion as their position approached to a right angle with its
line of passage. They, again, who saw it from behind, as
the inhabitants of L’Aigle, would perceive only the cloud of
vapour which it left in its train, and which, in the dark,
would figure like a blazing tail, in the same manner as the
smoke of a volcano appears black during the day and red
at night. Lastly, they who were placed in front of the
meteor would reckon it stationary, but brilliant and cloud¬
less.
It deserves tu be remarked, that the L’Aigle stones were
very friable for some days after their descent, that they
gradually acquired hardness, and that after they had lost
the sulphureous odour on their surface, they still retained
it in their substances, as was found by breaking them. Pro¬
fessor Sage submitted them to several comparative trials
with those of Ville-Franche; and, though the L’Aigle speci¬
mens present some globules of the size of a small corian- Mete^i
der seed, of a darker gray than the mass, and not attract- lite. •
able by the magnet, yet, in respect of granular texture ands—W
general aspect, the coincidence was so striking as to lead
one to suppose that they were all parts of the same mass.
The L’Aigle stones, according to M.Fourcroy, are generally
irregular, polygonal, often cuboid, sometimes sub-cunei¬
form, and exceedingly various in their diameter and weight.
They are all covered with a black gravelly crust, consisting
of a fused matter, and filled with small agglutinated grains
of iron. The greater part of them are broken at the cor¬
ners, either by their shock against each other, or by falling
upon hard bodies. The internal parts resemble those of
all the stones analyzed by Messrs Howard and Vauquelin,
being gray, a little varied in their shades, granulated, and as
it were scaly, split in many parts, and filled with brilliant
metallic points, exactly of the same aspect as those of other
stones of a like description. The proportions of their con¬
stituent materials are stated as nearly 54 silex, 36 oxidated
iron, 9 magnesia, 3 nickel, 2 sulphur, and 1 lime, the five
per cent, of increase arising from the oxidation of the me¬
tals produced by the analysis.
Of the two specimens which M. Biot presented to the
celebrated Patrin, one was less compact, and of a lighter
gray, than the other, and likewise exhibited small patches
of a rust colour. When immersed in water, it gave out a
hissing sound, like the humming of a fly which is held by
one wing; and as it began to dry, it was observed to be
marked by curvilineal and parallel layers. The more com¬
pact specimens, when moistened, presented no such appear¬
ances, but assumed the aspect of a gray porphyry, with a
base of trap, mottled with small white spots, and speckled
wuth metallic points.
That some of the relations to which we have referred
are vague and unsatisfactory, cannot be denied; but the
circumstantial testimony conveyed by others is pointed and
positive; and the whole mass of historical proof especially
when combined with the argument deduced from the iden¬
tity of the physical and chemical constitution of the stones,
appears to us to be altogether irresistible.
In the course of our inquiry into this novel and interest¬
ing subject, we have ascertained a variety of circumstances
which render it highly probable, if not indubitable, that
those detached masses of native iron, the history of which
has so often staggered and perplexed the geologist, are only
modifications of meteoric depositions. The Tartars, for ex¬
ample, ascribe the descent of the Siberian mass described
by Chladni, Pallas, Patrin, and others, to a period that is
lost in the remoteness of antiquity ; and whilst tradition thus
favours our hypothesis, the analogy which is obviously ob¬
servable, in point of texture and chemical characters, with
those of other solid bodies the fall of which is no longer
questioned, strengthens tradition. According to the dis¬
coveries of Proust and Klaproth, native iron, reputed me¬
teoric, differs from that which occurs in a fossil state by
the presence of nickel. The former of these celebrated
analysts obtained fifty grains of sulphate of nickel from a
hundred of the South American mass, and his results are
corroborated by Mr Howard and the Count de Bournon.
Of the two pieces of Siberian iron possessed by Mr Gre-
ville, one, which was transmitted by Dr Pallas, weighs se¬
veral pounds ; and another presents a cellular and ramified
texture, analogous to that of some very light and porous
volcanic scoriae. When attentively examined, there may
be perceived in it not only empty cells, but also impressions
or cavities of greater or less depth, and in some of which
there remains a transparent substance, of a yellowish-green
colour. The iron itself is very malleable, and may be easi¬
ly cut with a knife, or flattened under the hammer. The
specific gravity is 6487, which is obviously inferior to that
of unforged iron that has undergone fusion, and may be
‘rj elect
" ate:
meteorolite.
*- partly owing to the oxidizement of the surface of the iron,
ate: and partly to the many minute cavities in its substance,
which are often rendered visible by fracture, and which
have their surface also oxidized. The fracture is shining
and silvery, like that of white cast iron ; but its grain is
much smoother and finer, and it is much more malleable
when cold. The heavier specimen is more solid and com¬
pact, exhibiting no cavities or pores, though its surface is
ramified and cellular. So blended and incorporated is its
compact part with the yellowish-green substance mention¬
ed above, that if the whole of the latter could be subtract¬
ed, the remainder would consist of iron in the metallic state,
and would display the same cellular appearance as the pre¬
ceding specimen, or as the superficial portion of that now
described. This stony part of the composition usually as¬
sumes the appearance of small nodules, generally of an ir¬
regular shape, but sometimes nearly globular, with a smooth,
shining, and glassy surface. This substance, which is al¬
ways more or less transparent, is hard enough to cut glass,
but makes no impression upon quartz. It becomes electric
by friction, is very refractory, and varies in specific gravi¬
ty from 3263 to 3300. Of all substances hitherto known,
it approaches most to the peridot, or Wernerian chrysolite,
which yielded to M. Klaproth nearly the same results which
this substance did to Mr Howard. In the mass of iron it is
liable to decomposition, changing to an opake white, and
crumbling into a gritty dry powder when lightly pressed
or squeezed between the fingers. “ I cannot help observ¬
ing,” says the Count de Bournon, “ that there appears to
exist a very interesting analogy between these transparent
nodules and the globules I described as making part of the
stones said to have fallen on the earth. This analogy,
though not a very jBtrong one, may lead us to suppose that
the'two substances are similar in their nature, but that
the globules are less pure, and contain a greater quantity
of iron.”
Although our limits will not permit us to dwell with mi¬
nuteness on the physical and chemical characters of me-
teorolites, w7e shall shortly state those which the Count de
Bournon found to appertain to the specimens from Benares,
and which may serve as no unfair standard of the aspect
and composition of the others.
Like all of the same origin which were subjected to the
count’s examination, the Benares stones are covered over
the whole extent of their surface with a thin crust, of a
deep black colour, sprinkled over with small asperities,
which make it feel somewhat like shagreen or fish skin.
Their fracture exhibits a grayish colour, and a granulated
texture, like that of coarse gritstone. By the help of a lens,
they are perceived to be composed of four different sub¬
stances. One of these occurs in great abundance, in the
713
form of small bodies, some of which are perfectly globu¬
lar ; others rather elongated or elliptical, and all of various
sizes, from that of a small pin’s head to that of a pea, or
nearly so. These small globules are usually gray, some¬
times inclining much to brown, and always opake ; they
are easily broken in any direction, and have a conclroidal
fracture, and a fine, smooth, compact grain, with a slight
degree of lustre approaching to enamel; lastly, they can
destroy the polish of glass without being able to cut it,
and sparkle faintly when struck with steel. Another of
these substances is martial pyrites, of an indeterminate
form, and reddish-yellow colour, slightly verging to the
nickel tint, or to that of artificial pyrites ; of a somewhat
loosely granulated texture, and irregularly distinguished
in the mass, being black when reduced to powder, and not
attracted by the magnet. The third of these substances
consists of small particles of iron, in a perfectly metallic
state, so that they may be easily flattened or extended
i under the hammer; and, though in a much smaller propor¬
tion than the pyrites just mentioned, they impart the mag-
vol. XIV.
netic attraction to the stone. When a piece of the latter Meteoro-
was pulverized, and the particles of iron separated from it hte.
as accurately as possible, by means of a magnet, they ap- ' v'—
peared to compose about two hundred parts of the weight
of the stone. These three substances are united by means
of a fourth, which is nearly of an earthy consistency, and of
a whitish-gray colour. The black crust, or outward coat¬
ing, though of very inconsiderable thickness, emits bright
sparks when struck with steel, may be broken by the ham¬
mer, and seems to possess the same properties with the
black oxide of iron, although, like the substance of the
stone, it is occasionally intermixed with small particles of
iron in the metallic state. These are easily distinguished
by passing a file over the crust, which reveals their lustre.
The specific gravity of the Benares stone is 3352. None
of them, when breathed on, emit the argillaceous odour.
In consequence of various experiments, M. Sage infers
that meteorolites are composed of native iron, sulphuret
of nickel, quartz or silica, alumina, and magnesia; that the
proportions of iron and nickel vary ; that the quartz seems
to form at least one halt of the stone, the alumina and
magnesia the sixth, and the sulphur the thirtieth part.
These general results pretty nearly accord with the more
special reports of Howard and Vauquelin, except that the
latter makes no mention of alumina, the existence of which
in atmospherical stones is by no means distinctly ascer¬
tained.
We shall only beg leave to add, on this part of our sub¬
ject, that Laugier, an ingenious chemist, by employing the
caustic alkali, has detected a small portion of chrome.
The results of his experiments, which are stated in the
fifty-eighth volume of the Annales de Chimie, are, first,
that the five stones from Verona, Barbotan, Ensisheim,
L’Aigle, and the neighbourhood of Apt, besides the prin¬
ciples already recognised, contain about one per cent, of
chrome ; secondly, that it is exceedingly probable that all
meteorolites contain this principle, since they all resemble
one another in their physical and chemical properties, and
have all, apparently, the same origin ; and, thirdly, that
in many cases the perfection of chemical analysis requires
that the same substance should be treated both by acids
and alkalies, since experience has shown, that a principle
which eluded the former method has been revealed by the
latter.
Having now, as we apprehend, sufficiently established
the existence and nature of meteorolites, we hope that our
readers will excuse us from enlarging on the various causes
which have been assigned for their origin, as these seem
to lie beyond the reach of our present state of knowledge.
After a candid and patient review of the principal theo¬
ries, we conceive that most of them are open to many and
formidable objections.
The terrestrial hypotheses, we believe, begin already to
be generally abandoned as untenable. Until the pheno¬
menon of exploding meteors had been distinctly observed
and recorded, Lemery and others could maintain, with
some degree of plausibility, that lightning might tear up
the ground, and convert soil into a compact mass. But
the appearances of a thunder-storm and of a fire-ball are
now ascertained to differ in various important particulars.
Spectators worthy of credit have seen the latter terminate
in the fall of solid bodies, and the composition of these
solid bodies has been found to differ from that of all the
known fossil substances on the surface of the globe. It is
in vain, then, to allege that they are formed on the ground
by common lightning, which has often produced very ex¬
traordinary effects, but which never generated thousands
of stones in fine calm weather. The supposition that such
stones have been projected from some of our volcanoes is
hardly less conceivable. The ashes which accompany a
violent eruption of iEtna or Vesuvius have, from their le-
4 x
714
M E T E O R O L I T E.
Meteoro- vity, been carried to a very considerable distance ; but we
v are totally unacquainted with any projectile force which
could dart solid masses many hundred miles through such
a dense medium as the atmosphere. The compact lavas
of burning mountains are never found remote from the
scene of their formation, and none of them present the
characters and aspect of the stones which we have de¬
scribed. M. Bory de St Vincent, indeed, in his Voyage
dans les quatre Principales Isles des Mers dAfrique, ex¬
pounds a doctrine which, in our opinion, carries its confu¬
tation along with it. According to this writer, meteoro-
lites were projected from immense depths, in an early stage
of the earth’s existence, when ignivomous mountains were
endued with propelling forces sufficient to drive masses of
matter into the regions of space, where they were con¬
strained to obey, for ages, the combined laws of impulse
and gravitation, until, in the progress of time, their spiral
revolutions at length terminated upon the surface of their
native earth.
Of those who contend for the atmospherical formation
of meteorolites, scarcely any two agree in regard to the
manner in which such formation is effected. JPatrin, who
is solicitous to extend and illustrate his theory of volca¬
noes, labours at great length to maintain the existence of
a regular circulation of gaseous fluids between the primi¬
tive schistose strata of the globe and its surrounding at¬
mosphere, and, from this fancied circulation, which he
flatters himself he has demonstrated, he deduces the occa¬
sional ignition and concretion of portions of these fluids in
the higher regions of the air. This ingenious mineralogist
and geologist is so extremely tenacious of these ideas that
we shall not attempt to disturb his self-complacency ; but
he will excuse us if we refuse to assent to results which
rest upon imaginary foundations. The celebrated Muschen-
broeck, in one part of his writings, ascribes the descent of
stones from the air to earthquakes and volcanic eruptions,
an opinion which later observations have disproved. In
other passages, however, he seems to incline to a modi¬
fication of the atmospherical hypothesis, and endeavours
to trace the origin of shooting stars to an accumulation
of the volatile matters which are suspended in the air. It
is extremely probable, that shooting stars and fiery me¬
teors have an intimate relation to one another, if they are
not identical appearances; but it is certain that the for¬
mer move at a much greater distance from our earth than
fire-balls, and only occasion a transient luminous appear¬
ance in their passage through the upper regions of the at¬
mosphere. Perhaps they are analogous to those telesco¬
pic sparks of light which were observed by M. Schroter.
Muschenbroeck, however, adopts the vulgar notion of their
falling to the earth, and seems to confound their residue
with tremella nostoc. M. Salverte has given extension to
the theory of formation from vapours, by having recourse
to the agency of hydrogen gas. According to him, in
consequence of the decomposition of water, which is con¬
stantly going on at the surface of the earth, immense
quantities of hydrogen gas are continually rising into the
atmosphere, and ascending to its higher regions. As this
gas is capable of dissolving metals, it carries along with it
a portion of iron and nickel. During thunder-storms this
gas is kindled by electricity; the metals are deposited,
reduced, melted, and vitrified ; in other words, meteors
are produced and stones formed. But this hypothesis is
scarcely more satisfactory than the others. It does not
account for the presence of magnesia and silica, nor does
it explain why the stones are always composed of the
•same materials. Besides, the existence of hydrogen gas
in the atmosphere has not been proved, far less that it
forms a separate atmosphere, which is contrary to all ex¬
perience ; and it is well known, that a little hydrogen,
mixed with a large portion of atmospheric air, cannot be
fired by electricity. In general, we may observe, that if
the origin of meteorolites be really atmospherical, the lite,'1
matters of which they are composed must have existed in '^v-
one of two states, namely, in very attenuated particles or
concretions of the matters themselves volatilized and held
in solution in the air, or only in the elements of these mat¬
ters. In the first case, when abandoned by their men¬
struum to their reciprocal tendencies, they would unite by
aggregation only ; in the second, by chemical combination.
Now we can hardly suppose that disengagement of light
and violentdetonation should result from the mere affinity of
aggregation, whereas they are strictly symptomatic of the
affinity of composition. This, and various other consider¬
ations which might be stated, if we could make room for
them, induce us to regard the doctrine of combination as
the most plausible. M. Izarn, who has published a trea¬
tise on Atmospherical Lithology, has entered into a tedious
and somewhat obscure exposition of his own theory, found¬
ed on this principle. We shall give the summary, as nearly
as we can, in his own words.
“ Gaseous substances, arranged in spherical masses in
the upper regions of the air, being admitted, the various
agitations of the atmosphere should naturally waft some of
these masses from their insulating medium, into one ca¬
pable of combining with them. If the combination begins,
the disengagement of light is explained. In proportion as
the combination advances, the specific gravities are chang¬
ed ; and, consequently, a change of place will commence,
and that in the quarter which presents least resistance, or
where the medium is most rarefied, in course rather to¬
wards the south than the north. Hence, most fire-balls
are observed to move from north to south, or from north¬
east to south-west. Motion being once impressed, the
mass traverses other media, capable of supplying new prin¬
ciples, which, still increasing the weight, determine the
curve; and when at length the principles which are at
work, and which issue in all directions, have attained
the requisite proportion for extinguishing the elements in
the birth of the compound, the grand operation is an¬
nounced by the explosion, and the product takes its place
among the solids.” That the stones in question are pro¬
duced by chemical combination in the higher regions of
the atmosphere, and that they are thus formed from their
own elements, are suppositions fully as probable as any
that have been advanced on the subject; but whether the
union of their parts be effected in the manner detailed by
M. Izarn we are unable to determine, both because we
are uncertain if we perfectly comprehend his meaning, and
because our range of data is as yet too circumscribed to
warrant any specific or decisive conclusions.
A much bolder theory has been suggested, and its 'pos¬
sibility demonstrated, by Laplace, who shows that meteo¬
rolites may be the products of lunar volcanoes. We shall
present the reasoning upon which this extraordinary hypo¬
thesis is founded, in the popular and perspicuous language
of Dr Hutton of Woolwich. The respect due to the name
of Laplace will justify the length of the extract. “ As the
attraction of gravitation extends through the whole plane¬
tary system, a body placed at the surface of the moon is
affected chiefly by two forces, one drawing it toward the
centre of the earth, and another drawing it toward that of
the moon. The latter of these forces, however, near the
moon’s surface, is incomparably the greater. But as we
recede from the moon, and approach toward the earth, this
force decreases, whilst the other augments; till at last a
point of station is found between the two planets, where
these forces are exactly equal, so that a body placed there
must remain at rest; but if it be removed still nearer to
the earth, then this planet would have the superior attrac¬
tion, and the body must fall towards it. If a body, then, be
projected from the moon towards the earth, with a force
■
•o. si
jfeteo
lite:
METEOROLITE.
sufficient to carry it beyond the point of equal attraction,
it must necessarily fall on the earth. Such, then, is the
" idea of the manner in which the bodies must be made to
pass from the moon to the earth, if that can be done, the
possibility of which is now necessary to be considered.
Now, supposing a mass to be projected from the moon,'
in a direct line towards the earth, by a volcano, or by the
production of steam by subterranean heat; and supposing,
for the present, these two planets to remain at rest; then
it has been demonstrated, on the Newtonian estimation of
the moon’s mass, that a force projecting the body with a
velocity of 12,000 feet in a second would be sufficient to
carry it beyond the point of equal attraction. But this
estimate of the moon s mass is now allowed to be much
above the truth ; and, on M. Laplace’s calculation, it ap¬
pears that a force of little more than half the above power
would be sufficient to produce the effect, that is, a force
capable of projecting a body with a velocity of less than a
mile and a halt pei second. But we have known cannon
balls projected by the force of gunpowder with a velocity
of 2500 feet per second or upwards, that is, about half a
mile. It follows, therefore, that a projectile force, com¬
municating a velocity about three times that of a cannon
ball, would be sufficient to throw the body from the moon
beyond the point of equal attraction, and cause it to reach
the earth. Now there can be little doubt that a force
equal to that is exerted by volcanoes on the earth, as well
as by the production of steam by subterranean heat, when
we consider the huge masses of rock, so many times larger
than cannon balls, thrown on such occasions to heights
also so much greater. We may easily imagine, too, such
cause of motion to exist in the moon as well as in the
earth, and that in a superior degree, if we may judge
from the supposed symptoms of volcanoes recently ob¬
served in the moon by the powerful tubes of Dr Herschel;
and still more, if we consider that all projections from the
earth suffer an enormous resistance and diminution by the
dense atmosphere of this planet, whilst it has been ren¬
dered probable, from optical considerations, that the moon
has little or no atmosphere at all, to give any such resist¬
ance to projectiles.
“ Thus, then, we are fully authorized in concluding, that
the case of possibility is completely made out; that a
known power exists in nature, capable of producing the
foregoing effect, of detaching a mass of matter from the
moon, and transferring it to the earth in the form of a
flaming meteor or burning stone: at the same time we
are utterly ignorant of any other process in nature by
which the same phenomenon can be produced. Having
thus discovered a way in which it is possible to produce
those appearances, we shall now endeavour to show, from all
the concomitant circumstances, that these accord exceed-
ingly well with the natural effects of the supposed cause,
and thence give it a very high degree oi' probability.
“ This important desideratum will perhaps be best at¬
tained by examining the consequences of a substance sup¬
posed to be projected by a volcano from the moon into the
sphere of the earth’s superior attraction, and then compar¬
ing those with the known and visible phenomena of the
blazing meteors or burning stones that fall through the air
on the earth. And if in this comparison a striking coinci¬
dence or resemblance shall always or mostly be found, it
"ill be difficult for the human mind to resist the persuasion
that the assumed cause involves a degree of probability but
little short of certainty itself. Now the chief phenomena at¬
tending these blazing meteors or burning stones are these:
L 1 hat they appear or blaze out suddenly; 2. that they
move with a surprisingly rapid motion, nearly horizontal,
but a little inclined downwards; 3. that they move in
several different directions with respect to the points of
the compass ; 4. that in their flight they yield a loud
715
whizzing sound ; 5. that they commonly burst with a vio- Meteoro-
lent explosion and report; 6. that they fall on the earth lite.
with great force, in a sloping direction; 7. that they are'
very hot at first, remain hot a considerable time, and ex¬
hibit visible tokens of fusion on their surface ; 8. that the
fallen stony masses have all the same external appearance
and contexture, as well as internally the same nature and
composition ; and, 9. that they are totally different from
all our terrestrial bodies, both natural and artificial.
“ Now these phenomena we shall proceed to compare
with the circumstances of a substance projected by a lunar
volcano, and in the order in which they are here enumerat¬
ed. And, first, with respect to the leading circumstance, that
of a sudden blazing meteoric appearance, which is not that
of a small bright spark, first seen at an immense distance,
and then gradually increasing with the diminution of its
distance. And this circumstance appears very naturally
to result from the assumed cause. For, the body being
projected from a lunar volcano, may well be supposed in
an ignited state, like inflamed matter thrown up by our
tenestrial volcanoes, which, passing through the compara¬
tively vacuum in the space between the moon and the
earths sensible atmosphere, it will probably enter the su-
peiior paits of this atmosphere with but little diminution
of its original heat; from which circumstance, united with
that of its violent motion, this being ten or twelve times
that of a cannon ball, and through a part of the atmosphere
probably consisting chiefly of the inflammable gas rising
from the earth to the top of the atmosphere, the body may
well be supposed to be suddenly inflamed, as the natural
effect of these circumstances ; indeed it would be surpris¬
ing if it did not. From whence it appears, that the sudden
inflammation of the body, on entering the earth’s atmo¬
sphere, is exactly what might be expected to happen.
2. To trace the body through the earth’s atmosphere,
we are to observe that it enters the top of it with the great
velocity acquired by descending from the point of equal
attraction, which is such as would carry the body to the
earth’s surface in a very few additional seconds of time if
it met with no obstruction. But, as it enters deeper in the
atmosphere, it meets with still more and more resistance
from the increasing density of the air, by which the great
velocity of six miles per second must soon be greatly re¬
duced to one that will be uniform, and only a small part
of its former great velocity. This remaining part of its
motion will be various in different bodies, being more or
less as the body is larger or smaller, and as it is more or
less specifically heavy; but, for a particular instance, if
the body wefe a globe of twelve inches diameter, and of
the same gravity as the atmospheric stones, the motion
would decrease so as to be little more than a quarter of a
mile per second of perpendicular descent. Now^, whilst the
body is thus descending, the earth itself is affected by a
twofold motion, both the diurnal and the annual one, with
both of which the descent of the body is to be compound¬
ed. The earth’s motion of rotation at the equator is about
seventeen miles in a minute, or two sevenths of a mile in
a secand; but in the middle latitudes of Europe little
more than the half of that, or little above half a quarter
ol a mde, in a second; and if we compound this motion
with that of the descending body, as in mechanics, this
may cause the body to appear to descend obliquely, though
but a little, the motion being nearer the perpendicular
than the horizontal direction. But the other motion of the
earth, or that in its annual course, is about twenty miles
in a second, which is eighty times greater than the per¬
pendicular descent in the instance above mentioned; so
that, if this motion be compounded with the descending
one of the body, it must necessarily give it the appearance
pf a very rapid motion in a direction nearly parallel to the
horizon, but a little declining downwards; a circumstance
716
METEOROLITE.
Meteoro- which exactly agrees with the appearances of these me-
lite. teoric bodies, as stated in the second article of the enume-
rated phenomena.
“ 3. Again, with regard to the apparent direction of
the body; this will evidently be various, being that com¬
pounded of the body’s descent and the direction of the
earth’s annual motion at the time of the fall, which is itself
various in the different seasons of the year, according to
the direction of the several points of the ecliptic to the
earth’s meridian or axis. Usually, however, from the great
excess of the earth’s motion above that of the falling body,
the direction of this must appear to be nearly opposite to
that of the former. And, in fact, this exactly agrees with
a remark made by Dr Halley, in his account of the me¬
teors in his paper above given, where he says that the
direction of the meteor’s motion was exactly opposite to
that of the earth in her orbit. And if this shall generally
be found to be the case, it will prove a powerful confirma¬
tion of this theory of the lunar substances. Unfortunate¬
ly, however, the observations on this point are very few,
and mostly inaccurate ; the angle or direction of the fallen
stones has not been recorded; and that of the flying me¬
teor commonly mistaken, all the various observers giving
it a different course, some even directly the reverse of
others. In future, it will be very advisable that the ob¬
servers of fallen stones observe and record the direction
or bearing of the perforation made by the body in the
earth, which will give us perhaps the course of the path
nearer than any other observation.
“ 4. In the flight of these meteoric stones, it is com¬
monly observed that they yield a loud whizzing sound. In¬
deed it would be surprising if they did not. For if the like
sound be given by the smooth and regularly-formed can¬
non ball, and heard at a considerable distance, how ex¬
ceedingly great must be that of a body so much larger,
which is of an irregular form and surface, too, and striking
the air with fifty or a hundred times the velocity.
“ 5. That they commonly burst and fly in pieces in
their rapid flight, is a circumstance exceedingly likely to
happen, both from the violent state of fusion on their sur¬
face, and from the extreme rapidity of their motion through
the air. If a grinding-stone, from its quick rotation, be
sometimes burst, and fly in pieces, and if the same thing
happen to cannon balls when made of stone and discharged
with considerable velocity, merely by the friction and re¬
sistance of the air, how much more is the same to be ex-
, pected to happen to the atmospheric stones, moving with
more than fifty times the velocity, and when their surface
may well be supposed to be partly loosened of dissolved by
the extremity of the heat there.
“ 6. That the stones strike the ground with a great
force, and penetrate to a considerable depth, as is usually
observed, is a circumstance only to be expected from the
extreme x'apidity of their motion and their great weight,
when we consider that a cannon ball or a mortar shell
will often bury itself many inches, or even some feet, in
the earth.
“ 7. That these stones, when soon sought after and found,
are hot, and exhibit the marks of recent fusion, are also
the natural consequences of the extreme degree of inflam¬
mation in which their surface had been put during their
flight through the air.
“ 8. That these stony masses have all the same exter¬
nal appearance and contexture, as well as internally the
same nature and composition, are circumstances that strong¬
ly point out an identity of origin, whatever may be the
cause to which they owe so generally uniform a conforma¬
tion. And when it is considered,
“ 9. That in those respects they differ totally from all
terrestrial compositions hitherto known or discovered, they
lead the mind strongly to ascribe them to some other ori¬
gin than the earth we inhabit; and none so likely as com- Mill
ing from our neighbouring planet.
“ Upon the whole, then,” continues Dr Hutton, “ it ap-Ml
pears highly probable that the flaming meteors and the
burning stones that fall on the earth are one and the same
thing. It also appears impossible, or in the extremest de¬
gree improbable, to ascribe these either to a formation in
the superior parts of the atmosphere, or to the eruptions
of terrestrial volcanoes, or to the generation by lightning
striking the earth. But, on the other hand, that it is pos¬
sible for such masses to be projected from the moon so as to
reach the earth, and that all the phenomena of these me¬
teors or falling stones, having a surprising conformity with
the circumstances of masses that may be expelled from the
moon by natural causes, unite in forming a body of strong
evidence that this is in all probability actually the case.”
M. Poisson, a very ingenious French mathematician, has
shown, by an algebraical calculation, the possibility of a
projectile reaching our planet from the moon. His calcu¬
lation, however, which may be found in the work of Izarn,
quoted above, proceeds on the supposition that our satellite
has no atmosphere, or next to none. There are, no doubt,
appearances which seem to favour this supposition, but
they do not amount to positive proof of the fact. Even
could the latter be established, the combustion of a volca¬
no without the presence of atmospherical air would remain
to be explained. But, granting that this difficulty were
surmounted, there are other circumstances which we can¬
not easily reconcile to the lunar hypothesis. The occa¬
sional arrival of fragments of lava upon the earth’s surface
would argue, on a fair computation of chances, such a co¬
pious discharge of volcanic matters, that the moon, by this
time, would consist of hardly any thing else. Again, if
we may be allowed to reason from analogy, the volcanic
productions of the moon should exhibit varieties of aspect
and composition like those with which we are acquainted,
and not a definite and precise number of the same ingre¬
dients. We may also remark, that the soft and incoherent
state of several of the recent specimens of meteorolites but
ill accord with their supposed passage through any consi¬
derable portion of space; and that the L’Aigle phenome¬
non, which is so distinctly recorded, evidently suggests the
notion of instantaneous formation in the atmosphere. And
though this view of the subject may be regarded by some
as inexplicable, we cannot conceive that it is more so than
the doctrine of crystallization, or than many of the results of
chemical combination, the existence of which it is impossible
to deny. These and other arguments.may, we apprehend,
be fairly urged against any theory which attempts to explain
the history of meteors by the agency of lunar volcanoes.
The hypothesis of Dr Chladni, which likewise boasts of
its advocates, though still more startling than the preced¬
ing, deserves to be stated. As earthy, metallic, and other
particles, form the principal component parts of our planet,
amongst which iron is the prevailing part, other planetary
bodies, he affirms, may consist of similar, or perhaps the
same component parts, though combined and modified in
a very different manner. There may also be dense mat¬
ters accumulated in smaller masses, without being in im¬
mediate connection with the larger planetary bodies, dis¬
persed throughout infinite space, and which being impelled
either by some projecting power or attraction, continue to
move until they approach the earth or some other body,
when, being overcome by attractive force, they immediately
fall down. By their exceeding great velocity, which is in¬
creased by the attraction of the earth and the violent fric¬
tion in the atmosphere, a strong electricity and heat must
necessarily be excited, by which means they are reduced
to a flaming and melted condition, and great quantities of
vapour and different kinds of gases are thus disengaged,
which distend the liquid mass to a monstrous size, until, by
MET
still further expansion of these elastic fluids, they must at
length displode. That portions of cosmical matter are al¬
lowed to revolve in space, and to terminate their career
on the surface of a planet, is a position too gratuitous and
vague to be readily admitted, but the belief of which in¬
volves no principle of atheism or impiety, as some of Dr
Chladni’s antagonists have very unhandsomely insinuated.
If worlds disappear, and others spring into existence, a
sportive imagination may be permitted to indulge in the
innocent supposition that fragments of their materials are
detached from their fractured masses, and obey those laws
of attraction which seem to extend their influence to the
remotest corners of the universe.
M E T 7i7
For further information on the subject of this article, Meteor-
see Izarn’s Lithologic Atmospherique ; Biot’s Relation d'un ol<)gy-
Voyage fait dans le JDepaTtcment de l Orne, pour constater Ioj' " v ^
rcalite d'un Meteore observe d JJAigle; Bottiger’s Obser¬
vations on the Accounts given by Ancient Authors, of Stones
said to have fallen from the Clouds; Fulda’s Memoir on
Fire-Balls; Cavallo’s Elements of Natural Philosophy;
Klaproth on Meteoric Stones; Soldani’s Account of the Tus¬
can Meteor ; Chladni’s Treatise on the Siberian Mass of
Iron ; Mr Edward King’s Remarks concerning Stones said
to have fallen from the Clouds; and the Transactions of
several learned societies. (i. i. j, i.)
METEOROLOGY
From /asrtwgos, sublimis, is that science which describes
and explains the various phenomena which occur in the
region of our atmosphere. It has deeply engaged the at¬
tention of men in every state of society, from the roving
savage to the refined votary of wealth and pleasure. The
moment we cross our doors, we commit ourselves to the
influence of the weather. But the hardier classes of the
community, the shepherd, the ploughman, and the mariner,
whose labour creates or procures the staple articles of life,
are always exposed, by their occupation, to the mercy of
the elements. They were hence led, by the strongest
motives, to examine closely the varying appearance of the
sky, and to distinguish certain minute alterations which
commonly precede the more important changes. No doubt
they would often mistake the indications of those aspects,
and would infer conclusions from mere casual circum¬
stances. Those tokens which portend the more violent
convulsions of the atmosphere, the pelting storm or the
careering tempest, are generally of a decided character;
but the symptoms which go before the ordinary fluctua¬
tions of the weather can only be dimly conjectured by long
experience and sagacious observation. This shadowy know¬
ledge, this dubious and very limited anticipation of the
changes which arrive in the medium we breathe, is merely
the fruit of personal assiduity and application. Like the
conclusions which men of discernment form to themselves
on the subject of physiognomy, it is scarcely communica¬
ble ; it receives therefore no accessions in the progress of
ages, but perishes with the individual,
ii The vague rules which experience had formed on the
^•subject of atmospheric changes were adopted by the phi¬
losophers of antiquity, and incorporated into their cosmo¬
logical systems. But in attempting to explain the pheno¬
mena, they sought merely to satisfy the imagination ; and
the supposition of certain elements, each endued with pe¬
culiar properties, appeared, on a superficial view, to con¬
nect harmoniously the general facts.
In the infancy of science, however, it was very difficult
to distinguish between such appearances as are only inci¬
dental, and those constant presages which invariably anti¬
cipate their effects. The different fluctuations that happen
in the lower atmosphere seemed dependent on the influence
of the heavenly bodies, which are continually altering their
places. Not only the sun and moon appeared to rule the
seasons, but the planets, and even the fixed stars, were
conceived to retard or accelerate, by their feeble action,,
the revolution of the grand cycle of changes. The appli¬
cation of the term aspect to the positions of those remote
bodies, implied a principle of intelligence, and the stellar
influence shed by them might therefore be deemed capa¬
ble of producing all the variety of effects. Hence the
origin of Physical Astrology, which has, during so many
ages, maintained ascendency in the world, and still co¬
lours the verses of our poets, and pervades the creed of the
vulgar.
The heat evolved by the luminous particles transmitted Influence
from the sun, as they lose themselves among the lower of light,
strata of our atmosphere, or under the surface of the land
and the sea, varying in its intensity, according to the obli¬
quity of their incidence, and the extent of medium which
they traverse, produces the most important effects in the
great economy of the globe. But the correct knowledge
we have at length acquired concerning the mutual action
of bodies, contracts the limits of the supposed celestial in¬
fluence almost to a point. The light of the moon does not
amount to the 100,000th part of that of the sun, and the
heat which this very feeble illumination excites or commu¬
nicates has never been detected by the most delicate in¬
struments, or the best-devised experiments. But all the
rays shot from the planets, and from the whole constella¬
tions of fixed stars, are quite lost in the contrast with those
lunar beams. Their combined impressions, during the
lapse of countless ages, on the atmospheric temperature,
would hence elude the utmost powers of calculation.
It is only by their attractive force that the heavenly bo- Tides of
dies, except the warming energy of the sun, can ever affect the atmo-
the constitution of this globe. As, by their action une-sPhere-
quaily exerted over its surface, they raise tides in the ocean,
so they must likewise agitate the atmosphere with a cor¬
responding reciprocation. This effect, however, depends
much more on the proximity of the disturbing body, than
on its magnitude or density. Thus the sun, with twenty-
three million times the mass of the moon, yet being about
four hundred times more distant, has only about the third
part of her influence in causing the tides-. But, according
to the computations of Laplace, the joint action of the sun
and moon is only capable of producing a tropical wind,
flowing westward at the rate of about four miles a day ; a
quantity evidently too small to be ever subjected to obser¬
vation, and certainly insufficient to occasion any immediate
and practical results.
It may be calculated that Jupiter and Venus, in those
parts of their orbits which approach the nearest to the earth,
affect the aerial tides by a force 76,000 and 82,000 times
less than the sun. Those planets could therefore excite
a most minute shifting in the atmosphere, limited to a foot
in the space of fourteen or fifteen days, or about a single
mile in twenty years. As the mass of Mars is unknown,
its disturbing force cannot be estimated, though it is less
than that of Jupiter. But the combined influence of all
the rest of the solar system is, from their great distance,
incomparably smaller.
Nothing can be so utterly groundless, therefore, as theinefRcacv
disposition to refer the ordinary changes of the weather to of the stei-
the influence of the moon. But, compared with this, the Er influ-
fancied efficacy of the stellar aspects, which was for agesence'
"18
METEOROLOGY.
Cycles of
the wea¬
ther.
Meteor- firmly believed by the learned world, vanishes into the sha-
oI°gy- dow of a vision. Nor has the most elaborate examination
^ of numerous registers of the weather disclosed any precise
and constant connection between the phases of the moon
or the positions of the stars, and the succession of atmo¬
spherical phenomena. The inferences which seem to indi¬
cate a different conclusion may be fairly disregarded, as
drawn only from a loose and imperfect inspection of facts.
It cannot be disputed, however, that all the changes
which happen in the mass of our atmosphere, involved,
capricious, and irregular as they may appear, are yet the
necessary results of principles as fixed, and perhaps as sim¬
ple, as those which direct the revolutions of the solar sys¬
tem. Could we unravel the intricate maze, we might trace
the action of each distinct cause, and hence deduce the ul¬
timate effects arising from their combined operation. With
the possession of such data, we might safely predict the
state of the weather at any future period, as we now calcu¬
late an eclipse of the sun or moon, or foretell a conjunc¬
tion of the planets. After the protracted chain of com¬
binations has been completed, the same series of events
must again be repeated through the boundless lapse of
ages. As all the anomalies of the planets are periodical,
so likewise the successive varieties follow some cycle of
vast extent. In the remotest annals of atmospherical phe¬
nomena, we might descry a gleam of futurity, and read
the changes which still lie hid in the womb of time.
But, besides this great cycle, there probably are much
shorter interior and subordinate periods, in which the wea¬
ther nearly, though not absolutely, returns after the same
order. Whatever principles concur to modify its succes¬
sion, the revolutions of the sun and moon are certainly the
primary and predominant causes. The character of the
weather is accordingly strongly marked by the vicissitudes
of day and night, and by the annual repetition of summer
and winter. The menstrual action of the moon escapes
correct observation ; but, accumulated during a sufficient
time, it may possibly produce a decided influence. Every
nineteen years the motions of the moon come to coincide
with those of the sun, and her nodes perform their revo¬
lutions in nearly the same time, or about eighteen years.
This period, or the half of it, has therefore not improbably
some slight connection with the usual series of the changes
of the weather.
“ If the sages of antiquity be justly blamed for adopting
implicitly the notions and prejudices of the vulgar, those
of modern times may be charged with too eager a disposi¬
tion to reject whatever savours of popular opinion. A col¬
lection of the numerous rules and remarks formed in the
course of ages among different orders of men, deeply inte¬
rested by their occupations in watching the changes of the
sky, wmuld undoubtedly contain some important truths,
which the diligence and sagacity of the philosopher might
discriminate, and employ for the basis of beneficial specu¬
lations. The most sanguine can hardly uphold the pros¬
pect that mankind will ever arrive at such a pitch of know¬
ledge as to be capable of prognosticating the future modi¬
fications of the atmosphere, with the same precision with
which they can foretell the successive revolutions of the
heavenly bodies ; yet the motions, however irregular in ap¬
pearance, which prevail in the element that wre breathe,
are, equally with those performed in the regions of space,
the result of certain fixed laws. The variable aspect of
the sky proceeds partly from the direct action of the sun¬
beams, but principally from the winds which they excite
and maintain. The unequal gravitation of-the different
portions of our atmosphere to the sun, and to the moon
especially, must occasion some small effect in producing or
altering the aerial currents ; and even the disturbing forces
of the planets have a remote share, how minute soever, in
the formation of meteors. Nor can we hesitate to con¬
clude, with the late ingenious and elegant M. Bailly, whose Mete
fate demands the tribute of a tear, that the notions, so widely "oW
spread among men, of the aspects and influences of the s'“v*1
celestial bodies, are only the corrupted remains of astrono¬
mical science, already advanced to high perfection in some
distant age of the world. If motions were to rise and
cease instantaneously with the operation of their causes,
the same succession of seasons would exactly attend on
each revolution of the sun ; but the currents of air acquire
velocity by degrees, and thenceforth continue to flow till
their force is spent. The varied face of our terraqueous
globe will, therefore, modify the direction, the power, and
the duration of the winds, raised by the action of the solar
rays. Hence an extreme complication of causes, which
will produce an immense series of fluctuating events.
That profound geometer M. de Lagrange has established
by demonstration, that all the changes arising from the
disturbing forces in the planetary system are subjected to
certain vast cycles, on the return of which the same mo¬
tions are perpetually renewed. Similar periods, but of an
extent that affrights the imagination, probably regulate the
modifications of the atmosphere ; for, whenever a coinci¬
dence of circumstances prevails, the series of appearances
must inevitably recur. The aggregate labours, indeed, of
men continually transform the face of our globe, and con¬
sequently alter the operations of natural causes ; but, if the
agency of animals be stimulated and determined solely by
the influence of external objects, it follows that the re-ac¬
tions of living beings are comprehended in the same ne¬
cessary system, and that all the events within the immea¬
surable circuit of the universe are the successive evolution
of an extended series, which, at the returns of some vast
period, repeats its eternal round during the endless flux of
time. Besides the grand cycle, there must evidently be
many intermediate smaller periods, at the lapse of which
our atmosphere will present nearly, though not exactly,
the same fleeting aspects. Whether these bear any decid¬
ed relation to the lunar revolutions, cannot with certainty
be affirmed. ■ A copious collection of registers formed in
the course of ages, will probably, at some future time, lead
to the discovery of certain remarkable periods, which will
enable men to conjecture, with tolerable precision, the suc¬
ceeding changes of the weather. It would be most advis¬
able, perhaps, to begin the inquiry with the tropical coun¬
tries, in which the seasons are more uniform, and to ad¬
vance by degrees into the temperate climates. In the mean
time, our prognostications may be greatly assisted by ob¬
serving and studying the concatenation of phenomena.
Certain coincidences of aspects mark the near recurrence
of some small portions of the general series, and afford
scope for the doctrine of chances.” {Monthly Review for
September 1795, art. i. p. 14.)
Such views of the cyclical returns of the varied seasons Necessity
may expand the imagination, but will be considered rather of recur-
as curious speculations, than as definite conclusions which
Lj
I)- ca
Ae
thf
tbe
rath
toaf
ildfi Tl
so«
can ever be reduced to real and actual application. * - vatjons,
To1
improve meteorology, we must submit to tread a humbler
path ; w e must study closely, and by the aid of delicate in¬
struments, the constitution and modifications of the atmo¬
sphere, and pursue, under various circumstances, and in dif¬
ferent parts of the globe, a lengthened train of careful and
precise observations. The ordinary registers of the wea¬
ther are of a very modern date, and, besides being for the
most part unskilfully kept, they seldom record more than
the state of the barometer and thermometer, w'hich afford
not any complete indication of the disposition of the atmo¬
sphere. No wonder than meteorology, though cultivated
from the earliest times, has advanced the most slowly to
the perfection of science.
To prepare the way for establishing meteorology on a
solid basis, we shall first inquire into the extent and con-
bo
parts
Mi
B|fr
of tl
tlie
spect
ooirif
\k
METEOROLOGY.
719
cightif
e atn;-
here
itea
nherl
atig;
stitution of the medium which we breathe; and shall next skv hnwpvpr on fEo
review the different philosophical instruments which assist marked by such contrasted boundarTerXhe varftofta- “k^T'
external observation, and .nd.cate at all times the exact ven seems to darken by insensible ILsitions from the'—
condition and qualities of that mutable fluid. western to the eastern horizon. It is most probable Sere
The ancients imagined that our atmosphere, the seat of fore, that the diminution of light, after the close of even'
care, mortality, and corruption, reached as far as the moon, ing, is owing to the prodigiouf rarefaction of much Waher
beyond which was a boundless expanse of resplendent portions of the atmosphere, which still catch some faint
ether, the abode of celestial beings, exempt by their na- rays of the sun, without being able, from excessive attenu
tore from all anxiety, and absorbed ,n the enjoyment of ation, to reflect them efficiently to the earth But since
eternal bliss. But the discovery of the weight and pres- unless the sky be overcast, there is total darknesstono
climate, even at midnight, we may therefore infer, that
the body ot air extends to such an altitude, as to receive
the most dilute glimmer, after the sun has attained his ut¬
most obliquity, and sunk ninety degrees below the horizon.
It would thence follow, that the elevation of the atmosphere
must be equal at least to 1688 miles, or the excess of the
hypotenuse of an isosceles right-angled triangle having
39o6 miles, or the radius of the earth, for its base.
Ibis very great extension of a rare expansive atmo-Extreme
spieie appears conformable to the general phenomena, elevation
Hut the thin investure of our globe, at least near the equa- °f our at-
tor, may stretch out much farther; and yet its elevationmosPhere-
can never exceed a certain absolute limit. The highest por¬
tions of the atmosphere, which is carried round in 23 hours
and 06 minutes, by the rotation of the earth about its axis,
would be projected into space, if their centrifugal force at
that distance were not less than their gravitation towards
the centre. But the centrifugal force is directly as the
distance, while the power of gravity is as its square. Con¬
sequently, when the centrifugal force at the distance of
6-6 radii of the earth is augmented as many times, the
corresponding gravitation is diminished by its square or
43-7 times, their relative proportion being thus changed
to 289. Now, the centrifugal force being only the 289th
part of gravity at the surface of the equator, it will there¬
fore just balance this power at the distance of 6-6 radii
from the centre, or at the elevation of 22,200 miles. On
this hypothesis, fig. 7, Plate CCCLV. will represent our
globe encompassed by its atmosphere, of which the equa¬
torial diameter extends from A and B.
Such is the extreme boundary of atmospheric expan¬
sion. 1 hough it surpasses all our ordinary conceptions of
the space occupied by that dilateable fluid, it yet scarcely
exceeds the twentieth part of the distance of the moon,
which was held by the ancients to communicate with our
atmosphere. If it really spreads out to the limit now as¬
signed, it must, in its remote verge, attain a degree of te¬
nuity which would utterly baffle imagination to conceive.
Perhaps the fluid itself may change in those lofty regions,
and pass into a sort of ethereal essence, more analogous to
diffuse light than to a mass of air.
The constitution of the atmosphere forms the next ob-Constitu-
ject of inquiry. I he analysis of that rare medium is one Bon of
of the finest discoveries of modern chemistry. It appears^16 atm°-
to consist of tvyo distinct expansible fluids combined’ in dif- sPhere-
ferent proportions, a single portion of oxygen gas being
united to three parts by weight, or four parts by bulk, of
azote. There is also a very slight admixture of carbonic
acid gas, amounting to perhaps the thousandth part of the
whole. It may be doubted, however, whether this analysis
be complete. The combination of those gases obtained
artificially, generates a fluid in which we can hardly recog¬
nise the ordinary qualities of atmospheric air. Some fu¬
gacious elements must therefore escape during the process
ot decomposition. Indeed, the air may be considered as
an universal solvent. It is the medium of all smells, and
■must therefore dissolve the different odorous effluvia, and
transmit them to the olfactory nerves. The presence of
moisture may perhaps assist the solution, but the mass of
air is still the great receptacle of those diffusive emana¬
tions. We can readily distinguish several earths and
sure of the air destroyed at once this magnificent vision.
Comparing the length of the mercurial column with the
density of the aerial medium, it followed, that if the at¬
mosphere had been an uniform fluid, it could not exceed
the elevation of five miles. But the air being very dilate¬
able, the higher portions of the mass which covers our
globe, sustaining a diminished pressure, must swell up¬
wards, and occupy a proportionally wider space. This
property hence removes the boundary of the atmosphere
to a much greater elevation. By means of an excellent
pneumatic machine, air can be rarefied about a thousand
times; but this degree of rarefaction would not occur be¬
low the height of forty-two miles in the atmosphere. Such
is nearly the limit deduced from another consideration,
first proposed by the famous Kepler. This most original
and inventive philosopher conceived, that the depression
of the sun below the horizon, when twilight closes around
us, might furnish the data for discovering the altitude of
the portion of sky which reflects his latest parting rays.
Let C (see fig. 2, Plate CCCLV.) be the position of a
spectator on the surface of the earth, and A represent the
point where the sun sets ; the tangent AB will mark the
track of his lowest ray, which illuminates the upper part
of the atmosphere at B, whence the emission of a secon¬
dary ray BC will barely reach the ground at A. But as¬
suming the mean estimate of astronomers, that twilight
expires when the solar depression or the arc CA amounts
to eighteen degrees. In the right-angled triangle COB,
the base OC, or the radius of the globe, being 3956, and
the acute angle COB nine degrees, or the half of AOC,
the hypotenuse OB is easily found, and hence about 49
miles is the excess BD of CB above CD, or the elevation
of the boundary of the atmosphere, illumined by the latest
beams of the sun. A correction might be required for the
deviation of the rays from their rectilineal path, in conse¬
quence of the unequal refraction of the different strata of
the atmosphere ; but in a question of this kind, resting on
rather loose or doubtful observations, it seems superfluous
to affect any delicacy of calculation.
The inference drawn from the limits of twilight is not
;iso conclusive as might at first appear. The feeble slant-
ing rays, shed from the higher regions of the atmosphere,
may not have been received directly from the sun, but
derived, after repeated reflexions, from the more distant
parts ot the sky. The very ingenious Lambert attempted
to distinguish, besides the primary twilight, a secondary,
and even a ternary crepicsculum. It is easy to see, that
the solar ray SA (fig. 3, Plate CCCLV.), after grazing
along the surface, will illuminate the upper atmosphere at
B, from which some light will be darted in the direction
of the tangent BCD, to tinge another elevated portion of
the sky at D, which may cast a few expiring rays to the
spectator at E, or shoot onwards to the opposite sky at F,
and thence reach, in a state of almost extinction, the ground
at G. Whilst the first crepusculum, therefore, sets in the
west, the second will travel like a bow over the heavens,
followed at a regular distance by the dusky veil of the
third, or the vanishing train of the fourth. But it may be
computed, from the vast length of the tracks which the
hght would have to traverse, that those shades would in
accession be ten thousand times darker. The clearest
720
Meteor¬
ology-
It is char¬
ged with
various
emana¬
tions.
Its higher
strata in¬
flammable.
METEOROLOGY.
stones by their difference of smell. Nay, the metals them¬
selves, especially when rubbed, emit peculiar odours. What
can be more variously contrasted, for instance, than the
smells of iron, of tin, and of copper? The air must hence
actually dissolve some traces of those metals, highly at¬
tenuated indeed, and almost evanescent. If a lump of as-
safcetida loses but a grain by exposure for several weeks,
a bright surface of copper may, in similar circumstances,
suffer the waste of only the thousandth part of a grain.
The metal, if not encrusted by oxidation, would conse¬
quently experience a certain diminution, however small, in
the course of ages.
The atmosphere is thus charged with emanations of all
the various substances which it sweeps. To detect such
dilute corpuscles wholly transcends the powers of chemi¬
cal analysis. It seems probable, that the air holds some
matters in more copious solution than others; and the
phenomena of the aerolites lead us to suspect that it at¬
tracts iron and nickel with greater force than the rest of
the metals. The quantity of those adventitious particles
contained in a given mass of air may be exceedingly small,
and yet the aggregate weight diffused through the whole
atmosphere would form a considerable amount. It appears
from numerous endiometrical observations, which agree
tolerably well when performed in a similar way, that the
constitution of our atmosphere is the same in all places on
the surface of the earth, and at every elevation which has
been yet explored. Such experiments have been made at
very distant points, repeated on the summits of the loftiest
mountains, and applied to portions of air brought down by
balloons from the altitude of five miles. The result is what
we should expect from the perpetual agitation and com¬
mixing of the lower strata of the atmosphere.
But a variety of circumstances render it extremely pro¬
bable, that an expanse, far above the region of tli£ clouds,
is filled by some peculiar fluid, very different from the
grosser element spread below. The shooting stars which
are seen every clear night, the bolades or fire-balls, and
the luminous arches which not unfrequently occur, and
which must traverse the sky at the height of several hun¬
dred miles, all seem to indicate the existence of a very
ignitible medium. Nor is it difficult to conceive how such
a collection of highly inflammable fluids could be formed.
Not to mention the multiplied processes of art which emit
those products, the great laboratory of nature is incessantly
at work in generating and pouring forth hydrogen gas, and
its various compounds. The volcanic mountains cover a
considerable portion of the surface of the globe; and their
innumerable spiracles, with scarcely any interruption, con¬
tinue to discharge immense streams of inflammable aerial
fluids, a great part of which escape conflagration. But, as
hydrogen gas has little attraction to common air, it rises
upwards by its buoyancy, without suffering much loss in
the passage through that fluid. The largeness of their vo¬
lume, and the celerity of their projection, conspire to fa¬
vour the ascent of those inflammable gases to the loftiest
regions qf the atmosphere.
A comparison of the several quantities of astronomical
refraction, at different altitudes, points to a similar conclu¬
sion. The refraction which the rays of light suffer in
slanting across the higher regions of the air, is greater
than what calculation assigns to the corresponding density
of the medium. But the discrepancy would entirely dis¬
appear, if we suppose those strata to consist of hydrogen
gas, which is known to possess, in a remarkable degree,
the power of refracting.
It seems very probable, that the higher range of atmo¬
sphere has a sort of phosphorescent quality, or shines with
a certain feeble light, for some time, after it has been heat¬
ed or excited by the incident rays of the sun. Such may
be the principal cause, and not any reflex illumination, of
that lucid glow which, even at midnight, is diffused over iie(f01
the clear canopy of heaven. 0i0gy‘'
The phenomenon of what is called the zodiacal
might, perhaps, be traced to the same source. That re-^^cal
markable appearance, which is more conspicuous in the^1,
finer climates, and near the vernal equinox, on the approach
of evening, has often been ascribed to the extension of a
supposed luminous atmosphere about the sun. But La¬
place has shown, that such an atmosphere, far from stretch¬
ing to our earth, would not even reach the orbit of Mer¬
cury. The zodiacal light must therefore have only a ter¬
restrial origin. Supposing the uppermost regions of our
atmosphere to consist of diffuse inflammable matter, we
might infer from analogy, that, like the calcined sulphate
of barytes and other incinerated substances, they are en¬
dued with a phosphorescent quality, and capable of scat¬
tering a lambent gleam on being excited by the beams of
the sun. But this luminary darting perpendicular rays,
will evidently affect most powerfully the range of atmo¬
sphere which occurs in his diurnal track. The expansion
of the gaseous investure of our globe above the equator
will hence, from its vast elevation, be descried in places
even beyond the tropics, glowing with a gentle flame.
The luminous cone which converges from the sun to the
distance of perhaps 30 or 40 degrees in the circle of the
equator, gradually contracts and grows fainter in propor¬
tion as that body sinks farther below the horizon.
It thus appears, that the opinion entertained by the an¬
cient philosophers concerning the existence of a vast shin¬
ing aethereal expanse beyond our atmosphere, is, with some
modifications, consonant to the principles of sound philo¬
sophy. This is not the first occasion in which we have to
admire, through the veil of poetical imagery, the sagacity
and penetration of those early sages. It would be weak¬
ness to expect nice conclusions in the infancy of science;
but it is arrogant presumption to regard all the efforts
of unaided genius with disdain. Seldom has a discovery
been made without some distant ray of anticipation.
Having ventured to state that the highest region of theAimy
atmosphere is probably occupied by some very diffuseo“uP?'!'ei
phosphorescent gas, we shall hazard a conjecture which“s
will appear bolder, and even paradoxical,—that perhaps
air, in its most concentrated state, occupies the bottom of
the ocean, and forms a vast bed, over which the incumbent
waters roll. Air has actually been condensed above a
hundred times, and during this process it betrayed no de¬
viation from the fundamental law, that its elasticity is
directly proportional to its density. There seems no rea¬
son, therefore, to doubt, that if an adequate compres¬
sive force could be exerted, air might be reduced to the
thousandth part of its ordinary volume. But this elastic
fluid would then be denser than water, and, consequently,
instead of rising, would fall through the liquid. Suppose,
for instance, a bladder filled with air, and having a small
bullet attached to it, were thrown into the sea; in continu¬
ing to sink, it would reach a depth where the enormous
weight of the column of water would compress it to the
same density with the surrounding mass; and if the bullet
were now disengaged, the bladder would remain suspended
in that stratum, or if carried a little lower, it would preci¬
pitate itself to the bottom.
To form some estimate of this singular event, a simple Hyp®1
calculation will be required. Air of the ordinary tempe-
rature is 840 times lighter than distilled water, and is
therefore 865 times lighter than sea-water, assuming the
density of this to be T03. But the mean pressure of the
atmosphere being equal to that of a column of thirty-four
feet of distilled water, is hence equal to the weight of a
column of 32^ feet of sea-water. Wherefore 32| X 864,
or 28,296 feet, is the depth of the ocean where the neces¬
sary compression would obtain. But a small correction
mm
(rati
nece
» T
* cans
I port;
termi
fr»
veloci
instru
view
U
tl-Nssi
''fast
meteorology.
lete - must be applied, on account of the augmented density of construction of fhp hommoj-
oJog. the sea-water itself under the load of such a column. The observation soon rWl i 38 30 accurate instrument of Meteor
-^logarithm of this density is found very nearly by multi! elev^ PassinS in the more ology.
plying the height of the" column by six, and "string off Imun of m^cmy Tt ^ thf at1n?°SPhere*. The c°-
seven decimal places; whence the modulus of the com- stationary, but Jose and Si ,Se d°m r,e,mained long
pression of water may be reckoned 723,824 feet. Of this cording l t^diW^
TeatheiJgenerally stood high, but commonly subsided a
short while before ram or wind. The barometer came,
therefore, to be regarded as a weather-glass, announces
the proximate changes of the sky, and owed its general re
cent on tn this KpI.W T^, ^ . , fefoeraj re
721
r “ d ^ 1CUL. LillS
large number, the former depth is about the twenty-fifth
part; consequently, to procure an equilibrium between
the condensed air and the -corresponding stratum of sea¬
water, it is requisite that the air should be contracted one
twenty-fifth part more, or reduced to 901 times less than cenfinn tn tl C . *e and owed its
or.eco.u., and U,ere rUins 28^ fee^=
This computation is to be considered as only a near ap- ed Sir by rataor wind PtS1!T ^
proximation, yet sufficiently accurate for the object in view mark onlv the nre«„ f fi 1 barofeter evidently can
Nor shall we fatigue our readers by the investigation of a by con ^
strict formula, including exponentials. It is enough to pemds oi ,S ecure
There is more difficulty in conceiving by what process a"; Sere's »» Tgu °f th\ato«phere , but their very tions.
™ W conveyed to its V- IncreL'of prSXw- ZreTsTnglXnsucc^ ^ ^
ever, enables water to hold a larger share of air* and the Iw cn„u ^ , / uccessful. It was requisite to show
effect is hence the same as an augmented attraction. The expected buTwere° besides0? h ieSultS °l' the kind
minute globules of air may therefore be gradually drawn tion of thephenomena fnmo!" adequate to the produc-
downwards from stratum to stratum, till they are" at last none nf ihiL w f 3’ ^a most instances, however, either
detached from the body of water by their oVn supeitr occur in l ? cauld have followed, or they would
density.^ The precipitation and accumulation of concen- All the proposed IxplmaH^nTof^^01^0113?
trated air under the ocean would thus be the results of some rometer may perhaps be referred tn J6 C 1 116 l>a’ Influejlfe
unceasing operation. Such a process may perhaps con- 1. The actm’n of heat on dt thr®e dlstiact sou.rces:of its heat,
stitute a part of the great economy of nature. seems eice of moTtu!e on tint fl !id TdP f' 1 2'-^ lnflu-
probable, that the existence of a subaqueous bed of air is made by its rapid motion i/wind N 3” *mPr.ess,on
necessary to feed the' numerous fires which continually coolingof the air above an! ^ m heat,n» or
rage in the bowels of the earth, and occasionally burst forth affect ftsp4sure X 1 f
on the surffice in volcanic spiracles. " ?n ?Ke dPi!si!v t'h A ! 7 c occasioned would be
The variable disposition of the atmosphere is the main tion bebw oJ the efflux of M G °! the P°r-
•dir. cause of all the meteorological phenomena It is of im nro^mt tL ! u - T ar Portlon above’ ^
- portance, therefore, to examine tCZry and appiicat aTt red to an enlhSiZ ^ij0^ "7
of the different instruments which can be employed to ex- The diurnal variadons of Z wlZ SU1YUnZg raaSS‘
plore the state of that medium. Some of these have been seldom exceeding the twentieth mZnZ ^ ^ ^ troPlcs’
long in common use ; but others, of a more delicate and follow a dXe^^
refined construction, are only beginning to be known, and obviously not derived immediately from this cans!! Ac!
p us, vv ten generally adopted, to expand our views, by cording to the accurate observations of Humboldt in South
opening a store of new and u tenor prospects. The ordi- America, at all seasons the barometfr Slls fram Z!
nary observations are confined to the weight and tempera- o'clock in the morning till four in the afternoon • it thZ
re o the air. I here are other data still wanted to de- rises till eleven at night, and from this time it again de
ermine at any time the actual condition of that medium, scends till half-past four in the morning, and neltmounls
ihe dryness or humidity of the atmosphere, its brightness till nine o’clock 1 ounts
7r degree of illumination, the different depth of the ceru- “
can hue of the sky, and the variable disposition to chill
he surface of the earth by impressions of cold transmitted
I lom the higher regions; these objects of inquiry should
)e conjoined with others of a more practical tendency, de¬
fending immediately on the mutable state of the weather
teoro (
The transition of the air, from a state of dryness to hu¬
midity, seemed to furnish the most plausible explication fnd °f ils
of the changes of the mercurial column. But the indica-andmois
tion of the barometer was, in this case, distinctly at va-ture.
nance with the ordinary feelings of men. Those who suf¬
fer under a delicate or enfeebled constitution are accus-
fuch are the attempts to measure the daily evaporation tomed in damp weather to complain of the Z aZheavier
j nm the ground t» register the quantity of rain which and less elastic. Tins languageCo dot* “meLh„rS
alls, and to maik the direction and indicate the fierce nr r\nlv Qnrl QOr»vi rvf i w/-* 4-1-*^ nr — 3 i . . ^
alls, and to mark the direction and indicate the force or
elocity of wind. A complete apparatus of meteorological
Instruments will, therefore, include primarily the Barome-
'■ Thermometer, Hygrometer, Photometer, JBthrioscope,
\'yanometer; and comprehend likewise the Atmometer,
W^ain-Gage, Drosometer, and Anemometer. We shall re-
iew this series in the order of enumeration. ail LU ucuumc Buuueiuy CIiargea witn humidity, before its
tance ‘ Barometer, ihe capital discovery of the weightand subsequent dilatation had, by diffusing it produced an eoui
TnZZfi Z atm°Zhere) achievedPby Torricelli in 1643> bbnZ, still the additional pressure woffld have been ex!
tie first step in the progress of meteorology to the tremely small, not exceeding, at a moderate computation
ank of a science. I nor to that memorable period it rested the fifteenth part of a mercurial inch. Any transition of
«S 3 t0gether 0036 and conjectural- But the that medium from dryness to humidity Zould be quite
4 Y
only, and descriptive of the disordered state of the ner¬
vous system ; but it shows the utter fallacy of trusting in
philosophical matters to the loose results of vulgar obser¬
vation and experience. Moisture, so far from loading the
aii by its weight, cornmunicates, like heat, increased ex-
pansion and elasticity. But even supposing a column o»
air to become suddenly charged with humidity, before its
siihspnnpnt.rhlnfntinn Earl Ktt i__ .
722
METEOROLOGY.
Meteor- inadequate, therefore, to the production of the effects ac-
ology. tually observed.
' Some philosophers imagine that moisture, in separating
from the air, ceases to press that fluid by its gravitation,
and would hence explain the fall of the barometer on the
formation of clouds and the precipitation of rain. But
when the aqueous particles are disunited in their solvent,
whether dispersed in minute globules or collected in large
drops, they must evidently descend till they acquire the
celerity sufficient to maintain a resistance in the medium
equal to their weight. The pressure of the whole atmo¬
spheric mass upon the surface of the earth must there¬
fore continue exactly the same under all the changes of
the constitution of the medium.
Action of The combined action of winds seems at first to promise
winds. the most satisfactory explication of the variations of the
barometer. It is evident that opposite currents rushing
to the same quarter will occasion an accumulation of the
air ; and, on the other hand, different streams flowing from
any point must reduce the vertical column. But such
conclusions are quite vague, without being subjected to
the ordeal of calculation. Now it is easy to compute that
a concourse of winds, blowing at the rate of fifty miles an
hour, and'hence approaching to the violence of a hurri¬
cane, would be required to raise the barometer only the
tenth part of an inch. The utmost power of a tempest
could not, therefore, affect the mercurial column the twen¬
tieth part of what is frequently remarked in such circum¬
stances. But trifling as this influence appears, it would be
still at variance with actual observation. So far from rising
in strong winds, the barometer almost invariably sinks ;
and instead of continuing depressed in the place where
those currents originate, and where a calm must prevail, it
generally stands high.
Haulcsbee’s To explain the descent of the barometer during wind, a
experi- very ingenious idea has been proposed, which, being ap-
ment. parently confirmed by experiment, has obtained general
reception. It is conceived, that a current of air, in sweep¬
ing over the surface of the earth, must cease to exert any
vertical pressure. But this assumption can hardly be re¬
conciled with any strict principle in science, for the par¬
ticles of air will not for a moment cease to gravitate, nor
will any horizontal motion of them produce the slightest
derangement in a perpendicular direction. A remarkable
experiment, however, was made by the ingenious Mr Hauks-
bee about the beginning of the eighteenth century, “ show¬
ing,” as he says, “the cause of the descent of the mercury in
the barometer in a storm.” Having connected the square
box cisterns of two barometers by a horizontal brass pipe
of three feet in length, he inserted in the side of one of the
boxes another pipe opening outwards, and connected the
opposite side with a pipe attached to the neck of a large
globular receiver, into which three or four charges of at¬
mosphere had been compressed. On turning the stop¬
cock, the imprisoned air rushed with vehemence over the
surface of the mercury in the cistern, and effected its escape,
while both columns fell simultaneously about two inches,
and gradually rose again as the force of the blast diminish¬
ed. From this experiment Mr Hauksbee formally derives
four distinct corollaries : 1. “ That we have hence a clear
and natural account of the descent and vibrations of the
mercury in violent storms and hurricanes2. “ That not
only the different forces, but also the different directions,
of the winds, are capable of producing a difference of the
subsidence of the mercury3. “ That strong winds may
affect the animal economy upon this very account, of their
altering the pressure of the atmosphereand 4. “ That
the weight of the atmosphere being diminished in one
place, it is also as much diminished at the same time in
another place which holds a communication with the for¬
mer.”
r
This experiment has a specious appearance, and might Meteor
even seem to warrant the conclusion drawn from it. But a ologv.
closer examination dispels the illusion. Since the air had
been condensed four times, it must issue from the receiver
with the immense velocity of 2700 feet in a second, or the
double of that with which air of the ordinary density would
rush into a vacuum. This is a rapidity; however, twenty
times greater than the most tremendous hurricane. The
very small change of the four hundredth part of an atmo¬
sphere would hence have been sufficient to produce the
strongest wind ever observed, and therefore its influence
in passing over the mercurial surface must have been quite
insignificant.
But the experiment itself was absolutely fallacious. The
peculiar result proceeded from a mere casual circumstance,
the exit-pipe from the mercurial cistern being wider than
the pipe which introduced the current of air. This inci¬
dental arrangement is not mentioned in the description of
the apparatus, and we have, therefore, caused the original
figure to be engraved on a reduced scale, not only to prove
the fact which we have just stated, but also to warn expe¬
rimenters of the necessity of noting scrupulously every ac¬
cessary circumstance blended in their operations. (See
Fig. 2, Plate CCCLIV.) It is easy to perceive that the tube
G, which discharges the air from the box F, is much wider
than the tube E, which conveyed it from the receiver A.
This air, previously condensed, and still restrained in its
passage through E, on entering the cavity of the box, im¬
mediately expands beyond the limit of equilibrium, and
finding an easy escape through G, allows that state of di¬
latation over the mercury during the time of the horizontal
flow. But the air contained in the other cistern K must,
from its communication by the slender pipe I, suffer a like
expansion, and, consequently, the columns L and H will,
in the same time, subside equally.
Such is unquestionably the true explication of this cu-simjiar
rious fact. Were any confirmation needed, it could easily experi-
be derived from a very simple experiment. Let A (fig.
3, Plate CCCLIY.) be any cylinder of tin, suppose three
inches long and two inches in diameter, having an open
pipe inserted at B, a quarter of an inch wide, and perhaps
two inches long, and another opposite pipe inserted at C,
about three eighths or half an inch wide, and one inch long;
at right angles to these a recurved glass tube or syphon
G H E, of the tenth of an inch bore, is cemented below, de¬
scending twelve inches, and rising again six inches to the
open swell at E, which contains coloured water terminat¬
ing at F. Holding the cylinder in a horizontal position,
and applying the mouth at B, let a sudden blast be inject¬
ed into the cavity; the water will rise instantly to G, thus
show'ing the diminished pressure, and, consequently, the
rarefaction of the air above it. But if a cap D, with a
narrow projection of perhaps only the eighth part of an
inch, be adapted to the exit-pipe C, on repeating the ex¬
periment, an opposite effect will take place, and the column
of water, so far from mounting to G, wall now sink to H.
It is ‘evidently the difficulty of the escape through D that
occasions the accumulation of the air within the cylinder,
and the consequent depression of the water in the syphon.
These different results are perfectly analogous to the local
fall or rise of the surface of a river occasioned by the widen¬
ing or contracting of its channel
merits.
After the complete failure of so many theories for ex-l^'
which it would
plaining the variations of the barometer,
be tiresome to enumerate, we may be charged with P*"6' ^ometo
sumption in attempting the solution of a problem that has
racked and exhausted so much ingenuity. Yet in all these
various efforts a principle seems to have been overlooke ,
of extensive influence, accordant with the general pheno
mena, and sufficient, we think, on a close investigation, o
produce the measure of effect which is required.
11
METEOROLOGY.
.Jjletei* ^ ^ obvious that a horizontal current of air must, from
,g the globular form of the earth, continually deflect from its
rectilineal course. But such a deflection, being precisely
of the same nature as a centrifugal force, must hence di*
minish the weight or pressure of the fluid. The only ques¬
tion is to detei mine the amount of that disturbing in¬
fluence. 1 hough it should appear quite inconsiderable in
the interval of a short space, it may yet accumulate to a very
notable quantity through the wide extent over which the
same wind is known to travel. Suppose a current to begin
to flow from A (fig. 9, Plate CCCLV.) in the direction of
a tangent, it will successively bend from a rectilineal track
at the points B, C, D, E, I1, G, &c. on the surface of the
earth. The particles of the fluid are, therefore, drawn in¬
cessantly from their course by the action of gravity. Their
vertical pressure is consequently diminished by the force
spent in producing this deflection. Wherefore, during the
prevalence of the wind, the atmospheric column will press
with inferior weight at B than at A, at C than at B, at D
than at C ; thus gradually decreasing through the whole
chain. Suppose the intervals AB, BC, CD, DE, &c. to
be each of them a mile, and that the current reaches the
points B, C, D, E, &c. in successive minutes, a celerity
which frequently happens ; the deflection at B, owing to the
cuivature of the earth, would be eight inches, or two thirds
of a foot; but the space through which a body would de¬
scend in a minute, by the action of gravity, is 60 X 60
X 16 = 57,600 feet, or 86,400 times greater than the de¬
viation from the tangent. Wherefore the atmospheric
pressure would, on that hypothesis, be diminished by the
86,400th part for each interval of a mile from A to G. In
the space of 288 miles this diminution would consequently
be the 300th part of the incumbent weight; and over an
extent of 2880 miles it would amount to the 30th part.
If we assume the very probable estimate, that storms in¬
volve the whole region of the clouds, or attain an elevation
of near three miles, the diminution of pressure, occasioned
by a long series of deflections in the stream, would affect
one half of the atmosphere. Whereford, a wind which has
blown over a track of 2880 miles, at the rate of 60 miles
an hour, might cause the mercurial column to subside half
an inch. If the velocity of the wind were doubled, which
is probably the limit of the most tremendous hurricane, the
fall of the barometer w^ould be four times greater, and
amount to two inches.
I hat the same powerful wind can sweep over an immense
track of surface is well ascertained. The effects of a hurri¬
cane originating in the West Indies, at the distance of 5000
miles, have often been felt on our shores. But a wind
atising at A must evidently be followed, at succeeding in¬
tervals, by a current from K, L, M, &c. the range of in¬
fluence being thus extended over a larger track. During
the flow of the air, the depression of the barometer at G
will be maintained, or rather augmented,
patun These conclusions are perfectly accordant with the facts
eteD° .rve<*' ^ aPPears> fr°m comparing the most accurate
same refPsters> that the pressure of the atmosphere is subject
a to very nearly the same variations through a vast extent,
cx. A barometer may be considered as in unison with another
placed at the distance of perhaps 200 or 300 miles, and
the mercurial columns in both of them rise and fall by an
almost simultaneous movement. But, in stormy weather,
j the separated barometers, however they may approximate
in their indications, cannot absolutely correspond. The
gradation of atmospheric pressure from G to F, from F
to E, &c. may be very slow; and yet the minute differ¬
ences may accumulate to a very sensible amount in the
long range from G to A, or to M. Thus, though a ba¬
rometer may stand only the twentieth part of an inch
lower than another separated 200 miles, it wmuld be half
an inch below' a barometer at the distance of 400 miles.
723
The theory now stated seems to furnish the most satis- Meteor-
factory explication of a great variety of phenomena. Thus °l°gy.
the minute diuinal alternations to which the barometer is v ^~mmm
subject within the tropics, are caused by the influence of
the land and sea breezes. During the heat of the day
those gentle airs blow from the ocean, and, therefore,
near the shore, and in the interior of the islands, the mer¬
curial column subsides. But after the vigour of the sun’s
beams has declined, they flow in an opposite direction, and
consequently the mercury rises again. The fluctuations
are only partial, however, because such breezes hold a very
short sway, and do not perhaps extend beyond 100 or 200
miles.
The common remark, that a north-east wind, so far from
depressing the mercurial column, generally causes it to rise,
might appear at variance with the principles which we
have advanced. But that wind which really comes from
the north has probably a short course, and may be de¬
pendent on a more extensive current which maintains a
flow in the higher regions towards the poles. The exist¬
ence of opposite streams, though incompatible with the
supposition of a wide-spreading hurricane, may yet be ad- '
mined in local and partial derangements of the atmosphere.
Hubei to we have contemplated the winds as describ¬
ing only arcs of great circles about the earth ; but they
may be constrained to bend in smaller circles, and perhaps
ti ace the parallels of latitude. I heir flexure from a rec¬
tilineal course being in this case augmented, they would
in the same extent exert an influence proportionally
greater on the barometer. Such, near the arctic regions,
may be the effect of a westerly w ind of no very distant
origin.
The same principles will explain the phenomena of ed-Explica-
dies, whirlwinds, and tornados. Suppose (fig. 4, Plate tion of
CCCLV.) a horizontal stream of air/rushing from A to whirl-
B, meets a contrary current blowing from C to D, and winds,
that some obstacle E occurs in their line of separation.
The flow will evidently diverge on both sides of E (see
figs. 5 and 6, Plate CCCLV.) till it swells by degrees
into a vertiginous revolution. Such is the origin of the
famous malstroem, or whirlpool, on the coast of Norway,
occasioned by the meeting of opposite tides. The aerial
vortices are evidently produced by a similar cause. If
the opposite streams have equal force, the circulation will
be maintained in the same spot; but if the one current
flows with greater rapidity than the other, it will transport
the vertiginous motion by the excess of its celerity. A
motion of progression and revolution is thus upheld at the
same time. Such appearances are frequently witnessed in
summer, especially in the hotter climates. A whirlwind
arises on a sudden, and runs over the surface of the
ground, drawing into its vortex all the light substances
which occui in the tiack. Immense havoc is often thus
produced in the fields of rice and plantations of sugar¬
cane. It is easy to show, that if r denote in feet the ra¬
dius of the extreme circle described by the whirlwind,
and t the time of cncumvolution in seconds, the elasticity,
or pressure of the column at the verge will suffer a dimi¬
nution corresponding to the fraction The amount of
this diminution over the whole base would be reduced to
three fourths; and consequently h, expressing the height
1 r 7
of the revolving column of air, -^Would represent the
mean effect of centrifugal action. Suppose the whirlwind
to have an elevation of 200 feet and a radius of fifty and
to circulate in three seconds, the diminished pressure
would be equal to the weight of a column of
15-50-200
, or
16-9
724
METEOROLOGY.
Meteor¬
ology.
1040 feet. This example, assuming a celerity of sixty-
,five miles an hour, might be reckoned an extreme case,
but it would occasion the mercury to sink in the barome¬
ter more than an inch, or IT2.
The formula for the depression of the barometer caused
by a rapid whirl or tornado in the lower atmosphere, may
be changed into an expression that shall embrace the ve¬
locity instead of the time of revolution. This velocity
in miles each hour being denoted by v, the diminished
pressure of the vertiginous column will be -p-r—. It thus
SO/-
appears that the effect is directly as the square of the ce¬
lerity, and inversely as the radius of circumvolution. And
since the rapidity of whirl can never exceed certain limits,
the action of a tornado must diminish in proportion to the
extent of surface which it occupies. Suppose the height
of the cylinder of air to be 300 feet, the radius of the
sweep 500 feet, and the celerity of its extreme circulation
eighty miles an hour : Then
3-6400-300
50-500
~ 230 feet, which
corresponds to a descent of T247, or about a quarter of an
inch in the mercurial column.
II. The Thermometer.—The invention of this instru¬
ment has not only dispelled the illusions which formerly
prevailed on the subject of heat, but has mightily contri¬
buted to extend our acquaintance with the actual condi¬
tion of the atmosphere. A lump of iron brought into the
house, from its exposure during a frosty night, feels in¬
tensely cold, yet becomes gradually warmer ; and if it be
put into the fire, it will soon grow extremely hot, till it
acquires the faculty of burning. On removing it from the
fire, and laying it again out of doors, it will, through all
the steps of a contrary progress, relapse imperceptibly in¬
to its former state. This obvious fact, and many others of
a similar kind, might have been sufficient to show that hot
and cold are nearly relative conditions, which every sub¬
stance is capable of assuming. The schools upheld very dif¬
ferent notions, which, after a long series of descents, have
at last found shelter among the vulgar. It was maintain¬
ed that, of the four elements, air and fire are hot, and water
. and earth essentially cold ; and that the compound bodies,
from their constitution, partake of those qualities in differ¬
ent degrees. While the senses were the sole arbiters of
heat and cold, substances became classed according to
the sensations which they excited. If a body, such as
lead, rapidly abstracted heat from the touch, it was reck¬
oned cold. But the same quality was likewise bestowed
on other substances of a very different kind, for instance,
on vinegar and hemlock, because they affect the stomach
with a sort of chilling sensation. Soft wood and feathers
might be deemed warm, since they draw off heat feebly
from the touch ; but pepper was also ranged-in the same
class, because it stimulates the organs of taste. Such a
confusion of ideas disfigured physical science, and pervert¬
ed the practice of medicine.
Invention The construction of the air-thermometer, by the famous
!f^e„.th5r' Sanctorio of Padua, in 1590, was the commencement of a
salutary revolution. As it was at first intended for ex¬
ploring disease, it has ultimately rendered signal service
to the medical practitioners. About twenty years after¬
wards, those instruments were manufactured by Drebbel,
who carried them from Holland into England. They were
very rude, however, and adapted to no constant scale, but
regarded merely as weather-glasses. The discovery of the
barometer opened new views, and showed that the former
instruments marked the conjoint effects of heat and pres¬
sure. To distinguish the separate influence of heat, it be¬
came hence requisite to employ some different fluid from
air. Alcohol was preferred, as being very expansible ;
xnometer.
and, from the year 1655, thermometers consisting of rather Meteor!
wider tubes, terminating in balls or large bulbs filled with ology,'';
that liquid, were manufactured by Italian artists, who imi-'s—y-v
tated an arbitrary standard adopted by the Accademia del
Cimento. Such thermometers were clumsy, and suscepti¬
ble of only a low range. Romer, who made the fine dis¬
covery of the progressive motion of light, proposed mer¬
cury, as a fluid sufficiently expansible, and capable of bear¬
ing an intense degree of heat. The origin of the scale was
then fixed at the melting point of ice or snow, and the
scale itself divided into degrees corresponding to the ten
thousandth part of the capacity of the bulb. Yet this
mode of construction seemed tedious, and liable to some
inaccuracy. The capital improvement was made in 1724, Impiweij
by Fahrenheit, who took another standard point from thekTahreii.
boiling of water under the mean pressure of the atmosphere.llelt>
For many years that ingenious artist manufactured ther¬
mometers in Amsterdam on correct principles, very neat
and small, adapted especially to medical purposes. The
multitudes of young physicians who at that period studied
in Holland quickly dispersed them to every part of the
globe. The observations thus obtained gave juster ideas
of the comparative temperatures of different climates, and
in many cases reduced the exaggerations of travellers to
moderate bounds. It thence appeared that the heat of
the torrid zone was not so excessive, nor the cold of the
arctic regions so intense, as had been commonly represent¬
ed. The tropical plants could, therefore, enjoy in our
hot-houses all the warmth of their native climate. The
thermometer was first applied to direct the operations of
horticulture, and afterwards extended to regulate the pro¬
cess of brewing and other arts more immediately depend¬
ing on practical chemistry.
Quicksilver was deemed preferable to alcohol in the fill-Congela-
ing of the thermometers, not only because of the wide don of
range which it embraces, but on account of the remark-
able property which it was afterwards found to possess, or e'
expanding equably wdth equal accessions of heat. But it
failed in the lower Jrart of the scale. The reported sinking
of the mercurial thermometer in Siberia appeared to indi¬
cate an intensity of cold beyond all conception. But the
discovery made by Professor Braun, in 1759, of the actual
congelation of mercury itself, reduced the extent of refri¬
geration to moderate limits. This fluid rpetal suffers a
large contraction in passing into the state of solidity; and,
therefore, though it freezes about thirty-nine degrees be¬
low the zero of Fahrenheit, it yet shrinks through a space
of more than a hundred degrees before it becomes fixed.
As alcohol has never been congealed, though brought, in
some experiments we could mention, to 150° below zero,
thermometers filled with it are now employed to explore,
if not to measure, intense cold.
Metallic thermometers are likewise wTell adapted for ex- Metallic
amining the state of the atmosphere. They are commonly tl'ernl0’
constructed on the principle of the compensation balancemeter5,
of a chronometer, a spiral or circular spring being com¬
posed of two soldered opposite plates of distinct metals,
for instance of brass and steel, or of zinc and platinum,
which expand very differently under the action of heat,
and therefore continually change their incurvation. Some
instruments of this kind, made by Breguet at Paris, are
remarkably elegant; and those more lately manufactured
by that ingenious artist, with a very slender form, surpass
all other thermometers in the exquisite sensibility of their
indications. Fig. 9, Plate CCCLIV. represents the first form,
reduced to about the fourth part of its natural size. Ike
main piece of mechanism is a circular spring, fixed at one
end, and composed of steel and brass soldered together.
The other end carries a clip, that acts on a short train of
wheels, which turn an index on the dial-plate, the extent
of the scale, including the range of atmospheric tempera-
OTn;
■‘.l
B(
'lmii
METEOROLOGY.
725
letec: ture. The dial with its index are shown by A; and B
ilogy exhibits generally the interior mechanism. Fig. 4, Plate
^■-v^CCCLIV. delineates the latest improvement. To prevent
the cracking or dislocation which a large motion of the
springsometimesoccasions at the junction of the two metals,
a thin plate of a third metal is interposed. Three plates,
consisting of platinum, gold, and silver, are united by the
rolling press into a single riband, of the thickness of only
the 1200th part of an inch. The instrument is formed with
about twenty-seven spires or circumvolutions of this very
slender spring, bearing an index which travels in its circle
over fifty centesimal degrees, or ninety degrees by Fahren¬
heit’s scale. The metallic film is, from its extreme tenuity,
almost instantly penetrated by the impressions of heat or
cold, and the sensibility of this thermometer accordingly
surpasses all conception.
uista* ^ much importance, in keeping meteorological
then journals, to have thermometers that shall indicate the ex-
netei treme changes which occur during the absence of the ob¬
server, such as the greatest heat of the day, and the lowest
cold of the night. For this object the metallic thermo¬
meters are easily adapted, since their index may push for¬
ward or draw back any moveable mark, and thus indicate
the limits of its variation. Large mercurial thermometers,
also, if mounted like the wheel barometers, to turn an in¬
dex, will answer a similar purpose. But smaller instru¬
ments, though of a more complex construction, have been
generally preferred. A sufficient account of the self-re¬
gistering thermometer proposed by Lord Charles Caven¬
dish in 1757, and of the more complete instrument de¬
scribed by Mr Six in 1782, may be found in any work
which treats of the subject. The latter has now come
into pretty general use, though we are sorry to remark,
that it seems to have fallen into the hands of very infe¬
rior artists, the scale consisting merely of boxwood, rudely
and inaccurately subdivided.
Both these instruments have been employed to ascer¬
tain the coldness of the ocean at great depths. It be-
. This instrument was first employed by Dr Rutherford, Meteor-
m some interesting experiments, to ascertain the temper- 0l°gy-
ature of germination, and determine the depth to which
frost penetrates into the ground in different soils and situ¬
ations, at the suggestion of his neighbour Dr Coventry,
the very able and intelligent professor of agriculture in
the University of Edinburgh, both of them proprietors in
the small county of Kinross. The few instruments of this
kind, for some time circulated, were made by the hands of,
the inventor; but artists have since learned to imitate and
improve the original construction, and nothing is wanted
now but to promote their diffusion. We regret that this
very useful register-thermometer seems to be not yet so
well known in London as it deserves.
The minutest changes which take place in the constitu- Differen.
tion of bodies are, for the most part, attended by corre- tial ther-
sponding alterations of temperature. To explore those ab-mometers’
struser operations of nature, which often betray the in¬
fluence of more extensive principles, it was now requisite
to improve the delicacy of the thermometer. To this ob¬
ject the writer of the present article had early turned his
attention. At first he enlarged the capacity of the bulb,
and thus procured degrees of such a size on the stem as to
be capable of a very distinct subdivision. These instru¬
ments, however, received their .impressions very slowly;
and therefore tubes of extremely fine bores being select¬
ed, he had small bulbs blown, and filled with quicksilver,
not in the ordinary way, but by the aid of a compressing
force. With such exquisite thermometers, it was easy to
procure much nicer observations, and to detect even the
finer modifications of corpuscular action. But, to include
the usual range of temperature, it was necessary to draw
the stem to an immoderate length. The attempt to reme¬
dy this inconvenience led to the construction of the first
kind of differential thermometer. The main object was
evidently attained, if the mercury should always be made
to start from some given point. The tube was therefore
left open, and a cap adapted to the top, containing a sur¬
plus portion of the fluid. When the thermometer was
kept inverted, this mercury closed round the orifice, and
irate
perh
:om
inCi
!t is
licet
Hess
111)50 Ot
comes requisite, however, to make some allowance for the
contraction which the glass bulbs must suffer under the
enormous compression of the superincumbent columns of joined the thread in the stem, as in fig. 17, Plate CCCLIV.
water. This can easily be computed, from the effect of But when the instrument was reversed, the excluded fluid
perhaps ten atmospheres in a condensing engine ; and such instantly separated, and sunk into the cavity under the top
corrections were actually applied to the observations made of the tube, as in fig. 16. In this situation, the descent of
in Captain Phipps’ voyage in 1773 towards the north pole.
It is a matter of equal surprise and regret, that all such
niceties were overlooked in the late expeditions of Captain
Ross and Captain Parry to the arctic regions.
The simplest, and by far the best, self-registering thermo-
licr- meters, are those invented and constructed by the late Dr
John Rutherford, of Middle Balilish, and first described in
the Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh for the
year 1794. The one, which marks the minimum, is filled
with alcohol, and the other, which indicates the maximum,
is filled with quicksilver; and they are both attached to
; the same frame, or, what is still better, affixed to separate
frames, placed nearly horizontal, or rather elevated about
the mercurial thread in the stem marked the depression
of temperature.
A differential thermometer of this construction was used
for three or four years, in a variety of experiments, with¬
out ever failing. But an open thermometer must be liable
to some uncertainty, and unavoidably subject to a continual
deterioration. The loose mercury will undergo a slow
oxidation, while the bore of the tube is apt to be soiled
and tarnished by the insensible introduction of moisture.
Such an instrument, however, is well adapted for many re¬
searches.
In the beginning of the year 1795, another form of the Its sim-
ditferential thermometer wras devised, which, from its sim-plest form.
five degrees, to prevent the separation of the thread of plicity, its delicacy, and extensive application, has contri
^ ■' . . .. buted essentially to the progress of physical and chemical
science. This instrument is now so generally known, that
a few remarks on its general construction will be here
judged sufficient. The differential thermometer is a modi¬
fication of the air-thermometer, but susceptible of the im¬
pressions of heat only, and exempt altogether from the
influence of the variations of atmospheric pressure. The
tube, to which the scale is applied has a bore of equal ca¬
libre, from the fiftieth to the fifteenth part of an inch wide,
the other branch being commonly wider; the terminating
balls are not less than four tenths of an inch in diameter,
and seldom exceeding an inch and a half. A glass tube,-
terminated by a ball containing air, is joiiled hermetically,
liquid. The tubes have bores from the twenty-fifth to the
fifteenth part of an inch wide, and include a minute taper¬
ed or conical piece of ivory, or of white or blue enamel,
ibout half an inch long. This mark having in either ther¬
mometer its base turned towards the bulb, is drawn to the
West point by the alcohol, which again freely passes it;
out it is always pushed forward to the highest limit by the
mercury, which afterwards leaves it. These marks, how-
over, are now made cylindrical, a little thickened at the
onds, and about three eighths of an inch in length. (See
Igs. 7 and 8, Plate CCCLIV.) Fig. 7 exhibits the alcohol.or
minimum thermometer; and fig. 8, the one which indicates
he maximum, and is filled with quicksilver.
726
METEOROLOGY.
Its pro-
gressive
improve
ment.
Meteor- or by the flame of a lamp, to another longer tube, termi-
0 °£>-v’ nated by a similar ball containing air also, but including
a small portion of some coloured liquid. The tubes are
then bent, generally into a recurved or double stem, like
the letter U, and the liquid is adjusted to the proper height
by making bubbles of air pass from the one ball to the other,
from the little enlargement of the bore left at the junction
of the tubes. If both balls have the same temperature,
the liquid must evidently remain stationary; but if the ball
of the shorter tube be warmed, the air, expanding and ex¬
erting more elasticity, will depress the liquid in the stem ;
or if this ball be cooled, the air, by its contraction, al¬
lows the liquid to ascend, from the superior elasticity of
the air contained in the opposite ball. The fall or rise of
the liquid will, therefore, mark the excess of heat or cold
in the adjacent ball, and the space through which it moves
will measure the precise difference of temperature.1
Alcohol and other volatile fluids were avoided in fill¬
ing the tube, lest their vapour should affect unequally
the elasticity of the air contained in the balls, and thus
disturb the accuracy of the indication. Linseed oil tin¬
ged with alkanet root was first used; but it was found
to be sluggish in its movements, leaving along the inside
of the tube a sort of trail, which sometimes collected
into globules. But the great objection to this and other
fixed oils was, that they did not remain at the same point
of the scale, but slowly shifted their place, owing, ap¬
parently, to a partial absorption of air in one of the balls,
while their orange tint was found to fade away by ex¬
posure to the light. Deliquiate potash, coloured with
archil, was next employed, and with tolerable success.
By degrees, however, it deposited the colouring matter,
and became almost limpid. Hydrogen gas, instead of
common air, whs then adopted for filling the balls. This
mode of construction prevented the deposition of the co¬
louring matter ; but it was experienced to be troublesome,
and attended with other impediments. After numerous
discouraging trials, it was at last discovered that strong
sulphuric acid tinged with carmine fulfils every condition,
remaining permanently stationary in contact with con¬
fined air, and never losing in the slightest degree its co¬
lour from the action of the strongest light. Since the
year 1801, this liquid has been constantly used in the
construction of the differential thermometer. When the Metet
exhibition of striking effects rather than scrupulous ac- oW
curacy is sought for, tinged alcohol, indeed, has in a very^^V
few cases been preferred, on account of the great facility
and amplitude of its motions. But, in every instance, a
column of liquid, terminating in the cavity of one of the
balls, or in a small cylindrical reservoir under it, was pre¬
ferred ; and not, as proposed by some experimenters, a
single drop of the liquid, which forces its way through
the bore by successive starts, and is therefore liable to
much uncertainty and derangement.
. Tlie differential thermometer is capable of some diver-n, j*
sity of form. It may consist either of a single branch, pen-entfimj
dant or horizontal, or it may be bent into two perpendicular
branches, whether contiguous or placed at a short distance.
Since the motion of the column in the tube is occasioned
by the difference of the elasticity of the air contained in
the two balls, it is not essential that those balls should be
of equal dimensions; for an equipoise must obtain whenever
the augmented elasticity of the air of the hotter ball is ba¬
lanced by its expansion on the one hand, and the corre¬
sponding contraction in the opposite ball, joined to the
pressure of the ascending column of the sulphuric acid.
In general the balls are blown to a certain degree unequal,
either to suit the particular instrument, or to please the
eye ; but in making observations, it must be kept invaria¬
bly in the position for which it was designed, whether ver¬
tical or horizontal, since the pressure of the balancing co¬
lumn would be effected by an obliquity.
The differential thermometer, in its pendant form, and
extended to a suitable length, from one foot, perhaps, to
three or four feet, may be employed with great advantage
in comparing the different temperatures of adjacent strata
of air near the surface of the earth during the progress and
decline of the day ; and to detect the variations in a cloudy
or a clear sky, and those occasioned by winds, as modified
by the quality of the ground, whether naked or clothed
with vegetation. But the main use of this instrument in
meteorological researches arises from the various modifica¬
tions of which it is susceptible. The minute changes of
temperature which it marks discover the existence and in¬
tensity of other disturbing causes. It is thus found that
ftesh ploughed ground is more affected by the solar rays
It is not difficult to compute, in general, the S1ze of the scale of the differential thermometer. Let the diameters of the two
balls be expressed in inches by a and 6 the diameter of the bore of the tube being denoted by<i, and the measure of a centesimal de°
gree by *. ^The capacities of those balls, representing the ratio of the circumference to the diameter of a circle, would hence be
and and the portion of liquid raised through the space .r would be Consequently the opposite elasticities exerted
3d2x 3d2x
are and trrv-, or, expressed by the altitudes of a column of sulphuric acid, of which 220 inches may be reckoned equivalent to
2a3 2i3
• w . U .U . G60d2x 660d*x 330^ 330^a?
the weight of the atmosphere, they become or —+ _ ; wherefore, simje air expands one 250th part for
22a3J3
each centesimal degree,
330dJa3x + 330d2fi3.r
220
+ a? = —- , and, by reduction, a; =
This corresponds to ten
a3*3 ' ~ 250’  ’ 8250(d-2a3 + d2l>3) + 2oa3b3
of the millesimal degrees adopted for the differential thermometer, but the length of an hundred of those degrees, which may be
preferred as a larger basis for the scale, will be i650( + dH3) + ^ Suppose a = j, i = and d = of an inch ; then
.. 27 1:4
44 X 64 * 27
44
44
27 64 1650 4825
X64 X 27 1225 X 1728 +
— 3.70 5 5 inches. If the balls be of equal diameters, this expression
/ l \ /27 64\
1650(i2m)(m+57) + 5
for the length of an hundred degrees in inches will become simply —^3. Thus, suppose a = ^ and d = ^ of an inch; then
44 x *512 * , ,
TlOO ” inches. If the density of the sulphuric acid were reduced from 1*85 to 1*62, the expression for the length of
  1 rt w . i*. 1 o
900
+ 5 X *512
^2 3
ten degrees would pass into this very simple form,   .
T56d2 + o*
irei
whi
leteoi
tanc
Ilfro
METEOROLOGY.
than a green sward, on which also the breeze has little in¬
fluence.
III. The Hygrometer.1—The mutable condition of
the atmosphere, as it inclines to dryness or humidity, is the
main source of all the variety of meteorological phenomena.
The changes which it undergoes with respect to moisture
have a marked influence on a very numerous class of sub¬
stances, and even on the animal frame. But unfortunately
those indications are always vague, and often fallacious.
To ascertain the portion of humidity which a given quan¬
tity of air holds, or is capable of sustaining, is a problem of
the first importance ; but our advances to the constructing
of an instrument fit to measure with accuracy that disposi¬
tion have been extremely slow.
Most substances of a loose and spongy texture, or pos¬
sessed of an absorbent quality, are affected, though in very
different degrees, by the presence of humidity. Accord¬
ingly, the variations, both in weight and bulk, which ab¬
sorbent bodies undergo, have been employed to indicate
the disposition of the air with respect to moisture. For
this reason such substances are likewise termed hygrosco¬
pic, since they are always affected by the state of the am¬
bient medium, though they may not precisely measure its
degrees of humidity or dryness. But neither heat nor mois¬
ture is passively diffused, or yet shared among different bo¬
dies in equal proportions. From some experiments made
by Sir John Leslie, it appears that, under a like change of
circumstances, a hundred grains of ivory will attract from
the atmosphere seven grains of humidity ; the same weight
of boxwood, fourteen grains; of eider-down, sixteen; of
wool, eighteen ; and of beech, twenty-eight. Other sub¬
stances, in their respective measures of absorption, exhibit
still wider differences.
The dry or humid state of the air is therefore discovered
from the variable weight of certain bodies exposed to its
influence. Rock salt has been applied to that purpose; but
potash, the muriate of lime, sulphuric acid, and most of the
deliquescent substances, whether in a solid or a liquid form,
act the most powerfully. Other materials of a firm or ad¬
hesive consistence manifest the same properties, though in
a lowpr degree. Plates of slate-clay or of unglazed earth¬
enware, the shavings of box or horn, paper or parchment,
wool or down, all act as hygroscopes. But these substan¬
ces, especially the harder kinds of them, unless they be ex¬
tremely thin, receive their impressions very slowly, and
lienee they cannot mark with any precision the fleeting
and momentary state of the ambient medium. Nor is the
weight which they gain by exposure proportioned to the
•eal dampness of the air ; for the measures of their succes-
>ive absorption are found to increase in a most rapid pro¬
gression as they approach to the point of absolute humi¬
lity-
But to weigh the substances with the accuracy befitting
uch experiments is a very delicate and troublesome ope-
ation. Those thin bodies are liable, besides, to become
n time covered with dust, which, while it must evidently
j ugment their weight, cannot be detached from them with¬
out injuring their slender texture. The increase of bulk
rhich they acquire from the portion of moisture attracted
uto their substance, furnishes therefore a more certain and
; :onvenient indication of the state of the atmosphere. The
olid vegetable and animal fibres are connected by a fine
oft netting, in which the power of absorption appears
hiefly to reside. Hence the presence of moisture always
nlarges the breadth of such substances, without affecting
n any sensible degree their length. This effect is visible
i the swelling of a door by external dampness, and in the
727
shrinking of a pannel from the opposite cause. But the Meteor-
substances, such as paper or parchment, which have a dif- °logy.
fused or interlaced texture, are extended by the absorp- '"~y:—
tion of humidity almost equally in every direction. On
the contrary, twisted cord and gut, being swelled by mois¬
ture, suffer a corresponding longitudinal contraction, ac¬
companied likewise, if i)ot confined, by some uncoiling of
their fibres.
All these properties have severally been employed in
the construction of hygroscopes. The expansion of the
thin Ci oss sections of box or other hard wood, the elonga¬
tion of the human hair or of a slice of whale-bone, and the
untwisting of the wild oat, of cat-gut, of a cord or linen
thread, and of a species of grass brought from India, have
at different times been used with various success. But
the instruments so formed are either extremely dull in
their motions, or, if they acquire greater sensibility from
the attenuation of their substance, they are likewise ren¬
dered the more subject to accidental injury and derange¬
ment ; and all of them in time appear to lose insensibly
their tone and proper action.
An attempt was made by Sir John Leslie to revive Ivorv by-
the method of measuring the expansion of absorbent cohe-groscoPes-
sive substances by their enlargement of capacity when dis¬
posed into a thin shell; and, by successive steps, he carried
the hygroscope thus formed to as high a state of improve¬
ment as perhaps such an imperfect instrument will admit.
A piece of fine-grained ivory, about an inch and a quarter
in length, was turned into an elongated spheroid, as thin
as possible, weighing only eight or ten grains, but capable
of containing, at its greatest expansion, about 300 grains
of mercury; and the upper end, which was adapted to the
body by means of a delicate screw, had a slender tube in¬
serted, six or eight inches long, and w ith a bore of nearly
the fifteenth part of an inch in diameter. (See fig. 19,
Plate CCCLV.) The instrument being now fitted to¬
gether, its elliptical shell was dipped into distilled waiter,
or lapped round with a w^et bit of linen, and, after a con¬
siderable interval of time, filled writh mercury to some con¬
venient point near the bottom of the tube, where is fixed
the beginning of the scale. The divisions themselves were
ascertained by distinguishing the tube into spaces which
correspond each of them to the thousandth part of the entire
cavity, and equal to the measure of about three tenths of
a grain of mercury. The ordinary range of the scale in¬
cluded about seventy of those divisions. To the upper
end of the tube was adapted a small ivory cap, which al¬
lowed the penetration of air, but prevented the escape of
the mercury, and thereby rendered the instrument tolera¬
bly portable.
This hygroscope was largely, though rather slowly, af- Peculiarity
fected by any change in the humidity of the ambient me-°{ lts in¬
dium. As the air became drier, it attracted a portion 0flracdons
moisture from the shell or bulb of ivory, which, suffering
in consequence a contraction, squeezed its contained mer¬
cury so much higher in the tube. But if, on the contrary,
the air inclined more to dampness, the thin bulb imbibed
moisture and swelled proportionally, allowing the quicksil¬
ver to subside towards its enlarged cavity. These varia¬
tions, however, were very far from corresponding with the
real measures of atmospheric dryness or humidity. Near
the point of extreme dampness, the alterations of the hy¬
groscope were much augmented; but they diminished ra¬
pidly as the mercury approached the upper part of the
scale. The contraction of the ivorv answering to an equal
rise in the dryness of the air, w^as found to be six times
greater at the beginning of the scale than at the seventieth
1 from wet or humid, and a measure. Hygrometer is distinguished from hygroscope; the former measuring the hu-
uaity or the air, the latter only vaguely marking its presence.
728
METEOROLOGY.
Meteor'
ology.
hygroscopic division, and seemed in general to be inverse¬
ly as the number of hygrometric degrees, reckoning from
twenty below. Sir John Leslie therefore placed another
scale along the opposite side of the tube, the space between
the zero and the seventieth division of the hygroscope being
distinguished into 100 degrees, and corresponding to the
unequal portions from the number twenty to 120 on a lo¬
garithmic line. This very singular property will be more
easily conceived from the inspection of the figure. The
scale might probably be extended farther by continuing
the logarithmic divisions. Thus, 320 degrees by the hy¬
grometer would answer to 108 of the hygroscope, or to a
contraction of 108 parts in a thousand in the capacity of
the bulb. But at the dryness of 300, the contraction of
the ivory seemed never to exceed 105.
Boxwood was likewise formed into a hygroscope of the
same shape and dimensions; but this absorbent material
swells twice as much with moisture as ivory does, and
therefore requires its inserted tube to be proportionally
longer or wider. Its contractions are still more unequal
than those of ivory; for, near the point of extreme hu¬
midity, those alterations in the capacity of the bulb ap¬
peared to be more than twenty times greater than, under
like changes in the condition of the atmosphere, take place
towards the upper part of the scale. The space included
between the cofrtmencement and the hundred and fortieth
millesimal division of the scale might hence be marked
with a hundred hygrometric degrees, corresponding to the
decreasing portions of a logarithmic line from five to a
hundred and five.
In noticing the rapidly declining contractions which ivory
and boxwood undergo, Sir John Leslie did not mean, how¬
ever, to state the quantities with rigorous precision. Much
time had been consumed in attempting to trace out the
law of those gradations; and such experiments are render¬
ed the more tedious, from the protracted action of the hy¬
groscope, which often continues travelling slowly for the
space of a quarter, or even half an hour. This tardiness
is indeed the-great defect of all instruments of that na¬
ture, and utterly disqualifies them for every sort of delicate
observation.
The very large expansions which the hygroscope shows
on its approach to extreme humidity, explains in a satis¬
factory manner the injury which furniture and pieces of
cabinet work sustain from the prevalence of dampness.
On the other hand, the slight alteration which the instru¬
ment undergoes in a medium of highly dry atmosphere,
seems to have led most philosophers to believe that there
is an absolute term of dryness, on the distance of which
from the point of extreme moisture they have generally
founded the graduation of the different hygroscopes propos¬
ed by them. This opinion, however, is far from being cor¬
rect, and might give occasion to most erroneous conclu¬
sions. No bounds can be set to the actual dryness of the
air, or the quantity of moisture which it is capable of hold¬
ing, which, by the joint application of heat and rarefaction,
may be pushed to an almost indefinite extent.
The ivory hygroscope, after being for several hours im¬
mersed in air remarkably dry, was apt of a sudden to split
longitudinally. But if the bulb endured such a range
of contraction, it appeared in some instances to take at
least another set, or to accommodate its constitution, by
imperceptible changes, to the state of the surrounding
medium.
But though the bulbous hygroscope is, in extreme cases,
liable to much uncertainty and some risk, it may yet be
used with visible advantage in certain peculiar situations.
The very sluggishness of the instrument, when the value oU „
of its divisions has been once ascertained, fits it so muchv'“Vv !L
the better for indicating the mean results. After being ^
long exposed in situations hardly accessible, it may be
conveniently transported for inspection, before it can suf¬
fer any sensible change. The hygroscope could be there¬
fore employed with success to discover the degree of hu¬
midity which prevails at considerable elevations in the at¬
mosphere. It might be likewise used for ascertaining
readily the precise condition of various goods and commo5-
dities. Thus, if the bulb were introduced, for the space
perhaps of half an hour, into a bag of wool, a sack of corn,
or a bale of paper, it would, on being withdrawn from
their contact, mark the dryness or humidity of those very
absorbent substances.
Other hygroscopic substances have at different times
been proposed, which, though possessed of greater sensi¬
bility, are yet liable to the same general objections. Thus,
quills, reeds, gold beaters’ skin or pellicle, the skins of
frogs, or the bladders of rats, were made to act like the
bulbs of thermometers, and to cause, by their contraction
or dilatation, as they inclined to dryness or humidity, the
included quicksilver to rise or fall in rather a wide tube.
These instruments, however, being subject to injury or
derangement from the smallest accident, can scarcely be
applied to any practical use.
The hygroscopes which depend on the elongation of the
fibres are perhaps on the whole preferable. The slice of
whalebone proposed by M. Deluc, and the human hair af¬
terwards employed by M. de Saussure, are both of them
sufficiently sensible to external impressions; but the diffi¬
culty is to determine the precise relation subsisting be¬
tween those impressions and the state of the atmosphere.
Humidity is not distributed in equal shares through the
air and among the several absorbent substances exposed
to its penetration ; nor are the degrees of expansion which
it communicates either uniform or proportional to its quan¬
tity. Ihe graduation of such instruments, being thus in
a great measure arbitrary, can furnish no correct data of
the hygrometric state of the atmosphere. The assump¬
tion of two fixed extreme points as the basis of the scale
is evidently erroneous. Air contained within a glass re¬
ceiver may be rendered as damp as possible, by the co¬
pious aspersion of water on the sides; but it can never be
absolutely deprived of its moisture, which adheres the
more powerfully in proportion as it becomes diminished.
Caustic alkalis, concentrated acids, and some of the deli¬
quescent salts, aided by the action of heat, all render the
air drier, but without being able to complete the desicca¬
tion. By the combined application of other agents, and
even by mechanical pressure, the driest air can always be
made to deposit some farther portion of moisture.
M. de Saussure directed all the resources of his inge¬
nuity to correct the anomalies of the instrument which he
proposed, and at last succeeded, by multiplied precautions,
in rendering it as perfect, perhaps, as its nature and com¬
position will admit. The hair-hygroscope (for it is not
entitled to the name of hygrometer) certainly shows mo¬
bility ; but the degrees which it marks can afford no stea¬
dy or tolerably correct estimate of the dryness of the at¬
mosphere.1
To arrive at an accurate measure of the dryness of theExpai®”
J ~ -Ayg®®’
air, it is necessary to pursue a different route. Steam,
whatever way it be formed, whether by the application ofter'
heat, or the diminution of atmospheric pressure, has near-
1 From the few observations which we have made with an instrument of this kind brought from Geneva, we are sorry to say that
it falls much below our expectations. Its motions are slow and irregular ; and it seems to be little affected by verv considerable al¬
terations of the state of the encircling medium.
linjioj]
'm
po
pn
rot
Th
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tity
o tl:
)bse
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ults,
T]jo:
ate,
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ICC
fits
lout
ach
icur
METEOROLOGY.
b fetect ly the double of the elasticity of common air, or it would,
uiWniti un(]er the same compressing force, occupy about twice as
much space. In uniting with that fluid, and forming va¬
pour, it must hence communicate an expansion exactly
proportional to the quantity dissolved, or to the share of
moisture required for the complete saturation of the air.
This principle suggested to Sir John Leslie the means of con¬
structing an accurate hygrometer, to which his researches
had been early directed. Inverting a barrel-tumbler, he
ground the mouth perfectly flat, and having drilled a hole
through the bottom, he cemented into it a syphon-gage,
or slender recurved tube, with a narrow bore, and an in¬
termediate swell or cavity, passing through a perforated
cap of lead, and holding a portion of nut oil, tinged with
alkanet root. (See fig. 6, Plate CCCLIV., where it is
represented half the natural size.) To form the scale,
he divided 4*2 inches into an hundred equal parts, so that
each degree corresponded to the ten thousandth part of
the airs elasticity, the whole atmospheric pressure being
equal to that of a column of the oil 420 inches in height.
Having now spread a few drops of water over a surface of
plate glass, and slipped the tumbler upon it, the included
air quickly dissolved as much moisture as was sufficient
for its saturation, and marked the expansion thence ac¬
quired, by forcing the oil to rise proportionally. The quan¬
tity of effect varied much, but was often very consider¬
able, amounting, in fine weather, to 110 or 120 degrees.
This little apparatus appeared to answer the purpose in¬
tended ; but it w’as not portable, and it always required
some address. It soon gave way, therefore, to other in¬
struments, which promised to be more easily and readily
managed.
As an hygrometer of this kind exhibits the actual ex¬
pansion or'increase of elasticity which the air acquires
from complete humefaction, it seemed calculated for in¬
dicating 'the variable power of a drier or a moister atmo¬
sphere in refracting the rays of light. The barometer and
thermometer had long been employed to correct the quan¬
tity of refraction; but the application of an accurate hy¬
grometer seemed no less necessary for delicate observa¬
tions. An instrument of the composition now described
was accordingly intrusted, in the course of the year 1794,
to the late Dr Maskelyne, and deposited in the Hoyal
Observatory of Greenwich. Other objects, however, inter¬
fered, and an investigation, which promised important re¬
sults, was never prosecuted on a regular and digested plan.
’m* This instrument might be rendered still more accu¬
rate, by combining it with the principle of the differential
thermometer. Let two similar tumblers (see fig. 5, Plate
CCCLIV. where it is contracted to about the fourth part
of its size), A and B, inverted and loaded, have their
mouths ground to fit a glass plate, the air contained in
each of them acting by its elasticity on the column of a
recurved tube C, which connects their cavities. Slide
)oth of these tumblers in a dry state upon their bases, dip
1 hair-pencil in oil, and pass it round the outside of the
| nouth of A, to make it quite tight; then having removed
B, and spread a few drops of water over its place, slip it
m the plate again. The air included in B, now absorbing
1 noisture, will continue to expand and to press upon the
iquid column, till it has become absolutely saturated.
Should any change take place in the temperature of the
oom during this process, it can have no effect in derang-
ng the indication of the instrument, since it must influ¬
ence precisely in the same degree the elasticity of the air
:ontained in both balls, and thus produce an exact coun-
erbalance.
This compound instrument is adapted to various delicate
>hysical inquiries. In the union of different substances,
i certain alteration of volume, however minute, almost in
729
of
ain.
era.
ia
ariably takes place.
VOL. XIV.
To ascertain such changes under
various circumstances greatly extends our views of the em- Meteor-
pire of chemical affinity. For instance, a small bit of fresh ology.
chaicoal introduced under one of the tumblers will mark
its absorption of the air, by the consequent rising of the
coloured liquid. But the tumbler being wetted over the
inside, and a portion of dry, though not recent, charcoal,
with a pared surface, placed within it, after the air has
ceased to dilate from humefaction, if the charcoal be
brought in contact with water, the liquor will again rise,
and continue for some time to indicate a renewed expan¬
sion. As the water is imbibed by the charcoal, minute
globules of air will appear to escape. But if the water, by
its insinuation, had merely dislodged the air from the
pores, there would have been no change of volume, and
consequently no alteration in the height of the liquid on
the scale. Those aerial globules must have, therefore, ex¬
panded as they emerged, or they had existed in a state of
condensation united to the charcoal.
On the other hand, if a roll of unsized paper, linen rags,
slips of wood, or saw-dust, be successively introduced under
a tumbler in which a little water is easily shed, the colour¬
ed liquor will sink rapidly in proportion as the moisture is
absorbed. In this case, there is an obvious diminution of
volume, and an union produced between a liquid and a
solid, quite analogous to chemical solution; whereas ca¬
pillary action, such as the ascent of water through sand, is
attended by no change whatever of the space occupied by
the compound.
Another application of this instrument was to place under
the tumbler separate capsules containing different sub¬
stances, liquid or solid, which exert a mutual attraction.
The included air in this case served as the vehicle of trans¬
fer, and a sort of distillation was supported, of a peculiar
kind. The indications of this invisible process were vari¬
able, and often striking. But to enlarge on this subject
would be foreign to our purpose. We have only taken the
opportunity of noting a few of the results of an inquiry
which was not pushed to any extent, but which deserves
to be resumed, as likely to open new paths, and to unfold
the more abstruse relations subsisting among different
bodies.
Philosophers have long entertained very crude notions Confused
respecting the union of moisture with air, and the differ-ideas of the
ent circumstances which regulate or influence the process Process of
of evaporation. Dr Halley supposed that fire, uniting with ^^ora"
the particles of water, communicates a vesicular constitu- 10n’
tion, which enables them to rise and spread through the
atmosphere. A similar idea was entertained by Leib¬
nitz, and was extended still farther by Muschenbroeck and
Desaguliers. Kratzenstein adopted the vesicular system
in 1743, and endeavoured to calculate the attenuation of
the fluid which should produce the requisite buoyancy.
Hamberger, in 1750, advanced, however, a capital step,
by rejecting that hypothesis entirely, and attributing eva¬
poration at once to a real solution of moisture in the air.
Ibis simple theory was in the following year explained at
large by Le Roi of Montpellier, and fortified by some
striking arguments drawn chiefly from analogy. In pur¬
suance of his theory, he proposed to pour ice-cold water
into a deep glass, and to ascertain the dryness of the air,
by noting the depressed temperature at which the dewing
or deposition of vapour began to form on the outside of the
glass, or was again about to disappear. Could this method
have been easily and nicely reduced to practice, it might
certainly have furnished an accurate estimate of the hygro¬
meter and state of the atmosphere.
Wallerius, in his researches, was drawn aside from the
right path, by a fact first noticed by Muschenbroeck, who
asserted that evaporation is always more copious from a
deep than from a shallow vessel; and this curious and ap¬
parently anomalous fact has been confirmed by other sub-
4 z
780
METEOROLOGY.
Meteor- sequent experiments. But he found, from a series of care-
^_ful observations, that the quantity of water exhaled in the
v same situation is exactly proportional to the extent of sur¬
face exposed. He likewise made some experiments which
seemed to furnish an explication of the peculiarity remark¬
ed by Muschenbroeck, though their force was not gene¬
rally perceived at the time. But Richman rather darken¬
ed the subject by his strange conclusion, that the measure
of evaporation depends on the difference merely between
the temperature of the air and of the water, whether in
excess or defect.
It was not difficult to perceive that evaporation is pro¬
moted by the application of heat, and the agitation of the
aerial medium. No attempts, however, were made to de¬
termine the relation of that augmented effect to the actual
velocity of the wind. But experiments on the influence
which an increase of temperature exerts on the quantity
of evaporation have been prosecuted with various success
by Lambert, Saussure, and Kirwan. The results thus ob¬
tained unfortunately differ very widely; and though the
researches of the celebrated naturalist of Geneva were
those conducted with the most care and address, yet they
seem, from the vagueness of their elements, not entitled
to much confidence.
Vague ex- If the estimate of the causes which regulate the quantity
plication of0f evaporation was unsatisfactory, still more perplexing ap-
preduced Pearec* t^le ordinary account of the source of that depres-
by it. s^on temperature which always accompanies the process.
It was commonly referred to the operation of different con¬
curring circumstances, among which the agitation of the
air was conceived to perform the principal part. The dry¬
ness of that medium, on which we shall find the effect alone
to depend, was in a great measure overlooked, or was con¬
founded with other occasional agents. An evident confu¬
sion of ideas prevailed. The celerity of evaporation wTas
mistaken for its intensity, and the coldness induced on the
exhaling surface was viewed as the accumulated effect of a
rapid dissipation of moisture. It was not perceived that in
a free atmosphere vaporization proceeds with unabated en-
ergy, while the corresponding depression of temperature
must advance by a relaxing progression, since otherwise
the accession of an accelerated movement might push it to
any extent. A little reflection, indeed, should have con¬
vinced philosophers, that the reduced temperature caused
by vaporization must, in given circumstances, have a cer¬
tain limit beyond which it cannot pass. But simple as this
conclusion may now appear, it had escaped the most saga¬
cious inquirers. Even Saussure, a patient and accurate ex¬
perimenter, persuaded himself that, when water evaporates
slowly, the cold produced is scarcely perceptible. To ren¬
der this sensible, therefore, he thought it necessary to ac¬
celerate evaporation. Inserting the ball of a thermometer
in a wet sponge, and attaching a cord to its stem, he whirl¬
ed it briskly round his head, and thus produced a cold of
eighteen degrees by Fahrenheit’s scale, which he consider¬
ed as much greater than could be obtained by other pro¬
cesses. To prosecute the inquiry, he had a sort of whirl¬
ing table constructed, of about five feet diameter, by means
of which a thermometer, with its bulb incased in wet sponge,
could be made to revolve with the velocity of forty feet in
a second. This machine he was at the trouble and expense
of having carried up to the summit of the Col du Geant,
where, during a residence of several days, he performed a
series of interesting and valuable experiments. It did not
occur to this philosopher, that by such a contrivance he
was only creating to himself a vast deal of unnecessary fa¬
tigue, and that his wet thermometer, if left simply at rest
for the space of two or three minutes, would have indicated
exactly the same results. By all his exertions, he merely
shortened the very moderate time required for attaining its
extreme limit of depression.
If'
Such were the imperfect notions which still prevailed on MetJ f
the'subject of evaporation so late as the year 1796, the <%!L
date of the publication of the last volume of the
da)ts les Alpes. It is curious to remark, that Dr Black, in
his Lectures, never mentions the dryness of the air as any
way promoting evaporation, but ascribes the acceleration
of the process entirely to the warmth and agitation of that
medium. His friend Dr James Hutton, whose acuteness
and penetration were conspicuous, had probably studied the
phenomenon more closely. “ I never had a hygrometer,”
lie says ; “ but I used to amuse myself in walking in the
fields, by observing the temperature of the air with the
thermometer, and trying its dryness by the evaporation of
water. The method I pursued was this : I had a thermo¬
meter included within a glass tube, hermetically sealed;
this I held in a proper situation until it acquired’the tem¬
perature of the atmosphere, and then I dipped it into a
little water also cooled to the same temperature. I then
exposed my thermometer, with its glass case wetted, to a
current of air ; and I examined how much the evaporation
of the atmosphere, by holding the ball of the thermometer,
or the end of the tube in which the ball was enclosed, to¬
wards the current of air; and I examined how much the
evaporation from that glass tube cooled the ball of the
thermometer which was included.” He then proceeds to
relate some hasty and very inaccurate observations made
in this way. The passage now quoted occurs in a quarto
volume published in 1792, buried in a repulsive mass of
diffuse reasoning and paradoxical speculation, unsupport¬
ed by any definite experiment. But Dr Hutton had evi¬
dently considered it as a conjectural hint, on which he
laid little stress ; for he speaks immediately afterwards of
our possessing accurate hygrometers, which could not be
admitted if the assumption he seemed to make had been
strictly true.
Whilst such loose and imperfect notions prevailed re*Analysis:'
specting evaporation, it was expedient to review the pro-^P
cess with attention, and analyse the several changes whichtio11,
accompany it. The depression of temperature which it
always occasions had been hastily supposed to be propor¬
tional to the rate with which the moisture is dissipated, and
to be therefore augmented by every circumstance that can
accelerate this effect. But if water contained in a porous
vessel expose on all sides its surface to a current of air, it
will cool down to a certain point, and there its tempera¬
ture will remain stationary. The rapidity of the current
must no doubt hasten the term of equilibrium, but the de¬
gree of cold thus induced will be found still the same. A
little reflection may discover how this takes place. It is
well known that the conversion of water into steam is, in
every case, attended by the absorption of the heat requisite
to support a gaseous constitution. Though the humid sur¬
face has now ceased to grow colder, the dispersion of in¬
visible vapour, and the corresponding abstraction of heat,
still continue without intermission. The same medium,
therefore, which transports the vapour, must also furnish
the portion of heat required for its incessant formation. In
fact, after the water has been once cooled down, each por¬
tion of the ambient air which comes to touch the evapo-
I’ating surface must, from its contact with a substance so
greatly denser than itself) be likewise cooled down to the
same standard, and must hence communicate to the liquid
its surplus heat, or the difference between the prior and
the subsequent state of the solvent, which is proportioned
to the diminution of temperature it has suffered. Every
shell of air that in succession encircles the humid mass,
while it absorbs, along with the moisture which it dissolves,
the measure of heat to convert this into steam, does at the
same instant thus deposite an equal measure of its own
heat on the chill exhaling surface. The abstraction of
heat by vaporization on the one hand, and its deposition
O'Y
METEOROLOGY.
731
‘W 011 the other, at the surrace of contact, are therefore, oppo-
1 oll v site contemporaneous acts, which soon produce a mutual
balance, and thereafter the resulting temperature conti-
“ nues without the smallest alteration. A rapid circulation
of the evaporating medium may quicken the operation of
those causes; but so long as it possesses the same drying
quality, it cannot in any degree derange the resulting tem¬
perature. The heat deposited by the air on the humid
surface becomes thus an accurate measure of the heat spent
in vaporizing the portion of moisture required for the sa¬
turation of that solvent at its lowered temperature. The
dryness oi the air is, therefore, under all circumstances,
precisely indicated by the depression of temperature pro¬
duced on a humid surface which has been exposed freely
to its action.
It may insure perspicuity, however, to recapitulate the
great principle on which the formation of the hygrometer
depends. When water passes into steam or vapour, it en¬
larges its capacity, and absorbs a very large share of heat.
Any body, therefore, having a wet surface, becomes gene¬
rally colder, if exposed to the access of air. But this de¬
crease of temperature soon attains a certain limit, where it
continues stationary, though the dissipation of moisture
still proceeds with undiminished activity. The same me¬
dium which transports the vapour must hence furnish also
the portion of heat required for its incessant formation.
In fact, after the humid surface has been cooled, each por¬
tion of the ambient air which comes to touch it must like¬
wise be cooled down to the level of the dense substratum.
The addition of heat at the surface of contact is thus a
contemporaneous act with its subtraction by the process of
vaporization ; and it quickly advances to the same degree
of intensity, after which a mutual balance of opposite ef¬
fects is maintained, and the coolness hence induced con¬
tinues unaltered. An augmented circulation of the evapo¬
rating medium may hasten the process; but while it has
the same drying quality, it cannot in the least affect the
depression of temperature. As soon as such an equilibrium
is attained, the deposition of heat on the humid surface
must become just equal to its abstraction. But this depo¬
sition is evidently proportional to the diminution of tem¬
perature, which is hence a measure of the share of heat
abstracted, and therefore of the dryness of the air, or its
distance from saturation.
Ihis analysis of the process of evaporation appears so
(it conclusive as to banish all doubt and objection. But it
was desirable to confirm the deductions of theory by an
appeal to direct observation. Accordingly, on setting the
hygrometer upon a table in the middle of a room, and
blowing from some distance against the wet ball with a pair
of bellows which had acquired the temperature of the
apartment, the instrument still indicated the same measure
of dryness. The experiment was repeated more accurate¬
ly on a larger scale, by exposing the hygrometer out of
doors to the action of a strong and arid wind, a small screen
being interposed and again removed, at short intervals
of time, during which alternations no change whatever
could be perceived in the quantity of the depression of tem¬
perature.
Having, therefore, ascertained the great law of evapo¬
ration, and proved that the coldness occasioned by it is not
in any degree affected by agitation or other extraneous in¬
fluence, nothing seemed wanting to construct an hygrome¬
ter on just principles, but to contrive a thermometer that
should mark the smallest alterations of temperature. At
first Mr Leslie employed a very delicate thermometer with
a short range, open at the top, where a small cap of glass
or ivory was fixed, containing a small portion of surplus
quicksilver. (See fig. 16 and 17, Plate CCCLIV.) When
this thermometer was heated by the hand till the thread
of quicksilver filled the whole of the stem, and formed a
] ifirm
little globule at the top, it was inverted, as in fig. 17, and Meteor-
all the quicksilver united into one mass; but when it was ology-
restored, as in fig. 18, to its first position, the quicksilver v
fell back from the cap, and lodged about the end of the
stem, leaving the bore completely filled. A cup (see fig.
1, Plate CCCLIV.) made of thin porous earthenware, near¬
ly of the shape of a lady’s thimble, but somewhat, larger,
and filled with water, was exposed to the air, while the
thermometer lay beside it in a horizontal position. Af¬
ter a few minutes, the thermometer was lifted up and
plunged vertically into the cup; and the thread of quick¬
silver, which had extended through the whole length of
the bore, being by this change of position cut off at the
top of the tube, immediately contracted, and marked, by
the space of its descent, the diminution of temperature in
the liquid.
The very severe winter of 1794-5 afforded Sir John Leslie Leslie’s
an opportunity of making experiments on the evaporation ofhygrome-
ice; in the course of which he was led to the construction ter‘
of the differential thermometer, now so generally known.
At first he employed it merely as an hygrometer, the one
ball being always naked, and the other covered with cam¬
bric, wetted as often as occasion required. These balls
were about an inch and a half in diameter, and blown to
the ends of the same tube, one of them having a project¬
ing point or aperture, which was sealed, after the branches
had been bent and a portion of coloured oil introduced.
The graduation of the scale was determined by placing
the instrument erect between two boxes, each containing
a body of water, which encompassed one of the balls, and
by noticing the rise of the oil on changing the relative
temperature of the bath. An hygrometer, thus formed,
was sent to the late Sir Joseph Banks, in the summer of
1795 ; and Mr Gilpin, clerk to the Royal Society, deposit¬
ed a copy of it in their cabinet. But this model' is so rude
and clumsy, as hardly to recall the original. In the hands
of the inventor, however, the instrument was soon im¬
proved, and reduced to a convenient and portable size. He
had the satisfaction of showing an hygrometer of this con¬
struction, in January 1796, to Ur James Hutton, only a
lew months before the death of that very ingenious philo¬
sopher, who was delighted with seeing the application of a
principle which he readily comprehended, and which his
sagacity had obscurely anticipated.
But the sluggishness of the oil, and its tendency to de-
posite its colouring matter, on exposure to the influence of
light, still opposed obstacles to the perfection of this hy¬
grometer. These were entirely^ removed, however, about
the year 1801, by the substitution of concentrated sulphu¬
ric acid tinged by carmine. The most powerful and con¬
tinued action of the solar beams was found to produce no
change whatever on that purpurine liquid, when precluded
from the access of the external air. Any improvements
which have since been effected on this instrument consist
chiefly in its mechanical arrangement, in the selection of
the tubes, the better proportion of the balls, and the ele¬
gance and conciseness of the general shape.
1 he hygrometer has two distinct forms; the one porta-Its con¬
i/e and the other stationary. The former (see fig. 13, Plate struction-
CCCLIV.), having its balls in the same perpendicular
line, is protected by a wooden or metallic case, and fitted
for carrying in the pocket; two or three drops of pure wa¬
ter, from the tip of a quill or a hair pencil, being applied to
the surface of the covered ball, and the instrument held
exactly in a vertical position whenever it is used. The lat¬
ter form (see fig. 12) is susceptible of rather greater accu¬
racy, having its balls bent opposite ways at the same height.
In some instances, it is preferable to retain merely the
simplest form of the differential thermometer, the vertical
stems being more distant, and the balls not reflected. In
both these constructions, the two balls, since they occupy
732
METEOROLOGY.
Meteor- the same level, cannot be afFected in the smallest degree
by the unequal temperatures of the different strata of air
in a close heated room. After the covered ball has been
wetted, the instrument will continue to perform unim-
paiied, for the space, perhaps, of two or three hours. The
addition of a few drops of water will then restore its ac¬
tion. But the hygrometer may be made to supply itself
with moisture. It is only wanted to pass some fibres of
floss-silk close over the humid ball, and immerse them at
the distance of a few inches in a tall glass decanter, full
of water, with a stopper which leaves open a small pro¬
jecting lip.
The hygrometer has its opposite balls made to exhibit
nearly the same colour and opacity, in order to exclude
the admixture of photometrical influence, or prevent any
derangement which the unequal action of light might
otherwise occasion. The naked ball is blown of red, green,
or blue glass, and the papered one is externally covered
with thin silk, of rather a fainter shade, as it takes a deep¬
er tint when moistened.
Its theory The theory which we have given of the hygrometer, cor-
completed. roborated by its accurate performance, might appear com¬
plete in every part. But the progress of science common¬
ly detects the existence of some collateral causes which
come to mingle their influence with the action of the great
dominating principles. In our explication of the hygro¬
meter, we stated that the same air which obstvcLcts moisture,
and consequently the portion of heat necessary to convert
it into the gaseous form, must likewise communicate to the
wet ball another portion of heat equal to its depression of
temperature, which is hence maintained at a constant point.
Ihis analysis, however, involves the supposition, that the
air conveys heat from bodies merely by its actual transfer.
But having discovered that air transmits a certain share, at
least, of the heat by a sort of pulsation, or internal tremor,
depending on the quality of the surface from which the
impression originates, it was requisite to examine anew the
process of evaporation. The effect cannot be produced
solely by the quickened recession of the contiguous por¬
tions of the ambient medium. The conterminous air must
communicate heat to the humid surface also by pulsation;
and hence the balance of temperature would be liable to
incidental variations, if moisture, with its embodied heat,
were not likewise abstracted by some corresponding pro¬
cess. And such is the harmonious adaptation of these ele¬
ments : the discharge of vapour appears to be subject pre¬
cisely to the same conditions as the emission of heat, and
in both cases the proximity of a vitreous or a metallic sur¬
face produces effects which are entirely similar. Let two
pieces of thin mirror-glass, or what is called Dutch plate,
be selected, about four inches and a half square ; and hav¬
ing applied a smooth coat of tinfoil, four inches square, to
one of these, cover them both with a layer of the thinnest
goldbeater’s skin, which will adhere closely on being wetted;
and after it has again become dry, cut it on each into an
exact square of four inches and a quarter : now place the
two glass plates horizontally in the opposite scales of a fine
balance, and adjust them to an exact counterpoise : then,
with a hair pencil, spread two grains of water over the sur¬
face of each pellicle: in a few seconds, the plate which is
coated witn tinfoil will preponderate, and after the former
has lost all its moisture, this will be found to retain still
three tenths of a grain. The proximity of the subjacent
metal to the humid surface, therefore, impedes the process
of evaporation, in the ratio of seventeen to twenty; the
very same as, in like circumstances, had been ascertained
to be the retardation of the efflux of heat. From this and
other experiments, we learn, that some constant portion
from a humid surface is always abstracted by the pulsation
of the aerial medium. The steam exhaled, in uniting with
the air, communicates to this elastic fluid a sudden dilata¬
tion, which will continue to propagate itself in successive ii
waves. ,ete,)r,! 'f
In further illustration of this matter, cover with a thin^-vvr'
pellicle of goldbeater’s skin both the balls of the pyroscope
or that form of the differential thermometer which has one
ball naked and the other enamelled with gold or silver
and wet them equally. The coloured liquid will remain
for several minutes stationary at the beginning of the scale
and will then mount slowly, perhaps ten or fifteen degrees!
Evaporation had, therefore, produced the same cold or de!
pression of temperature upon the surface of the metal as
upon that of the glass; from the glass, however, it was
more copious than from the metal, having left the former
dry, while the latter still exhaled some portion of mois¬
ture. But this action soon ceased, and the liquid fell back
to its former level. On applying another pellicle, the li¬
quid continued longer stationary, and rose only about five
degrees. With repeated pellicles a difference was percep¬
tible in the time of drying the two balls, till the thickness
amounted to the 600th part of an inch.
The method employed for the graduation of the hygro-Wm
meter is not only very convenient, but susceptible of greatofgraduat
accuracy. The instrument, with a temporary scale affixedingit
to it, is introduced into a magazine of dry air, and com¬
pared with a standard then put in action. To procure the
dryness of the included medium, a flat saucer of thirteen
inches in diameter, and holding a body, about half an inch
deep, of concentrated sulphuric acid, and set on a ground
plate of glass or metal, is covered by a very large inverted
receiver, containing more than 1500 cubic inches of air,
and having at the top an opening of three inches wide, on
which rests a smaller plate, with two or three hooks pro¬
jecting down from it. The scale of the standard instru¬
ment was determined by suspending beside it, under the
receiver, two delicate thermometers, one of which had its
bulb coated with several folds of wet tissue paper. The
descent of the coloured liquid of the hygrometer, corre¬
sponding to the difference often centesimal degrees of the
parallel thermometers, was hence computed, and this
length afterwards divided into an hundred equal parts, to
form the standard degrees. To graduate any other instru¬
ment, it was only requisite to attach a scale of inches, and
mark the simultaneous measures when a steady equili¬
brium had at last obtained. The space of half an hour is
generally sufficient to bring this about. A simple propor¬
tion, therefore, discovers the length answering to an hun¬
dred millesimal degrees, from which the subdivisions of
each particular scale are derived.
I he condition of the atmosphere with respect to dryness
is extremely variable. In our climate, the hygrometer will,
during winter, mark from five to twenty-five degrees ; but,
in the summer months, it will generally range between
fifteen and fifty-five degrees, and may even rise, on some
particular days, as high as eighty or ninety degrees. On
the continent of Europe, it maintains a much greater ele¬
vation ; and in Upper India it has frequently stood at 160
degrees.
When the indication of the hygrometer does not exceed
fifteen degrees, we are directed by our feelings to call the
air damp ; from thirty to forty degrees, w^e begin to reckon
it dry ; from fifty to sixty degrees, we should account it
very dry; and from seventy degrees upwards, we might
consider it as intensely dry. A room is not comfortable,
or perhaps wholesome, if it has less than thirty degrees
of dryness ; but the atmosphere of a warm occupied apart¬
ment will commonly produce an effect of upwards of fifty
degrees.
But this hygrometer will perform its office even if it should Its per-
be exposed to frost. The moisture spreads over the sur-for™alw
face, and, imbibed into the coat of the papered ball, will
first cool a few degrees below the freezing point, and
1
METEOROLOGY.
733
rteo. tlien congeal quickly into a solid compound mass. The it will deposite on the evaporating surface must likewise Meteor
W^moment in which congelation begins, a portion of heat fi- from the same principle of mutual balance, teeight tTmes 'C
-STberated m that act brmgs the ball back to the temperature greater, and, consequently, each hygrometric degree will
rf,freezing; and the coloured liquor m proportion to the indicate an absorption of moisture equal in weight to d e
coldness of the external air, starts up ,n the opposite stem, 7o0th part of the solvent. The energy of hydrogen gas
where it remains at the same height till the process of is therefore scarcely less remarkable in dissoIyfnl moistSre
consolidation is completed. After the icy crust has been than in containing heat. Confined with a nowerful b!
formed, evaporation again goes regularly forward; and if sorbent substance, whilst common air marks eighty degrees
new portions of water be applied, the ice will, from the of dryness, hydrogen gas will indicate seventy. ThU gas
union of those repeated films, acquire a thickness sufficient must, in similar circumstances, therefore, hold in solution
to last for several days. The temperature of the frozen seven times as much moisture as the atmospheric medium
coat becomes lowered in proportion to the dryness of the To discover the precise law by which equal additions ofLaw „f at
atmosphere The measure of heat deposited on the chill heat augment the dryness of air, or its power to reL°n nSphlric"
surface by the contact of the ambient air is then counter- moisture, is a problem of great delicacy and importance “on.
balanced by the two distinct though conjoined measures Two different modes were employed in that investigation'
of heat, abstracted ,n the successive acts of converting the but which led to the same results.' The one waf n a
exterior film of ice into water, and tins water into steam ; large close room, to bring an hygrometer, conjoined with
which transformations that minute portion must undergo a thermometer, successively near to a stove intensely heat-
before i can unite with its gaseous solvent. But the heat ed, and to note the simultaneous indications of both instru-
required for the melting of ,ce being about the seventh meats; or to employ two nice thermometers, placed beside
part of What is consumed in the vaporization of water, it each other, and having their bulbs covered respectively with
follows t lat the hygrometer, when the surface of its sen- dry and with wet cambric. By taking the mean of nume-
tient ball has become frozen, will, in like circumstances, sink rous observations, and interpolating the intermediate quan-
more than before, by one degree m seven. This inference titles, the law of aqueous Solution in air was laboriously
,s entirely confirmed by observation. Suppose, in frosty traced. But the other method of investigation appeared
wea her the hygrometer, placed on the outside of the better adapted for the higher temperatures. A thin hol-
window, to stand at twenty-eight degrees, it may continue low ball of tin four inches in diameter, and having a very
for some considerable time at that point, until the conge- small neck, was neatly covered with linen, and beinw filled
ation of its humidity commences; but after this change with water nearly boiling, and a thermometer inserted it
has been eftected, and the equilibrium again restored, the was hung likewise in a spacious close room, and the rate
Itnate,111 Th7tRnt fZ T ^uT , °f itS carefully marked- The experiment was next
:T; T i 7 °1 thlS, h?grTeter Wl11 enable us to deter- repeated by suspending it to the end of a fine beam, and
:ietnom,mie’ "7 0nlVhe reIa.tlve» but .even the absolute dryness wetting with a hair pencil the surface of the linen till
'ecs. the air’ .or th,e quantlty of moisture which it can absorb, brought in exact, equipoise to some given weight in the’ on-
by comparing the capacity of that solvent with the mea- posite scale; ten grains being now taken out, the humid
sure of heat required to convert a given portion of water ball was allowed to rest against the point of a tapered
into steam. lo discover the capacity of air is, however, glass tube, and the interval of time, with the correspond-
i problem of great difficulty, and it has not perhaps even ing diminution of temperature, observed, when it rose
yet been ascertained with much precision. It was for- again to the position of equilibrium. The same operation
Tierly estimated, we are convinced, by far too high. Thus, was successively renewed ; but, as the rapidity of the eva-
Jr Crawford made it to be T85 times, or nearly double poration declined, five, and afterwards two, grains only
hat of water. But, from several concurring observations, were, at each trial, withdrawn from the scale. From such
a series of facts, it was easy to estimate the quantities of
moisture which the same air will dissolve at different tem¬
peratures, and also the corresponding measures of heat ex¬
pended in the process of solution.
By connecting the range of observations, it would appear
that air has its dryness doubled at each rise of tempera¬
ture, answering to 15 centesimal degrees. Thus, at the
freezing point, air is capable of holding a portion of mois¬
ture represented by 100 degrees of the hygrometer; at
the temperature of 15 centigrade, it could contain 200 such
parts; at that of 30, it might dissolve 400 ; and, at 45 on
the same scale, 800. Or, if we reckon by Fahrenheit’s
divisions, air absolutely humid holds, at the limit of con-
     7   ^ a. j. A j ^ v_/ *_/ O V- 1 V CL Li \f II O J
ve should reckon the capacity of air to he only three tenth
>arts of that of water. But 600 centesimal degrees, or
1000 on the millesimal scale, being consumed in the vapo-
ization of heat, this measure of heat would prove suffi-
ient to raise an equal mass of air 20,000 millesimal de-
Tees, or those 6000 degrees augmented in the ratio often
o three. Now, at the state of equilibrium, the quantity
f heat that each portion of the aerial medium deposites
i touching the chill exhaling surface, or what answers to
tie depression of temperature which it suffers from this
"ontact, must, as we have seen, he exactly equal to the
i pposite measure of heat abstracted by it in dissolving its
orresponding share of moisture. Wherefore, at the tern
‘ T , . — 7 7— —  “*''**“, nuiua, dt uuj Hunt or con-
erature ol the wet hall, atmospheric air would take up gelation, the hundred and sixtieth part of its weight of
imef-lirn omruir-LfrInn* f 1 wa OA AnAtU .a. T\  • A.  _ z ^ i v-y-v ■» . °
• . 1      l'
noisture amounting to the 20,000th part of its weight for
i ich degree marked by the hygrometer. Thus, suppos¬
ing the hygrometer to mark fifty degrees, the air would
icn require humidity equal to the" 320th part of its
t eight for saturation at its reduced temperature. When
lie papered ball of the hygrometer is frozen, the degrees
1 this instrument must have their value increased by one
p venth, so that each of them will now correspond to an
Psorption of moisture equal to the 17,000th part of the
| eight of the air
moisture ; at the temperature of 59 degrees, the eightieth
part; at that of 86 degrees, the fortieth part; at that of
113 degrees, the twentieth part; and at that of 140 de¬
grees, the tenth part. While the temperature, therefore,
advances uniformly in arithmetical progression, the dis¬
solving power which this communicates to the air mounts
with the accelerating rapidity of a geometrical series.
It hence follows, that, whatever be the actual condition of
a mass of air, there must always exist some temperature at
which it would become perfectly damp, as M. Leroi had
first advanced. Nor is it difficult, from what has been al-
But the value of those degrees becomes augmented in ....    — .. v^u1L, wimi nas ueen ai-
■much higher proportion if the hygrometer be immersed ready stated, to determine this dewing point in any given
|J hydrogen gas. This very dilute medium appears to case. Thus, suppose the hygrometer to mark 52, while
We about eight times the capacity of common air, and its wet ball has a temperature of 20 centesimal degrees, or
"e quantity of heat which under similar circumstances 68 by Fahrenheit; the dissolving power of air at this tern-
734
METEOROLOGY.
Meteor- perature being 252, its distance from absolute humidity
ology. win therefore be 200, which is the measure of solution
answering to 15 centesimal degrees, or 59 by Fahrenheit.
The same air would consequently, at the depressed tem¬
perature of 59 degrees, shrink into a state of absolute sa¬
turation ; and if cooled lower, it would even deposite a
portion of its combined moisture, losing the eightieth part
of its weight at the verge of freezing.
Annexed is a small table of the solvent power of air,
from the temperature of 15 centesimal degrees below zero
to 44 above it, or from — 5° of Fahrenheit’s scale to 1110,2.
Quantities of Moisture dissolved in Atmospheric Air at dif¬
ferent Temperatures by the Centesimal Scale.
These temperatures, and the corresponding quantities Met
of moisture dissolved, maybe represented by the absciss®
and ordinates of the logarithmic curve, as in fig. 8, Plate'‘'“V*
CCCLV., where some ot the principal terms are marked.
The influence of warmth in augmenting the dryness of
the air, or its disposition to absorb moisture, affords also
the most satisfactory explication of the singular fact al¬
ready noticed. If two equal surfaces of water be exposed
in the same situation, the one in a shallow and the other
in a deep vessel of metal or porcelain, the latter is always
found, after a certain interval of time, to have suffered, con¬
trary to what we might expect, more waste by evaporation
than the former. Amidst all the changes that happen in
the condition of the ambient medium, the shallow pan
must necessarily receive, more completely than the deeper
vessel, the chilling impressions of evaporation, since it ex¬
poses a smaller extent of dry surface to be partly heated
up again by the contact of the air. The larger mass be¬
ing, therefore, kept invariably warmer than the other, must
in consequence support a more copious exhalation.
From the principles which have been explained, it like-Comi -
wise results that the hygrometer does not indicate the ac-ofthek
tual dryness of the air, but only the dryness which it re-g^Mer,
tains after being reduced to the temperature of the hu¬
mid ball. The real condition of the medium, however,
could easily be determined, from the gradations already
ascertained in the power of solution. Suppose, for example,
that the hygrometer should mark 42 degrees, while the
thermometer stands at 16 centigrade; the moist surface
has therefore the temperature of 11-8 centigrade, at which
the dissolving energy is less by 37 degrees than at 16 cen¬
tigrade ; and hence the total dryness of the air, at its
former temperature, amounted to 79 degrees. The fol¬
lowing table will greatly facilitate such reductions. It is
computed for as wide a range of dryness and temperature
as will probably occur in any climate.
Correction of the Hygrometer, and Position of the Point of Saturation at Different Centesimal Temperatures.
15°
Hyg.
j Dry-
1 ness.
10
20
30
10
20
30
10
20
30
40
12
24
36
Point Sat.
— 21-0
— 29-2
— 42-7
-—10°
13
26
38
— 150
— 21-5
— 30-1
5°
14
27
40
53
— 9-3
— 14*0
— 20-3
— 29-2
0°
— 14°
Dry¬
ness.
Point Sat.
12
24
36
19-5
27-6
■ 39‘8
— 9C
13
26
39
— 13-8
— 19-8
— 28-3
14
27
41
54
. 7-9
12-6
18-8
26-9
15
29
43
58
— 2-3
— 6-1
— 10-6
— 16-3
— 13°
Dry¬
ness.
12
25
37
Point Sat.
18-3
26-1
37-2
• 8°
13
26
39
— 12-5
— 18-2
— 26-1
— 3C
14
28
41
55
— 6-8
— 11-3
— 16-9
— 24-6
12°
Dry¬
ness.
13
25
37
Point Sat.
17*8
24-7
35-0
— 7°
13
26
39
— 11-4
— 16-8
— 24-4
. 2°
14
28
42
55
— 5-6
— 9-9
— 15-2
— 22-2
15
30
44
59
— 1-2
— 4-8
— 9-1
— 14-5
15
30
45
59
0-0
— 3-6
— 7-7
— 12-7
— IF
Dry¬
ness.
13
25
38
Point Sat
16-3
23-2
■32-9
6C
13
27
40
— 10-0
— 15-4
— 22-2
1°
14
28
42
56
— 4,5
— 8-8
— 13-7
— 20-4
15
31
45
60
1-0
2-3
6-3
11-0
Hyg-
10
20
30
10
20
30
10
20
30
40
10
20
30
40
METEOROLOGY.
Correction of Hygrometer, fyc.—Continued.
735
Meteor-
clogv.
METEOROLOGY.
736
»
Meteor-
otogy.
Correction of Hygrometer, fyc.—continued.
Hyg.
10
20
30
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
110
120
10
20
30
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
110
120
130
140
10
20
30
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
110
120
130
140
150
160
30°
Dry¬
ness.
28
55
82
108
133
157
181
204
226
248
269
290
Point Sat.
28-4
26-8
25-0
23-2
21*3
19*3
17-0
14*6
12*0
9-1
5-8
2-0
35°
33
65
95
125
154
182
209
236
262
287
311
335
358
380
33-6
32-0
30-5
28-9
27-1
25-3
23-4
21-3
19-2
16-8
14-2
11-4
8*3
4-7
40°
39
76
112
147
181
214
246
276
306
335
363
390
417
443
468
492
38-6
37-2
35-8
34-3
32-7
3M
29*4
27-6
25-8
23-7
21-6
19-4
16-9
14-2
11-2
7*8
3lc
Dry¬
ness.
29
57
84
111
136
161
186
209
233
255
277
298
40
79
116
152
187
221
254
286
316
346
375
403
430
457
483
508
Point Sat.
29*5
27*8
26-1
24-4
22-5
20-5
18-3
16-0
13-5
10*7
7-6
4-1
36c
34
67
98
129
159
188
216
243
270
295
320
345
368
39]
34-6
33*1
31-5
30-0
28-2
26-5
24-6
22-6
20-5
18-3
15-8
]3-l
lO-l
6-7
41c
39-7
38-3
|36*9
'35-4
33-8
32-3
30-6
28-9
27-1
25-1
23-0
20-8
18-5
15*9
130
9-8
32°
Dry¬
ness.
30
59
87
114
141
166
191
216
239
262
285
307
41
81
120
158
194
229
262
295
327
358
388
416
444
472
498
524
Point Sat.
37c
35
69
102
133
164
194
223
251
278
305
330
355
380
403
42°
30-5
28-9
27-2
25-5
23-7
21-7
19-6
17-4
15-0
12-3
9-3
6-0
35-6
34*1
32-6
31-0
29-4
27-7
25-8
23-9
21-9
19*7
17-3
14-7
11-9
8-7
40-7
39-3
37-9
36-5
34-9
33-4
31-8
30-1
28-4
26-4
24-4
22-2
20-0
17-5
14-8
11-8
33°
Dry¬
ness.
31
61
90
118
145
171
197
222
246
270
293
316
36
71
105
138
169
200
230
259
287
314
341
366
391
416
43
84
124
163
201
237
272
305
338
370
401
430
459
487
515
541
Point Sat.
31-5
30-0
28-3
26-6
24-9
22*9
20-9
18-7
16-4
13-8
11-0
7-9
38°
36-6
35-2
33-7
32-1
30-5
28-8
27-0
25-2
23-2
21-1
18-8
16*3
13-6
10-6
34°
Dry¬
ness.
32
63
92
121
149
177
203
229
254
278
302
325
Point Sat.
32-5
31-0
29-4
27-7
26-0
24-1
22*1
20-0
17-8
15-3
12-6
9-7
39°
43°
41-7
40*3
39-0
37-6
36-0
34-5
32-9
31-3
29-6
27-7
25-8
23-7
21*5
19-1
16-5
13-7
37
73
108
142
175
207
238
267
296
324
352
378
404
429
37*6
36-2
34-7
33-2
31-6
30*0
28-2
26-4
24-5
22-4
20-2
17*9
15-3
12-4
44°
44
87
129
169
208
245
281
316
350
383
414
445
475
504
532
559
42-7
41-3
40-0
38-7
37-1
35-6
34-1
32-4
30-7
29-0
27*1
25-1
23-0
20-7
18-2
15*5
Plyg.
10
20
30
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
110
120
10
20
30
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
110
120
130
140
10
20
30
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
110
120
130
140
150
160
Quantity We may compute, that a cubic mass of air 40 inches
of moisture every way, or a little more than the standard of French
held in the measureS) anj 0f ordinary density, weighs 20,000
grains. The table now given exhibits, therefore, in grains,
the weight of moisture which a metrical cube of air is cap¬
able of holding at different temperatures. Thus, at 20 de¬
grees, which corresponds to 68 degrees of Fahrenheit, this
body of air could retain 252 grains of humidity. But if
a larger scale be preferred, the same numbers will express,
in pounds troy, the quantity of water required to saturate
a perfectly dry mass of air constituting a cube of twenty
yards in every dimension.
It is remarkable how small a portion of the aqueous ele¬
ment is at any time suspended in the atmosphere. Reck¬
oning the mean temperature over the surface of the globe
to be nineteen centesimal degrees, the air could only hold
240*6 parts of humidity for 20,000 times its whole weight;
but this weight is nearly the same as that of a column of
water of 400 inches in altitude, and hence, if the atmo¬
sphere, from a state of absolute dampness, were to pass
into that of extreme dryness, and discharge the whole of
its watery store, it would form a sheet of 4*812 inches, or
somewhat less than five inches in depth. To furnish a
sufficient supply of rain, the air must therefore undergo
METEOROLOGY.
cteoii very frequent changes from dryness to humidity in the
logy'* course of the year.
But it was requisite to subject theory to the test of ac-
ermii' curate experiment. For this purpose a globe or glass bal-
JmH lo°n WaS Procurec1’ of very large dimensions, containing
^ ™ nearly 4000 cubic inches, terminated by a neck of about
three inches wide, having its mouth ground flat. The
balloon was supported from the floor by a light circular
stand or rim, and a round piece of plate glass perforated
through the centre by a hole of about the twentieth part
of an inch in diameter, through which passed a slender
silver wire suspended from the end of a fine beam placed
on the table. This wire was fastened to the top of the
scale of a delicate hygrometer, from the lower part of
which hung a bit of wet paper nearly three inches in dia¬
meter. The whole was balanced by a counterpoise in the
opposite scale, so that the instrument occupied the mid¬
dle of the balloon. As ,the moisture gradually evaporated
from the wet ball of the hygrometer, and still more from
the larger surface of the paper attached below it, a loss
of weight became visible, while the ascent of the coloured
liquid in its tube indicated the corresponding diminution
of the dryness of the included air. The progress of hu-
mefaction was observed from fifty to ten degrees of the
hygrometer, after each successive grain of water, amount¬
ing in all to five, had exhaled and dispersed itself through
the medium. Having rectified the hygrometric degrees
according to the principle already explained, it was easy
to compare them with the weight of the whole mass of air
contained within the balloon. The conclusions were per¬
haps as satisfactory as such a nice and fugacious inquiry
will admit; and if they be not absolutely correct, they
must, at least, approximate very nearly to the truth,
ifica.. The table given above is in strictness applicable to air
of thionly of the ordinary density. Since this fluid has its ca¬
pacity for heat enlarged by rarefaction, the same depres¬
sion of temperature must intimate a proportional augmen¬
tation of dryness. Thus, for air at the elevation of three
miles and a half, and consequently twice as rare as at the
surface, it would be requisite to add the sixteenth part to
the numbers in the first column. For the lower altitudes,
the correction will be, to multiply those numbers by triple
the height in feet, and cut off six decimal places. Thus,
suppose, while the thermometer stood at twenty-eight
centesimal degrees, that the hygrometer marked 110° on
the plains of Mexico, at the elevation of 8000 feet above
the level of the sea ; then 3 X 8000 X 255 — 6120000,
which, being divided by a million, gives 6 to be added
to 255, increasing the actual dryness to 261°. In most
ttases, therefore, this modification may be neglected.
But, in estimating the distance of the point of satura¬
tion in rarefied air, a greater correction will be required.
I he solvent power of that medium is extended about fifty
lygrometric degrees each time it has its rarefaction dou-
)led. Hence it may be calculated that our atmosphere
would, at the same temperature, become a degree drier
or every 360 feet of ascent. Thus, on the preceding sup-
>osition, the air on the plain of Mexico would have its dis-
ance from the point of saturation enlarged 221 degrees,
Its whole range being thus 283^ degrees.
II the papered ball of an hygrometer be suffered to be-
ome dry, the instrument, even in that state, will mark,
hough for a short time only, the different condition of the
1'iieclia into which it is transported. Thus, the air of a
oom being supposed to have fifty degrees of dryness, on
arrying the quiescent hygrometer into another apartment
II seventy degrees, the column of liquor will fall near
I venty degrees, from the renewed evaporation of that por-
| on of moisture which had still adhered to the coats of
Pper. But if the same instrument were carried into an
bartment of only thirty degrees of dryness, the coloured
VOL. XIV.
737
t'ent
a- ~
,jof
’gro
liquor would actually rise near twenty degrees above the Meteor¬
beginning of the scale, the paper now attracting the ex- ol°gy-
cess of humidity from the air. This vapour, in combiningV ’ v '
with it, passes into the state of water, and therefore
evolves a corresponding share of heat. The equilibrium,
however, unless the coats of paper have a considerable
thickness, is again restored in a very few minutes.
Those changes are most readily perceived on immers¬
ing the quiescent hygrometer alternately in two receivers
containing air drier and damper than that of the room. If
a pyroscope, having both its balls covered with goldbeat¬
er’s skin, be treated in the same way, it will indicate an
effect, though momentary indeed, of a similar kind ; for,
in air which is drier, the pellicle of the naked ball will
throw off its moisture more freely than that ofthe gilt ball;
and in damper air it will, on the contrary, imbibe the sur¬
plus humidity with greater eagerness, thus losing some
portion of heat in the one process, and gaining a minute
accession in the other. The quantity of moisture con¬
cerned in producing such fleeting alterations may not ex¬
ceed the thousandth part of a grain.
If a large receiver, having a delicate hygrometer sus¬
pended within it, be placed on a brass plate and over a
metal cup containing some water, the included air will,
from the solution of the moisture, become gradually damp¬
er, and this progressive change is marked by the instru¬
ment. Yet the mass of air will never reach its term of
absolute humidity, and before the hygrometer points at
five degrees, the inside of the receiver appears covered
with dew. While the humefying process, therefore, still
goes on, the close attraction of the glass continually robs
the contiguous air of a portion of its moisture, so that a
kind of perpetual distillation is maintained through the
aerial medium, the vapour successively formed being again
condensed on the vitreous surface. But if, instead of the
receiver, there be substituted a vessel formed of polished
metal, the confined air will pass through every possible
degree of humidity, and the hygrometer will, after some
interval, arrive at the beginning of its scale.
The contrasted properties of a vitreous and a metallic
surface, in attracting and repelling moisture, may be
shown still more easily. In clear calm weather let a drink¬
ing-glass and a silver cup be placed empty near the ground
on the approach of evening, and, as the dampness begins
to prevail, the glass will become insensibly obscured, and
next wetted with profuse dew, before the metal has yet be¬
trayed any traces of humidity. The effect is, indeed, aug¬
mented by the cold pulses darted from the sky, which act
more powerfully on the glass than on the metal.
The hygrometer is an instrument of the greatest utility, Its practi-
not only in meteorological observations, but in aiding do-cal utility,
mestic economy, in regulating many processes of art, and
in directing the purchase and selection of various articles
of produce. It will detect, for instance, the dampness of
an apartment, and discover the condition of a magazine,
of an hospital, or of a sick ward. Most warehouses require
to be kept at a certain point of dryness, which is higher or
lower according to the purposes for which they are de¬
signed. The printing of linen and cotton is carried on
in very dry rooms; but the operations of spinning and
weaving succeed best in air which rather inclines to damp¬
ness.
The manufacturer is at present entirely guided by ob¬
serving the effects produced by stoves, and hence the
goods are often shrivelled or otherwise injured before he
can discern any alteration in the state of the medium.
Wool and corn have their weight augmented sometimes
as much as 10 or even 15 per cent, by the presence of
moisture. But the condition of these commodities could
be nicely and readily examined, by heaping them over a
small wired cage, within which an hygrometer is placed.
5 A
738
METEOROLOGY.
Meteor. V. The Atmometer.1—This instrument is an useful auxi-
v 0 °Sy- ^ liary, and might with some attention serve as a substitute
Atmome- t^ie ^>ygrometer* It does not mark the mere dryness
ter. 'd16 a^r’ ^ut ^t measures the quantity of moisture ex¬
haled from a humid surface in a given time. The atmo¬
meter consists of a thin ball of porous earthenware, two
or three inches in diameter, with a small neck, to which
is firmly cemented a long and rather wide glass tube, bear¬
ing divisions, each of them corresponding to an internal
annular section, equal to a film of liquid that would cover
the outer surface of the ball to the thickness of the thou¬
sandth part of an inch. (Fig. 1, Plate CCCLV.) The
divisions are marked by portions of quicksilver introduced,
ascertained by a simple calculation, and they are number¬
ed downward^ to the extent of 100 to 200 ; to the top of
the tube is fitted a brass cap, having a collar of leather,
and which, after the cavity has been filled with distilled
water, is screwed tight. The outside of the ball being now
wiped dry, the instrument is suspended out of doors, ex¬
posed to the free access of the air. In this state of ac¬
tion the humidity transudes through the porous substance
just as fast as it evaporates from the external surface, and
this waste is measured by the corresponding descent of
the water in the stem.
Quantity If the atmometer had its ball perfectly screened from
exhaTed^6 tlie a&itation wind’ its indications would be proportional
• to the dryness of the air at the lowered temperature of the
humid surface ; and the quantity of evaporation every hour,
as expressed in thousandth parts of an inch, would, when
multiplied by twenty, give the hygrometric measure. For
example, in this climate, the mean dryness in winter being
reckoned 15°, and in summer 40°, the daily exhalation
from a sheltered spot must in winter form a thickness of
•018, and amount in summer to -048 decimal parts of an
inch. Suppose a pool for the supply of a navigable canal
exposed a surface equal to ten English acres, and that the
atmometer sank eighty parts during the lapse of twenty-four
hours ; the quantity of water exhaled in that time would be
80
X 660 X 66 X 10, or 2904 cubic feet, which cor¬
responds to the weight of 81 tons.
Velocity of The dissipation of moisture is much accelerated by the
wind. agency of sweeping winds, the effect being sometimes aug¬
mented five or even ten times. In general, this augmen¬
tation is proportional, as in the case of cooling, to the
swiftness of the wind, the action of still air itself being
reckoned equal to that produced by a celerity of eight miles
each hour. Hence the velocity of wind is easily computed,
from a comparison of the indications of a hygrometer with
an atmometer, or of a sheltered with those of an exposed
atmometer. 'Ihus, suppose the hygrometer to mark 40
degrees, or the column of water in a sheltered atmometer
to subside at the rate of two divisions every hour, while in
one exposed to the current the descent is twelve divisions;
then as two is to ten, the superadded effect of the wind, so
is eight to forty miles, the distance through which it has
travelled in that time.
Utility of The atmometer is an instrument evidently of extensive
lueter™0 aPP^cati°n5 antI °I great utility in practice. To ascertain
with accuracy and readiness the quantity of evaporation
from any surface in a given time, it is an important acqui¬
sition, not only in meteorology, but in agriculture, and the
various arts and manufactures. The rate of exhalation from
the surface of the ground is scarcely of less consequence
than the fall of rain, and a knowledge of it might often di¬
rect the farmer advantageously in his operations. On the
rapid dispersion of moisture depends the efficacy of drying-
1 From KTfios, exhalation or vapour, and piraov, a measure.
houses, which are too frequently constructed most unskil-
fully, or on very mistaken principles. ologjl
It is obvious, that though the atmometer should be ex-''-v
posed to the free air, it must be sheltered from rain, which,,
by wetting the ball, would derange the proper action of the
instrument. This could easily be done, by fixing a small
canopy over it; or, in the case of drifting showers, to have
a sort of shelved open screen, like Venetian blinds, turned
by the wind. The only objection to this atmometer is,
that it cannot be used during intense frost, since the ex¬
pansion of the included water, by a sudden congelation,
might burst the ball and even the tube. But the instru¬
ment could still be made to act in another way : Let it be
emptied, and a certain portion of the water, measured in
the stem, be spread over the outside of the ball, by suc¬
cessive layers, to form a coat of ice. The time is to be
noted when the whole of this crust has disappeared; or if
any portion should remain, it may be deducted from the
whole, and thus the hourly quantity of evaporation ascer¬
tained.
VI. Photometer.2—This instrument, which Avas con-Construe
trived to indicate the power of illumination, by the slight bon oft!
elevation of temperature which it occasions, has been short-P^ome-
ly noticed in the article Climate. It consists of a differ-ter'
ential thermometer, having one of its balls diaphanous,
and the other coated with china ink, or rather blown of
deep-black enamel. (See fig. 17 and 18, Plate CCCLIV.)
The rays which fall on the clear ball pass through it, with¬
out suffering obstruction; but those which strike the dark
ball are stopt and absorbed at its surface, where, assuming
a latent form, they act as heat. This heat will continue
to accumulate, till its farther increase comes to be coun¬
terbalanced by an opposite dispersion, caused by the rise
of temperature which the ball has come to acquire. At
the point of equilibrium, therefore, the constant accessions
of heat derived from the action of the incident light are
exactly equalled by the corresponding portions of it again
abstracted in the subsequent process of cooling. But, in
still air, the rate of cooling is, within moderate limits, pro¬
portioned to the excess of the temperature of the heated
surface above that of the surrounding medium. Hence Theory of
the space through which the coloured liquid sinks in the its opera-
stem will measure the momentary impressions of light, or
its actual intensity. To prevent any extraneous agitation
of the air from accelerating the discharge of heat from the
black ball, and thereby diminishing the quantity of aggre¬
gate effect, the instrument is always sheltered, and more
especially out of doors, by a thin glass case. The addi¬
tion of this translucid case is quite indispensable. It not
only precludes all irregular action, but maintains, around
the sentient part of the instrument, an atmosphere of per¬
petual calm. Under the same force of incident light, the
temperature of the black ball must still rise to the same
height above that of its encircling medium. The case will
evidently have some influence to confine the heat actual¬
ly received, and hence to warm up the internal air. Where¬
fore, corresponding to this excess, the black ball will ac¬
quire a farther elevation of temperature ; but the clear ball,
being immersed in the same fluid, must experience a simi¬
lar effect, which will exactly counterbalance the former.
The difference of temperature between the opposite balls
thus continues unaltered ; and neither has the size or the
shape of the case, nor the variable state of the exterior at¬
mosphere with respect to rest or agitation, any sensible in¬
fluence to derange or modify the results exhibited by this
delicate instrument.
The photometer has, like the hygrometer, two general
forms; the stationary, represented by fig. 15, and the
rtion.
From light, and a measure.
M E T E O R O L O G Y.
739
f
iya
sole ^
k
lad
rouli
ilctec: portable, delineated in fig. 18. But they are both of them
ology easily transported from one place to another. Their glass
•"“Y-cases can be screwed off, and the former instrument, be¬
ing cemented into a small slip of brass, which slides with
a spring into the bottom, may be packed separately, if re¬
quired, while the latter is protected by an external wooden
case, in which it is carried in the pocket as safely as a
pencil. This case, if screwed below, serves also as a
handle to hold the photometer in a vertical position out
of doors.
use. The photometer, placed in open air, exhibits distinctly
the progress of illumination from the morning’s dawn to
the full vigour of noon, and thence its gradual decline till
evening has spread her mantle ; it marks the growth of
light from the winter solstice to the height of summer, and
its subsequent decay through the dusky shades of autumn ;
and it enables us to compare, with numerical accuracy,
the brightness of different countries, the brilliant sky of
Italy, for instance, with the murky atmosphere of Holland.
In this climate, the direct impression of the sun about
midsummer amounts to about 90 degrees ; but it regularly
declines as his rays become more oblique. The greatest
force of the solar beams with us in the depth of winter
reaches only to 25 degrees. At the altitude of 17 de¬
grees, it is already reduced to one half; and at 3 degrees
above the horizon, the whole effect exceeds not one mille¬
simal degree.
,ht ofl The quantity of indirect light reflected from the sky,
sun. though extremely fluctuating in our climate, is often very
considerable. It may be estimated at 30 or 40 degrees in
summer, and 10 or 15 in winter. This secondary light is
most powerful when the sky is overspread with thin fleecy
clouds; it is feeblest, either when the rays are obstructed
by a mass of congregated vapours, or when the atmosphere
t ofl is clear and of a deep azure tint. On the lofty summits of
sky. the Alps or Andes, the photometer, screened from the sun,
and only exposed to the dark hue of the broad expanse,
would indicate a very small effect. During the solar eclipse
which took place on the 7th of September 1820, the sky
being completely overclouded, it showed, both before and
after the passage of the moon’s disc, only 12 degrees of
light; but when the obscuration was the greatest, it marked
not more than a single degree.
ions The delicacy of this instrument renders it a valuable
ka- auxiliary in various scientific inquiries. It ascertains the
5 ^diminution which the rays of light suffer in reflection, and
,,lne" during their passage through different transparent sub-
tanci
'limp
uctii
late,
'elei
' twi
roge
'in
sot!
ante
feet
lach
ide
iatn
rof
iths
>epl
erft
e a
k ai
sstl
3(ly
‘dra
on0
stances. By combining it with the transferrer of an air-
pump, it likewise detects the comparative powers for con¬
ducting heat of the several gases, whether in their ordinary
state, or when variously attenuated or condensed. Hence
>ve learn, that air expanded 256 times conducts heat near-
y twice as slow, or in the ratio of 7 to 13; but that hy-
Irogen gas transfers it with more than redoubled celeritjq
1 >r in the ratio of 9 to 4. But the photometer will measure
ilso the conducting powers of different liquids. It is only
vanted to remove the case, and plunge the instrument
n'ect in a wide metallic vessel, bright on the outside, but
dackened within, containing the liquid to be examined,
md exposed to the sun’s rays. In this way, it was found
hat water, which conveys heat about 30 times faster than
tir of the mean temperature of our climate, transfuses it
vith still greater rapidity if warmed to a higher pitch. If
he photometer, enclosed within its case, be imraersed un-
ler the surface of water, the impression of the light will
>e much stronger than when the balls were encircled by
he actual contact of this liquid. Yet wall the effect be
ess than if the case had been surrounded externally by a
>ody of air instead of water, which, by its powerful action
n drawing off the accumulated heat, hastens the transmis-
ion of it through the internal medium, and reduces the
elevation of the temperature of the black ball to nearly one
third part.
From observations made with this instrument, we like¬
wise discover that, in the clearest and most serene sky, one
half only of the sun’s light, sloping at an angle of 25°, will
reach the ground; and that at an angle of 15°, the pro¬
portion is reduced to one third ; but with an obliquity of
5°, the length of track being then extended ten times, one
twentieth part only of the whole incident light can reach
the surface. When the sun has approached within a de¬
gree of the horizon, and his rays now traverse a track of
air equal in weight to a column of about 905 feet of water,
no more than the 212th part of them can penetrate to the
ground.
The photometer discovers the relative density of differ¬
ent artificial lights, and even contrasts their force of illu¬
mination with that of the solar rays. It may be mention¬
ed as a curious inference, that the light emitted from the
sun is 12,000 times more powerful than the flame of a wax-
candle ; or that, if a portion of the luminous solar matter,
rather less than an inch in diameter, were transported to
our planet, it would throw forth a blaze of light equal to
the effect of 12,000 candles.
To compare the illumination of candles or lamps, and of
the flame of coal or oil gas, the best form of the photome¬
ter is that of fig. 15, Plate CCCLIV., guarded both in front
and behind by a pair of thin spreading plates of mica, set
parallel at the mutual interval of about half an inch. It
may be sufficient to notice at present, that the flame of
coal-gas has more than triple the brilliancy of that of a
wax-candle.
A photometer of the branched form is easily adapted to
measure the diminution which light suffers in penetrating-
through a body of water. The scale may then be shorten¬
ed, and the balls enlarged. A bottom of lead is turned to
receive the instrument, with its case, which are cemented
to it. Thus loaded, the photometer is suspended vertical¬
ly by cross silk threads, to which a cord of some definite
length is attached, terminating by a small bladder. The
sky being clear, and the sun shining bright, the instru¬
ment is, by the help of a long pole, stretched from the side
of a boat, held a few minutes suspended about four inches
below the surface of the water,.and then drawn up, and
the number of degrees marked. When the direct action
of the solar rays amounted to 90 photometric degrees,
their enfeebled influence on the instrument, while thus
encompassed externally by a dense chilling body of water,
was commonly found to be reduced to 32 degrees. From
this point, therefore, the subsequent diminution, occasion¬
ed by the descent of the instrument, was computed. The
photometer, being let down, was left to float near a quar¬
ter of an hour at the depth of perhaps three or six fathoms.
On drawing it up, the diminished action of the light, oc¬
casioned by the length of oblique passage, was at once
perceived.
From experiments performed in this wray last summer,
it follows that half of the incident light which might pass
through a field of air of the ordinary density and 15^ miles,
of extent, would penetrate only to the perpendicular depth
of 15 feet in the clearest sea-water, which is, therefore,
5400 times less diaphanous than the atmospheric medium.
The light is hence diminished four times for every five fa¬
thoms of vertical descent; and, consequently, the 64th
part only could reach to the depth of 15 fathoms. Sup¬
posing the bottom, then, to consist of a clear white sand,
the portion of light reflected, and sent back to the surface,
would be attenuated more than 64 X 64, or 4096 times,
and would therefore hardly be perceptible to the most
acute eye. But the water of shallow lakes, though not
apparently turbid, betrays a still greater opacity, insomuch
that the perpendicular light w'as diminished one half in
Meteor-
ology.
740
METEOROLOGY.
Meteor-
ology.
descending only through the space of six feet in Loch
Leven, or even two feet in a fine artificial sheet of water
at Raith, near Kirkaldy. These results, however, are to
be considered as mere approximations, the state of the
weather having been very unfavourable for such experi¬
ments.
It would be easy, by a small modification, to adapt the
photometer as a diaphanometer, for measuring the compa¬
rative transparency of different collections of water. The
black and the clear ball might be blown larger than usual,
and the instrument covered with two thin parallel cases of
glass, separated by an interval of about three eighths of an
inch. The transparency of a lake, or of the sea, would be
inversely as the length of passage traversed by the light,
when it had suffered a proportional diminution of in¬
tensity.
Construe- VII. iETHRioscoPE.1—Such is the name of another very
tion of the delicate modification of the differential thermometer, in-
the sun were withdrawn for any considerable time, a great ,
,1 i— ——i — i— —- i . ® Meteor.
rethrio
scope
tended to measure those frigorific impressions which are
showered incessantly from the distant sky. The history of
this invention, and of its progressive improvement, has
been already given in this work under the article Climate.
For about two years few good observations were added,
owing to the prevalence of very cloudy and windy weather.
The chief object, then, was to render the aethrioscope more
portable, in the hope of obtaining, through it, some correct
information regarding the state of the atmosphere in other
quarters of the globe. The upper ball is now scarcely half
an inch in diameter; but to compensate for this diminu¬
tion, the lower ball has a diameter of about four fifths of an
inch. The tube, which exceeds not four inches in length,
has its bore contracted, a little above its junction, to the
very short cylindrical cavity that holds the coloured liquor.
This simple contrivance, augmenting greatly the capillary
action, prevents the descent of the column into the ball
from any sudden change of temperature, while it only re¬
tards the motion of the fluid, without affecting the accu¬
racy of its play. Fig. 10, Plate CCCLV. represents the
instrument in this abridged form, and fig. 11 shows the
way of packing it, the bottom being merely screwed to the
top of the case. The only precaution needed is, not to
shake the aethrioscope, or invert it; and as it takes very
little room, it may easily be carried by the traveller in his
pocket.
Theory of In ordinary cases, the hot or cold pulses propagated
this in- through the air only assist the energy of the transfer of
strument. tile different portions of the fluid in promoting an equili¬
brium of temperature. But the aethrioscope proves that
those pulses are incessantly forwarding such a balance,
even while the mere transfer and commixture of the me¬
dium would not contribute to the effect. In the article
Climate, it was shown that the rapid interchange which
takes place between the higher and lower strata of the at¬
mosphere maintains an equal distribution in the quantity,
and not in the intensity, of heat. Since air has its capa¬
city for heat increased by rarefaction, it must, with the
same igneous infusion, indicate a proportiofially depressed
temperature. But this inequality of temperature, result¬
ing from the internal commotion produced by the sun’s
rays acting more powerfully near the surface of the earth,
is partly corrected by the influence of the cold or hot pulses
which are at all times darted, and in every direction, un¬
less obstructed or absorbed by the interposition of the
clouds. While the cold pulses from the upper strata of
the atmosphere are constantly chilling the lower strata,
the warm pulses again from below are exerted in warm¬
ing the higher regions. In most cases this mutual influ¬
ence, indeed, is comparatively feeble; but if the rays of
progress would be made by such a mutual interchange of
the pulsations towards an equality of temperature through^
the mass of atmosphere. The lowest strata would become
unusually colder, whilst the highest regions would grow
warmer, and sparkle with augmented clearness and lustre.
Such are some of the effects of the long protracted nights
within the arctic circle.
Much yet remains to be explored in the higher strata of if
our atmosphere. If the differential thermometer, includededf!!'1'
within the aethrioscope, had its position reversed, that in- ^
strument would become adapted to measure the hot pulses
which are no doubt shot incessantly upwards with various
obliquity from the warmer beds incumbent over the sur¬
face of the earth. It would be most interesting to obtain
the reports] of both the erect and the pendant opposite
aethrioscope, when carried up in the car of a balloon to
the elevation of four miles. In that region of mid-air, we
might expect the hot and the cold pulses, as they crossed
in opposite diiections, to act with nearly equal energy.
The measures of those effects, compared with the simul¬
taneous indications of the photometer, could not fail to
dispel much obscurity, and to open new views of the dis¬
position of the elements, and of the economy of nature.
VIII. Cyanometer.2—This instrument was contrivedpods1
by M. de Saussure, to measure the variable intensity oftionoftke
the caerulean hue which the sky assumes in different cli-cyaDo®,
mates and elevations, according to the progress of the dayto
or the advance of the season. It consists of fifty-three
slips of paper of about a quarter of an inch broad, stained
with the successive shades of blue, from the palest sap¬
phire to the deepest azure, which are pasted around the
cii cumference of a circle of pasteboard of about four inches
in diameter. The colours were obtained from fine Prus¬
sian blue, diluting it with white chalk, or darkening it with
a mixture of ivory black. He likewise compared those
coloured spaces with the pure tints of a solution of copper
in ammonia, which resemble most the soft transparent
hues of the atmosphere. To represent the effect of clouds,
and diffuse aqueous vapours, he dropped into that liquid a
portion of very fine divided argillaceous earth, precipitated
by ammonia from a solution of alum.
In observing with the cyanometer, it should be held out
of doors, between the eye and the part of the heavens
which is to be compared, and, with a little practice, the
corresponding tint is easily distinguished.
In this way, Saussure found, that the deepest blue of
the zenith on the summit of Mont Blanc, at his station on
the Col du Geant, at Chamouni, and at Geneva, corre¬
sponded respectively to the shades denoted 39, 37, 34,
and 26tj. From morning till noon, the colour of the ver¬
tical sky darkened, but became lighter again as the even¬
ing advanced ; and this transition was wider and more
rapid in great elevations. On the Col du Geant, the tint
of the horizontal air at sunrise was 5, it deepened to 11]-
at noon, but again relapsed to 5 towards night. On the
15th of July, which was a very clear day, the atmosphere
at the horizon had the 11th shade; at the altitude of 10°,
the 20th; at that of 20°, the 31st; at that of 30°, the
34th ; at that of 40°, the 37th ; and thence with any sen¬
sible variation to the zenith. Baron Humboldt, in his
voyage from Corunna to Cumana, found the tints of the
sky to vary, by the cyanometer, from 13 to 24, and again
to 16, while the colour of the ocean fluctuated between 34
and 44.
I he misfortune is, that we cannot annex any very dis¬
tinct ideas to these numbers. We are not informed even
of the proportions of the ingredients of the series of colours.
i ft
r
S'
ti
5 (0- Cl
IT
*
itr
iron
Atli
isir
onlj
1 From. which signifies at once clear, dry, and cold.
2 From xuuvo',, carulcan or slcy.llue, and ftirgov, a measure.
ipo®
mers,
pbil'
faro
170;
raarj
ben
with
METEOROLOGY.
eteon The manner of composition likewise will modify the colo-
[0gy. rific effect; and most of the pigments, and especially the
Prussian blue, not only want uniformity of tone, but are
■' subject to great alteration. It would be quite impossible
to paint with any water colours two cyanometers that
should continue to agree, after being exposed for some
time to the action of the air and the sun.
If an accurate method could be devised to discriminate
of c« colours, and mark their different tints with a sort of nu¬
merical precision, it would prove a valuable acquisition to
philosophy and the arts. This was first attempted by the
famous painter Leonardo da Vinci. Zahn proposed, in
1702, to accomplish it, by the graduating mixture of pri¬
mary colours dispersed over the surface of a triangle; but
he reckoned five of those colours, including black and white,
with red, yellow, and blue. The celebrated Professor
Mayer of Gottingen, after various trials, simplified the
procedure, in a posthumous work, published by Lichten-
berg in 1775. Having distinguished each side of an equi¬
lateral triangle into 13 equal parts, he subdivided the
whole space into 91 small triangles, which he painted
with the successive mixtures of vermilion, ultra-marine,
,and bright orpiment. Lambert assumed three colours, car¬
mine, Prussian blue, and gamboge, to cover a triangular
base, upon which he erected a coloured pyramid, having
white planted at its apex. But Dr Thomas Young, whose
authority in those matters has deservedly great weight,
'(prefers the simple triangle, and adopts red, green, and vio¬
let, for the primary colours. Their binary combinations
ire yellow, formed by mixing red with green; crimson,
consisting of red and violet; and blue, produced by blend-
ng green with violet. The difficulty, however, is to re¬
gulate the intensity of the compounds; nor can the pow¬
ders be safely mixed except in a dry state, lest some che-
nical action should be introduced which might alter their
ints. But the colours thus combined must evidently want
he freshness and brilliancy of those which nature paints,
)r which the prism reveals.
Air, like water, is, no doubt, by its constitution, a co-
oured fluid. The former is naturally blue, as the latter
s green; but these colours acquire intensity only from
he depth of the transparent mass. A small body of lim-
)id water has the appearance of crystal, but, in proportion
is it accumulates, it assumes all the successive shades, till
t rivals the tints of the emerald and the beryl. This gra-
lation is distinctly seen in the profound lakes of Switzer-
and, whose lustre is never stained by any vegetable infu-
ion. The same series of colours emerges on receding
rom our shores and approaching the vast abyss of the
Atlantic Ocean. At first, the water on the shelving banks
3 merely translucid; at the depth of ten fathoms it ap¬
pears greenish; and the tint, by degrees, becomes more
atense, till it passes into a full green at the depth of fifty
athoms; but beyond soundings it darkens almost into
izure.
In like manner, the blue shade of the air becomes more
iitense in proportion to the length of the track of light,
his we perceive in viewing distant objects, whose colours
ire always tinted by the deepening hues of the interja-
i ent range of atmosphere. The remotest hills seem lost
i a caerulean vesture. The mixture of aqueous vapours
nly diffuses a mist, which tarnishes rather than dilutes
be fine blue.
It must be observed, that no substance can disclose its
liherent colour, but by a sort of internal secretion or dis-
3ction of the rays of light. The mere reflexion from the
irface of a solid body could never betray its tints; for,
hen rendered most perfect by polish, it would only, like
mirror, send back unchanged the incident beams. To
741
1 From anpos, the wind, and a measure.
detect the subjacent colour, it is necessary that the parti- Meteor-
cles of light should^at least penetrate under the surface, 0l°gy*
and, after suffering a sort of chemical separation, should be' 
again emitted. In transparent substances, whether solid
or fluid, the penetration is greater, but the mode of evolv¬
ing the native colours must be still the same. The atmo¬
sphere, besides dispersing internally the blue rays, like¬
wise reflects in various proportions the white light unal¬
tered. This fact is established by some experiments of
polarization, which show that such simple reflexions are
the most copious from the portion of the sky which is 90
degrees from the sun, and regularly decline on either side
to the opposite points, where they cease altogether.
The white or compound beam of light suffering, in its
passage through the air, a continual defalcation of the blue
rays, must, as it advances, assume the complementary co¬
lour, or the tints of the remaining portions of the spectrum,
and therefore merge successively into yellow, orange, red,
and crimson. Such, accordingly, are the graduating co¬
lours of the solar rays, as they approach to their extreme
obliquity. Near sun-setting, the shadow of a pencil along
a blank card appears a bright azure on a lilac ground.
When a diffuse attenuated vapour reflects the incident
light unaltered, the western sky, as the sun declines from
his altitude, glows with the successive shades of yellow
and orange, which deepen finally into a blush red. These
colours again may, under certain circumstances, come to
be blended with the natural blue of the atmosphere. Hence
the explication of a curious phenomenon, which rarely oc¬
curs in this climate, the existence of green clouds. This
happens in the mornings and evenings, when a thin cloud
is illuminated at once by the yellow rays of the sun and
the bright azure of the upper sky, these contrasted colours
producing a green by their mixture. For the same reason,
sometimes a portion of the bright sky appears, in the finer
climates, tinted with violet. This Avas remarked by Hum¬
boldt in his voyage to America, and we have had occasion
to observe the same at Avignon. It was no doubt occa¬
sioned by the reddish rays of the declining sun dyeing the
intense blue of the higher atmosphere.
The easiest and readiest way of ascertaining the tints Another
of different portions of the sky is perhaps to employ a sharp form pro¬
wedge of blue glass, of which the base and the parallel Posed-
sides are painted black and cased with thin brass, and the
slanting sides are ground to true planes, and highly polish¬
ed. To these angular surfaces two slides might be adapt¬
ed, having each a broad slit, or intermediate opening, to
permit the entrance and transmission of white light. Such
rays having a greater length of passage to traverse, accord¬
ing to their distance from the top of the wedge, must
emerge with a proportional intensity of blue. The scale
would hence be determined by dividing the slides into ten
or twenty equal parts, which might probably be sufficient.
To examine the orange and crimson tints which gild the
east in the morning, or suffuse the western sky on the ap¬
proach of evening, it would be necessary to combine a se¬
ries of the complementary or accidental colours. A wedge
of glass, stained of a gold-red or deep orange, might an¬
swer the purpose ; or perhaps a nearer approximation would
be obtained by joining two reversed wedges, one of an
angle of 8°, and crimson coloured, and another having
only 3°, but of a yellow body.
These instruments might be reduced to a very conve¬
nient size, not exceeding four inches in length ; but they
would require to be formed out of the same mass of glass
and exactly after the same pattern. With some skill in
the execution, they could be made to unite elegance and
correctness.
IX. Anemometer.1—Various attempts have been made Anemome-
——— —   ter.
742
METEOROLOGY.
Meteor- to construct an instrument that should readily indicate the
v °logy- force and velocity of the wind. One method was to em-
ploy a very small model of a wind-mill, and either to reck¬
on its revolutions, or to estimate its power by the applica¬
tion of a weight to a conical barrel or axis. But a more
direct and accurate procedure consisted in measuring the
impulse of wind against a vertical plane, as intimated by
the contraction of a spiral spring. All these instruments,
however, act with such extreme irregularity, as scarcely
ever to furnish any definite results. They are, besides,
racked by incessant motion, and soon put out of order.
We may notice, however, a material improvement made
in this construction of the machine by Mr Waddel of the
Trinity-House, Leith, who, amidst other objects of useful
experimental inquiry, has long directed his ingenuity to
ascertain the force and velocity of the wind. A circular
plate, of four inches diameter, is opposed to the blast; but
instead of pushing against a spring, it presses against a
fine cylindrical bag, of about an inch long, and the third
part of an inch diameter, filled with quicksilver, and joined
tight to a vertical tube of glass, a foot or fifteen inches
high, but having a bore only the twentieth part of an
inch wide. The compression of the bag caused by the
impulse of the wind upon the plate squeezes the quick¬
silver up into the tube, carrying with it a small steel mark,
which slightly adheres to the sides of the bore. The
height of the mercurial column, diminished in the ratio of
the surface of the plate to the section of the bag, must
evidently give the measure of the force of the wind. But,
in the actual exposure of this anemometer, the quicksilver
oscillates excessively, so that the extreme effects only are
indicated. The instrument, however, is very sensible, and
may continue to act for a long period without being im¬
paired.
Its improv- The direct action of the wind in supporting a column
ed con- of water appears to furnish the best and simplest kind of
struction. anemometer. This principle was first employed, in 1731,
by Pitot, the French engineer, in his recurved tube for es¬
timating the force of the current of a river ; and, forty years
afterwards, it was applied by Dr Lind to measure the im¬
pulse of a stream of air. With some modifications to cor¬
rect, or at least to diminish, the oscillations of the liquid,
this instrument is rendered quite manageable. The tube
may consist of two pieces, each about a foot in height,
having bores of the fiftieth and the fifth parts of an inch,
the narrow piece being swelled out into a cylinder, perhaps
an inch wide and two inches long, near the end where it
is joined hermetically to the other piece. The top of the
narrow tube is bent horizontally, and cemented into the
centre of a vertical circle of plate-glass, of about three
inches in diameter ; or, instead of this plane, a hollow seg¬
ment of a sphere of the same expansion, but including
only 30° or 40°, is substituted. The top of the wide tube
is likewise bent horizontal, and drawn to a point at the
same height as the minute central orifice of the cavity,
and bent in the opposite direction. A portion of nut-
oil, tinged by the alkanet root, had been previously intro¬
duced into the cylindrical cistern. On turning the small
plate or bason to front the wind, a condensation, corre¬
sponding to its force, is immediately produced on the op¬
posing surface, a small portion of air enters the orifice, and
continues to press upon the oil, till this rises to form an
equiponderant column in the wide tube. As the air can
with difficulty penetrate through the very narrow bore,
the irregular action of the blast is, in a great measure,
corrected, and the oil moves rather tardily.
A scale is adapted, bearing two sorts of divisions, the
one indicating the impulse, and the other the velocity, of
the wind. Reckoning the weight of the atmosphere equi- lieteor
valent to a column of oil of 400 inches in altitude, this <%’
space is subdivided into 10,000 equal portions, each degree s"Vv :f'
thus corresponding to the twenty-fifth part of an inch. It
would hence be easy to show, that the pressure of the
wind upon every square foot of surface is expressed in
pounds avoirdupois, by dividing by five the number of de¬
grees through which the oil ascends.
But we may place an adjacent line of subdivisions, that
shall mark the velocity of the wind in miles each hour.
Since air will rush into a vacuum at the rate of 1350 feet
in a second, it would, under a predominating pressure of
the 100th part of an atmosphere, or at 100 degrees, flow
with a celerity ten times less, or 135 feet in a second, which
corresponds to 92 miles in an hour. Wherefore, 25 de¬
grees of the scale of impulse would be marked by a ve¬
locity of 46 miles, and 6^ degrees by that of 23 miles, in
an hour. The subordinate divisions could hence be easily
formed.
Such are the velocities which theory would assign to
the different altitudes of the columns supported by the
force of the wind. But the actual resistance of fluids,
owing chiefly to their detention at the obstructing surface,
generally exceeds the result of calculation. In the case
of water and air, the ratio of excess appears from experi¬
ment to be nearly that of eight to five. We may there¬
fore modify the velocities after this proportion above stat¬
ed. The relations of celerity and impulse will stand thus:
Celerity in Miles
per Hour.
10
20
30
40
50
60
70
80
Impulse in
10,000th Parts of
the Weight of
the Atmosphere.
1°*9
7 -6
17 -1
30 -4
47 -5
68 -4
93
121 *5
6|J- bn
en
This anemometer, being furnished with a vane to make it
always face the wind, might also, by an index, point out
the direction. Nor is it absolutely requisite that the instru¬
ment should be exposed out of doors. The funnel, with its
vane, may have a socket of bell-metal, nicely fitted to the
top of a long perforated brass tube, which descends from
the roof of the house, and terminates below in the recurv¬
ed tube and its double scale. The impressions of the wind
would thus be conveyed with great regularity and undi¬
minished effect to the surface of the oil. Still, however,
it would be impossible to avoid entirely the oscillations of
the liquid column. Even the steadiest wind will be found
to blow with a reciprocating force, now swelling and again
relaxing, and, at certain short intervals, concentrating all
its vehemence.
X. Ombrometer,1 or Rain-Gauge.—A very simpleOmbrome-
instrument, contrived to indicate the quantity, or ratherter.
the depth, of the rain which falls upon any spot. It is
likewise named Hyetometer, and has been sometimes called
by the barbarous compound Pluviameter. It is composed
generally of a circular bason of tinned iron, soldered to the
top of a vertical cylinder, which is contracted in some
given proportion, and closed below. A small float is intro¬
duced, bearing a slender rod, distinguished by the cor¬
responding divisions. In the most ordinary construction,
pe
ran
clia
tain
1 From rain, and ptrgov, a measure.
tilt
inci,
'tinK
the
METEOROLOGY.
[eteo the bason being a foot wide, the attached cylinder has
logy- inches in diameter, and its section is consequently ten
r times smaller. The inches on the rod are hence marked
only tenth parts.
This method of measuring the fall of rain is evidently
not susceptible of much accuracy; and it would require
the gauge to be very frequently visited, on account of the
loss of the water by continual evaporation. The more
correct ombrometers have their bason made of brass, and
turned to a fine sharp edge; the rain, as it falls, runs
through a small orifice into the vertical cylinder, which
has only about the fourth part of the diameter, and com¬
municates, by means of a cock, with another perpendicu¬
lar tube still narrower, and consisting of glass having a
scale affixed. The divisions of this scale are determined
from the proportion of the joint sections of the cylinder
and tube to the horizontal surface of the bason. In mak¬
ing an observation, the cock, being turned, lets the col¬
lected water rise to the same level in the glass tube, and
thus indicate its quantity, which, by another operation,
is now drawn off. In the time of frost or snow, it becomes
necessary to warm the instrument gently, and make the
water flow.
We may suspect that the measure of the rain, hail, or snowy
flakes received by the ombrometer, is not exactly propor¬
tioned to the extent of surface which it presents ; for,
while torrents pour down from the heavens, an eddy plays
about the rim of the bason, deranging the regularity of
the discharge. A bason of several feet in diameter would
perhaps be preferable, or the platform of a roof could be
adopted, if it were sufficiently sloped to allow the rain to
collect quickly.
> But the most perplexing circumstance affecting the om-
ndicas brometer is, that it has been found to indicate very differ¬
ent quantities of rain as falling upon the very same spot,
according to the different elevation at which it was placed.
In general, less rain is collected in high than m low situ¬
ations, even though the difference of altitude should
be inconsiderable. Thus it was discovered, that, in the
space of a year, while 12T inches only fell on the top of
Westminster Abbey, 1ST inches were collected on the
roof of a house sixteen feet lower, and even 22-6 inches of
rain at the ground. Similar observations have been made
at the summit and near the base of hills of no great ele¬
vation. In such situations, we can hardly suppose the
clouds to stretch down to the surface, or to augment the
lower portion of rain. We must hence refer the copious
fall near the ground to some other cause. Most of the
rain which falls proceeds from drifting showers of short
Juration. The current moves more slowly along the sur¬
face, and allows the drops to descend as fast as they are
brmed. But being forced to mount a swelling eminence,
ind thus compressed into a narrower stream, it hurries
he mass of vapour along with it, and does not suffer the
fee or full discharge on the summit. On both sides of
he hill, an ombrometer placed near the bottom indicates
ilways a greater fall of rain than on the exposed top.
The observations furnished by this instrument are hence
iable to considerable inaccuracy, unless made in an open
•hampaign country. Thus, a register kept at Keswick gives
inches, which evidently exceeds greatly the annual fall
*t rain in that district; the quantity at Carlisle, not twenty-
iye miles distant, being only 20 inches. Again, the measures
•t rain, being 33 and 34^ inches in the open country about
Manchester and Liverpool, are found to amount to 45 and
'0 inches at Lancaster and Kendal, which approach the
tanks of a mountainous range. In general, twice as much
ain falls on the western as on the eastern side of our island;
743
and the average annual quantity may be reckoned at 30 Meteor-
inches, or it would form, if all collected, a sheet of water ologv.
of that depth. According to this estimate, the whole dis-
charge from the clouds in the course of a year, on every
square mile of the surface of Great Britain, would, at a
medium, be 1,944,643, or nearly two millions of tons.
This gives about three thousand tons of water for each
English acre.
XL Electrometer,1 which detects the electrical state Electro-
of the lower atmosphere. The best instrument of this meter,
kind undoubtedly is Bennet’s, consisting of two slips of
thick gold leaf suspended from a knob within a small cy¬
linder of glass, which is surmounted by a cap of brass.
This may be connected with an insulated rod or wire, ex¬
tending a few feet beyond the window.
The electrometer indicates the condition of the air only
in its immediate vicinity. But when thunder-storms pre¬
vail, the atmosphere becomes affected to a very considera¬
ble extent. Yet the indications of the electrometer are
often capricious and evanescent. Whenever clouds are
suddenly formed, or melt away, whether the air changes
to dryness or humidity, the electrical equilibrium is dis¬
turbed. The observations made with the electrometer are
hence of much less importance than was once expected,
and have been gradually falling into neglect.
XII. Drosometer.2—An instrument so called was pro- Drosome-
posed by Weidler, a German professor, in 1727, to mea-ter-
sure the quantity of dew which gathers on the surface of
a body which has been exposed to the open air during the
night. It consisted of a bent balance, which marked in
grains the preponderance which a piece of glass of cer¬
tain dimensions, laid horizontally in one of the scales, had
acquired from the settling and adhesion of the globules of
moisture.
The main objection to a drosometer of such a construc¬
tion is, that it would require to be protected from the ac¬
tion of the wind; and being thus screened, it could not
receive the whole of the dew wffiich might otherwise have
been deposited. The steel beam, too, from continual ex¬
posure to the weather, would soon lose its polish, and be¬
come unfit for any accurate performance. Besides, it is
in general easier to measure than to weigh a portion of li¬
quid.
A simpler and more convenient drosometer could be
formed on the principle of the ombrometer, or rain-gauge.
Suppose a glass funnel, of about three inches diameter,
whose interior surface is very smooth, and slopes towards
the centre at an angle of 15 or 20 degrees, to be joined
hermetically to a long tube, sealed at the lower end, and
having an equable bore not exceeding the quarter of an
inch, with an attached scale divided into portions corre¬
sponding to the thousandth parts of an inch on the exter¬
nal aperture. The only difficulty is to make the dew which
gathers during the night to run down the sides of the fun¬
nel into the tube. To facilitate this descent, a coat of
deliqueate salt of tartar may be spread with a hair pencil
over the shallow surface, and renewed as often as occasion
requires. The dew, instead of settling in minute detach¬
ed globules, would then be attracted by the alkaline lye,
which thus, becoming dilute, would gradually flow into the
narrow cavity of the tube. It would be easy at any time
to make an allowance for the very small portion of liquid
alkali blended with the dew.
Such is the complete apparatus required for keeping a
meteorological register. But those instruments are not
all of equal importance. The barometer, the thermome¬
ter, and the hygrometer, may be considered as indispen¬
sable. Next to them deserve to be ranked the photome-
1 From iXiKrgtv, amber, and furoat, a measure.
2 From dew, and ptr^ov, a measure.
,
744 METEOROLOGY.
Meteor- ter and sethrioscope, which disclose the more recondite
ol°gy. condition of the atmosphere. The atmometer, the ombro-
Aleteoro^ meter, and the anemometer, besides, are of consequence,
logical re". ^rom practical results which they furnish,
gisters. The value of any meteorological register, however, de¬
pends on the accuracy with which it is kept. The obser¬
vations should be made in a place rather elevated, and ex¬
posed freely on all sides to the aspect of the sky; and
they should be repeated either at equal intervals, during
day and night, or at least at those hours which represent
most nearly the mean state of the atmosphere. These
requisites are seldom attained, and very few registers
of the weather, accordingly, are entitled to much confi¬
dence.
It cannot be expected that registers of the weather will
possess much value, so long as they are kept merely as ob¬
jects of curiosity. Like astronomical observations, as now
conducted, they should no longer be left to the chance of
individual pursuit. They would require to be unremitting¬
ly prosecuted in all variety of situations, and at the public
expense. Proper sets of meteorological instruments should
be placed, not only in the regular observatories, but sent
to the different forts and light-houses, both at home and
at our principal foreign stations. They might also be dis¬
tributed among the ships employed in discovery, or en¬
gaged on distant voyages. The cost of providing those
instruments w'ould be comparatively trifling, and the charge
incurred by keeping registers on a regular and digested
plan might shrink to nothing in the scale of national ex¬
penditure.
The state of the barometer alone is kept with tolerable
accuracy, because that instrument, being little influenced
by collateral circumstances, marks nearly the same im¬
pressions over a wide extent of surface. The thermome¬
ter, again, is seldom observed at the proper hours, or in a
situation sufficiently detached from the buildings and solid
walls.
It is customary, for the sake of convenience, to note the
thermometer in the morning, at the height of the day, and
again in the evening. But these three observations must
evidently furnish results below the medium temperature
of the whole twenty-four hours, since the accumulated
warmth is reckoned but once, while the freshness partak¬
ing of the night is counted twice. It would be nearer the
truth to assume the middle point between the maximum
and minimum, though even this cannot be deemed abso¬
lutely correct, because the heat neither mounts nor de¬
clines in an uniform progression. The hottest time of the
day is generally about two o’clock, and the coldest just
before sunrise. This hour of extreme descent is conse¬
quently very variable; and it would be difficult to fix the
times suited for observing, unless they were more multi¬
plied. But even fewer observations may sometimes be
made to serve the purpose. In this climate, the daily
average may be reckoned from eight o’clock in the morning,
and the month of October is found to have nearly the
mean temperature of the whole year.
The observations usually made with the hygroscopes of
Deluc or Saussure cannot be regarded as affording any
definite indication of the dryness of the atmosphere. It
would essentially contribute to the advancement of mete¬
orological science, if the hygrometer which we have de¬
scribed were introduced into general practice. This adop¬
tion cannot be very distant.
Some of the monks, in the religious houses scattered
over the Continent, might find an agreeable and useful oc¬
cupation in recording the state of the atmosphere. Many
of these establishments are scattered in lofty and romantic
situations; and several of them, destined by their founders
for the charitable accommodation of travellers, occupy the
summits of the most elevated and inaccessible mountains.
Accurate registers kept in such towering spots are pecu¬
liarly interesting.
Light-houses would, from their usual position, be well Oil,
fitted for observing the force and direction of the wind
and the swell and relapse of the tide. The navigators who
traverse the ocean in every latitude might, besides keeping
meteorological soundings, record the variation of the needle
and examine the intensity of magnetic attraction.
To promote the science of meteorology, it would be
most expedient that the various learned associations plant¬
ed in different parts of the globe, should institute in¬
quiries into the state and internal motions of the higher
strata of our atmosphere. As the ultimate results could
not fail to prove advantageous to the public, the several
governments might be expected to defray the moderate
expense incurred in carrying this plan into effect. Light
small balloons might from time to time be launched to¬
wards the most elevated regions, to detect by their flight
the existence and direction of currents which now escape
observation. Barometers, thermometers, hygrometers,
and perhaps sethrioscopes, in compact forms, and which
should register themselves, might be sent up in the car.
Observers, furnished with accurate and complete instru¬
ments, could likewise be despatched occasionally to the in¬
termediate heights in large balloons. By classing the va¬
rious meteorological journals, and combining those ulterior
facts, some new lights could not fail to be struck out,
which would gradually reveal that simple harmony which
no doubt pervades all the apparent complication of the
universal frame. Till we obtain such insight, we must
content ourselves with the best explications of the pheno¬
mena of the atmosphere, which our imperfect and limit¬
ed knowledge will admit. We shall, therefore, treat in
succession of the origin of winds ; the generation of clouds
and fogs; and their precipitation in the form of rain, snow,
or hail. Other collateral objects will be discussed as they
present themselves to view.
I. Wind.—It is a curious circumstance, that in all lan¬
guages the ordinary name of air refers to its mobility, and
merely signifies to blow. This impulse alone of the fluid
appears to have awakened our sensations ; and had the at¬
mosphere continued perfectly still, we might for ages have
remained ignorant of the very existence of the fluid which
we breathe.
The main cause of wind, or the flow of air, is undoubt-Cause of
edly the variable distribution of heat through the atmo-wind.
sphere, which incessantly affects the local density, and dis¬
turbs the equilibrium of the mass. The presence of the
sun affects the surface of the terraqueous globe, which
again warms and dilates the lower strata of atmosphere.
The calorific action of the solar beams is greatly diminish¬
ed by their obliquity ; it rapidly accumulates on the land,
but becomes attenuated and diffused in the waters of the
ocean.
The alternation of day and night, and the annual revo¬
lution of the seasons, are hence the perpetual sources of
winds. If the surface of the globe, however, had been
wholly covered by the ocean, and not disparted by land
and seas, ^those winds must have been scarcely percepti¬
ble. The daily illumination of the sun does not warm the
ground to the depth of an inch; but the same quantity of
illumination penetrates, though with a decreasing intensi¬
ty, many fathoms into water, spreading and dividing its
influence. We may reckon the tenth part of the incident
light to be intercepted by a superficial stratum of the
thickness of one foot; and it will hence follow, that the
solar beams communicate every day a hundred times less
heat to the surface of a body of water than to an expan¬
sion of level ground. The subsequent influence, again, of
those contrasted surfaces in warming the incumbent air
must be proportionally different, though slightly modified
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METEOROLOGY.
■ort >y the portion of light reflected from the water. In a ge-
v- leral view, the diurnal variation of temperature in the at¬
mosphere may be considered as limited to the lowest stra-
um, not exceeding 2000 feet in height. Such a body of
ir will intercept commonly the fiftieth part of all the IHit
vhich traverses it. We may hence conclude, that the
hange of tempeiature in the air, caused by the succession
t day and night, is, on the whole, about thirty times less
hove a spacious lake than over the surrounding land.
The cuirent which rushes from all sides towards any
eated portion of the atmosphere is easily explained and
oroputed fiom the diminution of pressure which rarefac-
ton produces at that place. The celerity of the flow is
recisely the same as that of the efflux from a small aper-
ure under the pressure of a column equivalent to that di-
linution, or to the difference between the weight of the
mm air and of an equal volume of the exterior fluid,
'hus, suppose a chimney 20 feet high were heated up 50
entesimal degrees, or 90 on Fahrenheit’s scale ; the air in
le flue being therefore expanded one fifth part, or four
:et, would be driven upwards by the pressure of a co¬
limn compensating this difference. Fhe velocity of the
discharge would hence be 8 4 16 feet every second,
r at the rate of about eleven miles in the hour. If a fire
lb kindled in an open field, it is evident that the rush of
i;r must proceed from all sides. At the spot itself, there-
sre, the opposite currents will produce a counterbalance,
Bid no dominant wind can prevail. But if the w^rm air
mould cover a very wide extent of surface, its influence
pay be felt at a great distance, and the several converg-
cg winds may have space to blow without any mutual in-
Inference.
. These views afford a complete explication of the phe-
Bimena of sea and land breezes, which are occasionally
jet'with in every latitude, but are constantly observed
far the shores of the continent, and of the larger islands
itithin the tropics. In those sultry regions, as the day ad-
fnces, a refreshing wind blows from the sea, and is suc-
teded by an opposite Current from the interior of the
jjnd on the approach of evening, and during a great part
qthe night. In open seas, and especially near the equa-
lr, the thermometer scarcely varies a degree, and very
ssldom two degrees, by Fahrenheit’s scale, in the whole
qurse of a day. But on the land, the change of tempe-
fture between the night and day, in similar situations,
>|11 rise often higher than 76 centesimal degrees, or 126
qPahrenheit. If we, therefore, conceive a stratum of air
f00 feet in altitude, heated only to the mean difference,
fl three centesimal degrees, it would receive an expansion
c 24 feet; whence the velocity of the wind produced
wuld be 8 24 = 39 feet every second, or at the rate of
i miles in the hour. This is a very moderate estimate ;
|t the celerity of the current must, no doubt, be dimi-
hed, from the retardation which it suffers in proportion
the length of track over which it has to sweep.
During the night the lower atmosphere is colder on
d than at sea, owing partly to the descent of the more
vated and colder portions of air which chill the surface
fl'the ground, and partly to those cold pulses which are
incessantly darted from every point of the azure sky. If
iv reckon the reduced temperature of the land only a
Cntesimal degree and a half below the standard of the ad-
Jiaient ocean, this would give 12 feet for the contraction
o the vertical column of air, and, consequently, a stream
fjuld flow towards the sea with a celerity of 8 ^ 12 — 28
fet per second, or very nearly 20 miles every hour. In
INral, the land breeze may be considered not so power-
as what blows from tbe sea.
j lhe ordinary appearances are clearly and graphically
ascribed by that very intelligent and enterprising navi-
gtior Captain Dampier.
745
“ These sea-breezes do commonly rise in the morning Meteor-
about nine o’clock, sometimes sooner, sometimes later. 0l°gy-
WL. XIV.
They first approach the shore so gently, as if they were
afraid to come near it; and ofttimes they make some faint
breathings, and, as if not willing to offend, they make a halt,
and seem ready to retire. I have waited many a time, both
ashore to receive the pleasure, and at sea to take the be¬
nefit of it.
“It comes in a fine, small, black curl upon the water, when
as all the sea between it and the shore not yet reached by
it is as smooth and even as glass in comparison. In half
an hour’s time after it has reached the shore it fans
pretty briskly, and so increaseth gradually till twelve
o’clock; then it is commonly strongest, and lasts so till
two or three a very brisk gale. About twelve at noon it
also veers off to sea two or three points, or more, in very
fair weather. After three o’clock it begins to die away
again, and gradually withdraws its force till all is spent,
and about five o’clock, sooner or later, according as the
weather is, it is lulled asleep, and comes no more till the
next morning.
“ Ihese winds are as constantly expected as the day in
their proper latitudes, and seldom fail but in the wet sea¬
son. On all coasts of the main, whether in the East or
West Indies, or Guinea, they rise in the morning, and
withdraw towards the evening; yet capes and headlands
have the greatest benefit of them, where they are highest,
rise earlier, and blow later.
“ Land-breezes are as remarkable as any winds that I
have yet treated of: they are quite contrary to the sea-
breezes ; for those blow right from the shore, but the sea-
breeze right in upon the shore ; and as the sea-breezes do
blow in the day and rest in the night, so, on the contrary,
these do blow in the night and rest in the day, and so they
do alternately succeed each other. For when the sea-
breezes have performed their offices of the day, by breath¬
ing on theii lespective coasts, they in the evening do
either withdraw from the coast, or lie down to rest. Then
the land-winds, whose office is to breathe in the night,
moved by the same order of divine impulse, do rouse out
of their private recesses, and gently fan the air till the
next morning; and then their task ends, and they leave
the stage.
“ There can be no proper time set when they do begin
in the evening, or when they retire in the morning, for
they do not keep to an hour ; but they commonly spring up
between six and twelve in the evening, and last till six,
eight, or ten in the morning. They both come and go
away again earlier or later, according to the weather, the
season of the year, or some accidental cause from the
land ; for on some coasts they do rise earlier, blow fresher,
and remain later, than on other coasts, as I shall show
hereafter.
“ These winds blow off to sea, a greater or less dis¬
tance, according as the coast lies more or less exposed to
the sea-winds ; for in some places we find them brisk
three or four leagues off shore, in other places not so
many miles, and in some places they scarce peep without
the rocks, or, if they do sometimes in very fair weather
make a sally out a mile or two, they are not lasting, but
suddenly vanish away, though yet there are every ni^ht
as fiesh land-winds ashore at those places as in any other
part of the world.
“Indeed, these winds are an extraordinary blessing to
those that use the sea in any part of the world within the
tropics; for as the constant trade-winds do blow, there
could be no sailing in these seas; but, by the help of the
sea and land breezes, ships will sail 200 or 300 leagues, as
particularly from Jamaica to the Lagune of Trist, in the
Bay of Campeachy, and then back again, all against the
trade-wind.
5 B
METEOROLOGY.
746
Meteor- « The seamen that sail in sloops or other small vessels
v °logy» in the West Indies do know very well when they shall
Y meet a brisk land-wind, by the fogs that hang over the
land before night; for it is a certain sign of a good land-
wind to see a thick fog lie still and quiet, like smoke over
the land, not stirring any way; and we look out for such
signs when we are plying to windward. For if we see no
fog over the land, the land-wind will be but faint and
short that night. These signs are to be observed chiefly
in fair weather ; for in the wet season fogs do hang over
the land all the day, and it may be neither land-wind nor
sea-breeze stirring. If in the afternoon, also, in fair wea¬
ther, wre see a tornado over the land, it commonly sends us
forth a fresh land-wind.
“ These land-winds are very cold, and though the sea-
breezes are always much stronger, yet these are colder by
far. The sea-breezes, indeed, are very comfortable and
refreshing; for the hottest time in all the day is about
nine, ten, or eleven o’clock in the morning, in the interval
between both breezes ; for then it is commonly calm, and
then people pant for breath, especially if it is late before
the sea-breeze comes, but afterwards the breeze allays the
heat. However, in the evening again, after the sea-breeze
is spent, it is very hot till the land-wind springs up, which
is sometimes not till twelve o’clock or after.” ( Voyages,
vol. ii.)
Nature of The Trade-Winds, which, within the tropics, at all
the trade- times constantly blow from the east, but somewhat vary
wmds. their force, and decline a little to the north or the south,
according to the latitude and the season, are the most re¬
markable of all the aerial currents, and of signal import¬
ance in navigation. These steady breezes favoured the
voyage of Columbus, and conducted him to the discovery
of the Mexican archipelago. The same powerful stream
afterwards drew the Portuguese from their southern course,
and carried them to the shores of the Brazils. Since the
character and extent of those winds have become perfect¬
ly known, the navigator reckons safely on their aid, and
shapes his voyage in such a wTay as to reduce its perform¬
ance almost to a calculation.
The cause of the trade-winds, however, is not obvious,
or very easily traced. Various attempts have been made
to explain the phenomenon, yet seldom on any solid or ac¬
curate principles. It would form an interesting discus¬
sion to examine the different hypotheses advanced; but
we can afford room to notice, very briefly, the more con¬
siderable only of those opinions.
Descartes aMd his followers imputed the trade-winds
to the inertia of the atmosphere, which they conceived to
prevent this fluid from acquiring the full rotation of the
earth, especially near the equator. The air being thus
left behind as the globe rolled from the west, would have
an apparent motion in the contrary direction, and seem to
blow from the east. But it may be urged, that as pas¬
sengers almost insensibly gain the celerity of the ship
which carries them, so every portion of the incumbent at¬
mosphere, though more loosely adherent to the terraque¬
ous surface, must soon acquire the peculiar motion corre¬
sponding to the parallel of latitude. Nor would the ine¬
quality of such combined movements in the air at all dis¬
turb the order and arrangement of its general mass.
Halley’s Dr Hailey gave a different explication of the origin of
hypothesis, trade-winds, which seems very plausible, and has long been
deemed quite satisfactory. This able philosopher and ex¬
perienced navigator supposed, that the spot where the sun’s
vertical rays exert their utmost heating energy, being in
the lapse of a day successively transferred from east to
west round the circumference of the globe, must, as a
centre of confluence, draw in its train a current of air.
The current thus formed would result from the excess of
the streaming from the east above that from the west; and
it would therefore advance with a tardy pace, following at Jf
a distance the powerful energy of the sun. The same oW'
easterly wind might incline towards the north or the south 's-v*
according as the great luminary appears to approach to
the northern or the southern tropic.
But it should be observed, that the torrid zone stretches
mostly over the ocean, and includes only a narrow portion
of land. The heat excited in succession through that
liquid track, by the diurnal passage of the sun, is hence
extremely small, and hardly sufficient to produce the aspi¬
ration of the gentlest air. Nor could even this feeble cur¬
rent have a decided and constant dnection. It would only
tend towards the heated part of the surface of the ocean.
In the morning, it would breathe from the west; about
noon, it would become neutral, and die away; and, in the
evening, it would again spring up, and flow from the east.
Near midnight this current would sink into a perfect calm.
The hypothesis will, therefore, not bear any strict exami¬
nation. It is neither adequate to the production of such
effects, nor accordant with the actual phenomena of the
trade-winds. It casts a false glare over the subject, with¬
out elucidating its real bearings.
The first who succeeded in taking a correct view of the True:!
question was George Hadley, in a short paper inserted inory.
the Philosophical Transactions for 1735. By combining in
some measure the idea of Descartes with the opinion of
Halley, he produced a clear and simple account of the
cause of trade-winds, which appears entirely consistent, and
free from every objection. Though the daily variation of
temperature be very inconsiderable within the tropics, yet
the annual accumulation of heat renders the equatorial re¬
gions much warmer than the higher latitudes, and conse¬
quently maintains a perpetual current of air from either
side. If those aerial motions were not modified by the
figure and rotatioh of the globe, there would always be
two opposite winds blowing directly from the north and
from the south to the equator. But the stream which
perhaps originates at the northern tropic, in advancing to
the equator, must seem gradually to deflect towards the
west, in consequence of the increasing velocity with which
the successive parallels of latitude are carried eastwards.
During the time this current takes to perform its journey,
it is apparently transported to the west, through a space
equal to the excess of the arc described by the equator
above the corresponding arc traced by the tropic. The
current from the southern tropic is equally bent towards
the west. When both of them meet at the equator, their
opposite impulsions from the north and the south are ex¬
tinguished, and they flow directly west in a single united
stream, and with accumulated force. The apparent mo¬
tions of the different streamlets which from both hemi¬
spheres conspire to constitute the trade-wind, is represent¬
ed in fig. 18, Plate CCCLV.
But it is not enough to connect the general facts; dltsdetails-
complete theory should harmonize in all the subordinate
details. An easy calculation, accordingly, is conducted to
those precise results which are commensurate and exactly
congruous with the actual phenomena. The trade-wind
may be reckoned to begin about the latitude of 25 degrees.
At this parallel, the mean temperature is four centesimal
degrees colder than immediately under the equator, which
difference of heat may graduate through the atmosphere
to the altitude of 10,000 feet. Wherefore, the expansion
of the air at the equator, which draws to it a meridional
wind, will amount to a column of 100 feet. The velocity
of the current hence produced must be 8^/100, or 80 feet
every second, which corresponds to fifty-four miles in the
hour. But each point on the parallel of 24° is carried
eastwards by its revolution about the earth’s axis seven
miles faster every hour than on the parallel of 25°. Con¬
sequently, when the wind arrives at the parallel of 24°, h
METEOROLOGY.
:or| vill seem to have acquired a tendency of seven miles an
^y.Uour to the west. As it reaches the successive parallels
H|f230, 22°, 21°, &c. it will gain continual, though decreas-
ng, additions to its apparent westerly course, which at
lie equator will have augmented to 104 miles in the hour.
In this calculation we have made no deduction for the
esistance which the streams of air must experience in
iweeping over the surface of the globe, because no expe-
iments have been made to ascertain the effect of such re-
ardation. It is no doubt less on the ocean than on the
ind, and must evidently be diminished in proportion to
he depth of the mass of fluid which is borne along. Still,
owever, this obstruction, joined to this impediment of
iternal motion, must be very considerable; and we may
ifely reduce the numbers before stated to one third,
hich would give eighteen miles an hour for the celerity
f the primary meridional wind, and thirty-five miles for
lat of the oriental or trade-wind, resulting from the in*
uence of the figure and rotation of the earth.
Our northern hemisphere, presenting to the action of
le solar beams a larger surface of land than the southern,
1, on the whole, rather warmer. Hence the parallel of
•eatest heat runs not exactly through the equator, but
)out three degrees farther north. This circle is there-
re strictly the mean path of the aggregate easterly streams
i' air.
But though the hottest part within the torrid zone, tak-
i g the average of a whole year, occupies the parallel of
luree degrees north latitude, it must, to a certain extent,
l lift its position with the seasons. In the summer months
I e sun shines twice vertical upon the tropic of Cancer,
ad consequently raises the temperature of the northern
hlf of the zone. During winter, again, this effect is trans-
trred to the southern half of the torrid region. In the
j ogress of summer, therefore, the trade-wind gradually
fends about a point towards the north ; but as winter ad-
rnces, it declines as much to the south,
i Such is the character of that general wind which en-
ircles the globe, flowing with slight deviation constantly
tom the east, and spreading over a zone of more than 50°
breadth. It sweeps the Atlantic Ocean from the coast
I Africa to Brazil, and the Pacific from Panama to the
jhilippine Isles and New Holland, and again the Indian
ftas partially from Sumatra to Zanguebar.
on J f. The trade-wind undergoes an essential modification,
bwever, where the continent stretches into the torrid
ttne. fhe sun acting more powerfully upon the land than
»on the surface of the sea, the accumulated warmth is
|fuch greater, and shifts with the revolution of the seasons
» either side of the equator. The centre of heat ap-
roaches in summer to the northern, and in winter to the
muthern tropic. Instead of the great eastern stream, those
igions have two opposite periodic winds alternating to-
■iprds the north and the south, and called the monsoons.
jHien these winds advance to the equator, they conjoin
r aPparent easterly velocity ; but when they recede from
fie equator, they carry their excess of velocity from the
»2st. A diagonal motion results from the combined ten¬
ancies. In the Arabian and Indian Seas, on the north
We of the equator, the monsoon blows north-west during
jPe summer months, from April to October; and in the
nposite direction, or south-east, during the winter. But
II lbe south side of the equator, near Java and Sumatra,
fie course of the monsoon is north-east in summer and
suth-west in winter.
The primary winds, which blow from the parallels of 25°
f 30° t0 the equator, must evidently give rise to opposite
j:rrents that flow in the higher atmosphere towards the
lies. These streams, after they have travelled beyond the
topics, may descend to the surface, transporting the cele-
of equatorial rotation. They w ill appear, therefore, to
747
blow from the western quarter, with the excess of their Meteor-
previous velocity above that of the parallel which they °logy.
reach. Hence a westerly breeze, of considerable force and
regularity, prevails in either hemisphere above the lati¬
tude of 30°. The same winds cross the Atlantic from
Newfoundland to Cornwall, and traverse the Southern
Ocean from the Plata to the Cape of Good Hope, and
thence to New Holland. Any wind which blows from the
quarter inclining to the south of the west comes really from
the equatorial region, and is therefore relatively warm.
Such is the disposition of our westerly wdnds, which com¬
monly prevail for nine months in the year.
On the same principle, a wind which blows directly from
the arctic pole, and impregnated with intense cold, must,
m consequence of the rotation of the globe, appear to ar¬
rive from some point to the north of the east. In passing
through the first degree of latitude, it will suffer a deflec¬
tion of eighteen miles in the hour towards the west; in a
short space, therefore, it will seem to flow with impetuous
force, and almost directly from the east. Hence our east¬
erly and north-easterly winds have a polar origin, and are
always bitterly cold.
Local winds could be explained if the different circum- Local
stances which affect them were distinctly known. The la- winds,
titude and temperature of the place, its relative position,
the figure and contour of the surrounding country, would
all enter into the calculation. We shall content ourselves
with a concise notice of some peculiar winds. The Bize
is a cold piercing wind which blows from the ridge of the
Jura, and the frozen summits of the Pyrenees. The Si¬
rocco is a hot, moist, and relaxing wind, which visits Na¬
ples and the south of Italy from the opposite shores of the
Mediterranean. The Harmattan seems to be a cold and
dry wind, of a very parching quality, which is frequent in
Africa and some of the eastern countries. The Samiel, or
Simoom, is a burning pestilential blast, extremely arid,
which springs up at times in the vast deserts of Arabia,
and rushes with tremendous fury, involving whole pillars
of sand.
II. Clouds and Rain.—Their formation and dissolu-Theory of
tion produce all the varied train of the meteorological phe- clouds,
nomena. The humidity suspended in the atmosphere is
derived by exhalation partly from the land, but ultimately
from the vast expanse of the ocean. A surface of lake, of
pasture, corn fields or forest, supports a continual evapo¬
ration, augmented only by the dryness of the air, and the
rapidity of its successive contacts. Even ploughed land
will supply nearly as much moisture to the exhaling fluid
as an equal sheet of water. It is only when the ground has
become quite parched that it obstinately retains its latent
store.
If the whole of the waters which fall from the heavens
were to return again, the evaporation from the ground
might be sufficient alone to maintain the perpetual circula¬
tion. But more than one third of all the rains and melted
snows are carried by the rivers into the ocean, w hich must
hence restore this continued waste. The commerce of
land and sea is thus a necessary part of the economy of na¬
ture.
The air, in exhaling its watery store, is rendered quite
damp ; but it may afterwards become dry on being trans¬
ported to a warmer situation. Such is the case of the sea-
breeze, particularly in summer. It arrives on the shore
cold and moist; but as it advances into the interior of the
continent it grows milder and drier. The same principle
accounts for the disposition of different winds in respect to
humidity. At Colombo, in the island of Ceylon, as we
gather from some remarks of Dr Davy, the north-east mon¬
soon, with a temperature of only 68 on Fahrenheit’s scale,
has yet a dryness of 75 hygrometric degrees ; but the op¬
posite monsoon, from the south-west, though at 82 by the
748
METEOROLOGY.
Meteor- thermometer, is so damp as to indicate scarcely 30 degrees,
ologv. The cold wind, coming from the north, was rendered warm-
er and drier in its progress; while the hot wind, flowing
from the equator, was somewhat chilled and made damper
as it approached Ceylon.
Since air in mounting upwards has its capacity for heat
enlarged, and becomes colder, it will hence likewise grow
proportionally damper. But a continual intercourse being
maintained between the lower and the higher atmosphere,
the middle region must, from its dullness, be soon charged
with moisture. If this tendency were to act, therefore,
without control, the heavens would have been shrouded
with perpetual clouds and darkness, and never could the
cheering rays of the sun have visited the surface of the
earth. A principle of conservation happily occurs to re¬
strain, and finally to overpower, the effect of cold, in dis¬
posing air to part with its moisture. By expansion, this
fluid is made capable of holding, at the same temperature,
a larger share of humidity. Each portion of air, in rising
vertically, grows, from the predominance of cold, con¬
stantly damper ; but after having reached a certain alti¬
tude, it again becomes gradually drier, from the influence
of its wide dilatation. Every time the air has its volume
doubled, it acquires an additional dryness corresponding
to fifty hygrometric degrees. Hence one degree would
be the effect of the rarefaction of only the 72d part. This
small variation again answers to a depressed temperature
of 1| on the centesimal scale, which, near the surface, will
occasion an increase of humidity equal to the actual range
of the solvent power of the air divided by 31*4. Suppose
the thermometer to mark 15° centesimal at the ground,
~“"v 200
the air would, for each ascent of about 390 feet, be —j—r,
3T4
Their
mean .
height.
or 8 hygrometric degrees damper, which wTould be re¬
duced to 7° by the influence of dilatation. Had the tem¬
perature at the surface been as low as — 25°, which an¬
swers to a solvent power of 31^°, the opposite agencies of
cold and rarefaction would evidently have produced a per¬
fect balance, and the same dryness would have continued
to a moderate height.
It would be easy to show that d, expressing the density
of the air at any altitude, and h the corresponding indica¬
tion of the hygrometer, ^ + d)j will denote the incre¬
ment of humidity occasioned by depressed temperature,
while the corresponding decrement resulting from expan¬
sion is one degree. Hence at the pole the position of the
maximum humidity in the atmosphere must occur at an
elevation of 13,300 feet; where the density is *6, the tem¬
perature would stand at 26*7°, and the hygrometric range
only 29°. Under the equator, that limit would attain a
much greater altitude, and yet not rise so far above the
curve of perpetual congelation. It is probable, however,
that the canopy of clouds descends considerably lower,
being warmed by the hot pulses darted from the ground
and the inferior strata of the atmosphere. We shall not
err much if we estimate the position of extreme humidity
at the height of two miles at the pole, and four miles and
a half under the equator, or a mile and a half beyond the
Modifica- limit of congelation. This range is represented in fig.
tion of 18, Plate CCCLV. running nearly parallel to the curve of
clouds. perpetual congelation, but bending nearer in approaching
the equatorial parts. It marks the mean height of the
clouds^ in different latitudes, and intimates the shading into
the fine etherial expanse.
The moisture deposited by a body of air in minute glo¬
bules, which remain suspended, or subside slowly in the
atmosphere, constitutes a Cloud. When it comes near us,
whether it hovers on the tops of the hills, or spreads over
the valleys, it receives the name of a Fog. The cold oc¬
casioned by the ascent or transfer of air may be sufficient Meteor
to form thin clouds, but a more powerful and extended ology.*
energy is required for the production of Rain. The sub-
ject has from the earliest times engaged the attention of
philosophers, who have made numerous unavailing attempts
to explain it. At length the very ingenious Dr chines
Hutton subjected the problem to a correct analysis, and
succeeded in deducing a most satisfactory solution. His
fine Theory of Rain, which first appeared in the Transac¬
tions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh for the year 1787,
constitutes an epoch in meteorological science. Its merits,
however, have been slowly perceived by the public, be¬
cause the author, full of his original conception, satisfied
himself with merely sketching the general outline. But
it was not enough that the operation of the principle ad¬
vanced should always cause rain; it was farther requisite
that the results arising from its application should quite
accord with the actual phenomena. We shall, therefore,
endeavour to render this theory more definite and more
complete.
Air in cooling becomes ready, we have seen, to part with Hutton’s i
its moisture. But how is it cooled in the free atmosphere, th.eory d'l
unless by the contact or commixture of a colder portion ot ram’
the same fluid ? Now, the portion of the air which is
chilled must in an equal degree warm the other. If, in
consequence of this mutual change of condition, the for¬
mer be disposed to resign its moisture, the latter is more
inclined to retain it; and, consequently, if such opposite
effects were balanced, there could, on the whole, be no
precipitation of humidity whatever. The separation of
moisture, on the mixing of two masses of damp air at dif¬
ferent temperatures, would therefore prove, that the dis¬
solving power of air suffers more diminution from losing
part of the combined heat, than it acquires augmentation
from gaining an equal measure of it; and, consequently,
this power must, under equal accessions of heat, increase
more slowly at first than it does afterwards, thus advan¬
cing always with accumulated celerity.
The quantity of moisture which air can hold thus in-Illustra-
creases in a much faster ratio than its temperature. This1*0118,
great principle in the economy of nature was traced by
Dr Hutton from indirect experience. It is the simplest
of the accelerating kind, and perfectly agrees with the law
of solution which the hygrometer has established. Sup¬
pose equal bulks of air in a state of saturation, and at the
different temperatures of lo^nd 45 centesimal degrees,
were intermixed, the compound arising from such union
will evidently have the mean temperature of 30°. But
since at these temperatures the one portion held 200 parts
of humidity, and the other 800, the aggregate must con¬
tain 1000 parts, or either half of it 500 ; at the mean or
resulting temperature, however, this portion could only
suspend 400 parts of humidity, and, consequently, the
difference, or 100 parts, amounting to the two hundredth
part of the whole weight of air, must be precipitated from
the compound mass.
As another illustration, let air of 15° be mixed with air
at the temperature of 35°, in three different proportions,
all at the point, of saturation ; one part being combined
with three parts, two with two, and three with one. The
temperatures arising from the commixture would be 20°,
25°, and 30° ; the corresponding parts of moisture preci¬
pitated from the mass being derived from the intermediate
proportions of 200 and 504, are, 352, 317'5 or 34’5; 276,
252 or 24 ; 352, 317’5 or 34’5 ; and 428, 400 or 28.
These depositions are represented in fig. 8, Plate CCCLV.
by the several intervals between the logarithmic curve and
the oblique line which connects the summits of the ordi¬
nates of 15° and 35°.
In these examples we have assumed the portions of dif¬
ferently heated air to be quite charged with moisture be-
METEOROLOGY. 749
eteor- fore mixing; but it is only required that they should ap-
lo8y- pr°ach to the point ofhumidity. The effect, however, of sim-
S^Y ^ pie commixture would, in most cases, be very small. To ex¬
plain the actual phenomena, we must have recourse to the mu¬
tual operation of a chill and of a warm current, driving swift¬
ly in opposite directions, and continually mixing and chang¬
ing their conterminous surfaces. By this rapidity, a larger
volume of the fluid is brought into contact in a given time.
Suppose, for instance, the one current to have a tempera¬
ture of 50, and the other that of 70 degrees, by Fahren¬
heit’s scale; the blending surfaces will, therefore, assume
the mean temperature of 60°. Consequently, the two
streams throw together 200 and 334'2 parts of moisture,
making 567’1 parts for the compound, which, at its actual
temperature, can hold only 258'6 parts; the difference,
or 8-6 parts, forms the measure of precipitation, corre¬
sponding to the 2325th of the whole weight of the com¬
mixed air. It would thus require a column of air 30 miles
in length to furnish, over a given spot, and in the space of
an hour, a deposite of moisture equal to the height of an
inch. If the sum of the opposite velocities amounted to
60 miles an hour, and the intermingling influence ex¬
tended hut to a quarter of an inch at the grazing sur¬
faces, there would still, on this supposition, be produced in
the same time a fall of rain reaching to half an inch in alti¬
tude.
These quantities come within the limits of probability,
and agree sufficiently with experience and observation. But,
in the higher temperatures, though the difference of the
heat between the opposite strata of air should remain the
same, the measure of aqueous precipitation is greatly in¬
creased. Thus, while the mixing of equal masses of air,
at the temperatures of 40° and 60°, is only 6-6, that from
alike mixture at 80° and 100° amounts to 19°. This re¬
sult is entirely conformable to observation, for showers
are most copious during hot weather and in the tropical
climates.
The quantity of moisture precipitated from the atmo¬
sphere thus depends on a variety of circumstances ; on
the previous dampness of the commixed portions of the
fluid, their difference of heat, the elevation of their mean
temperature, and the extent of the combination which
takes place. When this deposition is slow, the very mi¬
nute aqueous globules remain suspended, and form clouds;
but if it be rapid and copious, those particles conglomerate,
and produce—according to the state of the medium with
regard to heat—rain, hail, or snow.
’Vocity of The profuse precipitation of humidity is caused by a ra-
’ ‘hops pid commixture of opposite strata. The action of swift
1 ain‘ contending currents in the atmosphere brings quickly into
mutual contact vast fields of air over a given spot. The
separation of moisture is hence proportionally copious. In
temperate weather this deposition forms rain ; but, in the
coldseason, the aqueous globules, freezing in the mid-airinto
icy spiculas, which collect in their slow descent, become con¬
verted into flakes of snow. Hail is formed under different
circumstances, and generally in sudden alternations of
the fine season, the drops of rain being congealed during
their fall, by passing through a lower stratum of dry and
cold air.
The drops of rain vary in their size perhaps from the
twenty-fifth to a quarter of an inch in diameter. In part¬
ing from the clouds, they precipitate their descent, till the
increasing I'esistance opposed by the air becomes equal to
their weight, when they continue to fall with an uniform
velocity. This acquired or terminal velocity is therefore
in the sub-duplicate ratio of the diameters ot the aqueous
globules. A thunder-shower hence pours down much
faster than a drizzling rain. In general, if d express the
diameter of a drop in parts of an inch, the terminal velo¬
city, according to theory, will be denoted by 78-y/rf, or, it
the usual correction be made for the discrepancy in fluids, Meteor-
it will be 67Thus a drop of the twenty-fifth part ol°g7-
of an inch, in falling through the air, would only gain
celerity of 11^ feet, while one of a quarter of an inch
would acquire a celerity of 33^ feet. A flake of snow, be¬
ing perhaps nine times more expanded than water, would
descend thrice as slow. But hailstones are often of con¬
siderable dimensions, exceeding sometimes an inch in
length. They may hence fall with a velocity of 70 feet
each second, or at the rate of about 50 miles in the hour.
Striking the ground with such impetuous force, it is easy
to conceive the extensive injury which a hail-shower may
occasion in the hotter climates. The destructive power
of those missiles in stripping and tearing the fruits and fo¬
liage increases, besides, in a faster ratio than the momen¬
tum, and may be estimated by the square of their velocity
multiplied into mass. This fatal energy is hence as the
fourth power of the diameter of the hailstone.
III. Optical Phenomena.—It remains for us to ex¬
plain the general optical appearances of the sky. When
the rays of the sun strike upon a cloud, they are copiously
reflected, but partly absorbed by the minute suspended
globules. In working their progress through the mass of
vapour, they suffer a great diminution from the multi¬
plied acts of absorption. The quantity of light thus final¬
ly detained depends on the density of the cloud, and its
thickness. But the portion which penetrates through the
nebulous medium is always much less than what traverses
an equal body of air. In extreme cases, perhaps, the so¬
lar beams will suffer greater defalcation by repeated reper¬
cussions within a congregated cloud, than from passing
through fifty times the same extent of a clear aerial ex¬
panse. Hence such clouds always appear dark and black,
by their scanty transmitted light. Whiteness, being pro¬
duced by the copious emission of intermingled rays, can
belong only to very thin clouds. The depth of shade in¬
dicates the mass of floating vapour.
Owing to the excessive minuteness of the aqueous glo- Rainbows,
bules, the particles of light are only reflected or absorbed
at their external surface, without entering them. But
when they collect into large drops, the luminous pencil
which strikes at a certain angle converges by refraction to
a point of the posterior surface, and, after suffering one or
more interior reflections, it emerges dissected into it§ pri¬
mitive colours. Hence the glorious vision of the rainbow,
which was reduced to mathematical calculation by Des¬
cartes, but only received its complete explication from the
optical discoveries of Newton. The phenomena occur
whenever the sun shines upon the falling drops of rain be¬
hind the spectator, the coloured arch being a portion of a
circle whose centre is a point in the sky directly opposite
to the sun. The primary or interior bow is formed by a
single reflection, and lies 45° beyond that centre; but the
secondary or superior bow, produced by a double reflec¬
tion, appears with inverted tints at the distance of 56°. A
ternary bow may exist, but being so extremely faint from
the repeated reflections, it is scarcely ever perceived. It
hence follows, that rainbows are only visible when the al¬
titude of the sun is below 45° and 56°. In summer, ac¬
cordingly, they are not seen in this climate about the middle
of the day. For the same reason, they generally appear
less than a semicircle ; but viewed from the top of a spire,
or any lofty pinnacle, they embrace nearly the whole cir¬
cumference. Lunar rainbows may be frequently observed,
only the faintness of their colours makes them far less con¬
spicuous.
The coloured rings or halos which are often seen sur- Halos,
rounding the moon and sun, are evidently occasioned by
very thin vapour diffused through the atmosphere. They
are supposed chiefly to encircle the moon ; but, in this cli¬
mate, hardly a day passes with light fleckered clouds, when
750 METEOR
Meteor- at least portions of halos may not be perceived near the
v f°Sy- sun. It is only necessary to remove the glare of light
which makes the delicate colours appear white. Thus, if
we examine the reflection from a smooth surface of water,
we shall perceive that the sun gilds the fleecy clouds with
segments of beautifully coloured rings. This effect is still
more distinctly seen if the rays from a hazy or mottled
sky he received upon a sheet of white paper, held before a
small hole in the window-shutter of a dark room. But
even when the sun shines from an azure firmament, circles
Their ori- of the richest tints may be produced by experiment. Hold-
§in> ing a hot poker below, and a little before, the small hole
of the shutter, throw a few drops of water upon it, and the
sun will be painted upon the paper like the glowing radia¬
tions of the passion-flower. The appearance is exactly
similar to what the traveller, in awakening from a short
slumber, perceives, in a winter’s morning, on opening his
wearied eyes to a burning candle—concentric rings of vio¬
let, green, yellow, and red.
The explication formerly given of the cause of halos,
even that proposed by Newton himself, is inadmissible;
since it would confine them, like the rainbows, to certain
definite limits, whereas they appear with every possible
degree of extension. Our earliest inquiries led us to re¬
fer the origin of halos to the deflection of or that pro¬
perty of the rays to bend and divide as they pass near the
edge of a body. Thus the light admitted through a very
narrow slit in a card, or a bit of tinfoil, spreads into bright
coloured fringes. The finer also is the slit, the broader
are the fringes. A similar appearance is obtained by look¬
ing at the elongated flame of a candle through the delicate
fibres of a feather, or even through the streaks of grease
rubbed by the finger along a piece of glass. But if a very
small round hole be substituted for the slit, the fringes will
change into coloured rings. Thus, if a piece of tinfoil,
punctured with the point of a needle, be held close to the
eye, the sun will appear through it surrounded by a halo
very near his disc, but spreading more in proportion as the
hole is contracted. That ingenious artist Mr Troughton
constructed for us a slide of brass, and afterwards another
of platina, perforated with a series of the finest conical
holes, which were measured by his delicate micrometer.
. The purpose was to compare the angle subtended by the
coloured ring with the diameter of the perforation, it being
inferred that an aqueous globule of the same dimension
might, by the exterior deflection of the solar rays, pro¬
duce a similar halo. But our variable sky is very seldom
fit for any refined optical experiment, and many delays
happening to intervene, wre could arrive at no very precise
or certain result. We may state, however, as at least an
approximation, that the globules of the diffuse vapour
which occasions the appearance of coloured circles about
the sun and moon, vary from the 5000th to the 50,000th
part of an inch in diameter. W'hen the halo approaches
nearest to the luminous body, the largest globules are
floating, and therefore the atmosphere is surcharged with
humidity. Hence the justness of the vulgar remark, that
a dense halo close to the moon portends rain.
Eriometer. Nearly the same theory has been struck out by Dr
Thomas \oung, to whose profound ingenuity and most
extensive information we are glad to bear honourable tes¬
timony. By a skilful application of the principle of de¬
flected light, he has likewise constructed the Eriometer,
a curious instrument for measuring the size of the fibres of
wool and other filamentous substances. But we cannot at
present enter into the details.
Parhelia. The same acute philosopher has given perhaps the only
true account of the origin of the parhelia or mock suns,
which are frequently seen in the arctic regions during
certain dispositions of the atmosphere. This gorgeous
appearance of intersecting luminous arches, studded with
O L O G Y.
opposite and transverse images of the sun, he ascribes to Meteor, f;
the combined reflections of the rays from the natural facets oiog) -
of the snowy spiculce floating abundantly in the air.
Another most remarkable optical deception occurs in a Phenome-
peculiar state of the atmosphere on the verge of the hori-na irre. /
zon in various countries, and especially in the warmer cli- 8ular llor>
mates, whether on the level plains, or on the margin of^.0^^6'
rivex-s or lakes, and near the sea-shore. In such situations wjth ex_
the i-emote objects often appear with extraordinary eleva- treme ob-
tion, and in double or inverted images. This singular phe-hquity.
nomenon is obviously caused by the irregular refractions
which the x’ays of light occasionally suffer by passing
through the different strata of the lower atmosphere. When
the effect is confined to the apparent elevation of an ob¬
ject, our seamen call it looming; but if inverted images
be formed, the French and Italians give to this play of vi¬
sion the appellations of mirage and fata morgana. The
shipping and range of buildings on the shore of Naples
have from Messina sometimes appeared floating inverted
in the air. In the autumn of 1798 the coast of France was
distinctly seen raised above the sea, from the beach of
Hastings ; the appearance lasted about an hour, and then
sunk beneath the horizon. In the following year, Profes- Obsem-
sor Vince watched the phenomena at Ramsgate with atl(?nsof
large telescope. On the afternoon of the 1st of Angust he Vince'
first descried the sails of a ship, but as she came fuller in
view, he perceived another inverted image just below the
surface of the water. Fig. 16, Plate CCCLV. repre¬
sents the successive appeax-ances ; A is the ship when first
observed, C after she had appx-oached, and B the inverted
image. Fig. 17 exhibits a variation of the effect; a marks
the ship entering the horizon, C and B the double image
of the ship when near, a portion of the sea lying between
its opposite traces. To produce the appearances now
represented, it was quite requisite that the rays of light, in
traversing the lower strata of the air, should desci’ibe
curves, whose final tangents point in the visual directions
of the objects. These curves or trajectories are delineated
in fig. 13, where E marks the place of the observer, zb
the horizon, h the hull and a the mast of the ship; the
lowest image is formed by the curves 5sE and arE; above
this the curves frcE and awE give an inverted image,
and the curves ZwE and amE exhibit the highest erect
image.
In ordinax-y cases, a ray of light, in crossing different
layers of the atmosphere, describes a trajectory, which is
neai'ly the portion of a circle, having six times the diame¬
ter of the earth. The x’ate of inflection is pi'oportional to
the tangent of obliquity, and to the difference of the re¬
fractive power of the conterminous strata, which may be
assumed as the same as their difference of density. This
variation in a stratum of air twenty-eight feet thick is only
the thousandth part of the whole refraction, and is hence
equal to the effect of the quarter of a centesimal degree.
But since a much greater difference of heat often occurs
within that limit, the incurvation of the trajectory must
be pi’oportionally increased. Humidity, by dilating the
air, will produce a similar effect, though in a much inferior
degree, unless in very high temperatures.
Dr W\ FI. WTollaston, whose acuteness in devising phi- Experi-
losophical experiments wras unrivalled, exhibited on a small meats of
scale the various appearances occasioned by irregular at- Wollastm
mospheric attraction. His paper inserted in the Philo¬
sophical Transactions for the year 1800 contains a very
clear exposition of the phenomena. On looking length¬
wise over the side of a red-hot poker at a distant object,
besides the ordinary image, another inverted one w^as seen
within the edge of the streaming air, and a larger erect
one still nearer the pokei’, as represented in fig. 14. The
deviation was here only half a degree ; but along a red-hot
bar of iron, the separation of the images was increased to
MET
?teoro- a degree and a quarter. On directing the eye over the sur-
iancy face 0f a green board, which had been heated by exposure
Tetho- to the sun, a double image was distinctly seen. Another
lists." board, merely wetted with water, betrayed a similar dis-
position, though it was very difficult to distinguish the ir¬
regular image, its elevation being only 3'. But on moist¬
ening the surface of the board with alcohol, the images
were easily seen at a separation of 15'. Still more conspi¬
cuous was the appearance on spreading a little ether over
a plate of glass, for the irregular image showed itself 71°
raised.
H illus- It was easy to imitate and examine the natural pheno-
tnon. rnena by means of a square parallelopiped composed of
plate glass. Having filled the half of this with cold water,
let hot water be gently poured over it, and the cover
placed upon the top. (See fig. 15, Plate CCCLV.) On
standing a few feet behind the parallelopiped, and look¬
ing at distant objects through the stratum where the cold
and hot water have become blended, the double and in¬
verted images will for a short time be clearly perceived.
But a more durable effect is obtained by filling one third
of the glass case, as represented in fig. 15, with syrup or
a strong solution of white sugar, another third with dis¬
tilled water, and the rest with pure alcohol. A mutual
penetration slowly takes place between the conterminous
surfaces of the alcohol A and the water B, and between
this and the syrup C; and after the lapse of perhaps two
or three days, the blending spaces become sufficiently
broad for observation. The appearances then are nearly
such as those that have been sketched in the plate.
• met 751
. This mode of experiment is at once simple and convin- Metho-
cing. The theory which Dr Wollaston draws from it is dists.
equally ingenious, but not so demonstratively established
as its author presumes. It rests chiefly on the supposi- Hi.s exPn‘
tion, that the stratum occupied by the penetration of twocatlon‘
fluids of different densities, graduates in refractive inten¬
sity more slowly at its boundaries, and most rapidly in the
middle. Or, to borrow the elucidation of geometry, if the
successive densities be denoted by ordinates, their sum ¬
mits will form a line of double curvature, having conse¬
quently a point of contrary flexure. This principle may
be sound, though we can perceive no cogent reason why
the curve of intermediate refraction should be; convex or
concave, or should combine both sorts of incurvation. But
admitting this double curvature to be a constituent law, it
will very satisfactorily explain the phenomena. The refrac¬
tion will be the same as if the light had traversed an uni¬
form medium bounded by a surface of that reverted cur¬
vature, the convex portion diverging, and the concave por¬
tion converging, the parallel rays. The different effects
are exhibited in fig. 12; the distant object O is viewed in
its true position by the pencil that arrives at O ; it is seen
inverted at I, by the rays which enter at m ; the rays which
fall on r make it appear again erect at A. This explica¬
tion is certainly very plausible, and may probably approxi¬
mate to the truth. But though much has been already
achieved, the subject of irregular refraction needs to be
revised, and still more closely investigated. (b.)
For some further illustrations of the subject of this ar¬
ticle, see Barometer, Climate, Cold, and WTather.
1 ileyan
: Ifho-
d iL
METEOROMANCY, a species of divination by me¬
teors, principally by lightning and thunder.
METESSIB, an officer among eastern nations, who has
the care and superintendence of all the public weights and
measures.
METHEGLIN, a species of mead. The word is Welsh,
in which language meddyglin signifies the same thing.
METHOD, the arrangement of our ideas in such regu¬
lar order that their mutual connection and dependence may
be readily comprehended. See Logic.
METHODISTS, a numerous religious body both in this
country and in America. They are divided into several
distinct sects ; but from the minute shades by which these
are distinguished, and the extreme obscurity of some of
their numbers, it is difficult to furnish a perfectly accurate
account of them. We shall describe those which are best
known.
The first in order of time, as well as in point of num¬
bers, is that of Wesleyan Methodists. This body derives its
name from its principal founder, the Rev. John Wesley.
Whilst a student at Christ-Chureh College, Oxford, and
engaged in the pursuit of theology, as preparatory to his
entering into deacon’s orders, Wesley’s mind had become
strongly imbued with that peculiar asceticism which co¬
lours the writings of Thomas a Kempis, Fenelon, William
Law, and occasionally of Jeremy Taylor, of whose works he
had been a diligent and admiring student. On his assum¬
ing the sacred office, this tendency was increased rather
than diminished; and when, after officiating as curate to
his father, who was a clergyman in Lincolnshire, for about
two years, he returned to Oxford to resume his duties as
a fellow of Lincoln College, it was apparent that it had ac¬
quired the complete ascendency over his mind. His con ¬
dition at this time was distressing. He felt himself bur¬
dened under a sense of guilt in the sight of God, and igno¬
rant of the only way in which that burden could be relieved.
Sympathy of feeling and unity of opinion led him to enter
into an association which had been formed during his ab¬
sence among a few of his former friends, in whom a simi¬
lar course of discipline had produced similar effects. Of
this society he soon became the leader and most active
member, employing the resources of his comprehensive
mind for the regulation of their meetings, and setting an ex¬
ample of diligence in the discharge of every office, and of
patience in the endurance of every penance, which in their
misguided zeal they had instituted among them, in the
hope of thereby obtaining the divine favour. The regula¬
tions which they had adopted for the guidance of their con¬
duct were unusually severe : they w ere in the habit of par¬
taking of the sacrament every week ; they were abstemious
in their diet, and plain in their clothing; they had set
hours for reading Thomas a Kempis, with meditation and
prayer, and for musing on the Passion ; they spent much of
their time in visiting the prisons and the hospitals ; they
observed rigidly all the fasts of the English church, besides
a constant abstinence on Wednesdays and Fridays; and in
several other respects they exhibited the hold which a
morbid asceticism had acquired over their minds. By such
conduct, while they commanded the respect of a few, they
became the object of ridicule and derision to the many, and
had to run the usual gantlope of jokes and nicknames
which is destined for all, especially at an university, who
are audacious enough to be guilty of innovation either in
politics or religion. Of the various titles which the wits
of the university devised for them, the only one that has
adhered to them is that by which they are now distin¬
guished, viz. Methodists. The author of this appellative
is said to have been a fellow of Merton College, w ho, ob¬
serving the regularity with which they divided their time
among their different pursuits, exclaimed, “ Here is a new
sect of Methodists sprung up;” alluding to the ancient
Methodici, or College of Physicians, at Rome, of whom an
account is given by Celsus in the preface to his work Be
Medicina. At this time their members amounted to fifteen,
most of whose names Wesley has preserved in his journal.
Among the rest are those of James Hervey, the author of
752 METHODISTS.
Metho- the Meditations; and George Whitefield, for some time the
dists. roost efficient assistant, and subsequently the most power-
— ' ful rival, of Wesley.
The regular formation of this society took place in the
year 1729. During the three following years it maintain¬
ed its ground under the energetic guidance of its head,
and increased to the number of twenty-five. In the course
of the year 1733, however, Wesley being frequently ab¬
sent from Oxford, his associates began to lose heart, and
to shrink from the persecution which continued to assail
them; so that, on his return from a visit he had paid to
Manchester and other places in that year, he found the
members reduced to five. Grieved, but not disheartened, he
immediately set himself to repair the loss, but with what
success does not appear. His exertions, however, were so
great, that, combined with his abstemiousness, they began
seriously to affect his health. It is probable that this, to¬
gether with other circumstances of a private nature, com¬
bined with his religious zeal to induce his acceptance ot
an offer made to him by the trustees of the new colony of
Georgia, to go out as one of the chaplains of that settle¬
ment. This offer was made about the middle of 1735, and
towards the close of that year he left] England, accompa¬
nied by his brother Charles and two other of his Oxford
associates, in order to enter upon the duties of his office.
On his voyage out he became acquainted with David
Nitschman, a Moravian bishop, who, with a party ot his
followers, was proceeding in the same vessel to join a co¬
lony of their brethren already established in the new set¬
tlement. From this individual he derived no small advan¬
tage in a religious point of view ; nor was the insight which
he thus obtained into the Moravian institutions and polity
without service to him, when, in subsequent years, he had
to assume the office of arranging and legislating for a party
of his owrn.
Cut Wesley’s connection with the Georgian colony was
not of long continuance. It was dissolved in 1737, and, in
the month of February of the following year, he arrived in
London, a wiser if not a better man than when he had set
out. A few months of irregular occupation followed his
return; but in September of that year he commenced that
course of life in which he persevered till his death, and in
the pursuit of which he visited personally the principal
places, not only in England, but also in Ireland and in Scot¬
land. The example of his friend Whitefield first induced
him to commence field-preaching ; a practice which he fol¬
lowed ever afterwards with great success. Flis brother
Charles, who had followed him from America, became a
zealous and able coadjutor; and others were speedily add¬
ed to them. No systematic plan of itinerant preaching
seems to have been at first contemplated by them ; but
their exertions in one place led to their visiting another,
and thus a regular course of occasional ministrations was
gradually adopted. At first both Wesley and his brother
were decidedly opposed to lay-preaching; but the difficulty,
or rather the impossibility, of finding individuals who had
received orders to supply their rapidly increasing stations,
combined with the evidence furnished by one or two re¬
markable examples, of the possibility of successfully em¬
ploying individuals who had not been regularly educated
for the ministry, in itinerant preaching, led to the ultimate
adoption of this as a part of their ecclesiastical machinery.
An extensive agency was thus called into operation, by
which the Wesleys were enabled to bear in upon the mass
of the people throughout the country, and in consequence
very widely to diffuse their principles, and augment the
number of their adherents. By what steps they advanced
it is impossible accurately to detail; but in a very few years Metlio-
they had succeeded in overcoming the persecution by which dists.
at first they were everywhere assailed, and in forming so-
cieties in all the principal towns and larger villages of
England. Over all these Wesley maintained a vigilant
watchfulness; and though in general lenient and patient,
he yet visited with rigorous discipline those communities
or preachers by whom any flagrant departure from the ac¬
credited doctrines or practices of the body had been com¬
mitted. His influence among the societies was maintained
partly by frequent visitations, and partly by the power
which was concentrated in an annual convention of the
preachers, called the Conference, of which he was the mov¬
ing spring. The first meeting of conference was held in
1744, and this body has regularly held its meetings ever
since.
Before Wesley’s death, Methodism had obtained a consi¬
derable footing not only in England and Wales, but in Ireland,
America, the West Indies, and to a limited extent also in
Scotland. At the time of his death “ the number of mem¬
bers in connection with him in Europe, America, and the
West India Islands, was SthOOO.”1 Since that time this de¬
nomination has been making a steadily increasing progress.
At the Conference of 1836, the numbers returned were, in
Great Britain 293,132; in Ireland 26,434; in the Foreign
Missions 61,803 ; in Upper Canada 16,092 ; under the care
of the American Conferences 652,528; total 1,049,989.
The number of preachers throughout the world is 4273.
Foreign missions have been established in various parts of
Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, including the West
Indian, Polynesian, and Australasian Islands. An important
branch of these missions is the schools which are attached
to the different stations, and which are conducted by the
missionaries themselves, or under their immediate super¬
intendence. The sum raised for these purposes at the
close of the year 1835-36 was L.70,996. Is. lid.
The doctrines taught by Mr Wesley and his preachers
may be technically described as those of Evangelical Ar-
minianism. In regard to all the positive doctrines of
Christianity, he assented, with a few modifications, to the
standards of the reformed churches. He maintained the
depravity of human nature ; the necessity of an atonement
for sin before it can be forgiven ; the doctrine of a divine
influence to lead men to Christ; justification by faitb alone ;
and the importance of good works, not as the ground of
acceptance with God, but as the evidence of faith, and the
measure of the final reward. He differed from the system
of Calvin chiefly in regard to the extent of the atonement,
which he maintained was for all men; to the doctrine of a
common grace, which he supposed was given to all, though
in various degrees and in different ways ;2 to the opinion
that a man who had once believed the gospel might relin¬
quish his belief, and so perish ; and to the notion that Chris¬
tians might obtain salvation from all sin, or entire sanc¬
tification, before death. He also held that repentance,
which he defined to be “ conviction of sin, producing real
desires and sincere resolutions of amendment, ’ and fruits
meet for repentance, preceded faith ; and that the believer
has not only the testimony of his own consciousness to per¬
suade him that he is justified, but also the direct testimony
of the Spirit of God. These opinions are still retained by
the Methodist body.3
Of the polity of Wesleyanism, the fundamental principle
is, that all power is centred in the Conference or annual
convention of the clergy. From this body all authority
emanates, and by them all regulations to be observed
throughout the society are devised and appointed. In
1 Watson’s Life of Wesley, p. 378.
2 See this tenet defended at length in Watson’s Theological Institutes, vol. ii. p. 258-263.
3 Watson’s Life of Wesley, p. 168-199.
*
i
METHODISTS.
753
Tetho- their name also are levied all the funds that are required for
sts. carrying on the operations of the society, of appointing the
individuals who are to superintend the different sections
into which the denomination is divided, of assigning to each
preacher the station he is to occupy, and of suspending or
excluding any member of the community, whom a subor¬
dinate jurisdiction, entitled a Leader’s Meeting, may have
found guilty of certain faults. All their deliberations being
carried on with closed doors, the people at large have no
check on their decisions, nor any means of controlling then-
power : the results of their discussions, however, are pub¬
lished, after each meeting, under the title of Minutes. The
management of the body is thus vested entirely in an oli¬
garchy of clergymen, self-elected, and all but entirely un¬
controlled. The security of this system is perpetuated by
the careful gradation of rank which obtains throughout the
whole body of functionaries. The supreme power being
vested in Conference, the whole field of Methodism is
divided into distinct departments, to which is given the
name of Circuits. To each of these as many preachers are
appointed as its exigencies may require, and at their head
is placed one whose experience and reputation, but espe¬
cially his fidelity to the cause of Conferential supremacy,
entitle him to the distinction, and to whom, under the name
of Superintendent, the charge of the whole circuit is com¬
mitted, The appointment of these functionaries is made
annually ; and no preacher or superintendent can be re-ap¬
pointed to the same place for more than three years suc¬
cessively. Besides these, each circuit has its local preachers,
who are generally persons engaged in secular business, but
who, having by zeal and ability obtained for themselves
the approbation of a Local Preacher’s Meeting, are permit¬
ted by the superintendent to preach, throughout the vicinity
of the place where they reside, in private houses and small
country chapels. Out of the number of these the regular
preachers are generally chosen, as they have been them¬
selves for the most part chosen from amongst the Class-
leaders or superintendents of the portions into which each
congregation is divided. These classes consist generally of
twelve members, and it is the duty of the leader to visit, in¬
struct, and exhort them, as well as to collect their contribu¬
tions to the funds of the society, and to watch over the cor¬
rectness of their general conduct. At the meetings of
these classes the members state their religious experience,
and confess their faults to one another. This, however, is
more particularly the object of another subdivision (con¬
nection with which, however, is not deemed imperative)
called Bands : the members of these are all of one condition
in life; that is, the married males meet in one Band, the mar¬
ried females in another, and so on. In these Bands, which
are also under the charge of Leaders, there is, in conse¬
quence of this arrangement, more freedom of communica¬
tion, especially in regard to besetting sins and peculiar
temptations. Another portion of the members are engaged
in the duties of Sunday-school teachers, and are also under
the superintendence of a leader. Over all these different
agenciesjit is the duty of the circuit superintendent to watch ;
and to all of them his word is law. An appeal, indeed, lies
from his decisions to Conference, but experience has so
abundantly shown the uselessness of all such appeals, ex¬
cept in cases of the most glaring nature, that they are
hardly ever made.
Whatever objection may be brought against the compli¬
cation of the machinery of Methodism as opposed to the
simplicity of the New Testament, this should not prevent
our doing justice to Wesley and his followers, by admitting
the importance of the services which they have x-endered
to the cause of religion, education, and morality, through¬
out the empire. By no denomination of Christians, per- Metho
haps, have greater benefits been conferred, in these respects, dists."
on the nation at large, than by the Wesleyans. Impelled v
by an undaunted zeal, they have visited the most aban¬
doned, and instructed the most ignorant, of the population.
Wherever they have gone they have carried the elements
of a renovated state of society with them, in the doctrines
they have taught and the duties they have inculcated.
In many parts of England, where, before they commenced
their labours, the truths of Christianity were as little known
as they are in heathen countries,1 they have succeeded in
raising large and active communities, amongst which the
effects of Christian teaching are apparent, in the good con¬
duct, comfortable circumstances, and increasing respecta¬
bility of those by whom they are composed. Their zeal
has also operated beneficially on other denominations, and
has called forth energies that, but for the stimulus of
their example, might have continued to lie dormant. In
short, it must be confessed, that England and America owe
an immense debt of gratitude to the illustrious founder of
this powerful society; and that the loss of Methodism would
be a loss to the world.
Next in order to the Wesleyan Methodists are the calvinistic
vinistic Methodists. Under this term are included three Metho.
distinct connections, all of which, however, either arose dists.
from, or were greatly strengthened by, the exertions of
Whitefield, the original companion of Wesley; and from that
circumstance they are sometimes ranked under the name of
Whitejieldians. Whitefield separated from Wesley short¬
ly after the time when the latter commenced his regular
labours as a preacher, upon his return from America. The
cause of their separation was their having espoused oppo¬
site sides of the Arminian and Calvinistic contx-oversy;
Wesley ranking himself with the adherents of the former
class of opinions, and Whitefield with those of the latter.
This led to their carrying on their itinerant laboui-s inde¬
pendently of each other, though without any attempt on
either side to interrupt the peace or the usefulness of the
other. Whilst Wesley, however, was skilfully availing
himself of his success for the purpose of forming a sect,
Whitefield, with less worldly wisdom, contented himself with
merely preaching from place to place, and associating
himself with any who would acknowledge him as a mi¬
nister of Christ. At several places, indeed, where he had
attracted much attention by his powerful and (to judge
from the effects) unparalleled eloquence, he erected chapels,
or tabernacles as he called them; but these he invariably
left to the care of any evangelical clergymen, whether in
the establishment or among the dissenters, whom he saw
x-aised up to occupy them. Since his death, the members
of these congregations have been nominally, and only no¬
minally, classed together as a distinct body, under the
name of the Tabernacle Connection. In some of these
congregations the service is conducted according to the
ritual of the church of England, whilst in others the order
of worship is more in accordance with that observed by
the Independents. They all, however, agree in this, that
whether there is a settled minister in the place or not, a
succession of supplies from the country is kept up through¬
out the year, each minister being engaged for a month or
six weeks at a time. Where there is no settled pastor,
the “ supply” for the time being discharges the whole duty
of the place ; where there is a settled pastor, the duties
are divided between them. The members of this con¬
nection have of late years been gradually verging towards
the Independents, and it is probable that in a short time
both bodies will coalesce.
Amongst the most zealous and devoted of Mr White-
1 “ He (Wesley) found thousands of his countrymen, though nominally Christians, yet as ignorant of true Christianity as infidels
or heathens.” (Bishop Coplestone, as quoted in Watson’s Life of W esley, p. 31o.)
VOL. xiv. C
754 M E T
Metho- field’s adherents was Selina, countess of Huntingdon, in
dists. whose family he at one time officiated as chaplain. After
the death of her husband she employed her ample re¬
sources in the erection of chapels in dift'erent parts of
the country', to the occupation of which she invited at first
none but regularly ordained clergymen of the Episcopal
Church. Many such accepted her invitation, and labour¬
ed in the places she had erected; but finding the supply
from this source not adequate to the demand, she founded
a college at Trevecca, in South Wales, for the education
of pious young men of talent for the university. By
these means a distinct party was formed, which assumed
her name, and is known as Lady Huntingdon s Connection.
They have about sixty congregations, in all of which the
service is conducted strictly according to the ritual of the
established church. The college has been removed, since
the death of its foundress, to Cheshunt in Hertfordshire,
where it is now in a flourishing state.
Another body, which, though not founded by Mr White-
field, was much strengthened through his means, is that
denominated the Welsh Calvinistic Methodists. The ori¬
ginal founder of this body was Mr Howel Harris, of Tre¬
vecca. This gentleman had intended to take orders in
the church of England, but was turned from his purpose
by what he witnessed amongst the students at Oxford, who
seemed to him wholly given to folly and impiety. On his
return home he began to preach to his neighbours and in
the surrounding parishes. This took place in 1735, and
excited no small attention ; numbers collected in every
place where he preached, to hear him; and, ultimately, so¬
cieties wrere formed, which were placed under the superin¬
tendence of experienced individuals. The preaching of
Mr Harris was not only successful among the people at
large, but was also followed by several clergymen, who at
length gave up their livings, and united themselves with
him. To this party Mr Whitefield lent the aid of his
powerful eloquence, and in return received from it many
of his most zealous preachers. It was not, however, till
the year 1785, when it was joined by the Rev. Thomas
Charles of Bala, that, owing mainly to the exertions of
that individual, it was organized into a regular body. Since
that time its numbers and resources have been steadily in¬
creasing, both in North and South Wales. It is said that
there is hardly a village in the principality where one of
its chapels is not to be found. The doctrines held by its
members are those of high or hyper-calvinism. Their form
of church government inclines to the presbyterian, though
many practices are encouraged among them that presby-
terians in general would condemn, such as the utterance
of exclamations of desire or exultation on the part of the
audience during public prayer, jumping and throwing them¬
selves into violent postures under the excitement produced
by the preacher’s address, and others of a similar kind.
They admit also of lay-preaching, and some of their most
popular orators are of this class. The sermons of their
preachers are generally delivered in a slow recitative, in¬
terrupted by quick and startling appeals and interrogations.
Even upon those who are ignorant of the language in
which the address is uttered, this peculiar mode of delivery
is productive of a powerful sensation. It is not surprising,
therefore, that on those by whom the whole is understood,
and who can enter fully into the highly figurative and impas¬
sioned style of sentiment in which the Welsh preachers
generally indulge, the most singular eftects should be pro¬
duced. It is no unusual thing to see whole congregations
convulsed, and thrown into the most violent agitation, al¬
most instantaneously, by some well-managed appeal to
their feelings on the part of the preacher; and this once
accomplished, it is not very difficult to keep up the ex¬
citement, until both speaker and hearers are ready to sink
to the ground from pure exhaustion. The prevalence of
M E T
Methu
selah
this habit cannot but be regretted; but it is characteristic
of the people, and though it is doubtless productive of much
that is injurious to true piety, it cannot be questioned, that,
upon the whole, the labours of these preachers have told
most beneficially, as well as extensively, upon the religious
and moral improvement of their countrymen.
The other classes of Methodists have been produced by Other
I: f
Metonj
mv.
secessions from the great body of Wesleyan Methodists.tllodisls'
The reason assigned for these secessions has been nearly
the same for all, viz. thearbitrary and unconstitutional power
assumed by the Conference. The only exception to this is
in the case of the Primitive Methodists, or Ranters, whose
ground of secession was, that the true spirit of Methodism
was no longer kept up in the body. By this they meant
that too much attention was paid to order and decorum in
the conduct of public worship ; and that sufficient zeal
was not manifested in obtruding religion upon the minds of
the people by street-services, field-preaching, &c. They
are fond of doing nothing in a corner, and, accordingly,
often parade the streets, singing hymns and inviting the
populace to their places of worship. They also admit of
females being alkwed to preach. The number of their
chapels is about 4-00; that of their preachers 2700; and
that of their members 33,720.
The first secession upon the ground of the unscriptural
power exercised by the Conference (and the earliest in
point of time of any of the secessions), was made by a party
in 1797, very soon after Mr Wesley’s death. At the Con¬
ference held at Leeds that year, delegates appeared from
many of the societies throughout the country, who were
instructed to request that the people might have a voice in
the formation of their own laws, the choice of their own
officers, and the distribution of their own property. These
reasonable demands having been refused, the petitioners
agreed to secede from the Conference connection, and to
form themselves into a distinct party, upon a more liberal
basis. The person who took the largest share in prompt¬
ing and providing for this step was Mr Alexander Kilham,
and from him the body thus formed have taken the name
of Kilhamites. They also style themselves the New Con¬
nection Methodists. Their doctrinal views are those of
Wesley, but in their polity they seem to have followed in
a good measure the forms of presbyterianism as exhibited
in Scotland. The people choose their officers, and appear
by representatives at all the synodical meetings of the de¬
nomination. This party is not very numerous. In 1829
they had 162 chapels, fifty-nine circuits, 492 local preachers,
and about 11,780 members. .
Of late there have been several considerable secessions
from the general body of the Wesleyans. At least four
distinct parties have been formed within a few years. These
are the Bryanites, so called from a Mr Bryan, tlieir
founder; the Independent Methodists; the Wesleyan Pro¬
testant Methodists ; and the Warrenites, or followers of Dr
Warren. A proposal has, it seems, been made to unite
these parties under some common name, all having seced¬
ed on nearly the same fundamental grounds, and all hold¬
ing the same leading principles.
See Southey’s Life of Wesley; Watson’s Life of Wesley ;
Gillies’s Life of Whitefield; Bogue and Bennet’s History
of Dissenters, vol. iii.; and Buck’s Theological Dictionary,
by Henderson.
METHUSELAH, the son of Enoch, and father of La-
mech, wfas born in the year of the world 687; he begat
Lamech in 874, and died in 1656, at the age of 969, the
greatest age which has been attained to by any man upon
earth.
METCECI, a name given by the Athenians to such as
had their fixed habitations in Attica, though by birth they
were foreigners.
METONYMY, in Rhetoric, is a trope in which one
M E U
t t^Pe name is put for another, on account of the near relation
f; II. that subsists between them.
METOPE, in Architecture, is the interval or square
; space between the triglyphs of the Doric frize.
^ METOPOSCOPY, the pretended art of knowing a
person’s dispositions and manners by viewing the traces
and lines in the face.
METRE, in Poetry, a system of feet of a just length.
The different metres in poetry are the different modes
of ordering and combining the quantities, or the long and
short syllables. Thus hexameter, pentameter, iambic, and
sapphic verses, consist of different metres or measures.
In English verses, the metres are extremely various and
arbitrary.
METRETES, a Grecian measure, containing some¬
thing more than nine English gallons.
METRICAL Verses, are verses consisting of a deter¬
minate number of long and short syllables, as those of the
Greek and Latin poets.
METROCOMIA (from mother, and xw/a?}, town
or village), a term in ancient ecclesiastical history, signify¬
ing a borough or village which had other villages under its
jurisdiction.
METRONOMII, the name given by the Athenians to
five officers in the city and ten in the Piraeus, whose duty
it was to inspect all sorts of measures excepting only those
of corn.
METROPOLIS (from /A?jrjje, mother, and -ttoa/j, city),
the capital of a country or a province; or the principal
city, and, as it were, the mother of all the rest. The term
metropolis is also applied to archiepiscopal churches, and
sometimes to the principal or mother-church of a city.
The Roman empire having been divided into thirteen dio¬
ceses and a hundred and twenty provinces, each diocese
and each province had its metropolis or capital city, where
the proconsul had his residence. To this civil division
the ecclesiastical was afterwards adapted ; the bishop of
the capital city having the direction of affairs, and the pre¬
eminence over all the bishops of the province. His resi¬
dence in the metropolis gave him the title of metropoli¬
tan. The erection of metropolitans is referred to the end
of the third century; it was confirmed by the council of
Nice.
METZ, an arrondissement of the department of the Mo¬
selle, in France, extending over 664 square miles. It is di¬
vided into nine cantons, and these into 275 communes,
and it contains 136,500 inhabitants. The city of Metz, the
capital of the department, as well as that of the arrondisse¬
ment, is situated on the river Moselle, where the Seille falls
into that stream, and becomes navigable. It is divided into
two branches, one of which washes the walls of the city, and
the other divides it into two parts. The Seille passes the
city on the south and east sides, and then falls into the
Moselle. Metz is one of the strongest fortified cities of
France, and is defended by a powerful quadrangular cita¬
del on the south side. The situation is fine, being sur¬
rounded with gentle elevations, forming a circle, the sides
of which are covered with vineyards and fruit-trees. It has
several institutions for education, especially a united college
for the instruction of officers of engineers and artillery.
There are sixteen churches; and it is the see of a bishop.
The cathedral is of Gothic architecture, of prodigious ex¬
tent, and has a tower 360 feet in height. Some of the
other public buildings are large, but in a very antique style,
as are the greater part of the private dwellings. The city
contains 5850 houses and 43,400 inhabitants, exclusively
of the garrison. There are in it manufactories of coarse
cloths, flannels, and blankets; of sail-cloth and other linen
goods; besides distillers, paper-makers, and hat-makers.
Long. 6. 5. 8. E. Lat. 49. 7. 10. N.
MEURSIUS, John, one of the most laborious of anti-
M E U 755
quaries, was born in the year 1579, at Losdun, a town near Meursius.
the Hague. It appears that the name of his family was^
De Meurs. which he latinized, according to the usage of the
learned of his time. Flis father, a regular canon of the
house of the Jwelve Apostles at Utrecht, having embra¬
ced the reform of Calvin, took refuge in 1569 at the Hague,
and some time afterwards obtained the pastoral charge of
Losdun. Fie taught his son the principles of the Latin
language, and then sent him to study at Leyden, where he
made so rapid progress, that, at the age of twelve, he com¬
posed harangues in Latin, and, at thirteen, verses in Greek.
His taste led him to cultivate philology; he particularly
directed his attention to Lycophron, the most obscure of
all the Greek authors, whom he undertook to illustrate;
and, at the age of sixteen, he completed his commentary
on that difficult writer, a work which astonished the great¬
est scholars and critics of the time. When he had finish¬
ed his course of study, the grand pensionary Barneveld
confided to him the education of his sons ; and he was
also appointed to accompany them to the different courts
ot Europe. He turned his travels to account, by availing
himself of the opportunities which they afforded for extend¬
ing his knowledge; and, in passing through Orleans in 1608,
he was admitted doctor of jaws. On his return to Holland,
he was, in 1610, appointed professor of history in the aca¬
demy of Leyden ; and the following year he was promoted
to the chair of Greek, which he filled with great distinc¬
tion. The states of Holland conferred on him the title of
historiographer to their high mightinesses, and honoured
him with other marks of their esteem ; but after the exe¬
cution of the unfortunate Barneveld in 1619, the persecu¬
tion soon extended itself to all who had been in any degree
connected with him ; and Meursius, the most gentle of
human beings, who, from his habits, was an entire stranger
to the disputes which then agitated his unfortunate coun¬
try, did not escape molestation. As his simple and retired
life did not afford his enemies any pretext for accusing
him, they attempted to drive him from his professorship by
insults, which were daily repeated, even in the apartment
wdiere he delivered his prelections ; they reproached him
with writing too many books, and alleged that, in conse¬
quence, the university did not reap any benefit from his stu¬
dies. The interests of his family, which depended entirely
on the emoluments of his office, forced him to submit in
silence to these affronts ; but the king of Denmark having,
in 1625, offered him the chair of history in the university of
Sora, together with the place of historiographer, he at once
accepted the situation, and fully justified the high opinion
which foreigners had conceived of his talents. The re¬
mainder of his life wras divided between his official duties
and literary pursuits ; and he died of the stone, on the 20th
of September 1639, at the age of sixty. He was buried in
the principal church of Sora, in a tomb adorned with an
epitaph, which may be found in the Bibliotheca Belgica of
Foppens, and also in the work of Niceron.
Meursius rendered an unappreciable service to letters by
the numerous editions which he published of the Greek
authors, with corrections, critical remarks, and Latin ver¬
sions. The principal works which he edited are, the Poems
of Lycophron ; the Tactics of the Emperor Leo ; the Opus-
cula of Hesychius ; the Elements of Music by Aristoxenes ;
the Letters of Philostratus ; the Historia Lausiaca of Pal-
lades ; the Annals of Manasses ; the History of Theodosius
Metochites ; the Tactics of Constantine Porphyrogennetes ;
the Marvellous Histories of Phlegon Trallianus, Antigonus
Carystius, and Apollonius Dyscoles; and the works of
Porphyry, Procopius, Gaza, and others. The works of
Meursius were collected by Lami, Florence, 1741-1763,
in twelve volumes folio. This collection is rare and much
prized. In the Memoires of Niceron (tom. xii. and xx.)
will be found a list of all the productions of this indefati-
756 M E U
Meurthe. gable writer, in number sixty-seven; but we shall here
v—-y'—^ only indicate those which are most deserving of the atten¬
tion of the curious. I. Glossarium Grceco-Barbarum, Ley¬
den, 1614, in 4to; a work which, in regard to the Greek
writers of the Lower Empire, holds the same place as
the Glossary of Du Cange does for the writers of the
corresponding age of Latinity. II. De Funare liber sin-
gularis, in quo Graeci et Romani ritus explicantur; De
Puerperio Syntagma, Hague, 1604, in 8vo ; Roma Luxu-
rians, sive de Luxu Romanorum, Leyden, 1631, in 4to;
De Populis Atticae liber, 1616, in 4to; Atticarum Lec-
tionum libri vi. 1617, in 4to ; Orchestra, sive de Salta-
tionibus Veterum, 1618; Graecia Feriata, sive de Festis
Graecorum, 1619 ; Panathenaea, sive de Minervae Festo
genuino, 1619 ; Eleusinia, sive de Cereris Eleusinae sacro
et festo, 1619; De Tragoediis Graecis, 1619, in 4to; Ar-
chontes Athenienses, 1622; Fortuna Attica, seu de Athe-
narum origine, 1622; Cecropia, seu de Athenarum Arce,
1622 ; Graecia Ludibunda, sive de Ludis Graecorum, 1622,
in 8vo; Pisistratus, sive de ejus liberorumque Vita et Ty-
rannide, 1623 ; Areopagus, sive de Senatu Areopagitico,
1624; Athenae Atticae, sive de praecipuis Atheniensium
Antiquitatibus, 1624; Denarius Pythagoricus, 1631, in
4to ; Solon, sive de ejus Vita, Copenhagen, 1632, in 4to;
Regnum Atticum, Amsterdam, 1633 ; Theophrastus, sive
de illius libris qui injuria temporis interciderunt, Leyden,
1640, in 12mo ; Miscellanea Laconica, Amsterdam, 1641,
in 4to ; Ceramicus Geminus, si-ve de Ceramici Atheniensis
utriusque antiquitatibus, Utrecht, 1662, in 4to; Creta,
Cyprus, Rhodus, sive de Insularum rebus et antiquitatibus,
Amsterdam, 1675, in 4to; Theseus, sive de ejus Vita,
Utrecht, 1684; Themis Attica, sive de Legibus Atticis,
1685; De Regno Laconico, 1687. III. Rerum Belgi-
carum liber primus, de Induciis belli Belgici, 1612, in 4to,
very rare. IV. Athenae Batavae, sive de urbe Leydensi et
academia, Leyden, 1625. V. Historia Danica, usque ad
annum 1523, Copenhagen, 1630, in 4to. The historical
works of Meursius were collected and published at Amster¬
dam, 1638, in folio.
The memory of Meursius has suffered by his being some¬
times represented as the author of the infamous dialogues
De Arcanis Amoris et Veneris. This licentious work, it is
now well known, was the production of one Chorier, an ad¬
vocate of Grenoble, who probably prefixed to it the name
of Meursius for the purpose of throwing ridicule on the
grave and learned professor. His son John was a scholar
of considerable eminence, and produced some works evin¬
cing erudition and research. (a.)
MEURTHE, a department of France, formed out of the
ancient Toulois and a southern portion of Lorraine. It ex¬
tends in east longitude from 5. 30. to 7. 12. and in north
latitude from 48. 31. to 49. 7., being in extent 2602 square
miles, or 643,800 hectares. The appropriation of the land
is as follows : 242,288 hectares-are arable, 227,197 consist
of woods and forests, 69,140 are pastures and meadows,
14,712 vineyards, and the remainder is either roads, rivers,
lakes, the sites of towns and villages, or uncultivated. It
is not a mountainous, but a hilly district, interspersed with
valleys of moderate fertility. None of the hills are more
than 600 feet above the level of the sea, though some spurs
of the Vosges Mountains, on the border of the depart¬
ment, attain a greater elevation. The subsoil is gene¬
rally calcareous, but in some parts consists of gypsum, and
is covered with a mixture of clay, sand, and pebbles. It
is fertile upon the whole, and produces more wheat and
rye than is required for home consumption, especially since
the extension of the growth of potatoes has made that
food a substitution for grain with the more indigent part
M E W
of the population. The water of the department passes Meuse
either into the Moselle or the Meuse, which are alone na- II
vigable. The Meurthe gives name to the department. The ^Mewing
climate is cold and variable, but not unhealthy. The inha-
bitants are a hardy and active race, amounting to 370,500.
In the cities and towns the French language is spoken; in
the country a very disagreeable patois is used ; and on the ]
eastern side of the department a corrupt German is the 4
common language. The greater part of the people adhere i j{
to the Roman Catholic church, but there are several con¬
sistories of both Lutherans and Calvinists; and in Nancy
there are many Jews. The principal exports are wood
and salt; of the latter about 34,000 tons are made annual¬
ly. There are some manufactories of glass, pottery, iron,
paper, seed-oil, and many distilleries and breweries ; and
some woollen and cotton goods are also manufactured.
The capital is Nancy. The department sends three depu¬
ties to the legislature, and is divided into five arrondisse-
ments, twenty-nine cantons, and 718 communes.
MEUSE, a department of the north of France, formed
out of the ancient provinces of Verdun, Barois (at one time
called Lorraine), and Clermont. It extends in east longi¬
tude from 4. 42. to 5. 47. and in north latitude from 48. 29.
to 49. 42. It is bounded on the north by the Ardennes, the
duchy of Luxemburg, and the department of the Moselle ;
on the east by that of the Moselle and Meurthe ; on the
south by the Vosges and Upper Maine ; and on the west
by the Maine departments. It extends over 2517 square
miles, and is divided into four arrondissements, twenty-
eight cantons, and 591 communes. The population amounts
to 284,700 persons, who all adhere to the Roman Catholic
church. The whole department is hilly, and the northern
part mountainous. In the valleys and the plains, which are
few in number, there is moderate fertility, but nearly the
half of the surface is covered with woods; and it yields
barely sufficient corn for the consumption of the inhabi¬
tants. The cultivation of the vine has been of late ex¬
tending, and wine of tolerably good quality is produced.
The principal river, the Meuse, is a small stream, which
passes through the department, and only becomes navi¬
gable when it enters that of the Ardennes. The Aire,
the Aisne, the Ornain, and the other rivers, fall into the
Marne. The climate is dry and healthy, but much more
temperate on the south than on the north part. Some
woollen and cotton goods are manufactured ; but the most
important branch of industry consists of the working of
iron mines, and in reducing the ore. These mines are said
to yield 6600 tons of cast iron and 4400 tons of wrought
iron annually. The produce of the forests is one of the
chief articles of export. The capital is Bar-le-Duc. The
department sends two deputies to the legislature.
MEW, Sea Mew, or Sea Mall. See Larus, Orni¬
thology, Index.
MEWING, the falling off or the change of hair, feathers,
skin, horns, or other parts of animals. This happens in
some annually, in others only at certain stages of their
lives; but the generality of animals mew in the spring.
An old hart casts his horns sooner than a young one. This
commonly takes place in the months of February and
March, alter which they begin to button in March or April;
and as the sun grow s strong, and 4the season of the year
puts forth the fruits of the earth, so their antlers growr, and
are summed full by the middle of June. It is to be ob¬
served, that if a hart be gelded before he has antlers, he
will never have any; and if he be gelded after he has ant¬
lers, he will never cast his horns ; again, if he be gelded
when he has a Velvet head, it will always remain so, with¬
out fraying or burnishing.
f
757
MEXICO.
History.
67-10M* I. HISTORY OF MEXICO FROM THE EARLIEST ACCOUNTS
TILL ITS SUBJECTION TO SPAIN.
Mexico is situated between the 14th and 21st degrees of
north latitude, and between the 91st and 103rd degrees of
west longitude ; being nearly two thousand miles in length,
and in some places six hundred miles in breadth,
oltecans The Toltecans are the most ancient Mexican nation of
ie first in-which we know any thing. They were expelled from their
ibitants. own country, which is supposed to have been Tollan to the
northward of Mexico, in the year 472, and for some time they
led a wandering life. In whatever place they determined to
reside for any considerable time, they erected houses and cul¬
tivated the ground. Thus their migrations were extremely
slow, and it was not until a hundred and four years after they
had set out that they reached a place about fifty miles to
the eastward of the city of Mexico, where they settled for
twenty years, giving to their new residence the name of 2b/-
lantzinco. From thence they proceeded about forty miles
farther to the west, where they built a city called, from the
name of their country, Tollan, or Tula.
After the final settlement of the Toltecans, the govern¬
ment was changed into a monarchy. Their first king began
his reign in 667, and their monarchy lasted 384 years, du¬
ring which time they reckon only eight princes. We are
not, however, to imagine that each of their kings lived long
enough to make up this period. It was a custom amongst
them that the name of the king should be continued for fifty-
two years, and no longer, from the time when he ascended
the throne. If he died within that period, the government
was carried on in his name by a regency; and if he survived,
he was obliged to resign his authority. During the four
centuries that the Toltecan monarchy continued, they in¬
creased very considerably in number, and built many cities;
but when in the height of prosperity, almost the whole na¬
tion was destroyed by a famine occasioned by drought, and
a pestilence, probably the consequence of the famine. Ac¬
cording to Torquemada, at a certain festival-ball given by
the Toltecans, the sad-looking devil appeared to them of a
gigantic size, with immense arms, and in the midst of the
entertainment he embraced and suffocated them; then he
appeared in the form of a child with a putrid head, and
brought the plague ; and, finally, at the persuasion of the
same devil, they abandoned the country of Tula.
1 acceeded They were succeeded by the Chichemecas, a much more
r the Clu-barbarous people, who came from an unknown country called
leraecas. Amaquemccan, where they had for a long time resided, but
of it no traces of remembrance can be found amongst any
of the American nations known to Europeans ; so that Cla-
vigero supposes it must have been situated far to the north¬
ward. The motive of the Chichemecas for leaving their own
country is not known. They were eighteen months on
their journey, and took possession of the desolate country
of the Toltecans about an hundred years after the former
had left it. They were much more uncivilized than the Tol¬
tecans ; but they had a regular form of monarchical govern¬
ment, and in other respects were less disgusting in their
manners than some of the neighbouring nations. The last
king who reigned in Amaquemecan before the departure of
the Chichemecas, had left his dominions between his two
sons Auchcauhtli and Xolotl, and the latter conducted the
new colony. Having proceeded from the ruins of Tula
towards Chempoalla and Tepepolio, Xolotl sent his son to
History.
survey the country. The prince crossed the borders of the
lakes and the mountains which surround the valley of Mexico;
then ascending to the top of a very high one, he viewed the 667.1051.
whole country, and took possession of it in the name of his
father, by shooting four arrows to the four winds. Xolotl
being informed by his son of the nature of the country,
chose for the capital of his kingdom Tenayuca, about six
miles to the northward of the city of Mexico, and distributed
his people in the neighbouring territory; but as most of
them went to the northward, that part obtained the name
of the country of the Chichemecas, in contradistinction to
the rest. Here a review of the people was taken, and their
number, according to Torquemada, amounted to more than
a million.
Xolotl finding himself peacefully settled in his new do- His people
minion, sent one of his officers to explore the sources of some civilized
of the rivers of the country. Whilst performing this task by the Tol-
he came to the habitations of some Toltecans, who it seemstecans-
had still kept together, and were likely once more to be¬
come a nation. As these people were not inclined to war,
and greatly esteemed for their knowledge and skill in the
arts, the Chichemecas entered into a strict alliance with
them, and Prince Nopaltzin, who had first surveyed the
country, married a Toltecan princess. The consequence of
this alliance was the introduction of the arts and knowledge
of the Toltecans amongst the Chichemecas. Until now the
latter had subsisted entirely by hunting, and such fruits and
roots as the earth spontaneously produced. They were
clad in the skins of wild beasts, and, like these beasts, they
are said to have sucked the blood of the animals they caught;
but after their connection with the Toltecans, they began
to sow corn, to learn the art of digging and working metals,
to cut stones, manufacture cotton, and, in every respect, to
make great improvements.
When Xolotl had reigned about eight years in his new New inha-
territories, an embassy of six persons arrived from a distant bitants.
country not far from Amaquemecan, expressing a desire of
coming with their people to reside in the country of the Chi¬
chemecas. The king gave them a very gracious reception,
and assigned them a district; and, in a few years after¬
wards, three other princes, with a great army of Acolhuans,
who were likewise neighbours of Amequemecan, made their
appearance. The king was at that time at Tezcuco, to
which place he had removed his court; and here he was
accosted by the princes, who, in a submissive and flattering
manner, requested him to allow them a place in his happy
country, where the people enjoyed such an excellent go¬
vernment. Xolotl not only gave them a favourable recep¬
tion, but offered them his two daughters in marriage; ex¬
pressing his concern at having no more, that none might
have been excluded from the royal alliance. Upon the third
prince, however, he bestowed a noble virgin of Chaleo, in
whom the Toltecan and Chichemecan blood were united.
As the Acolhuans were the more civilized nation of the two,
the name of Chichemecas began to be appropriated to the
more rude and barbarous portion, who preferred hunting to
agriculture, or chose a life of savage liberty in the moun¬
tains rather than submit to the restraints of social laws. These
barbarians associated with the Otomies, another savage na¬
tion who lived to the northward, occupying a tract of more
than three hundred miles in extent; and by their descend¬
ants the Spaniards were harassed for many years after the
conquest of Mexico. Dominions
As soon as the nuptial rejoicings were over, Xolotl di- 0f Xolotl
vided his territories into three parts, assigning one to each divided.
758
M E X I C O.
History, of the princes. Acolhuatzin, who had married his eldest
daughter, had Azcopazalco, eighteen miles to the westward of
1160. Tezcuco; Chiconquauhtli, who had married the other, receiv¬
ed a territory named Xaltocan; and Tzontecomatl, who mar¬
ried the lady of inferior rank, obtained one named Coatlichan.
The country continued for some time to flourish, population
increased greatly, and with it the civilization of the people;
but as these advanced, the vices of luxury and ambition
increased in proportion. Xolotl found himself obliged to
treat his subjects with more severity than formerly, and even
to put some of them to death. This produced a conspiracy
against him, which, however, he had the good fortune to
escape ; but whilst he meditated a severe revenge against
the conspirators, he was seized with the distemper of which
he died, in the fortieth year of his reign, and at a very ad¬
vanced age.
Nopaltzin Xolotl was succeeded by his son Nopaltzin, who at the
the second time of his accession, is supposed to have been about sixty
king. years of age. In his time the tranquillity of the kingdom,
which had begun to sufler disturbance under his father, ex¬
perienced much more violent shocks, and civil wars took
place. Acolhuatzin, the only one of the three princes who
remained alive, thinking the territory he possessed too nar¬
row, made war upon the lord of a neighbouring province
named Tapotzotlan, and deprived him of his territory. Huet-
zin, son to the late prince Tzontecomatl, lord of Coatlichan,
fell in love with the grand-daughter of the queen, a cele¬
brated beauty, but was rivalled by a neighbouring lord, who
determined to support his pretensions by force of arms.
Huetzin, however, defeated and killed his adversary, and
then possessed himself of the lady and his estate. This was
followed by a rebellion of the whole province of Tollant-
zinco, so that the king himself w'as obliged to take the field.
As the rebels were very numerous, the royal army was at
first defeated, but having at length received a strong rein¬
forcement, the insurgents were overcome, and their ring¬
leaders severely punished. The king did not long survive
the restoration of tranquillity to his dominions. He died in
the thirty-second year of his reign, and ninety-second of
his age, leaving the throne to his eldest son Tlotzin, who
was an excellent prince, and reigned thirty-six years.
Quinatzin. Quinatzin, the son and successor of Tlotzin, proved a vain
Disturban- and luxurious prince. His accession to the throne was cele-
ces in van- brated with much greater pomp than any of his predeces-
ous parts. sorg> Xolotl had removed his court from Tenayuca to Tez-
cuco; but beiqg disgusted with this last place, on account
of the conspiracy formed against him there, he had returned
to Tenayuca, where the court continued till the reign of
Quinatzin, who removed it back to Tezcuco. The reign of
Quinatzin, though tranquil at first, was soon disturbed by
dangerous revolts and rebellions. These first broke out in
two states, named Maztillen and Totopec, situated amongst
the northern mountains. The king, having collected a great
army, marched without delay against the rebels, and chal¬
lenged their leaders to come down and fight him upon the
plain. This challenge being accepted, a furious engage¬
ment ensued, in which, though great numbers fell on both
sides, no decisive advantage was gained by either. Fre¬
quent engagements took place for the space of forty days,
until at last the rebels perceiving that their numbers were
daily diminishing, without any possibility of their being re¬
cruited like the royal army, surrendered to the king, who
punished the ringleaders with great severity. Tranquillity,
however, was not yet restored; the rebellion spread to such
a degree, that the king was obliged not only to take the field
in person, but to employ six other armies, under the command
of faithful and experienced generals, in order to reduce
the rebels. These proved so successful in their enterprises,
that in a short time the rebellious cities were reduced to
obedience, and the kingdom enjoyed the blessings of peace
durinsr the long reign of Quinatzin, who is said to have sat
upon the throne for no less than sixty years. He was sue- History,
ceeded by his son Techotlatla; but as the affairs of the Ac-
olhuans had now begun to be connected with those of the 1216.
Mexicans, it will be proper to give some account of that
people.
The Mexicans, called also the Aztecas, dwelt till the year Migrations
1160 in a country called Aztlan, situated to the north of of the
the Gulf of California, as appears by the route they pursued Mexicans,
in their journey ; but how far to the northward we are not
certainly informed. Betancourt makes it no less than 2700
miles, and Boturini says it was a province of Asia. The
following is stated to have been the cause of their migration.
Amongst the Aztecas was a person of great authority named
Huiztilin, to whose opinion every one paid the utmost defer¬
ence. He had conceived a design to persuade his countrymen
to change their residence ; and in order to effect this he fell
upon a stratagem. Having heard, whilst meditating on his
scheme, a little bird singing on the branches of a tree, the
notes of which resembled the word tihui, which in the Az-
teca language signified “ let us go,” he took that opportunity
to work upon the superstitious credulity of the people. With
this view, he took along with him a respectable person, and
made him attend to the note of the bird. “ What can it
mean,” says he, “ but that we must leave this country, and
find ourselves another ? Without doubt it is the warning
of some secret divinity, who watches over our welfare ; let
us obey, therefore, his voice, and not draw his anger upon
us by a refusal.” Tecpaltzin, for that was the name of his
friend, readily agreed to the interpretation ; and both of
them befiig persons of influence, their united persuasions
soon gained over to their project the bulk of the nation, and
they accordingly set out.
The Aztecas, when they left their original habitations, Separation
were divided into six tribes, but at Culiacan the Mexicans of the
were left with their god (a wooden image), by five of them, tr‘l,es‘
viz., the Xochimilcas, Tepanecas, Chalcese, Tlahuicas, and
Tlascalans. The cause of this separation is not known, but
it was probably occasioned by some disagreement amongst
themselves ; for the remaining tribe was divided into two
violent factions, which persecuted one another; neither did
they afterwards construct any more edifices. However,
they always travelled together, in order to enjoy the com¬
pany of their imaginary god. At every place where they
stopped an altar was erected to him; and at their departure
they left behind them all their sick, and probably also such
as were not willing to endure the fatigue of further journeys.
They stopped in Tula nine years, and eleven more in the
neighbouring parts. At last, in 1216, they arrived at Zum-
panco, a considerable city in the valleyof Mexico, where they
were received in a hospitable manner by the lord of the
district. Fie not only assigned them proper habitations, but
became much attached to them, and even demanded from
amongst them a wife for his son Hhuicatl. This request
was complied with, and from this marriage all the Mexican
kings descended.
The Mexicans continued to migrate from one place to ^erse<;u']]e
another along the lake of Tezcuco. Xolotl, who was then 8
on the throne of the Acolhuans or Chichemecas, allowed
them to settle in whatsoever places of his dominions they
thought proper ; but some of them finding themselves ha¬
rassed by a neighbouring lord, w ere obliged, in the year 1245,
to retire to Chapoltepee, a mountain on the western borders
of the lake, scarcely two miles distant from the site of Mex¬
ico. This took place in the reign of Nopaltzin, when dis¬
turbances began to take place in the Acolhuan dominions.
The Mexicans, however, did not find themselves any more
secure in their new place of residence than formerly. They
were persecuted- by the neighbouring lords, and obliged to
take refuge in a number of small islands, named Acocolco,
at the southern extremity of the lake of Mexico. Here for
fifty-two years they lived in the most miserable manner,
I
j
I!
1
'he first
liman sa
(ice in
Lexico.
of
^ico
Jed,
subsisting on fish insects, roots, &c, and clothing themselves
with the leaves of the amoxtli, which abounds in that lake.
In this miserable plight the Mexicans continued till the year
1314, when they were reduced to a state of the most abso¬
lute slavery. 1 his was effected by the king of a petty state
named Colhuacan. After some years a war broke out be-
" tween the Colhuans and Xoehimilcas, in which the latter miin-
ed such advantages, that the former were obliged to employ
their slaves to assist them. They accordingly ordered them
to prepare for war, but without furnishing them with arms
necessary for a military enterprise. The Mexicans were
therefore obliged to content themselves with lono- staves
having their points hardened in the fire; and they also made
knives of the stone itztli, and shields of reeds woven too-e-
ther. They agreed not to waste their time in making pri¬
soners, but to content themselves with cutting off one ear
of their enemies, and then leaving them without further
injury. They adhered punctually to this resolution, and
rushing furiously upon the Xochimilcas, cut off an ear from
as many as they could, killing those who resisted the per¬
formance of this auricular excision. In short, so well did
the Mexicans acquit themselves in this engagement, that the
Xochimilcas fled, and took refuge amongst the mountains.
After the battle the Colhuan soldiers presented themselves
before their general with the prisoners they had taken, by
the number of which alone they judged of their valour.
The Mexicans had taken only four, and these they kept
concealed for the purpose of sacrificing them. The Col-
huans, therefore, seeing no trophies of their valour, began
to i epi oach them with cowardice; but the Mexicans, pro¬
ducing their baskets of ears, desired them to judge from
these how many prisoners they might have taken, had they
not been unwilling to retard their victory by taking up time
in binding them.
Notwithstanding the valour displayed by the Mexicans
in this engagement, it does not appear that their haughty
masteis were in the least inclined to afford them easier terms
than before. Having erected an altar to their god, they
demanded of their lord something precious to offer in sac¬
rifice to him ; but he in disdain sent them a dirty cloth, en¬
closing the filthy carcase of a vile bird. This was carried
by Colhuan priests, and without any ceremony laid upon
the altar. The Mexicans, with apparent unconcern, remov¬
ed this filthy offering, and put in its place a knife made of
itztli, and an odoriferous herb. On the day of the conse¬
cration, the Colhuan prince attended with his nobility; not
with a view to do honour to the festival, but to make a mock¬
ery of the Mexicans. Their derision, however, was soon
changed into horror, when the Mexicans, after a solemn
dance, brought forth the four Xochimilcan prisoners they
had taken ; and, after having made them dance a little, cut
open their breasts with the knife which lay upon the altar,
and plucking out their hearts, offered them, whilst yet pal¬
pitating M'ith life, to their sanguinary idol. This had such
an effect upon the spectators, that both the king and his sub¬
jects desired the Mexicans immediately to quit their territories
and go w here they pleased. This order was instantly obey¬
ed. 1 he whole nation took their route towards the north,
until they came to a place named Acatzitzintlan, situated
between two lakes, and afterwards named Mexicaltzinco ;
but being discontented with this situation, they proceeded
to Iztacalco, still nearer to the site of Mexico. Here they
formed the image of a little mountain of paper, and danced
round it a whole night, singing their victory over the
Xochimilcas, and reuniting thanks to their god for having
freed them from the yoke of the Colhuans. Clavigero is of
opinion, that by this mountain they represented Colhuacan, as
in their pictures it was always represented by a hunch-backed
mountain; and this is the literal signification of the name.
The city of Mexico was founded in the year 1325, in the
most incommodious situation we can imagine, namely, on a
MEXICO.
759
smafl island named Tenochtitkn, in the middle of a great History,
lake, without ground to cultivate for subsistence, or even
room sufficient to build habitations. The life of the people, u£T
therefore, was for some time as miserable here as it had been
when they were on the islands at the end of the lake, and they
weie reduced to the same shifts to maintain themselves. To
enlarge the boundaries of their island, they drove palisades into
those parts of the water which were most shallow, terracintr
them with stones and turf, and uniting to their principal is¬
land several other smaller ones which lay in the neighbour¬
hood. In order to procure for themselves stones, wood, and
other materials for constructing their habitations, as well as
clothing and other necessaries, they instituted a commerce
with the people who dwelt upon the borders of the lake, sup¬
plying them with fish, waterfowl, and other articles; and in re¬
turn for all this they received the necessaries above mentioned.
1 he greatest effort of their industry, however, was the con¬
struction of floating gardens, by means of bushes and of the
mud of the lake; and these they brought to so much perfec¬
tion that they produced maize, pepper, chia, French beans,
and gourds. For thirteen years that the Mexicans had to
struggle with extreme difficulty, they remained at peace;
but no sooner did they begin to prosper and live comfort¬
ably, than the inveterate enmity between the two factions
bioke out in all its fury. This produced a separation ; and
one of the parties took up their residence on a small island
at a little distance to the northward, which, from a heap of
saml found there, they at first named Xaltilolco, but after-
wards Tlatelolco, from a terrace constructed by themselves,
ifns island was afterwards united to that of Tenochtitlan.
About this time the Mexicans divided their city into four tj,,-!.. >
paits, each quarter having now its tutelar saint, as it had for-0f their re-
mer y lac*lts tutelar god. In the midst of their city was the ligion.
sanctuary of their great god Mexitli, whom they constantly
preferred to all the rest. To him they daily performed acts
of adoiation ; but instead of making any progress in hu¬
manity, they seem to have daily improved in the most hor¬
rible barbarities, at least in their religion. The dreadful
sacrifices made of their prisoners, could only be exceeded
by that which we are about to relate. Being now on a more
respectable footing than formerly, they sent an embassy to
the petty king of Colhuacan, requesting him to send them
one of his daughters, in order that she might be consecrat¬
ed the mother of their protecting god. The unsuspecting-
prince readily complied with their desire, and the unfortunate
princess was conducted in great triumph to Mexico; but no
sooner had she arrived than she was sacrificed in a shock¬
ing manner ; and, to add to the horror of the deed, the body
was flayed, and one of the bravest young men of the nation
dressed in her skin. Her father, ignorant of this dreadful
transaction, was invited by the Mexicans to be present at
the apotheosis of his daughter, and went to see the solem-
nity, and to worship the new divinity. He was led into
the sanctuary, where the young man stood clothed in the
bloody skm of his daughter ; but the darkness of the place
prevented him from seeing what was before him. They
gave him a censer in bis hand, and some copal to begin his
worship ; but having discovered by the flame of the copal
the horrible spectacle, he ran outin a distracted manner, call¬
ing in vain upon his people to revenge the injury.
In the year 13o2, the Mexican government was changed Acarnapit-
from an aristocracy to a monarchy. At first the people wereZ)n d>e first
governed by twenty lords, of whom one had an authority su- kir|g°f
perior to the rest. This naturally suggested the idea 0fMexic0-
monarchy ; and to this change they were also induced by
the contemptible state in which their nation still continued,
thinking that the royal dignity would confer upon it a de¬
gree of splendour which otherwise it could not enjoy, and
that by having one leader, they would be better able to
oppose their enemies. Proceeding, therefore, to elect a
king, the choice fell upon Acamapitzin, a man held in great
760
MEXICO.
History, estimation amongst them, and descended from Opochtli, a
noble Aztecan, and a princess of the royal family of Colhu-
1389. acan. As he was yet a bachelor, they attempted to nego-
ciate a marriage, first with the daughter of the lord of 1 a-
cuba, and then of the king of Azcapozalco ; but these pro¬
posals being rejected with disdain, they applied to Acolmi-
ztli lord of Coatlichan, and a descendant of one of the three
Acolhuan princes, who complied with their request, and the
nuptials were celebrated with great rejoicings.
The Tlate- In the mean time, the Tlatelolcos, the natural rivals of
lolcos. the Mexicans, resolved not to be behind them in any thing
which had the least appearance of augmenting the glory of
their state. They likewise, therefore, chose a king; but
not thinking proper to choose him from amongst themselves,
they applied to the king of the Tepanecos, who readily sent
them his son ; and he was crowned first king of Tlatelolco
in 1353. In this the Tlatelolcos seem to have had a design
of humbling their rivals, as well as of rendering themselves
more respectable ; and therefore it is very probable that they
had represented the Mexicans as wanting in that respect
due to the Tepanecan monarch, from haying elected a king
without his leave, though at the same time they were tri¬
butaries to him. The consequence of this was, that he re¬
solved to double their tribute. Hitherto they had paid only
a certain number of fish and water-fowl; but now they were
ordered to bring in also several thousands of fir and willow
plants to be set in the roads and gardens of Azcapozalco, and
to transport to the court a great floating garden, which pro¬
duced vegetables of every kind known in Anahuac. This
being accomplished with great difficulty, the king command¬
ed them next year to bring him another garden, with a
duck and a swan in it both sitting upon eggs, but so, that on
their arrival at Azcapozalco the brood might be ready to
hatch. This was also done, and the prince had the oppor¬
tunity of observing the young birds come out of the eggs.
The third year they were ordered to bring a live stag along
with a garden. This was more difficult than any of the
former tasks, because they were obliged, in order to hunt
the stag, to go to the mountains of the continent, where
they were in danger of falling into the hands of their ene¬
mies ; however, this also was accomplished, and the desire
of the king gratified. In this manner the Mexicans were
oppressedfor no less than fifty years. They freed themselves,
however, from all their difficulties by vigorous exertions,
absurdly ascribing to the protection of that malevolent being
whom they worshipped, all the glory of every deliverance.
Acamapitzin governed this city, which at that time com¬
prehended the whole of his dominions, for thirty-seven years
in peace. He is said also to have conquered four consi¬
derable cities; but Clavigero thinks he must in this have
been only an auxiliary.
Huitzili- Acamapitzin died in the year 1389, lamented by the Mexi-
huitlthe se-cans, and his death was followed by an interregnum of four
cond king. months. As the deceased monarch had formerly resigned
his authority into the hand's of his nobles, it was necessary
that a new election should take place; and when this was
done, the choice fell upon Huitzilihuitl, the son of Acama¬
pitzin. As he was still unmarried, it was resolved, if pos¬
sible, to procure for him an honourable and advantageous
match. With this view, a deputation of nobility was sent
to the king of Azcapozalco, requesting, in humble terms, an
alliance with one of his daughters. The expressions made
use of by these ambassadors are said to have been particu¬
larly elegant in the Mexican language, “Webeseech you,”
said they, “ with the most profound respect, to take com¬
passion on our master and your servant Huitzilihuitl, con¬
fined amongst the thick rushes of the lake. He is without
a wife, and we without a queen. Vouchsafe, sir, to part
with one of your jewels or most precious feathers. Give us
one of your daughters, who may come to reign over us in a
country which belongs to you.” i his oration had such an
effect upon the king, that he granted their request, and a History.
Tepanecan princess was conducted in great triumph tov—
Mexico, where the marriage was solemnized with the ut- 1409.
most joy. Though this princess brought him a son the first
year of their marriage, the king, in order to strengthen
himself by fresh alliances, married also the daughter of an¬
other prince, by whom he had Montezuma Ilhuicamina, the
most celebrated of all the Mexican kings.
As the Mexicans advanced in wealth and power, so did Inhabitanti
their rivals the inhabitants of Tlatelolco. Their first king of Tlate.
died in 1399, leaving his subjects greatly improved in civi-lolco-
lization, and the city much enlarged and beautified. The
rivalship which subsisted between the two cities had indeed
greatly contributed to the aggrandizement of both. The
Mexicans had formed so many alliances by marriage with
the neighbouring nations, had so much improved their ag¬
riculture and floating gardens on the lake, and had built so
many more vessels to supply their extended commerce and
fishing, that they were enabled to celebrate their secular
year, answering to the year 1402 of our era, with far greater
magnificence than they had ever done since they left their
original country of Atztlan.
During all this time Techotlala, the son of Quinatzin, con- Unfortu-
tinued to reign in Acolhuacan, and for thirty years enjoyed nate reign
uninterrupted tranquillity ; but being now far advanced in°f fechot-
years, and finding his end approaching, he called to him his “ d s son'
son Ixtlilxochitl, and recommended to him to beware of the
ambitious disposition of the king of Azcapozalco, as he was
apprehensive that he might attempt something against the
peace of the empire. His suspicions were verified ; for on
the death of Techotlala, which happened in 1406, the king
of Azcapozalco, without making the usual submissions to
the new king, to whom he was a feudatory, set out for
his own territories, with a view to excite other feudatory
princes to rebellion. Having called to him the kings of
Mexico and Tlatelolco, he told them, that Techotlala, who
had long tyrannized over that country, being dead, he de¬
signed to procure freedom to the princes, so that each might
rule his own territory entirely independent of the king of
Acolhuacan ; but for this purpose he required their assis¬
tance, and trusted to their well-known spirit to take part with
him in the proposed enterprise. He likewise informed them
that in order to ensure success, he would find means to unite
other princes in the confederacy. In the mean time the new
king of Acolhuacan was employed in settling the affairs of
his kingdom, and endeavouring to gain the good will of his
subjects. The combination against him was soon discover¬
ed ; but though Ixtlilxochitl was desirous of heading his
army in person, he was dissuaded from so doing by his cour¬
tiers ; so that the conduct of the war was committed to his
generals. To weaken the enemy, they ravaged the terri¬
tories of six revolted states ; but, notwithstanding this, and
the superior discipline of the royal army, the war was carri¬
ed on by the rebels with great obstinacy, their armies being
constantly recruited by fresh troops in proportion to their
losses. At last, after a ruinous contestof three years, the king
of Azcapozalco, finding that his resources would at last fail
him, sued for peace ; but with a design of accomplishing by
treachery what he had not yet been able to effect by force.
His adversary, equally reduced with himself, consented to
a peace, although he knew that the Tepanecan prince in¬
tended to observe it no longer than suited his purpose.
In the year 1409 died Huitzilihuitl king of Mexico, whoCbimalpo-
left the right of electing a successor to the nobility. They poca third
made choice of his brother Chimalpopoca; and hence it
became an established law to choose one of the brothers of
the deceased king, or, if he had no brothers, to elect one
of his grandsons. Whilst the new prince was endeavour¬
ing to secure himself on the throne, the treacherous Tezo-
zomoc employed all the means in his power to strengthen the
party he had formed against the king of Acolhuacan. In
M E X
History, this he had such success, that the unfortunate prince found
himself reduced to the necessity of wandering amongst the
1422* neighbouring mountains, at the head of a small army, ac¬
companied by the lords of Huexotla and Coatlichan, who
remained faithful to him. The Tepanecans by intercept¬
ing his provisions, distressed him to such a degree, that he
was forced to beg them of his enemies. One of his grand¬
sons was sent to Otompan, a rebel state, to request them to
supply their king with the provisions which he stood in need
of, and to exhort them to abandon the cause of the rebels,
which they had espoused. No task could be more danger¬
ous ; yet such was the magnanimity of the young prince’s
disposition, that he readily set out on the journey, nor was
he deterred by the information he received that there were
in the place certain Tepanecans who had come on purpose
to publish a proclamation from Tezozomac. He went bold¬
ly to the most public place of the town, and in presence of
those who published the proclamation made known his re¬
quest. But this heroism did not meet with the success it
deserved. His propositions were derided ; yet the people
did not offer any further insult, until one of the meaner sort
threw a stone at him, exciting others of the same stamp to
put him to death. The Tepanecans, who had hitherto re¬
mained silent, now perceiving their opportunity, joined in the
general cry to kill the prince, and began also to throw
stones. The prince attempted first to defend himself, and
afterwards to escape by flight; but, both being equally im¬
possible, he fell under a shower of stones. The Tepane¬
cans, exulted in this act of treachery, and soon afterwards cut
off Ixtlilxochitl himself, after having treacherously persuad¬
ed him to hold a conference with twx> of their captains.
This perfidious act was committed insight of the royal army,
who were too weak to revenge it. The royal corpse was saved
with difficulty ; and Nezahualcojotl, the heir-apparent to
the crown, was obliged to shelter himself amongst the bushes
from the fury of his enemies.
fcolhua- Tezozomoc having now in a great measure gained his
an con- point, proceeded to pour down his troops upon those cities
[iiered by and districts which had remained faithful to the late un-
ezozomoc fortunate monarch. The people made a desperate defence,
and killed great numbers of their enemies; but at last being
reduced by the calamities of war, and in danger of total ex¬
termination, they were obliged to quit their habitations and
flee to other countries. The tyrant, finding himself superior
to all his adversaries, then gave Tezcuco to Chimilpopoca
king of Mexico, and Huexotla to Tlacacotl king of Tlatelol-
co ; at the same time placing faithful governors in other places,
and appointing Azcapozalco, the capital of his own territory,
the royal residence and capital of Acolhuacan. Prince
Nezahualcojotl was present in disguise at this disposal of
his dominions, along with several other persons of distinc¬
tion, who were enemies of the tyrant; and so much was he
transported with passion, that with difficulty could he be
restrained from killing Tezozomoc on the spot, though this
would certainly have been done at the expense of his own
life. All the rest of the Acolhuacan empire submitted; and
Nezahualcojotl saw himself for the present deprived of all
hopes of obtaining the crown. Tezozomoc had now at¬
tained the summit of his ambition. But instead of concili¬
ating the minds of his new subjects, he oppressed them with
fresh taxes ; and being conscious of the precarious situation
in which he stood, and tormented with remorse on account
of his crimes, he fell into melancholy, and was constantly
haunted with frightful dreams. At length he expired in
the year 1422, leaving the crown to his son Tajatzin.
be throne Tezozomoc was ho sooner dead than Maxtlaton, without
surped by paying the least regard to his father’s will, began to exercise
laxtlaton. the functions of sovereign. Although it was the right of Ta¬
jatzin to invite to his father’s funeral whomsoever he pleased,
Maxtlaton took that upon himself. Nezahualcojotl, though
not invited, came amongst the rest; but though Teuctzintli,
VOL. xiv*
I C O. 761
brother to Maxtlaton, insisted upon his being put to death, History
the latter opposed it, since it could not then be done privately,
and he hoped to find another opportunity. But no sooner 1422.
were the funeral ceremonies terminated, than Maxtlaton
behaved in such a manner to his brother Tajatzin, that the
prince thought proper to retire to Chimilpopoca king of
Mexico, to whom he had been particularly recommended
by his father, in order to obtain his advice. This monarch,
agreeably to the character of that age and people, advised
him to invite his brother to an entertainment, and then to
murder him. Unluckily for both, this discourse was over¬
heard by a servant, who, in expectation of a reward, inform¬
ed the tyrant of what he had heard ; but Maxtlaton, pre¬
tending to disbelieve his story, drove the informer from his
presence with ignominy. Notwithstanding this pretence,
however, the tyrant had not the least doubt of the truth of
what was told him, and therefore determined to rid himself
of his brother without delay. This he soon accomplished
in the very same way that had been projected against him¬
self. Tajatzin, along with the kings of Mexico, Tlatelolco,
and several other feudatory princes, were invited by Maxt¬
laton to an entertainment. The king of Mexico prudently
excused himself, but the unsuspecting Tajatzin fell into the
snare. He came to the place of entertainment, and was in¬
stantly put to death. The company were greatly alarmed ;
but Maxtlaton, having explained to them his reasons for so
doing, they not only excused him, but proclaimed him king,
being in this no doubt much more influenced by fear than
by affection.
Although the king of Mexico escaped a sudden death by Fate of tbs
his absence at this time, yet it was only to perish in a manner king of
more slow and ignominious. The vengeance of Maxtlaton Mexico,
first appeared by sending him a woman’s dress in return for
the present the king sent him as a feudatory ; which being
a reflection on his courage, was, therefore, the highest affront
that could be offered him. This insult, however, was quick¬
ly followed by one of a more aggravated description. Hav¬
ing heard that one of the Mexican prince’s wives was of ex¬
traordinary beauty, he enjoined some Tepanecan ladies who
were accustomed to visit that princess, to invite her to spend
some days with them at Azcapozalco. This being com¬
plied with, the tyrant easily obtained an opportunity of ra¬
vishing her, and then sent her back to her husband. Chi¬
milpopoca was so much affected by this misfortune, that he
resolved to offfer himself up as a sacrifice to his god. Maxt¬
laton, however, had resolved that he should not have even
that satisfaction. Hence at the time of the ceremony, he
sent a body of troops, who entering Mexico without resist¬
ance, carried off the king alive, to the astonishment of the
multitude, who confounded by this unexpected adventure,
did not attempt to offer any resistance. Chimilpopoca
having been carried prisoner to Azcapozalco, was confined in a
strong wooden cage, the common prison for criminals. But
Maxtlaton was still unsatisfied. He wished to get into his
hands Nezahualcojotl, and with this view sent a message
to him, pretending that he was willing to come to an agree¬
ment respecting the kingdom of Acolhuacan. Although the
prince was well assured of the tyrant’s treacherous inten¬
tion, he went boldly to his palace, presented himself before
him, and told him that he had heard of the imprisonment
of the king of Mexico ; he had also heard that he wished to
take away his own life ; and he desired him to do so, and
thus gratify his malice. Maxtlaton was so struck with this
speech, that he assured the prince he had not formed any
design against his life, and that he neither had put to death
the king of Mexico, nor would attempt to do so. He then gave
orders for his being properly entertained, and even allowed
him to pay a visit to the king of Mexico in prison. The unfor¬
tunate Chimilpopoca, after reciting his misfortunes, request¬
ed the prince not to return to court, where they would cer¬
tainly fall upon some project for taking away his life ; and
5 D
MEXICO.
762
History, having pathetically recommended to him the care ofhissub-
v„*»'^/-*w)jects, made him a present of a gold pendant and some other
1430. jewels which he wore.
Itzcoatl In the mean time, the Mexicans raised to the throne
raised to Izcoatl, the son of Acamapitzin by a slave, and who was ac-
ihe throne counted the justest, bravest, and most prudent of all the
0 ‘ 0X1C0‘ Mexican nation. His election was no less pleasing to Ne-
zahualcojotl and his party, than it was offensive to Maxt-
laton. An alliance was quickly concluded between the ex¬
iled prince and the king of Mexico ; and this was soon fol¬
lowed by the commencement of hostilities on the part of
the former. His first enterprise was directed against the
city of Tezcuco, which he determined to take by assault,
but this was prevented by the submission of the inhabitants.
He however put to death all the officers established by the
tyrant, and all the Tepanecans he found there. The same
day another large city named Acolman was furiously at¬
tacked by a detachment of his army, and great numbers put
to the sword, amongst which were the governor, who was
brother to Maxtlaton.
Embassy The Mexican monarch, hearing of the successes of his
undertaken ally, sent an embassy to congratulate him thereupon. His
by Monte- ambassador was a son of king Huitzilihuitl, named Mon-
zuma. tezuma, who for his invincible courage and great qualities
was surnamed the “ man of great heart and the archer of
heaven.” Thejourney was extremely dangerous ; but Mon¬
tezuma undertook it without any fear, accompanied by an¬
other nobleman. They got in safety to the place where
the prince was, but had the misfortune to be taken prison¬
ers, and carried to Chaleo, the lord of which city, named
Toteotzin, was a most inveterate enemy of the Mexicans.
By hum he was immediately put in close confinement, un¬
der the care of one Quateozin, w7ho wras inviolably attach¬
ed to the Mexican interest. Orders were also given to
the latter to provide no sustenance for the prisoners but
what was prescribed by his lord, until the mode of death
which they were to suffer should be determined on. To¬
teotzin then sent his prisoners to them, that they might
be sacrificed there if they thought proper. These people,
however, rejected the proposal with disdain ; upon-which
Toteotzin, thinking to regain the favour of Maxtlaton, in¬
formed him of the prisoners he had in his possession. But
Maxtlaton called him a double-minded traitor, and com¬
manded him instantly to set the prisoners at liberty. Before
this answer arrived, however, Quateozin had instructed the
prisoners how to make their escape, and directed them also
not to return by land lest they should again be intercepted,
but to embark at a certain place, and proceed by water to
Mexico. They followed his advice exactly ; and having
reached the place to which they were directed, arrived safely
at their city, to the great surprise and joy of the inhabitants.
Maxtlaton Toteotzin, being enraged at the loss of his prisoners, put
declares Quateozin to death, and destroyed all his family except-
war against ing one son and a daughter ; the latter of whom fled to
Mexico. Mexico. Maxtlaton, too, notwithstanding his generosity
to the prisoners, prepared to wage Avar with the Mexicans
who had agreed to unite their troops with those of the
prince. The Mexican populace, terrified at engaging so
1 powerful an enemy, demanded that their king should sub¬
mit and sue for a peace. The king was obliged to con¬
sent ; and it required the utmost exertions of Montezuma’s
eloquence to persuade the people to agree to a commence¬
ment of hostilities. This being settled, the king next call¬
ed together the chief nobility, and asked which of them
would have the courage to carry an embassy to the king of
the Tepanecans. The adventure appeared so hazardous,
that all of them maintained a profound silence, until Mon¬
tezuma declared himself willing to undertake the arduous
enterprise. He was ordered to propose peace to Maxtlaton,
but to accept of no dishonourable conditions; and to this
he punctually adhered. Maxtlaton refused any immediate
answer, but promised to give one next day, after he had History,
consulted his nobility. Montezuma, dreading some treach-
ery if he staid all night, promised to return next day, which 1430.
he did, and was told that Maxtlaton had determined upon
war. Montezuma then performed the ceremony of chal¬
lenging him by presenting him, with certain defensive wea¬
pons, anointing his head, and fixing feathers upon it, as
was customary in such cases. Lastly, he protested, in the
name of his master, that as Maxtlaton would not accept of
the offered peace, he and all the Tepanecans would infal¬
libly be ruined. Maxtlaton evinced not the least sign of
displeasure, but in like manner gave Montezuma arms to
present to the king of Mexico, and directed him, for his own
personal security, to return in disguise through a small out¬
let from the palace. Montezuma followed his advice, but
as soon as he found himself out of danger, he began to insult
the Tepanecan guards ; and although they rushed violently
upon him-, he not only escaped from their attack, but killed
one or two of them. Upon his return to Mexico, the popu¬
lace were again thrown into the utmost consternation by
the news that Avar was inevitable; and they now requested the
Icing to allow them to retire from their city, of which they
supposed the ruin to be certain. The king encouraged
them with the hopes of victory. “ But if we are conquer¬
ed,” replied they, “ what Avill become of us ?” “ If that
happen,” answered the king, “ we are that moment bound
to deliver ourselves into your hands, to be made sacrifices
at your pleasure.”
Matters being thus settled, intelligence wrassent to prince He is de-
Nezahualcojotl to repair with his army to Mexico, which hefeated and
did without delay ; and the day after his arrival a furious killed,
engagement took place. The Tepanecan army was com¬
manded by a general named Mazatl, Maxtlaton himself not
judging it proper to quit his capital. The soldiers on both
sides fought with the utmost bravery; but towards night
the Mexicans, being disheartened by seeing the army of their
enemies continually increasing in number, began once more
to lose their courage and talk of surrendering. The king,
greatly concerned, asked Montezuma Avhat should be done
to dissipate the fears of the people ? That brave prince
replied, that they must fight till death; that if they died
with arms in their hands, it would be honourable ; but that
to survive their defeat, would be eternal ignominy. No¬
thing could be more salutary than this advice at so critical
a juncture. The Mexicans had already begyn to implore
the mercy of their enemies, and to promise to sacrifice their
chiefs, whose ambition had brought the whole nation into
such a dilemma. On hearing this, the whole body of no¬
bility, with the king and Montezuma at their head, assault¬
ed the enemy so furiously, that they repulsed them from a
ditch of which they had taken possession; after which, Mon¬
tezuma, happening to encounter Mazatl the Tepanecan
general, struck him such a blow on the head that he fell
down lifeless. Thus the Mexicans wTere inspired with fresh
courage, and their enemies proportionally dispirited; yet
they retired that night to the city, in some hopes of being
able to retrieve their fortune next day. Maxtlaton encou¬
raged them by every method in his power; but fortune
proved still more unfavourable to his cause than the day before.
The Tepanecans were now entirely defeated, and the city of
Accapozalco taken. Maxtlaton, who seems not to have had
the courage to fight, had not now the presence of mind to
flee. He attempted indeed to hide himself; but being quick¬
ly discovered, he was beaten to death w ith sticks and stones.
The city was plundered, the inhabitants were butchered, and
the houses destroyed by the victors. This victory proved de¬
cisive in favour of the confederates. Every other place of
strength in the country was quickly reduced, until the Te¬
panecans, finding themselves upon the verge of destruction,
sent an humble embassy to the king of Mexico, requesting
to be taken under his protection, and to become tributaries
MEXICO.
143-2.
Nezabual
History, to him. Ifzcoatl received them graciously, but threatened
them with total extirpation if they violated the fidelity they
had sworn to him. J
After this extraordinary success, Itzcoatl took good care to
W of1Ade^Ve ^/bove-mentioned contract ratified between the no-
Suaca^ ^ ty Ci°mm0n pe°PIe,’ ^ Which the latter were bound
to perpetual services. Those who had discouraged the sol¬
diers in time of battle were banished forever from the state
ot Mexico ; whilst Montezuma and others who had distin¬
guished themselves by their bravery, were rewarded with
lands, as was usual with other conquerors. Itzcoatl, now
finding himself firmly seated on the throne of Mexico set
about performing his engagements to the Acolhuacan prince,
by seating him upon the throne of his ancestors. Havin<>-
again effected a junction of their armies, they marched against
Huaxtlo, a city which refused to submit, even though terms
of pardon were offered to them. Instead of this, they rashly
ventured a battle, in which they were entirely defeated ; and
they were then glad to send a deputation to move the enemy
to compassion. At last all obstacles being removed, Neza*-
hualcojotl was seated upon the throne of Acolhuacan ; the
auxiliary troops were dismissed ; and Itzcoatl was left at liber¬
ty to pursue his conquests, in which he was still assisted by
the king of Acolhuacan. The first expedition was against
Cqjohuacan, and other two Tepanecan cities, who had not
only themselves refused submission, but had excited others to
yila
bo
uncil a§ to what should be done to prevent such a disgrace. History.
In this council it was determined to commence hostilities
agamst that rising state, before it should become more for- 1436.
Z *? ! I ^ COnqUestsV Itzcoatl was no sooner inform¬
ed of this determination, than he sent Montezuma with a
great army against them. The Xochimilcas met him with
one still more numerous ; but being worse disciplined they
were quickly defeated, and their city taken a short time
afterwards. This conquest was followed by the reduction
0t ..i, uac, situated on a small island in the lake of Chal¬
eo. I heir insular situation gave them sufficient confidence
to attack the Mexicans. The king was so sensible of the
difficulty of this enterprise, that he proposed to attack them
with the whole force of the alliance. Montezuma, however,
with only a small number of men of his own training, whom
he had furnished with proper vessels, reduced them in seven
days.
• SfC?atl died m the year 1436, at a very advanced age,Montezu
in the height of prosperity, and was succeeded by Monte-ma I. king
zuma I. the greatest monarch that ever sat on the Mexican of Mexico,
throne, before his coronation, that he might comply with the
baibarous rites of his religion, he made war upon the Chab
eese, in order to procure the prisoners who were to be sa-
enheed at Ins coronation; and scarcely was this ceremony
over, when a new war commenced, which terminated in the
destruction of tliEit city. This quarrel happened between
Alliance
between
1 the kings
shake off the yoke. Ihe war against them proved bloody, the Chalcese and the Tezcucans Two nfVh* ml •
I hree battles were fought, in which Itzcoatl gained no other of Tezcuco having gone a-hunti’m? on th Jmn ? pn^e7s
advantage than making the enemy retreat a little ; but in overlook the mountains of °|n.1thfe mountains which
the fourth, whilst the two armies were hotly engaged, Mon- chase and senaratod frnm ti, • ’ ^ St enq), oyed in the
tezuma, with a body of chosen troops, which he had placed Mexican lords fell in with t 1611 ^ rfT’ Wlt 1, T y tbree
in ambuscade, attacked the rea,-g^d of the
such vigour, that they were soon disordered, and obliged to soners to Chaleo The ? them a11 Pn-
flee to the city. The conquetots putsued thi, thitheff and oZ^t^
Montezuma perceiving that tliey intended to fortify them- he caused their bodies to be salted dried 7r l’n? l h
selves in the great temple, frustrated their design by getting hall of his palace whe^e "Ly sertt^
possession of it and burning the turret. By this disaster pine torches burned there for lights every evening The
they were so tenified, that they fled to the mountains south king of Tezcuco, being overwhelmed witherief and to the
.0fLCoj0!1"aCan 5.but 5ven tbere thei r°yal,anny overtook and last degree exasperated at such an inhuman acfl called for
the assistance of the allied kings. The city was attacked at
once by land and water; and the inhabitants, knowing that
they had no mercy to expect, fought with the fury of des¬
pair. Even the old tyrant who commanded them, though
unable to walk, caused himself to be carried in alitter amongst
the combatants; notwithstanding which they were totally
defeated, and the most unspairing vengeance executed upon
them. 1
pursued them more than thirty miles, till they came to ano¬
ther mountain, where, exhausted with fatigue, and seeing no
means of escape, they were obliged to surrender at discre¬
tion.
Haying thus accomplished the conquest of Cojohuacan
and of the other rebellious cities, the two kings returned to
^ v Mexico. Itzcoatl gave great part of the Tepanecan coun-
LAcdhua-.0' ^ry’ wdb die dde king of Tacuba, to Totoquihuatzin, a
•an, and {fandson ot Tezozomoc, but who does not appear to have Montezuma, on his return, found himself obliged to en- TlatPlnU
Tepaneca. ^ m any way concerned in his projects against the Mex- counter an enemy more formidable on account of his vicin- reduced
' l]1 aPlancef^as dien fbrn?ed amongst the three ity, than enemies more powerful at a distance. This wash'd Moqni-
kmgs. The king of 1 acuba held his crown on condition of the king of Tlatelolco, who had formerly conspired ao-ainsthuix
serving the king of Mexico with all his troops, at any time the life of Itzcoatl, and finding himself disappointed in this king-
when required; and for this he was to have a fifth of the spoils had tried to reduce his power by entering into a confeder-
taken from the enemy. 1 he king of Acolhuacan was like- acy with some of the neighbouring lords. ^ At that time his
taken from the enemy. The king of Acolhuacan was like
wise to assist the king of Mexico in wrar ; and for this he
was to have one third part of the plunder, after deducting the
share of the king of Tacuba, whilst the remainder tras to
belong to the king of Mexico. The kings of Tacuba and
Acolhuacan were both declared honorary electors of the
kings of Mexico, the real electors being four nobles ; and
the king of Mexico was likewise bound to assist in the wars
of his allies whenever it was demanded. After having thus
settled matters amongst themselves, and rewarded their sol¬
diers, Itzcoatl set out along with Nezahualcojotl for Tezcuco,
where the Acolhuacan king was crowned with all possible
designs proved abortive, but he resumed them in the time
of Montezuma; the consequence of which was, that he was
defeated and killed. One Moquihuix was chosen in his
stead; and in the election of that chief it is probable that
Montezuma had a considerable share. This was followed by
conquests of a much more important nature. The province
of Cuihixcas, situated to the southward, was added to his do¬
minions, comprehending a tract of country more than an hun¬
dred and fifty miles in breadth; then, turning to the wyest-
)' al[d’ Pe conquered another province named Tzompahuacan.
This success, however, was for a short time interrupted by a
o * a snort mne interrupted by a
ceremony. Here the new king took every method which war with Atonaltzin, lord of a territory in the country of the
prudence could sunnest to establish his authoritv on a nor. Mivinma Tide ..iA . J
prudence could suggest to establish his authority on a per
manent basis; but whilst he was thus employed, the Xo
Mixtacas. This prince, being elated on account of the
- i ITu "ior ~~ me greatcalth he possessed, took it into his head that he would
cnimilcas, fearing lest the Mexicans might conquer their allow no Mexican to travel through his country Montezuma
country as they had done that of the Tepanecans, held a sent ambassadors to know the reason of such strange conduct;
764
MEXICO.
History, but Atonaltzin gave them no other answer than shewing them
''some part of his wealth, making a present to the king, and
1457 desiring them to observe how much the subjects of Aton
altzin loved him; adding that he willingly accepted of war,
which was to determine whether he should pay tribute to
the Mexicans or the Mexicans to him. Montezuma having
informed his allies of this insolent answer, sent a consider¬
able army against Atonaltzin, but had the mortification to
be informed of its defeat. Montezuma, chagrined at this
first check, determined to command his next army in person ;
but before he could call together another, Atonaltzin had
drawn into a confederacy with him the Huexotzincas and
Tlascalans, who were glad of the opportunity, as they sup¬
posed, of reducing the power of the Mexicans. Their num¬
bers, however, availed them but little ; as Montezuma in the
first engagement totally defeated the confederate army. The
allies of Atonaltzin were particularly unfortunate ; for such
of them as were not killed in the field of battle, were de¬
stroyed by their own party out of revenge for the unfortu¬
nate event of the battle.
Mexican By this victory the Mexican monarch became master not
dominions only of the dominions of Atonaltzin, butof those of many other
changed, neighbouring princes, against whom he made war on account
of their having put to death some Mexican merchants or
couriers without any just cause. The conquest of Cuetlarh-
tan or Cotasta, however, which he attempted in 1457, proved
a much more difficult task. This province is situated on the
coast of the Mexican Gulf, and had formerly been inhabited
by the Olmecans, whom the Tlascalans had driven out. The
inhabitants were very numerous, but dreading the power of
Montezuma, called in those of Tlascala, together with the
Huexotzincas, to their assistance. Along with these the
allies also induced the Cholulans to join the confederacy, so
that this seems to have been the most formidable combination
which had yet been formed against the Mexican pou er.
Montezuma collected an excellently equipped army, which,
however, he did not on this occasion command in person.
It contained a great number of persons of high rank, amongst
whom were three princes of royal blood, and Moquihuix,
king of Tlatelolco, already mentioned. The combination
of the three republics against Mexico was not known at
court when the army set out; but Montezuma, being in¬
formed of it soon afterwards, sent an order to his generals
to return. This accorded so ill with the romantic notions
of valour entertained by the Mexicans, that a consultation
was held whether they should obey it or not. At last it
was determined that the king’s order should be obeyed;
but no sooner had this been agreed to, than Moquihuix ac¬
cused them all of cowardice, and threatened, with his own
troops, unassisted, to go and conquer the enemy. His speech
had such an effect upon them all, that they went to meet
the confederates. The Cotastese fought with great valour,
but were unable to resist the royal forces ; and their allies
were almost totally destroyed. Six thousand two hundred
of them were taken prisoners, and soon afterwards sacrificed
to the Mexican god of war in the barbarous manner already
described. . ,
Inundation During the reign of this great monarch a violent inunda-
and famine tion happened in Mexico. The lake, swelled by the exces-
at Mexico. sive rajns which fell in the year 1446, poured its waters into
the city with such violence, that many houses were destroy¬
ed, and the streets inundated to such a degree that boats
were everywhere made use of. The inundation was soon
followed by a famine. This was occasioned by the stinting
of the crop of maize in 1448, the ears whilst young and ten¬
der having been destroyed by frost. In 1450 the crop was to¬
tally lost for want of water; and in 1451, besides the unfavour¬
able seasons, there was a scarcity of seed. Hence, in 1452,
the necessities of the people became so great, that they
were actually obliged to sell themselves as slaves, in order to
procure subsistence. Montezuma permitted them to go to
other countries for support; but being informed that many History,
sold themselves for a few days’ provisions, he ordered, by
proclamation, that no woman should sell herself for less than 1470.
four hundred ears of wheat, nor any man for less than five
hundred. He opened also the public granaries for the re¬
lief of the lower classes ; but nothing could arrest the pro¬
gress of the famine.
Montezuma was succeeded by Axayacatl, who like his Axayacatl
predecessor instantly commenced a war, for no other reason
than that he might obtain prisoners to sacrifice at his coro- inamitezu'
nation. He pursued Montezuma’s plan of conquest, in
which, however, he was not very successful ; many of the
provinces reduced by that monarch having revolted after his
death, so that it was necessary to reconquer them. On his
returning victorious from one of these expeditions, he built
a new temple, to which he gave the name of Coatlon ; but
the Tlatelolcos, whose ancient rivalship seems to have re¬
vived on the death of Montezuma, built another in opposi¬
tion, which they called Coxolotl. rIhus the former hatred
between the two nations was renewed, and an enmity arose
which ended in the ruin of the Tlatelolcos.
The Mexicans sustained an irreparable loss in 1469 and Death of
1470 by the death of their allies the kings of Tacuba and the kings of
Acolhuacan. The king of Tacuba was succeeded by his son ^coUiua-
Chimilpopoca, and the Acolhuacan monarch by his son Tacuku
Nezahualpilli. A short time after the accession of the lat¬
ter, the wTar broke out between the Tlateiolcos and Mexi¬
cans, which ended in the destruction of the former. Mo¬
quihuix had been married by Montezuma to a sister of Axay¬
acatl, now on the throne of Mexico; but it appears that
this princess was never the object of his affection. On the
contrary, he took all methods of expressing his dislike, either
outof enmity to herself, or from envy of the superior greatness
qP Jj0f brother. Not content with this, he entered into an
alliance with a great number of the neighbouring states, in
order to reduce the Mexican greatness. His wife, however,
being informed of this scheme, communicated the particu¬
lars to her brother ; and soon afterwards, being impatient
of the ill usage she received, came to Mexico with her four
sons to claim the protection of her brother. I his uncom¬
mon accident so greatly exasperated the Mexicans and Ilate-
lolcos against each other, that wherever they met, they
fought, abused, and murdered each other. The king of
Tlatelolco prepared for war with many horrid ceremonies,
of which the drinking of human blood was one. A day was
appointed for attacking Mexico. Xiloman, lord of Colcua-
can, was to begin the attack, and then to pretend flight, in
order to induce the Mexicans to follow him ; after which the
Tlatelolcos were to fall upon their rear. For some reasons,
however, which are unexplained, the flatelolcos commenced^
the attack without waiting for Xiloman ; the consequence of
which was, that he retired in disgust, leaving them to finish
the battle in the best way they could. The engagement
lasted until night, when the Tlatelolcos were obliged to re¬
tire. During the night Axayacatl disposed of his troops in
all the roads which led to Tlatelolco, appointing them to
meet in the market-place. The Tlatelolcos, finding them¬
selves attacked upon all sides, retired gradually before the
Mexicans, until at last they were forced into the market¬
place, where they found themselves worse than ever on ac¬
count of its narrowness, which did not allow them room to act.
The king stood on the top of the great temple, encouraging his
men to exert themselves against the enemy. His words,
however, had now lost their usual influence. He not only
was not obeyed, but reproached with cowardice because he
did not come down and fight amongst the rest. At last the
Mexicans arrived at the temple, and ascended to the balcony
where the king had taken his station. He made a desperate
defence, but by a violent push in the breast he was thrown
backwards upon the steps of the temple, and stunned or perhaps
killedby the fall. The Tlatelolcos being thus reduced, Axaya-
MEXICO.
Axayacatl
succeeded
by Tizoc.
Ahuitzotl.
Montezu¬
ma.
catl next set out on an expedition against the Matlazincas, a
tribe in the valley of Toluca, who still refused to submit to
the Mexican yoke. Having proved successful in this ex¬
pedition, he undertook to subdue also the northern part of
the valley, afterwards called Valle dTxtlahucan, particular¬
ly Xiquipilco, a considerable city and state of the Otomies,
whose chief was much renowned for strength and bravery.
Axayacatl, who likewise valued himself upon these qualities,
encountered him in single combat. In this, however, he
was overmatched, and received a violent wound in the
thigh, after which he would have been taken prisoner, had
not some young Mexicans made a desperate effort for his
rescue. Notwithstanding this disaster, Axayacatl’s army
gained a complete victory, carrying off more than eleven
thousand prisoners amongst whom was the chief of the Oto¬
mies himself, and two of his officers who had attacked the
king. These chiefs were put to death at an entertainment
of the allied kings, the sight of their agonies not interrupt¬
ing in the least the mirth of the feast.
Axayacatl was succeeded by his elder brother called Tizoc.
He intended to have built a larger temple than any which
had yet been seen in Mexico, although that originally built
had been greatly enlarged by some of his predecessors.
For this purpose he collected a great quantity of materials;
but before he could bring his projects to bear, he was taken
off by a conspiracy of his subjects. During the reign of
Tizoc, the Acolhuacans made war upon the Huexotzincas,
ruined their city, and conquered their territory. Nezahual-
pilli, also, the Acolhuacan monarch, although he had already
several wives, had not made any of them queen, having
wished to confer that honour upon one of the royal family of
Mexico. Tizoc readily gave him one of his grand-daughters,
who had a sister of singular beauty named Xocotzin. The
friendship between these two ladies was such, that the one
could not think of being separated from the other; and for
this reason the new queen sought and obtained permission
to take her sister along with her to Tezcuco. Xocotzin had
not been long there before the king fell in love with her,
and married her with the title of queen. Soon after this
second marriage, the first queen brought forth a son named
Cacamatzin, who succeeded him in the throne, and was af¬
terwards taken prisoner by the Spaniards.
Ahuitzotl, the brother of Tizoc, succeeded him in the
kingdom of Mexico. His first object was to finish the great
temple begun by his predecessor; and so great was the num¬
ber of workmen employed, that it was completed in four years.
During the time it was building, the king employed him¬
self in making war with different nations, reserving all the
prisoners he took for victims at the dedication of the temple.
The number of prisoners sacrificed at this dedication is said
by Torquemada to have been 72,324, and by other historians is
estimated at 64,060. The miserable victims were ranged
in two files, each a mile and a half in length, terminating at
the temple. The same year another temple was built by a
feudatory lord, in imitation of the great one built by the
king; and at the dedication of it a vast number of prisoners
were also sacrificed. These temples were dedicated in 1486.
In 1487 there happened a violent earthquake ; and Chimal-
popoca king of Acolhuacan having died was succeeded by
Totoquihuatzin II. Ahuitzotl died in theyearl502, of a dis¬
order produced by a contusion in the head. At the time ofhis
death, the Mexican empire was brought to its utmost extent.
His successor, Montezuma Xocojotzin or Montezuma Ju¬
nior, was a person of great bravery, besides which he was
likewise a priest, and held in great estimation on account
of his gravity and the dignity of his deportment. His elec¬
tion was unanimous; and the nobles congratulated them¬
selves on the happiness the country was to enjoy under him,
little thinking how short the duration of their happiness or
of their empire was to be. The first care of the new mon¬
arch was, as usual, to procure victims for the barbarous sac-
765
rifices to be made at his coronation. The people of Atlix- History,
co, who had again shaken off the Mexican yoke, were the
sufferers on this occasion, being once more reduced, though 1502.
not without great loss on the part of the Mexicans, some of
whose bravest officers perished in the war. The ceremony
of coronation was performed with such pomp as had never
been seen before in Mexico ; but no sooner was this cere¬
mony terminated than Montezuma began to discover a pride
which nobody had before suspected. All his predecessors
had been accustomed to confer offices upon persons of merit,
and those who appeared the most able to discharge them,
without any partiality as to birth or wealth. Montezuma,
however, disapproved of the conduct of his predecessors, on
the pretence that the plebeians should be employed accor¬
ding to their rank ; and he deprived all the commoners of
the offices they held about the court, declaring them incap¬
able of holding any for the future. All the royal servants
were now people of rank. Besides those who lived in the
palace, six hundred feudatory lords and nobles came to pay
court to him. They passed the day in the antichambei,
where none of their servants were permitted to enter, con -
versing in a low voice, and waiting the orders of their so¬
vereign. The servants of these lords were so numerous
that they occupied three small courts of the palace, whilst
many waited in the streets.
In every respect Montezuma kept up, as far as was pos- Magnifi-
sible, an extravagant appearance of dignity. His kitchen cence dis-
utensils were of the finest earthen ware, and his tablecloths P|ayed in
and napkins of the finest cotton ; but none of these ever Pa^ace'
served the emperor oftener than once, being immediately
presented to some nobleman. The vessels in which his
chocolate and other drinks from cocoa were prepared, were
all of gold, or some beautiful sea-shell, or naturally-formed
vessels, curiously varnished. He had also gold plate, but
it was used only upon particular occasions in the temple.
The number and variety of his dishes astonished the Spani¬
ards. He took great delight in the cleanliness of his per¬
son, and of .every thing about him. He bathed regularly
every day, and had baths in all his palaces. Every day he
wore four dresses, never using again those which he had
put off, but reserving them as largesses for the nobility, or
those who had distinguished themselves in war. The ex¬
pence of all this rendered him very disagreeable to a great
number of his subjects; though others were pleased with
the readiness he shewed to relieve the necessities of indi¬
viduals, and his generosity in rewarding his generals and
ministers.
The reign of Montezuma, even before the arrival of the Unsuccess-
Spaniards, was far from being so glorious as those of his fid war
predecessors had been. He reduced indeed one rebellious with TJas*
province, and conquered another which had never beforecala*
been subjugated ; but in his war with Tlascala he was by
no means successful. This was a small republic at no
great distance from the capital, and the inhabitants were
remarkable for their bravery and independent spirit. The
neighbouring states, however, who had been reduced by
the Mexicans, envious of their liberty and prosperity, ex¬
asperated the Mexicans against them, by representing
that the Tlascalans were desirous of making themselves
masters of the maritime provinces on the Mexican Gulf,
and that by their commerce with these provinces they
were increasing their wealth and power, and gaining the
hearts of the people with whom they were to traffic. In
consequence of this representation, strong garrisons were
placed on the frontiers of Tlascala, to obstruct the com¬
merce of the inhabitants, and thus to deprive them of the
means of obtaining some of the necessaries of life. The
Tlascalans complained, but received no other answer than
that the king of Mexico was lord of all the world, and that
the Tlascalans must submit and pay tribute to him. The
Tlascalans returned a spirited answer to this insolent speech,
766
MEXICO.
History, and began to fortify their frontier. They'had already en-
closed all the lands of the republic with intrenchments, to
1519. which they now added a wall of six miles in length on the
wTest side, where an invasion was most to be apprehended ;
and so well did they defend themselves, that though they
were frequently attacked by the neighbouring states in alli¬
ance with Mexico, or subject to it, not one of them was able
to wrest a foot of ground from them.
Apprehen- During the remainder of Montezuma’s reign the empire
sionsof the was disturbed by various rebellions, of which the accounts
arrival of a are not sufficiently interesting to merit particular detail;
new people, jn the year 1508, Montezuma began to entertain appre¬
hensions of that fatal event which at length overtook him.
An expedition having been undertaken against a very dis¬
tant region named Amatla, the army in marching over a lofty
mountain were attacked by a furious north wind, accompan¬
ied with snow, which made great havoc amongst the troops,
many of them perishing with cold, and others being killed
by the trees rooted up by the wind. The remains of the
army continued their march to Amatla, where they were
almost all killed in battle. By this and other calamities,
together with the appearance of a comet, the Mexicans
were thrown into the utmost consternation. Montezuma
was so terrified by these omens, that having in vain consult¬
ed his astrologers, he applied to the king of Alcohuacan,
who was reported to be very skilful in divination. Neza-
hualpilli having conferred with him upon the subject, told
Montezuma that the comet presaged some calamity which
was about to befal their kingdoms by the arrival of a new
people ; but this being unsatisfactory to the emperor, the
king of Alcohuacan challenged him to a game at foot-ball,
staking the truth of his prediction on the issue of the game.
Montezuma lost the game, but did not yet acquiesce in the
truth of his prediction. He therefore applied to a celebrat¬
ed astrologer, whom it seems he had not yet consulted, and
who confirmed the interpretation of Nezahualpilli; and the
emperor was so displeased that he caused his house to be
pulled down, and himself to be buried in the ruins.
Conquest Mexico itself was originally discovered, though imperfect-
of Mexico ly, by a Spaniard named Nunez de Bilboa; but in 1518 the
undertaken conquest of it was undertaken by a celebrated adventurer
l>y Cortez. name(j Fernando Cortez. On the 10th of February 1519,
he set sail from the Havannah in Cuba, and soon landed
on the island of Cozumel, on the coast of Yucatan, discov¬
ered the preceding year. Here he joined one of his offi¬
cers named Pedro d’Alvaredo, who had arrived several days
before, and collected some booty and taken a few prisoners.
But the general severely censured his conduct; and the
prisoners were dismissed, after they had been informed by an
Indian interpreter named Melchior, that such injuries were
entirely disagreeable to the intentions and wishes of Cor¬
tez. Here he mustered his army, and found that it amount¬
ed to five hundred and eight soldiers, sixteen horsemen,
and one hundred and nine mechanics, pilots, and mariners.
Having encouraged his men by a proper speech, and re¬
leased, by means of some Indian ambassadors, a Spaniard
named Jerom de Aguilar, who had been detained a prison¬
er for eight years, he proceeded to the river Tabasco, where
he hoped to be received in a friendly manner, as one Gri¬
jalva had been a short time before; but, from some un¬
known cause, he was violently attacked. The superiority of
the Spanish arms, however, soon decided the victory in their
favour, and the inhabitants were obliged to own the king of
Castille as their sovereign. The Spaniards then continued
their course westwards, to the harbour of St. Juan de Ul-
loa, where they were met by two Mexican canoes, which
carried two ambassadors from the emperor of that country,
and showed the greatest signs of peace and amity. Their
language was unknown to Aguilar ; but one of the female
prisoners above mentioned understood it, and translated it
into the Yucatan tongue ; after which Aguilar interpreted
the meaning in Spanish. This slave was afterwards named History,
Donna Marina, and proved very useful in their conferences
with the natives/ 1519.
At this time the Mexican empire, according to Robertson, State of the
had arrived at a pitch of grandeur to which no society hadempke at
ever attained in so short a period. Though it had subsistedtllis time-
only for a hundred and thirty years, its dominion extended
from the north to the south sea, over territories stretching
about 500 leagues from east to west, and more than 200 from
north to south; comprehending pro vinces not inferior in fertili¬
ty, population, and opulence, to any in the torrid zone. Though
by nature Montezuma possessed a good deal of courage and
resolution, yet from the first moment that the Spaniards ap¬
peared upon his coast, he discovered symptoms of timidity
and embarrassment, and all his subjects were embarrassed as
well as himself. The general dismay which prevailed upon
this occasion was partly owing to the strange figure the
Spaniards made, and the prodigious power of their arms ;
but partly also attributable to another circumstance. An
opinion prevailed almost universally amongst the Ameri¬
cans, that some dreadful calamity impended over their heads,
from a race of formidable invaders who should come from
regions towards the rising sun, to overrun and desolate their
country.
By means of his two interpreters, Donna Marina and Proceed.
Aguilar, Cortez learned that the chiefs of the Mexican em-ings of
bassy were deputies from Pilpatoe and Teutile; the one Cortez>
governor of a province under the emperor, and the other
the commander of all his forces in that province. The pur¬
port of their embassy was to inquire what his intentions
were in visiting their coasts, and to offer him what assist¬
ance he might need in order to continue his voyage. Cor¬
tez, in his turn, also professed the greatest friendship; and
informed the ambassadors, that he came to propose matters
of the utmost consequence to the welfare of the prince and
his kingdom ; which he would more fully unfold in person
to the governor and the general. Next morning, without
waiting for any answer, he landed his troops, horses, and
artillery, and began to erect huts for his men, and to for¬
tify his camp. The day following the ambassadors had a
formal audience, at which Cortez acquainted them, that
he came from Don Carlos of Austria, king of Castille, the
greatest monarch of the east, and was intrusted with pro¬
positions of such moment that he would impart them to none
but the emperor himself, and therefore required to be con¬
ducted immediately to the capital. This demand produced
the greatest uneasiness ; and the ambassadors did all in their
power to dissuade Cortez from his design, endeavouring to
conciliate his good will by the presents sent him by Mon¬
tezuma. These which were introduced with great parade,
consisted of fine cotton cloth, of plumes of various colours,
and of ornaments of gold and silver to a considerable value,
the workmanship of which appeared to be as curious as the
materials were rich. But these presents served only to ex¬
cite the avidity of the Spaniards, and to increase their de¬
sire for becoming masters of a country which abounded with
so many precious commodities. Cortez indeed, could scarce¬
ly restrain himself so far as to hear the arguments made use
of by the ambassadors to dissuade him from going to the
capital; and, in a haughty, determined tone, insisted on his
former demand of being admitted to a personal interview
with their sovereign. During this conversation, some paint¬
ers in the retinue of the Mexican chiefs had been diligent¬
ly employed in delineating, upon white cotton cloths, figures
of the ships, horses, artillery, soldiers, and whatever else at¬
tracted their eyes as singular.
Whilst picture-writers were exerting their utmost efforts Montwu-
in representing all these wonderful things, messengers were
immediately despatched to Montezuma with the paintings ^gSjgns 0f
containing an account of every thing that had passed since the inva-
the arrival of the Spaniards, together with some European ders.
lloi
Ill
m
tit
iii<
ms,
M*E X I C O,
History, curiosities, which Cortez believed would be acceptable to
'"""r ^ Montezuma on account of their novelty. The Mexican
monarchs had couriers posted at proper stations along the
principal roads; and as these were trained to agility bv a re-
gular education, they conveyed intelligence with surprising
rapidity. Though the city in which Montezuma resided was
above 180 miles distant from St. Juande Ulloa, Cortez’s pre¬
sents were carried thither, and an answer returned to his
demands in a few days. As the answer was unfavourable,
Montezuma had endeavoured to mollify the Spanish srene-
ral by the richness of his presents. These consisted of the
manufactures of the country; cotton stuffs so fine, and of
such delicate texture, as to resemble silk; and pictures of
animals, trees, and other natural objects, formed with feathers
of different colours, disposed and mingled with such skill
and elegance as to rival the works of the pencil in truth and
beauty of imitation. But what chiefly attracted their at¬
tention, were two large plates of a circular form ; one of
massive gold representing the sun, and the other of silver
representing the moon. Ihese were accompanied with
bracelets, collars, rings, and other trinkets of gold ; and that
nothing might be wanting which could give the Spaniards
a complete idea of what the country afforded, some boxes
filled with pearls, precious stones, and grains of gold un¬
wrought, as they had been found in the mines or rivers,
were sent along with the rest. Cortez received all with an
appearance of the most profound respect for Montezuma ;
but when the Mexicans, presuming upon this, informed him,
that their master, though he desired him to accept of what
he had sent as a token of his regard for the prince whom
he represented, would not give his consent that foreign
troops should approach nearer to his capital, or even allow
them to continue longer in his dominions, Cortez declared
in a manner more resolute and peremptory than formerly,
that he must insist on his first demand, as he could not,
without dishonour, return to his own sovereign until he was
admitted into the presence of the prince whom he was ap¬
pointed to visit in his name.
lontezu- The pusillanimity of the Indian monarch afforded time to
the Spaniards to take measures which would have been out
767
ands Cor- 0f their power had they been vigorously attacked on their
* domin'-6 ^rst re^'usa^ to °bey his orders. Cortez used every method
ns. of securing the affections of the soldiers, which indeed was
the more necessary, as many of them had begun to exclaim
against the rashness of his attempt in leading them against
the whole force of the Mexican empire. In a short time
Teutile arrived with another present from Montezuma, and
together with it delivered the ultimate orders of that mon¬
arch to depart instantly out of his dominions; and when
Cortez, instead of complying with his demands, renewed his
request of audience, the Mexican immediately left the camp
with strong marks of surprise and resentment. Next mor-
ning, none of the natives appeared; all friendly correspon¬
dence seemed to be at an end, and hostilities were expect¬
ed to commence every moment. A sudden consternation
ensued amongst the Spaniards, and a party was formed
against Cortez by the adherents of Velasquez, who, taking
advantage of the occasion, deputed one of their number,
a principal officer, to remonstrate, as if in the name of the
whole army, against his rashness, and to urge the necessity
of his returning to Cuba. Cortez received the message
without any appearance of emotion ; and as he well knew
the temper and wishes of his soldiery, he pretended to com¬
ply with the request made him, and issued orders that the
army should be in readiness next day to embark for Cuba.
Upon hearing this, the troops, as Cortez had expected,
were quite outrageous ; they positively refused to comply
with these orders, and threatened immediately to choose
another general if Cortez continued to insist on their de¬
parture. Pleased with the disposition which now appeared
amongst his troops, but dissembling his sentiments, he de¬
clared, that his orders for embarking had proceeded from History,
a persuasion that it was agreeable to his fellow-soldiers, to
whose opinion he had sacrificed his own ; but now he ac- 1M9.
knowledged his error, and was ready to resume his original
plan of operation. This speech was highly applauded ; and
Cortez, without allowing his men time to cool, immediately set
about cailying his designs into execution. In order to give
a beginning to a colony, he assembled the principal persons
in his army, and by their suffrages elected a council and
magistrates, in whom the government was to be vested.
The persons chosen were most firmly attached to Cortez ;
and the new settlement received the name of Villa Rica de
la Vera Cruz, that is, the rich town of the true cross.
Before this court of his own making, Cortez did not he- The go-
sitate at resigning all his authority, and was immediately vernment of
re-elected chief-justice of the colony, and captain-generalthe nevv c°-
of his army, with an ample commission, in the king’s name, !ony vested
to continue in force till the royal pleasure should be furtherln CorUz-
known. The soldiers eagerly ratified their choice by loud
acclamations ; and Cortez, now considering himself as no
longer accountable to any subject, began to assume a much
greater degree of dignity, and to exercise more extensive
pow ers than he had hitherto done. Cortez having thus
strengthened himself as well as he could, resolved to ad¬
vance into the country; and to this he was encouraged by
the behaviour of the cacique or petty prince of Zempoalla,
a consideiable town at no great distance. Here he was re¬
ceived in the most friendly manner imaginable, and had a
respect paid towards him almost equivalent to adoration.
The cacique informed him of many particulars relating to
the character of Montezuma. He told him that he wras a
tjiant, haughty, cruel, and suspicious, who treated his own
subjects with arrogance, ruined the conquered provinces by
his extortions, and often tore their sons and daughters from
them by violence ; the former to be offered as victims to his
gods, the latter to be reserved as concubines for himself and
favourites. Cortez, in reply, artfully insinuated, that one
g1 eat object of the Spaniards in visiting a country so remote
from their own was, to redress grievances, and to relieve the
oppressed; and having encouraged him to hope for this in¬
terposition in due time, continued his march to Quiabislan,
the territory of another cacique, where, by the friendly aid
of the Indians, a Spanish colony was soon formed.
During the residence of Cortez in these parts, he so far Policy of
wrought on the minds of the caciques of Zempoalla and Quia- Cortez,
bislan, that tliey ventured to insult the Mexican power, at the
very name of which they had formerly been accustomed to
tremble. Some of Montezuma’s officers having appeared to
levy the usual tribute, and to demand a certain number of
human victims, as an expiation of their guilt in presuming to
hold intercourse with those strangers whom the emperor had
commanded to leave his dominions ; instead of obeying his
orders, they made them prisoners, treated them with great
indignity, and, as their superstition was no less barbarous
than Montezuma’s, they threatened to sacrifice them to their
gods. Though Cortez had now taken such measures as in
a manner ensured his success, yet as he had thrown off all
dependence on the governor of Cuba, who was his lawful
superior, and apprehended his interest at court, he thought
proper, before he set out on his intended expedition, to take
the most effectual measures against the impending danger.
With this view, he persuaded the magistrates of his colony
to address a letter to the king, containing a pompous account
of their own services, of the country they had discovered,
and of the motives which had induced them to throw off
their allegiance to the governor of Cuba, and to settle a
colony dependent on the crown alone, in which the supreme
power, civil as well as military, had been vested in Cortez;
humbly requesting their sovereign to ratify what had been
done by his royal authority.
Some soldiers and sailors, secretly disaffected to Cortez, Conspiracy
768
MEXICO.
Cortez
sends am¬
bassadors
to the re¬
public of
Tiascala.
War with
that people
formed a design of seizing one of the brigantines, and mak¬
ing their escape to Cuba, in order to give such intelligence
to the governor as might enable him to intercept the vessel
which was to carry the treasure and despatches to Spain.
This conspiracy was conducted with profound secrecy; but
at the moment when every thing was ready for execution,
the secret was discovered by one of the associates. The
latent spirit of disaffection which Cortez now became con¬
vinced had not been extinguished amongst his troops, gave
him great uneasiness. The only method he could think of
to prevent such conspiracies for the future, was to destroy
his fleet, and thus deprive his soldiers of every resource ex¬
cept that of conquest; and with this proposal he persuaded
his men to comply. The ships were therefore drawn ashore,
and, after being stripped of their sails, rigging, iron work,
and whatever else might be of use, they were broken in
pieces. Cortez having thus rendered it necessary for his
troops to follow wherever he chose to lead, began his march
to Zempoalla with five hundred infantry, fifteen horse, and
six field pieces. The rest of his troops being less fit for
active service, he left them as a garrison in Villa Rica, un¬
der the command of Escalante, an officer of merit, and
warmly attached to his interest. The cacique of Zempo¬
alla supplied him with provisions, and with two hundred of
those Indians called Tamanes, whose office, in a country
where tame animals were unknown, was to carry burdens,
and perform all manner of servile labour. He offered like¬
wise a considerable body of troops; but Cortez was satis¬
fied with four hundred, taking care, however, to choose per¬
sons of such note, that they might serve as hostages for the
fidelity of their master.
Nothing memorable happened till the Spaniards arrived
on the confines of the republic of Tiascala. The inhabi¬
tants of that province were warlike, fierce, and revengeful,
and had made considerable progress in agriculture and some
other arts. They were implacable enemies of Montezuma,
and therefore Cortez hoped that it would be an easy mat¬
ter for him to procure their friendship. With this view,
four Zempoallans of high rank were sent as ambassadors to
Tiascala, dressed with all the badges of that office usual
amongst the Indians. The senate were divided in their opi¬
nions with regard to the proposals of Cortez; but at last
Magiscatzin, one of the oldest senators, and a person of great
authority, mentioned the tradition of their ancestors, and
the revelations of their priests, that a race of invincible men,
of divine origin, who had power over the elements, should
come from the east to subdue their country. He compared
the resemblance which the strangers bore to the persons
figured in the traditions of Mexico, their dominion over the
elements of fire, air, and water; he reminded the senate of
their prodigies, omens, and signals, which had lately terrified
the Mexicans, and indicated some very important event;
and he then declared his opinion that it would be rashness
to oppose a force apparently assisted by heaven, and men
who had already proved, to the sad experience of those who
opposed them, that they were invincible. This orator was
opposed by Xicotencal, who endeavoured to prove that the
Spaniards were at best but powerful magicians ; that they
had rendered themselves obnoxious to the gods by pulling
down their images and altars, and that they might easily be
overcome, as the gods would not fail to resent such an out¬
rage. He therefore voted for war, and advised the crush¬
ing of these invaders at one blowi
The advice of Xicotencal prevailed, and the ambassadors
were detained, which gave Cortez great alarm, and induced
him to approach the city of Tiascala. The inhabitants suf¬
fered him with his army drawn up in good order, to pass a
strong wall between two mountains, which might have been
very advantageously defended against bim. But he had not
advanced far beyond this pass, when a party of Tlascalans
with plumes were discovered, which denoted that an army
was in the field. These he drove before him by a detach¬
ment of six horse; obliged them to join another party; and'
then reinforcing the advanced detachment, charged the ene¬
my with such vigour that they began to retire. Five thou¬
sand Tlascalans then rushed out of their hiding places, just
as the infantry came up in order to assist their slender body
of cavalry. The enemy attacked with the utmost fury, but
were so much disconcerted by the first discharge of the
fire-arms, that they retreated in confusion, furnishing the
Spaniards with an opportunity of pursuing them with great
slaughter. Cortez, however, supposing that this could not
History.
1519.
 n  — ' '±i o .
be their whole force, advanced with the utmost caution, in
order of battle, to an eminence, whence he had a view of
the main body of the Tlascalan army, commanded by Xico¬
tencal, consisting of not fewer than 40,000 men. By these
the small army of Cortez was entirely surrounded ; which
Xicotencal no sooner perceived, than he contracted the
circle with incredible diligence, whilst the Spaniards were
almost overwhelmed with showers of arrows, darts, and
stones. It is impossible but in this case many of the Span¬
iards would have perished, had it not been for the insuffi¬
ciency of the Indian weapons. This circumstance gave the
Spaniards a prodigious advantage over them; and therefore
the Tlascalans, notwithstanding their valour and superiority
in number, could accomplish no more in the present instance
than killing one horse and slightly wounding nine soldiers.
The Tlascalans, taught by this, and some subsequent en¬
counters, how much they were inferior to the Spaniards, be¬
gan to conceive them to be really what Magiscatzin had
said, a superior order of beings, against whom human power
could not prevail. In this extremity they had recourse to
their priests, requiring them to reveal the causes of such
extraordinary events, and to declare what means they should
take to repel such formidable invaders. The priests, after
many sacrifices and incantations, delivered their response,
that these strangers were the offspring of the sun, procreat¬
ed by his animating energy in the regions of the east; that
by day, whilst cherished with the influence of his parental
beams, they were invincible; but that by night, when his
reviving heat was withdrawn, their vigour declined, and
faded like herbs in the field, and they dwindled down into
mortal men. In consequence of this, the Tlascalans acted
in contradiction to one of their most established maxims in
war, and ventured to attack the enemy in the night time,
hoping to destroy them when enfeebled and surprised. But
the Spanish sentinels having observed some extraordinary
movements amongst the Tlascalans, gave the alarm. Im¬
mediately the troops were under arms, and sallying out, de¬
feated their antagonists with great slaughter, without allow¬
ing them to approach the camp. By this disaster the Tlas¬
calans were heartily disposed to peace ; but they were at a
loss to form an adequate idea of the enemies whom they had
to deal withal. They could not ascertain the nature of these
surprising beings, or whether they were really of a benevo¬
lent or malignant disposition. There were circumstances
in their behaviour which seemed to favour either opinion.
On the one hand, as the Spaniards constantly dismissed the
prisoners whom they took, not only without injury, but often
with presents of European toys, and renewed their offers of
peace after every victory ; this lenity amazed people accus¬
tomed to the exterminating system of war known in Ame¬
rica, and disposed them to entertain sentiments favourable
to their humanity. But, on the other hand, as Cortez had
seized fifty of their countrymen who brought provisions to
their camp, and cut oft' their heads ; this bloody spectacle,
added to the terror occasioned by the fire-arms and horses,
filled them with dreadful ideas of the ferocity of the invaders.
Peace, however, was soon concluded, to the great satisfaction
of both parties. The Tlascalans yielded themselves as vassals
to the crown of Castille, and engaged to assist Cortez in all
his operations ; whilst he took the republic under his pro-
JSw* th<!ir PerSOnS and P0S3eS- “‘^TCh f Mef C°’Wlth “K—Pecti™ and mj.
f'nrtnr, i«+v ™„4.i i * • i . ... strictest discipline, thnncrh wittimi*     i   _
.Historj’.
‘^^^wsions from injury
Cortez pro- Cortez^ method untried to gain the favour and con-
eeutes his cnceo le asca ans ; which, however, he had almost
aterprise. entire|y lost, by his untimely zeal in destroying their idols,
as he had done those of Zempoalla. But he was deterred
from this rash action by his chaplain father Bartolomeo de
Olmedo, and left the Tlascalans in the undisturbed exer¬
cise ot their superstition, requiring only that they should
desist from their horrid practice of offering human victims.
As soon as his troops were fit for service, he resolved to
continue his march towards Mexico, notwithstanding the
remonstrances of the Tlascalans, who looked upon his de-
StriiPtinn ac I,*  ip* . .t
MEXICO.
769
haffec-
11 of
®ntezu-
|Hs sub-
jtts.
struction as inevitable if he put himself into the power nf eyCS p u- , °n 1 ^ g.rou1n. Tliese were fbllowe
such a faithless prince as Montezuma. But the emr^rm- ° i ^gierra^’in their most showy apparel;
such a faithless prince as Montezuma. But the emperor
probably intimidated by the fame of his exploits, had re¬
solved to admit his visit, and informed Cortez that he had
given orders for his friendly reception at Cholula, the next
place of any consequence on the road to Mexico. Cortez was
received with much seeming cordiality; but six thousand
1 lascalan troops who accompanied him were obliged to remain
without the town, as the Cholulans refused to admit their
ancient enemies within their precincts. Yet two of these,
by disguising themselves, got into the city, and acquainted
Cortez that they had observed the women and children be¬
longing to the principal citizens retiring every night in agreat
hurry; and that six children had been sacrificed in the great
temple, a sign that some warlike enterprise was in contempla¬
tion. At the same time Donna Marina, the interpreter, re¬
ceived information from an Indian woman of distinction, whose
confidence she had gained, that the destruction of the Span-
iai ds was concerted; that a body of Mexican troops lay
concealed near the town; that some of the streets were bar¬
ricaded, whilst in others deep pits or trenches were dug,
and slightly covered over, as traps into which the horse
might fall; that stones and missile weapons were collected
upon the tops of the temples, with which to overwhelm the
infantry ; and that the fatal hour was already at hand, and
their ruin inevitable. Cortez, alarmed at this news, se¬
cretly arrested three of the chief priests, from whom he ex¬
tol ted a confession, which confirmed the intelligence he had
already received. As not a moment was to be lost, he in-
the strictest discipline, though wi&out ^Zgho”tC^L
the prince whom they were about to visit. 1519.
!l-t!iey f^reW ^ th,e about °ne thousand per- Meeting of
sons of distinction came forth to meet them, adorned with Cortez and
plumes, and clad in mantles of fine cotton. Each of these Montezu.
in his order, passed by Cortez, and saluted him according™*
to the mode of their country. They announced the approach
of Montezuma himself, and soon after his harbingers came
in sight. There appeared first two hundred persons in an
uniform dress, with large plumes of feathers, alike in fashion,
marching two and two, in profound silence, barefooted, with
their eyes fixed on the ground. These were followed by a
midst of whom was Montezuma, in a chair or litter richly
ornamented with gold and feathers of various colours. Four
of Ins principal favourites carried him on their shoulders, and
others supported a canopy of curious workmanship over his
head. Before him marched three officers with rods of gold
in their hands, which they lifted up on high at certain in-
tervaJs; and at that signal all the people bowed their heads,
and hid their faces, as unworthy to look upon so great a mon¬
arch. When he drew near, Cortez dismounting, advanced
towards him m a very respectful manner. At the same time
Montezuma alighted from his chair, and leaning on the arms
of two of his near relations, approached with a slow and
stately pace; his attendants covering the streets with cotton
cloths, that he might not touch the ground. Cortez ac¬
costed him with profound reverence, after the European
fashion. He returned the salutation, according to the mode
of his country, by touching the earth with his hand, and
then kissing it. Nothing material passed at this first inter¬
view . Montezuma conducted Cortez to the quarters which
had been prepared for his reception, and immediately took
leave of him with a politeness not unworthy of a more re¬
fined court. “ You are now,” said he, “ with your brothers,
in your own house; refresh yourselves after your fatigue,
and be happy until I return.” The first care of Cortez was
to take precautions for his security, by planting the artillery
so as to command the different avenues which led to it; by
appointing a large division of his troops to be always on
guard; and by posting sentinels at proper stations, with in¬
stantly resolved to anticipate his enemies, and to infliH upon j^t^^
and L- U: bit:dfU hV?ngeanCGnaS mi^ht fnke Montezuma were actually within sight of an enemy’s camp. In the even-
^ ^ Slg?a glVen’the tr00PS inhr Montezuma returned to visit his guests with the sain- nomn
shed out, and fell upon the multitude, who, destitute of lead- as in their first interview, and brought presents of such va
srerri not o„iy c„rteZ .w. his z
defence Whdll fd incaPabIe of Private men, as proved the liberality of the monarch to be
defence. M hilst the Spaniards attacked them in front, the suitable to the opulence^ of his kingdom. A long confer-
•Tlascalans did the same in the rear; the streets were filled
with slaughter, and the temples, which afforded a retreat to
the piiests and some leading men, were set on fire, in conse¬
quence of which they perished in the flames. At length the
carnage ceased, after the slaughter of six thousand Cholu¬
lans, without the loss of a single Spaniard. Cortez then re¬
leased the magistrates, and, reproaching them bitterly for
ence ensued, in which Cortez learned the opinion of Mon¬
tezuma respecting the Spaniards. Next morning, Cortez
and some of his principal attendants were admitted to a pub¬
lic audience of the emperor. The three subsequent days
were employed in viewing the city, the appearance of which,
so far superior in the order of its buildings and the number
.c • ■ . , , o uitLc-ny of its inhabitants to any place the Spaniards had beheld in
treaL'llery’dec:lared5tbat as justice was now up- America, and yet so little resembling the structure of an
;!fif!un’„.!!„°.rga\eti n °f encie ’ but required them to recal the European city, filled them with surprise and admiration.
Mexico is situated in a large plain, environed by moun- The city of
tains of such height, that although within the torrid zone, the Mexico,
temperature of its climate is mild and healthful. All the
moisture which descends from the high grounds is collected
• iT u- o ^ ^ c uueuue; out required tnem to recal tne
inhabitants who had fled, and to re-establish order in the town
r i om Cholula, Cortez advanced directly towards Mexico;
and throughout the whole of his journey was entertained
with accounts of the oppressions and cruelty of Montezuma,
Thio rr V  f iiiuiauuc vnuen ueaccmib nuiu uie Illgll grounds IS Collected
xms gave Him the greatest hope of accomplishing his de- in several lakes, the two largest of which, about ninety miles
sum, as lie now nompivcirl tl.ot flw-k v, I ...-I ^ ,1: ■ •     • , ... , , —K
sign, as he now perceived that the empire was entirely di¬
vided, and that no sort of unanimity prevailed amongst them.
No enemy appeared to check his progress. Montezuma was
quite irresolute; and Cortez had almost arrived at the gates
of the capital before the emperor had determined whether to
receive him as a friend or to oppose him as an enemy. But
as no sign of open hostility appeared, the Spaniards, without
in circumference, communicate with each other. The wa¬
ters of the one are fresh, those of the other are brackish. On
the banks of the latter, and on some small islands adjoining
to them, the capital of Montezuma’s empire was built. The
access to the city was by artificial causeways or streets,
formed of stones and earth, about thirty feet in breadth.
As the waters of the lake, during the rainy season, over-
^ i '   x me; iaivc, uuimg uit: lamy season, over
■ ® b ^ actuations of Montezuma s sentiments, con- flowed the level country, these causeways were of consider
von. xiv. -
5 E
770
MEXICO.
History, able length; that of Tacuba, on the west, being a mile and a
'^-V^half; that of Tezcuco on the north-west, three miles; and that
1519. of Cuoyacan towards the south, six miles. On the east
there was no causeway, and the city could be approached only
by canoes. In each of the causeways there were openings
at proper intervals, through which the waters flowed; and
over these beams of timber were laid, which being covered
with earth, the causeway or street had everywhere an uni¬
form appearance. As the approaches to the city were sin¬
gular, its construction was remarkable. Not only the temples
of their gods, but the houses belonging to the monarch, and
to persons of distinction, were of such dimensions, that in
comparison with any other buildings which had been dis¬
covered in America, they might even be termed magnificent.
The habitations of the common people were mean, resemb¬
ling the huts of other Indians; but they were all placed in
a regular manner, on the banks of the canals which passed
through the city, in some of its districts, or on the sides of
the streets which intersected it in other quarters. In several
places there were large openings or squares, one of which, al¬
lotted for the great market, is said to have been so spacious
that forty or fifty thousand persons carried on traffic there.
In this city, the pride of the New World, and the noblest
monument of the industry and the art of man, whilst unac¬
quainted with the use of iron, the Spaniards, who are most
moderate in their computations, reckon that there were at
least sixty thousand inhabitants.
Uneasiness But how much soever the novelty of those objects might
of the Spa- amuse or astonish the Spaniards, they felt the utmost soli
niards.
Hostilities
between
the Spani¬
ards and
Mexicans.
citude with respect to their own situation. From a concur¬
rence of circumstances, no less unexpected than favourable
to their progress, they had been allowed to penetrate into
the heart of a powerful kingdom, and were now lodged in
its capital, without having once met with open opposition
from its monarch. The Tlascalans, however, had earnestly
dissuaded them from placing such confidence in Montezu¬
ma as to enter a city so peculiarly situated as Mexico,
where that prince would have them at mercy, shut up as it
Were in a snare, from which it was impossible to escape.
They assured them that the Mexican priests had, in the
name of their gods, counselled their sovereign to admit the
strangers into the capital, that he might cut them off there
at one blow with perfect security. The Spaniards now per¬
ceived, too plainly, that the apprehensions of their allies
were not destitute of foundation; that, by breaking the
bridges placed at certain intervals on the causeways, or by
destroying part of the causeways themselves, their retreat
would be rendered impracticable ; and that they would re¬
main cooped up in the centre of a hostile city, surrounded
by multitudes sufficient to overwhelm them, without a pos¬
sibility of receiving aid from their allies.
Before he set out from Cholula, Cortez had received ad¬
vice from Villa Rica, that Qualpopoca, one of the Mexican
generals on the frontiers, having assembled an army in or¬
der to attack some of the people whom the Spaniards had
encouraged to throw off die Mexican yoke, Escalante had
marched out with part of the garrison to support his allies ;
that an engagement had ensued, in which, though the Span¬
iards were victorious, Escalante, with seven of his men, had
been mortally wounded, his horse killed, and one Spaniard
had been surrounded by the enemy and taken alive; a,nd
that the head of this unfortunate captive, after being carried
in triumph to different cities, in order to convince the peo¬
ple that their invaders were not immortal, had been sent to
Mexico. Cortez, though alarmed with this intelligence, as
an indication of Montezuma’s hostile intentions, had contin¬
ued his march. But as soon as he entered Mexico he be¬
came sensible that, from an excess of confidence in the supe¬
rior valour and discipline of his troops, as well as from the
disadvantage of having nothing to guide him in an unknown
country, but the defective intelligence which he received
from people with whom his mode of communication was History,
very imperfect, he had pushed forward into a situation where
it was difficult to continue, and from which it was danger- 1520.
ous to retire. Disgrace, and perhaps ruin, were the certain
consequences of attempting a retreat. The success of his
enterprise depended upon supporting the high opinion which
the people of New Spain had formed with respect to the
irresistible power of his arms. Upon the first symptom of
timidity on his part, their veneration would cease, and Monte¬
zuma, whom fear alone had restrained, would let loose upon
him the whole force of his empire. At the same time, he
knew that the countenance of his own sovereign was to be
obtained only by a series of victories, and that nothing but
the merit of extraordinary success could screen his conduct
from the censure of irregularity. From all these consider¬
ations, it was necessary to maintain his position, and to ex¬
tricate himself out of the difficulties in which one bold step
had involved him, by venturing upon another still bolder.
The situation w as trying, but his mind w as equal to the Cortez re¬
emergency; and after revolving the matter with deep atten- solves to
tion, he fixed upon a plan no less extraordinary than daring.
He determined to seize Montezuma in his palace, and to carry ^ pa]ace
him as a prisoner to the Spanish quarters. From the super¬
stitious veneration of the Mexicans for the person of their mon¬
arch, as well as their implicit submission to his will, he hoped,
by having Montezuma in his power, to acquire the supreme
direction of their affairs ; or at least, with such a sacred
pledge in his hands, he made no doubt of being secure from
any effort of their violence. This he immediately proposed
to his officers. The timid startled at a measure so audaci¬
ous, and raised objections. The more intelligent and reso¬
lute, conscious that it was the only resource in which there
appeared any prospect of safety, warmly approved of it, and
brought over their companions so entirely to the same opin¬
ion, that it was agreed instantly to make the attempt. At
his usual hour of visiting Montezuma, Cortez went to the
palace, accompanied by Alvarado, Sandoval, Lugo, Velasquez
de Leon, and Davila, five of his principal officers, and with
as many trusty soldiers. Thirty chosen men followed, not
in regular order, but sauntering at some distance, as if they
had no object but curiosity; small parties were posted at
proper intervals, in all the streets leading from the Spanish
quarters to the court; and the remainder of his troops, with
the Tlascalan allies, were under arms, ready to sally out upon
the first alarm. Cortez and his attendants were admitted
w ithout suspicion; the Mexicans retiring, as usual, out of
respect. He addressed the monarch in a tone very differ¬
ent from that which he had employed in former conferences,
reproaching him bitterly as the author of the violent assault
made upon the Spaniards by one of his officers, and demand¬
ing public reparation for the loss which he had sustained by
the death of some of his companions, as well as for the insult
which had been offered to the great prince w horn they served.
Montezuma, confounded at this unexpected accusation, and
changing colour, either from the consciousness of guilt, or
from feeling the indignity with which he was treated, as¬
serted his own innocence with great earnestness; and, as
a proof of it, gave orders instantly to bring Qualpopoca and
his accomplices prisoners to Mexico. Cortez replied, with
seeming complaisance, that a declaration so respectable left
no doubt remaining in his own mind ; but that something
more was requisite to satisfy his followers, who would never
be convinced that Montezuma did not harbour hostile in¬
tentions against them, unless, as an evidence of his confi¬
dence and attachment, he removed from his own palace and
took up his residence in the Spanish quarters, where he
should be served and honoured as became a great monarch.
The first mention of so strange a proposal bereaved Mon¬
tezuma of speech, and almost of motion. At length he
haughtily answered, that persons of his rank were not ac¬
customed to give themselves up voluntarily as prisoners}
MEXICO.
History.
1520.
Cortez
rules the
empire.
and that were he mean enough to do so, his subjects would
permit such an affront to be offered to their sovereign;
Cortez, unwilling to employ force, endeavoured alternately
to soothe and to intimidate him. fhe altercation became
warm, and having continued above three hours, Velasquez
de Leon, an impetuous and gallant young men, exclaimed
with impatience, “ Why waste more time in vain ? Let us
either seize him instantly, or stab him to the heart.” The
threatening voice and fierce gestures with which these words
were uttered, struck Montezuma. The Spaniards, he was
sensible, had now proceeded so far, as left him no hope that
they would recede. His own danger was imminent, and the
necessity unavoidable. He saw both; and abandoning him¬
self to his fate, complied with their request. His officers
were called. He communicated to them his resolution.
Though astonished and afflicted, they presumed not to ques¬
tion the will of their master, but carried him in silent pomp,
all bathed in tears, to the Spanish quarters.
Lhe Spaniards at first pretended to treat Montezuma
with great respect, but soon took care to let him know that
he was entirely in their power. Cortez wished that shed¬
ding the blood of a Spaniard should appear the most hein¬
ous crime that could be committed ; and therefore he not
only took a most exemplary vengeance on those who had
been concerned in the affair of Villa Rica, but even put the
emperor himself in chains until the execution of the Mexi¬
can general had taken place. By these, and other insults, he at
last gained entirely the ascendant over this unhappy mon¬
arch ; and he took care to improve his opportunity to the
utmost. He sent his emissaries into different parts of the
kingdom, accompanied w ith Mexicans of distinction, who
might serve them both as guides and protectors. They
visited most of the provinces, examined their soil and pro¬
ductions, surveyed 'with particular care the districts which
yielded gold or silver, pitched upon several places as pro¬
per for future colonies, and endeavoured to prepare the
minds of the people for submitting to the Spanish yoke;
and whilst they were thus employed, Cortez, in the name
and by the authority of Montezuma, degraded some of the
principal officers in the empire, whose abilities or indepen¬
dent spirit had excited his jealousy, and substituted in their
stead persons w ho he imagined would be more obsequious.
One thing, however, was still wanting to complete his se¬
curity. He wished to have such a command of the lake as
might ensure a retreat, if, either from levity or disgust, the
Mexicans should take arms against him, and break down the
bridges or the causeways. In order to obtain this without
giving disgust to the emperor or his court, Cortez artfully
inflamed the curiosity of the Indians with accounts of the
Spanish shipping, and those floating palaces which moved w7ith
such velocity on the water, without the assistance of oars ;
and when he found that the monarch himself was extreme¬
ly desirous of seeing such a novelty, he gave him to under¬
stand, that nothing was wanting to his gratification excepting
a few necessaries from Vera Cruz, as he had workmen in
his army capable of building such vessels. The bait took
wuth Montezuma; and he gave immediate orders that all
his people should assist Cortez in whatever he should direct
concerning the shipping. By this means, in a few days,
two brigantines were got ready, full rigged and equipped ;
and Montezuma was invited to go on board and make the first
trial of their sailing, of w hich he could form no idea. Ac¬
cordingly he embarked for this purpose, and gave orders for
a great hunting upon the water, in order that all his people
might be diverted with the novelty presented by the Span¬
iards. On the day appointed, the royal equipage was ready
early in the morning ; and the lake was covered with a mul¬
titude of boats and canoes loaded with people. The Mexi¬
cans had augmented the number of their rowers on board the
royal barges, with an intention to throw discredit upon the
Spanish vessels, which they regarded as clumsy, unwieldy, and
771
History.
1520.
heavy. But they were soon undeceived. A flesh gale start¬
ed up; the brigantines hoisted sail, to the utter astonish-'
ment of all the spectators, and soon left the canoes behind ;
whilst the monarch exulted in the victory of the Spaniards,
without once considering that now he had effectually rivet¬
ed his own chains.
Cortez having obtained this important point, resolved to Montezu
put the condescension of the emperor to a trial still morema owns
severe. He urged Montezuma to acknowledge himself ahimself a
vassal of the crown of Castille ; to hold his crown of him asvass.al of
superior ; and to subject his dominions to the payment ofSpain'
an annual tribute. \\ ith this requisition, humiliating as it
was, Montezuma complied. He called together the principal
men of his empire, and, in a solemn harangue, reminded
them of the traditions and prophecies which led them to
expect the arrival of a people sprung from the same stock
with themselves, in order to take possession of the supreme
power; he declared his belief that the Spaniards were this
promised race, and that, therefore, recognising the right
of their monarch to govern the Mexican empire, he would
lay his crown at his feet, and obey him as a tributary*
Whilst uttering these words, Montezuma discovered how
deeply he was affected in making such a sacrifice. Tears
and groans frequently interrupted his discourse. The first
mention of such a resolution struck the assembly dumb with
astonishment; and this was followed by a sullen murmur of
sorrow mingled with indignation, which indicated some vio¬
lent explosion. Cortez foresaw the coming storm and
seasonably interposed to prevent it, by declaring that his
master had no intention to deprive Montezuma of the royal
dignity, or to make any innovation upon the constitution
and laws of the Mexican empire. This assurance, added to
the dread of the Spanish arms, and the authority of their
monarch’s example, extorted the consent of the assembly ;
and the act of submission and homage was executed with
all the formalities which the Spaniards pleased to prescribe.
Montezuma, at the request of Cortez, accompanied this The Span!
profession of fealty and homage with a magnificent present ards divide
to his new sovereign; and, after his example, his subjectstheirtrea-
brought in very liberal contributions. The Spaniards thensure*
collected all the treasure which had been either voluntarily be¬
stowed upon them at different times by Montezuma, or which
had been extorted from his people under various pretences ;
and having melted the gold and silver, the value of both
amounted to 600,000 pesos. The soldiers were impatient
to have it divided; and Cortez complied with their desire.
A fifth part of the whole wras set aside as the tax due to the
king, and another fifth was allowed to Cortez as command¬
er. The sums advanced by the governor of Cuba, who had
originally fitted out the expedition, were next deducted.
The remainder was then divided amongst the army, includ¬
ing the garrison of Vera Cruz, in proportion to their differ¬
ent ranks ; and after so many deductions, the share of a
private man did not exceed one hundred pesos. This sum
fell so far below their sanguine expectations, that it requir¬
ed all the address, and no small exertions of liberality on
the part of Cortez, to prevent an open mutiny. However,
he at last restored tranquillity ; but no sooner had he es¬
caped this danger, than by his imprudent zeal for religion,
he involved himself in one much more dangerous.
Montezuma, although often importuned, had obstinately Cortez at-
refused to change his religion, or abolish the superstitious tempts to
rites w hich had been for such a long time practised through- destr.°y the
out his dominions. This at last transported the Spaniards ^Ie1xlcan
with such rage, that, in an ebullition of zeal, Cortez led out1
his soldiers in order to throw dow n by force the idols in the
great temple. But the priests taking arms in defence of their
altars, and the people crowding with great ardour to sup¬
port them, the prudence of Cortez overruled his zeal, and indu¬
ced him to desist from his rash attempt, after dislodging the
idols from one of the shrines, and placing in their stead an
772
MEXICO
gainst
Cortez.
History, image of the Virgin Mary. From this moment the Mexi-
^■•V'^w'cans began to meditate the expulsion, if not the destruction,
1520. of the Spaniards. For this purpose the priests and leading
men held frequent meetings with Montezuma. But as any
violent attempt might have proved fatal to the captive mon¬
arch, it was thought proper first to try more gentle means.
Having called Cortez into his presence, he observed, that
now, as all the purposes of his embassy were fully accom¬
plished, the gods had declared their will, and the people
signified their desire, that he and his followers should in¬
stantly take their departure. With this he required them
to comply, or unavoidable destruction would fall upon their
heads. So unexpected a requisition, no less than the man¬
ner in which it was delivered, alarmed Cortez. However,
he supposed that more might be gained by a feigned com¬
pliance than by open resistance, and therefore replied with
great composure that he had already begun to prepare for
his return; but as he had destroyed the vessels in which
he arrived, some time was requisite for building other ships.
This appeared reasonable ; and a number of Mexicans were
sent to Vera Cruz to cut down timber, and some Spanish
carpenters were appointed to superintend the work.
An arma- Cortez flattered himself, that during this interval, he
ment sent might either find means to avert the threatened danger, or
from Cuba receive such reinforcements as would enable him to defend
himself. Nine months had now elapsed since Portocarrero
and Montejo had sailed with his despatches to Spain ; and
he daily expected a return, with a confirmation of his au¬
thority from the king, without which all that he had done
would serve only to mark him out as an object of punishment.
Whilst he remained in great anxiety on this account, news
were brought that some ships had appeared on the coast.
These were imagined by Cortez to be a reinforcement sent
him from Spain ; but his joy was of short continuance, for
a courier very soon arrived from Vera Cruz, with certain
information that the armament was fitted out by Velasquez,
the governor of Cuba, and that instead of bringing succours,
it threatened him with immediate destruction. Velasquez
had been excited to this hostile measure chiefly through the
indiscretion, or rather treachery, of the messengers of Cor¬
tez, who, contrary to his express injunctions, had landed on
the island of Cuba, and given intelligence of all that had
passed; and the governor, transported with rage at hearing
the proceedings of Cortez, had now sent against him this
armament, consisting of eighteen ships, which carried eighty
horsemen, eight hundred infantry, of whom eighty were
musketeers, and one hundred and twenty cross-bowmen,
commanded by a brave officer named Pamphilo de Nar¬
vaez, whose instructions were, to seize Cortez and his prin¬
cipal officers, to send them prisoners to Velasquez, and then
to complete the discovery and conquest of the country in
his name. This proved a most afflicting piece of news to
Cortez.
This arma- Having now no resource but in war, he left one hundred
ment de and fifty men under the command of Pedro de Alvarado,
feated. an officer of great bravery, and much respected by the
Mexicans, to guard the capital and the captive emperor ;
whilst he himself marched with the remainder, to meet his
formidable opponent, who had taken possession of Rempo-
alla. Even after being reinforced by Sandoval his gover¬
nor of Vera Cruz, the force of Cortez did not exceed two
hundred and fifty men. He hoped for success chiefly from
the rapidity of his movements and the possibility of surprising
his enemies; and as he chiefly dreaded their cavalry, he
armed his soldiers with long spears, accustoming them to
that deep, compact, and solid order which the use of this
formidable weapon enabled them to assume. As he advan¬
ced, however, he repeated his proposals of accommodation ;
but these being constantly rejected, and a price set upon
his head, he at last attacked Narvaez in the night time, and
having entirely defeated and taken him prisoner, obliged all
1520.
his troops to own allegiance to himself. Nothing could have History,
been more seasonable than this victory, by which Cortez ^
found his army very considerably increased ; for most of
the soldiers of Narvaez chose rather to follow Cortez than
to return to Cuba, whither the conqueror had offered to send
them if they chose.
In the meantime, his affairs at Mexico were in the ut- Dangerous
most danger of being totally ruined ; and had this decisive situation of
victory been delayed but a few days longer, he must have t^‘e Spani-
arrived too late to save his companions. A short time after at
the defeat of Narvaez, a courier arrived from Mexico with
the disagreeable intelligence that the Mexicans had taken
arms, and having seized and destroyed the two brigantines
which he had built in order to secure the command of the
lake; had attacked the Spaniards in their quarters, killed
some, wounded many more, and burned their magazine of
provisions; and had, in short, carried on hostilities with such
fury, that though Alvarado and his men defended them¬
selves with undaunted resolution, they must either have been
cut off by famine, or overpowered by the multitude of their
enemies. This revolt was excited by motives which ren¬
dered it still more alarming. On the departure of Cortez
for Zempoalla, the Mexicans flattered themselves, that the
long-expected opportunity of restoring their sovereign to
liberty, and of driving out the Spaniards, had arrived; and
consultations were accordingly held for bringing about both
these events. The Spaniards in Mexico, conscious of their
own weakness, suspected and dreaded these machinations;
but Alvarado, who had neither the prudence nor the address
of Cortez, took the worst method imaginable to overcome
them. Instead of attempting to soothe or cajole the Mexi¬
cans, he waited the return of one of their solemn festivals,
when the principal persons in the empire were dancing, ac¬
cording to custom, in the court of the great temple; then
he seized all the avenues which led to it, and, allured part¬
ly by the rich ornaments which they wore in honour of their
gods, and partly by the facility of cutting off at once the ^
authors of the conspiracy which he dreaded, he fell upon
them, unarmed and unsuspicious of danger, and massacred
a great number, none escaping but such as made their way
over the battlements of the temple. An action so cruel and
so treacherous filled not only the city, but the whole empire,
with rage and indignation.
Cortez advanced with the utmost celerity to the relief of Cortez re¬
ins distressed companions; but as he passed along, he hadturns.10
the mortification to find that the Spaniards were generally
held in abhorrence. The principal inhabitants had deserted jacke(i by
the towns through which he passed ; no person of note ap- tjje natives.
peared to meet Him with the usual respect; nor were pro¬
visions as usual brought to his camp. Notwithstanding
these signs of aversion and horror, however, the Mexicans
were so ignorant of the military art, that they again per¬
mitted him to enter the capital without opposition; although
they had it in their power to prevent him, by breaking
down the bridges and causeways which led to it. Cortez
was received by his companions with the utmost joy ; and
this extraordinary success had so far intoxicated the general
himself, that he not only neglected to visit Montezuma, but
expressed himself in contemptuous terms concerning him.
These expressions being reported amongst the Mexicans,
they suddenly flew to arms, and made such a violent and
sudden attack, that all the valour and skill of Cortez were
scarcely sufficient to repel them. This produced great un¬
easiness amongst the soldiers of Narvaez, who had imagin¬
ed there was nothing to do but to gather the spoils of a con¬
quered country. Discontent and murmurings, however, were
no longer of any avail; they were enclosed in a hostile city,
and, without some extraordinary exertions, were inevitably
undone. Cortez, therefore, made a desperate sally; but,
after exerting his utmost efforts for a whole day, he was oblig¬
ed to retire with the loss of twelve killed, and upwards of
MEXICO.
History.
.1520.
Death of
Montezu
Engage¬
ment be¬
tween the
Spaniards
ind Mexi-
sixty wounded. Another sally was attemptedwith equal want
of* success, and in it Cortez himself was wounded in the hand.
The Spanish general being now thoroughly convinced of
his error, betook himself to the only resource which re¬
mained; namely, to try what effect the interposition of Mon¬
tezuma would have to soothe or overawe his subjects. When
the Mexicans approached the next morning to renew the
assault, that unfortunate prince, at the mercy of the Spa¬
niards, and reduced to the sad necessity of becomin(r the
instrument of his own disgrace, and of the slavery of his
people, advanced to the battlements in his royal robes, and
with all the pomp in which he used to appear upon solemn
occasions. At the sight of their sovereign, whom they had
been long accustomed to reverence almost as a god, the
Mexicans instantly forebore their hostilities, and many pros¬
trated themselves on the ground ; but when he addressed
them in favour of the Spaniards, and made use of all the ar¬
guments which he could think of to mitigate their rage, they
testified their resentment with loud murmurings, and at
length broke forth with such fury, that before the soldiers,
appointed to guard Montezuma, had time to cover him with
their shields, he was wounded with twu arrows, and a blow
on his temple with a stone struck him to the ground. On
seeing him fall, the Mexicans instantly fled with the utmost
precipitation, but the unhappy monarch, now convinced that
he was become an object of contempt even to his own sub¬
jects, obstinately refused all nourishment, and thus in a short
time ended his days.
Upon the death of Montezuma, Cortez having lost all hope
of bringing the Mexicans to any terms of peace, prepared
for retreat. But his antagonists having taken possession of
a high tower in the great temple, which overlooked the
Spanish quarters, and placed there a garrison of their prin¬
cipal warriors, the Spaniards were so much exposed to their
missile weapons, that none of them could stir without danger
of being killed or wounded. From this post, therefore, it was
necessary to dislodge them at any rate ; and Juan de Es¬
cobar, with a large detachment of chosen soldiers, was or¬
dered to make the attack. But Escobar, a valiant officer,
although he exerted his utmost efforts, was thrice repulsed.
Cortez, however, sensible that not only his reputation, but
the safety of his army, depended upon the success of this as¬
sault, caused a buckler to be tied to his arm, as he could not
manage it with his wounded hand, and rushed with his drawn
sword amongst the thickest of the combatants. Encou¬
raged by the presence of their general, the Spaniards re¬
turned to the charge with such vigour, that they gradually
forced their way up the steps, and drove the Mexicans to
the platform at the top of the tower. There a dreadful
carnage commenced; upon which two young Mexicans of
high rank, observing Cortez as he animated his soldiers, re¬
solved to sacrifice their own lives in order to cut off the au¬
thor of so many calamities which desolated their country.
They approached him in a suppliant posture, as if they in¬
tended to lay down their arms, and seizing him in a mo¬
ment, hurried him towards the battlements, over which they
threw themselves headlong, in hopes of dragging him along
with them. But Cortez by his strength and agility, disen¬
gaged himself from their grasp, and the devoted Mexicans
perished alone. As soon as the Spaniards became masters
of the tower, they set fire to it, and without further moles¬
tation continued the preparations for their retreat. This
became the more necessary, as their enemies, astonished at
this last effort of their valour, had now entirely changed
their system of hostility, and, instead of incessant attacks,
endeavoured, by barricading the streets, and breaking down
the causeways, to cut off the communication of the Spaniards
with the continent, and thus to starve an enemy whom they
could not subdue. The first point to be determined, was
whether they should march out openly in the face of day,
when they could discern every danger, or whether they
773
should endeavour to retire secretly in the night. The lat- History,
ter was preferred, partly from hopes that the superstition of
the Mexicans would prevent them from attacking them in 1520.
the night, and partly from their own superstition in giving
credit to the predictions of a private soldier, w’ho pretended
to astrology, and assured them of success if they retreated
in this manner.
Towards midnight, therefore, they began their march in Retreat of
three divisions. Sandoval led the van; Pedro Alvarado Cortez,
and Velasquez de Leon had the conduct of the rear ; and
Cortez commanded in the centre, where he placed the prison¬
ers, amongst whom were a son and two daughters of Mon¬
tezuma, together with several Mexicans of distinction, the
artillery, baggage, and a portable bridge of timber intended
to be laid over the breaches in the causeway. They march¬
ed in profound silence along the causeway which led to
Tacuba, because it was shorter than any of the rest, and,
lying more remote from the road towards Tlascala and the
■sea coast, had been least injured by the Mexicans. They
reached the first breach in the causeway without molesta¬
tion, hoping that their retreat was undiscovered. The Mex¬
icans, however, had not only watched all their motions, but
had made preparations for a most formidable attack. Whilst
the Spaniards were intent upon placing their bridges in the
breach, and occupied in conducting their horses and artil¬
lery along it, they were suddenlv alarmed with the sound
of warlike instruments, and found themselves assaulted on
all sides by an innumerable multitude of enemies. Unfor¬
tunately the wooden bridge became wedged so fast in the mud
by the weight of the artillery, that it was found impossible
to remove it. Dismayed at this accident, the Spaniards ad¬
vanced with precipitation to the second breach. The Mexi¬
cans hemmed them in on every side; and although they de¬
fended themselves with their usual courage, yet, crowded
as they were in a narrow causeway, their discipline and mi¬
litary skill were of little avail. Nor did the obscurity of the
night allow them to derive much advantage from their fire¬
arms or from the superiority of their other weapons. At last
the Spaniards, overborne with the numbers of their enemies,
began to give way, and in a moment the confusion w'as uni¬
versal. Cortez, with about a hundred foot soldiers, and a
few horse, forced his way over the two remaining breaches
in the causeway, the bodies of the dead serving to fill up
the chasms, and reached the main land. Having formed
them as soon as they arrived, he returned with such as were
yet capable of service, to assist his friends in their retreat.
He met with part of his soldiers who had forced their w*ay
through the enemy, but found many more overwhelmed by
the multitude of their aggressors, or perishing in the lake;
and he heard the grievous lamentations of others whom the
Mexicans were carrying off in triumph to be sacrificed to
the god of war. In this fatal retreat more than one half of
Cortez’s army perished, together with many officers of dis¬
tinction. All the artillery, amunition, and baggage, were lost,
the greater part of the horses and above two thousand Tlas-
calans were killed, and only a very small part of their trea¬
sure was saved. The first care of the Spanish general was to
find some shelter for his wearied troops; for, as the Mexi¬
cans infested them on every side, and the people of Tacuba
began to take arms, he could not remain in his present
position. At last he discovered a temple seated on an emin¬
ence, in which he found not only the shelter he wanted, but
also some provisions; and though the enemy did not intermit
their attacks throughout the day, they were without much
difficulty prevented from making any impression. For six
days afterwards, they continued their march through a barren,
ill-cultivated, and thinly-peopled country, where they were
often obliged to feed on berries, roots, and the stalks of
green maize ; at the same time they were harrassed with¬
out intermission by large parties of Mexicans, who attacked
them on all sides. On the sixth day they reached Otum-
774 M E X
History, ba, not far from the road between Mexico and TUiscala.
Early next morning when they began to advance, flying
1520. parties of the enemy still hung upon their rear; and amidst
the insults with which they accompanied their hostilities,
Donna Marina remarked, that they often exclaimed with
exultation, “ Go on, robbers ; go to the place where you
shall quickly meet the vengeance due to your crimes.” The
meaning of this threat the Spaniards did not comprehend,
until they reached the summit of an eminence before them.
There a spacious valley opened to their view, covered with
a vast army as far as the eye could reach.
The battle The Mexicans, whilst with one body of their troops they
of Otumba. harrassed the Spaniards in their retreat, had assembled their
principal force on the other side of the lake ; and marching
along the road which led directly to Tlascala, posted it in the
plain of Otumba, through which they knew Cortez must pass.
At the sight of this incredible multitude, which they could
survey at once from the rising ground, the Spaniards were asto¬
nished, and even the boldest amongst them began to despair.
But Cortez, without allowing their fears time to operate, after
warning them briefly that no alternative remained but to con¬
quer or to perish, led them instantly to the charge. The
Mexicans waited their approach with unusual fortitude; yet
such was the superiority of the Spanish discipline and arms,
that the impression of this small body w as irresistible ; and
whichever way its force was directed, it penetrated and dis¬
persed the most numerous battallions. But whilst these
gave way in one quarter, new combatants advanced from
another; and the Spaniards, though successful in every at¬
tack, were ready to sink under these repeated efforts, with¬
out seeing any end to their toil, or any hope of victory. At
that time Cortez observed the great standard of the em¬
pire, which was carried before the Mexican general, advan¬
cing ; and fortunately recollecting to have heard, that on
the fate of it depended the event of every battle, he as¬
sembled a few of his bravest officers, whose horses were still
capable of service, and placing himself at their head, pushed
towards the standard with such impetuosity that he bore
down every thing before him. A chosen body of nobles,
who guarded the standard, made some resistance, but were
soon broken. Cortez, with a stroke of his lance, wounded
the Mexican general, and threw him to the ground ; and
one of his followers alighting, put an end to his life, and laid
hold of the imperial standard. The moment that their
leader fell, and the standard, towards which all directed their
eyes, had disappeared, an universal panic struck the Mexicans;
and, as if the bond which held them together had been dis¬
solved, every ensign wras lowered, and each soldier throwing
aw?ay his weapons, fled with precipitation to the mountains.
The Spaniards, unable to pursue them far, returned to col¬
lect the spoils of the field; and these were so valuable as to
afford some compensation for the wealth which they had lost
in Mexico ; for in the enemy’s army w-ere most of their prin¬
cipal warriors dressed out in their richest ornaments, as if
they had been marching to assured victory.
Measures The day after this important action, which was fought on
adopted by the 8th of July 1520, the Spaniards entered the Tlascalan
Cortez. territories, where they were received with the most cordial
friendship. Cortez endeavoured to avail himself of this dis¬
position as much as possible; for which purpose he dis¬
tributed amongst them the rich spoils taken at Otumba with
such a liberal hand, that he made himself sure of obtaining
from the republic whatever he should desire. He drew a
small supply of ammunition, and two or three field-*pieces,
from his stores at Vera Cruz. He despatched an officer
with four ships of Narvaez’s fleet to Hispaniola and Ja¬
maica, to engage adventurers, and to purchase horses, gun¬
powder, and other military stores. And as he knew that it
would be in vain to attempt the reduction of Mexico, un¬
less he could secure the command of the lake, he gave
orders to prepare, in the mountains of Tlascala, materials
I c o.
for building twelve brigantines, so that they might be car- History,
ried thither in pieces, ready to be put together, and launch-
ed when he stood in need of their service. But, in the 1520.
meantime, his soldiers, alarmed at the thoughts of being
exposed to such calamities a second time, presented a re¬
monstrance to their general, in which they represented the
imprudence of attacking a powerful empire with his shat¬
tered forces, and formally required him to return back to
Cuba. All the eloquence of Cortez could now only prevail
with them to delay their departure for some time, when he
promised to dismiss such as should desire it. However, this
was only a pretence ; for Cortez in fact, had the conquest
of Mexico as much at heart as ever. Without giving his
soldiers an opportunity of caballing, therefore, he daily em¬
ployed them against the people of the neighbouring pro¬
vinces, who had cut off some detachments of Spaniards dur¬
ing his misfortunes at Mexico ; and as he was constantly
attended with success, his men soon resumed their wonted
sense of superiority.
But all the efforts of Cortez could have been of little Cortez re-
avail, had he not unexpectedly obtained a reinforcement ofceives an
Spanish soldiers. These belonged to an armament fitted une*Pected
out by Francisco de Garay, governor of Jamaica, who had^™”1*6®'
long aimed at dividing with Cortez the glory and the gain
of annexing the empire of Mexico to the crown of Castille.
They had, however, unadvisedly made their attempt on the
northern provinces, where the country was poor and the in¬
habitants fierce and warlike ; so that, after a succession of
disasters, they Avere now obliged to venture into Vera Cruz,
and cast themselves upon the mercy of their countrymen ;
and here they also were soon persuaded to throw off their
allegiance to their master, and to enlist with Cortez. About
the same time a ship arrived from Spain, freighted by some
private adventurers, with military stores; and the cargo
was eagerly purchased by Cortez, whilst the crew, following
the example of the rest, joined him at Tlascala. From these
various quarters, the army of Cortez was reinforced with
one hundred and eighty men and twenty horses, by which
means he was enabled to dismiss such of the soldiers of
Narvaez as were most troublesome and discontented ; after
the departure of whom he still mustered upwards of five
hundred infantry, of whom eighty were armed with muskets
or cross-bows, forty horseman, and nine pieces of artillery.
At the head of these, wuth ten thousand Tlascalans and other
friendly Indians, he began his march towards Mexico, on
the 28th of December, six months after his fatal retreat from
that city.
As soon as Cortez entered the enemy’s territories, he dis- Second ad-
covered various preparations to obstruct his progress. But vance on
his troops forced their way with little difficulty, and took Mexico,
possession of Tezcuco, the second city of the empire, situ¬
ated upon the banks of the lake, about twenty miles from
Mexico. Flere he determined to establish his head quar¬
ters, as the most proper station for launching his brigan¬
tines, as well as for making his approaches to the capital.
In order to render his residence there more secure, he de¬
posed the cacique or chief, who was at the head of that com-
munity, and substituted in his stead a person whom a fac¬
tion of the nobles pointed out as the right heir of that dig¬
nity. As the construction of the brigantines advanced slow¬
ly under the unskilful hands of soldiers and Indians, whom
Cortez was obliged to employ in assisting three or four car¬
penters who happened to be in his service, and as he had
not yet received the reinforcement which he expected from
Hispaniola, he was not in a condition to turn his arms
directly against the capital. Three months elapsed before
the materials for constructing the brigantines were finish¬
ed, and before he heard any thing respecting the success
of his negotiation in Hispaniola. This, however, was not a
season of inaction to Cortez. He attacked successively se¬
veral of the towns situated around the lake ; and although
MEXICO.
History, all the Mexican power was exerted to obstruct his opera-
'tions, he either compelled them to submit to the Spanish
crown, or reduced them to ruins. Other towns he endea¬
voured to conciliate by more gentle means ; and though he
could not hold any intercourse with the inhabitants except
by the intervention of interpreters, yet, under all the dis¬
advantages of that tedious and imperfect mode of communi¬
cation, he had acquired such a thorough knowledge of the
state of the country, as well as of the dispositions of the
people, that he conducted his negotiations and intrigues
with astonishing dexterity and success. Most of the cities
adjacent to Mexico were originally the capitals of small in¬
dependent states ; and some of them having been but late¬
ly annexed to the Mexican empire, still retained the remem¬
brance of their ancient liberty, and bore with much impa¬
tience the rigorous yoke of their new masters. Cortez hav¬
ing early observed symptoms of disaffection, availed him¬
self of this knowledge to gain their confidence and friend¬
ship. By offering to deliver them from the dominion of
the Mexicans, and by liberal promises of more indulgent
treatment if they should unite with him against their op¬
pressors, he prevailed on the people of several considerable
districts, not only to acknowledge the king of Castille as
their sovereign, but to supply the Spanish camp with pro¬
visions, and to strengthen his army with auxiliary troops. On
the first appearance of disaffection, Guatimozin exerted him¬
self to suppress it; but, notwithstanding all his efforts the
spirit continued to spread, and the Spaniards gradually ac¬
quired new allies.
Conspiracy Whilst bythese various methods, Cortez was gradually cir¬
cumscribing the Mexican power within such narrow limits that
his prospect of overturning it seemed neither to be uncertain
nor remote, all his schemes were well nigh defeated by a con¬
spiracy against his own person, and which was discovered only
a short time before it was to have been executed. Though
many were concerned, Cortez did not think proper to punish
any more than the principal ringleader, whom he caused im¬
mediately to be hanged; and then, without allowing them lei¬
sure to ruminate on what had happened, and as the most effec¬
tual means of preventing the return of a mutinous spirit, he de¬
termined to call forth his troops immediately to action. For¬
tunately a proper occasion for this soon occurred, without his
seeming to court it. He received intelligence, that the ma¬
terials for building the brigantines were at length complete¬
ly finished, and waited only for a body of Spaniards to conduct
them to Tezcuco. The command of this convoy, consisting
of two hundred foot soldiers, fifteen horsemen, and two field
pieces, he gave to Sandoval, whobytlie vigilance, activity, and
courage, wrhich he had manifested on every occasion, was
growing daily in his confidence, and in the estimation of his
fellow-soldiers. The Tlascalans furnished eight thousand
Tamenes,an inferior order of men destined for servile tasks, to
carry the materials on their shoulders, and appointed fifteen
thousand warriors to accompany and defend them. San¬
doval made the disposition for their progress with great pro¬
priety, placing the Tamenes in the centre, one body of war¬
riors in the front, and another in the rear, with considerable
parties to cover the flanks. To each of these he joined some
Spaniards, not only to assist them in danger, but to accus¬
tom them to regularity and subordination. Parties of Mexi-
ipamst
Cortez.
led to the capital, and were intended for their defence. He
appointed Sandoval to command in the first, Pedro de Al¬
varado in the second, and Christoval de Olid in the third;
allotting to each a numerous body of Indian auxiliaries, to¬
gether with an equal division of Spaniards, who, by the
junction of the troops which had arrived from Hispaniola,
amounted now to eighty-six horsemen, and eight hundred
and eighteen foot soldiers, of whom one hundred and eight¬
een were armed with muskets or cross-bows. Their train of
artillery consisted of three battering cannon, and fifteen field-
pieces. He reserved for himself, as the station of greatest
importance and danger, the conduct of the brigantines, each
armed with one of his small cannon, and manned with
twenty-five Spaniards. As Alvarado and Olid proceeded
towards the posts assigned them, they broke down the ac-
queducts which the ingenuity of the Mexicans had erected
for conveying w'ater into the capital. Alvarado and Olid
found the towns, of which they were ordered to take pos¬
session, deserted by their inhabitants, who had fled for safe¬
ty to the capital, where Guatimozin had collected the prin¬
cipal force of his empire. The first effort made by the Mex¬
icans was to destroy the fleet of brigantines, the fatal effects
of which they foresaw and dreaded. Although the brigan¬
tines, after all the labour and merit of Cortez in forming
them, were of inconsiderable bulk, rudely constructed, and
manned chiefly with landsmen, scarcely possessed of skill
sufficient to conduct them, they must have been objects of
terror to a people unacquainted with any navigation but that
of their lake, and possessed of no vessel larger than a canoe.
Necessity, however, urged Guatimozin to hazard the attack;
and hoping to supply by numbers wdiat he wanted in force,
he assembled such a multitude of canoes as covered the face
of the lake. These frail skiffs rowed on boldly to the charge,
whilst the brigantines, retarded by a dead calm, could scarce¬
ly advance to meet them. But as the enemy drew near, a
breeze suddenly sprung up; in a moment the sails wrere
spread, and the brigantines with irresistible impetuosity
broke through their feeble opponents, overset many canoes,
and dissipated the whole armament. From that time Cor¬
tez remained master of the lake ; and the brigantines not
only preserved a communication between the Spaniards in
their different stations, although at a considerable distance
from each other, but were employed to cover the cause¬
ways on each side, and keep off’ the canoes, w hen they at¬
tempted to annoy the troops as they advanced towards the
city. He formed the brigantines into three divisions, allot¬
ting one to each station, with orders to second the opera¬
tions of the officer who commanded there. From all the
three stations he pushed on the attack against the city with
equal vigour, but in a manner very different from that in
w hich sieges are conducted in regular war. Each morn¬
ing his troops assaulted the barricades which the enemy had
erected on the causeways, forced their way over the tren¬
ches which they had dug, and through the canals where the
bridges were broken down, and endeavoured to penetrate
into the heart of the city, in hopes of obtaining some de¬
cisive advantage, which might force the enemy to surrender,
and terminate the war at once; but when the obstinate
valour of the Mexicans had rendered the efforts of the day
ineffectual, the Spaniards retired in the evening to their for-
cans frequently appeared hovering around them on the high mer quarters. Thus their toil and danger were, in some
Mexico
>esieged.
grounds ; but perceiving no prospect of success in attack'
ing an enemy continually on his guard, and prepared to re¬
ceive them, they did not venture to molest him; and San¬
doval had the glory of conducting safely to Tezcuco a con¬
voy upon which the success of the future operations of his
countrymen depended.
measure, continually renewed; the Mexicans repairing in
the night what the Spaniards had destroyed during the day,
and recovering the posts from which they had been driven.
But necessity prescribed this slow and untoward mode of
operation. The number of his troops was in fact so small,
that Cortez durst not, w ith a handful of men, attempt to make
Cortez determined to attack the city from three different a lodgment in a city where he might be surrounded and
1521.
quarters; from Tezcuco on the east side of the lake, from
Tacuba on the west, and from Cuayocan towards the south.
These towns were situated on the principal causeways which
annoyed by a multitude of enemies. The remembrance of
what he had already suffered by the ill-judged confidence
with which he had ventured into such a dangerous situa-
776 M E X
History, tion, was still fresh in his memory. The Spaniards, ex-
hausted with fatigue, were unable to guard the various posts
1521, which they had daily gained; and although their camp was
filled with Indian auxiliaries, they durst not devolve this
charge upon them, because they were so little accustomed to
discipline, that no confidence whatever could be placed in their
vigilance. Besides, Cortez was extremely solicitous to pre¬
serve the city as much as possible from destruction, partly
because he had destined it to be the capital of his conquests,
and partly because he wished that it might remain as a
monument of his glory. From these considerations, he ad¬
hered obstinately for a month to the system which he had
adopted. The Mexicans, in their own defence, displayed
a valour which was hardly inferior to that with which the
Spaniards attacked them. On land, on water, by day and
by night, one furious conflict succeeded to another. Seve¬
ral Spaniards were killed, more were wounded, and all were
ready to sink under the toils of unintermitting service,
which were rendered more intolerable by the injuries of the
season, the periodical rains having by this time set in with
their usual violence.
Difficulties Astonished and disconcerted wuth the length and diffi-
of the en- culties of the siege, Cortez determined to make one great
terprise. effort to get possession of the city before he relinquished
the plan which be had hitherto followed. With this view
he sent instructions to Alvarado and Sandoval to advance
with their divisions to a general assault, and took the com¬
mand in person of that which was posted on the causeway
of Cuyocan. Animated by his presence, and the expecta¬
tion of some decisive event, the Spaniards pushed forward
with irresistible impetuosity ; broke through one barricade
after another ; forced their way over the ditches and can¬
als, and having entered the city, gained ground incessantly,
in spite of the multitude and ferocity of their opponents.
Cortez, though delighted with the rapidity of his progress,
did not forget that he might still find it necessary to re¬
treat ; and in order to secure it, appointed Julian de Alde-
rete, a captain of note in the troops which he had received
from Hispaniola, to fill up the canals and gaps in the cause¬
way as the main body advanced. But that officer deeming
it inglorious to be thus employed, whilst his companions
were in the heat of action and in the career of victory, ne¬
glected the important charge committed to him, and hur¬
ried on inconsiderately to mingle with the combatants. The
Mexicans, whose military attention and skill were daily im¬
proving, no sooner observed this, than they carried an ac¬
count of it to their monarch. Guatimozin instantly discern¬
ed the consequences of the error which the Spaniards had
committed, and, with admirable presence of mind, prepared
to take advantage of it. He commanded the troops posted
in the front to slacken their efforts, in order to allure the
Spaniards to push forward, whilst he despatched a large
body of chosen warriors through different streets, some by
land and others by wrater, towards the great breach in the
causeway, which had been left open. On a signal given by
him, the priests in the great temple struck the great drum
consecrated to the god of war; and no sooner did the Mexi¬
cans hear its solemn sound, calculated to inspire them with
enthusiastic ardour and contempt of death, than they rush¬
ed upon the enemy with frantic rage. The Spaniards, un¬
able to resist men urged by religious fury as well as the hope
of success, began to retire, at first leisurely, and with a good
countenance, but as the enemy pressed on, and their own
impatience to escape increased, the terror and confusion
. became general. When they arrived at the gap in the
causeway, Spaniards and Tlascalans, horsemen and infantry,
plunged in promiscuously, whilst the Mexicans rushed
fiercely upon them from every side; their little canoes car¬
rying them through shoals which the brigantines could not
approach. In wain did Cortez attempt to stop and to rally his
flying troops. Fear had rendered them regardless of his en-
ICO.
treaties or commands. Finding all his endeavours to renew History,
the combat fruitless, his next care was to save some of those
who had thrown themselves into the water ; but whilst thus 1521.
employed, with more attention to their situation than to his
own, six Mexican captains suddenly laid hold of him, and
were hurrying him off in triumph; and although two of his
officers rescued him at the expence of their own lives, he
received several dangerous wounds before he could break
loose. Above sixty Spaniards perished in the rout; and
what rendered the disaster more afflicting, forty of these
fell alive into the hands of an enemy never known to shew
mercy to a captive. The approach of night, though it de¬
livered the dejected Spaniards from the attacks of the enemy,
ushered in, what was hardly less grievous, the noise of their
barbarous triumph, and of the horrid festival with which they
celebrated their victory. Every quarter of the city was illu¬
minated ; and the great temple shone with such splendour, that
the Spaniards could plainly see the people in motion, and the
priests busy in hastening the preparation for the death of the
prisoners. Through the gloom they fancied that they dis¬
cerned their companions by the whiteness of their skins, as
they were stripped naked and compelled to dance before the
image of the god to whom they were about to be offered. They
heard the shrieks of those who were sacrificed, and thought
they could distinguish each unhappy victim by the well-
known sound of his voice. Imagination added to what they
really saw or heard, and augmented its horror. The most
unfeeling melted into tears of compassion, and the stoutest
heart trembled at the dreadful spectacle which they beheld.
Cortez, who, besides all that he felt in common with his Critical
soldiers, was oppressed with the additional load of anxious state ofat
reflections natural to a general on such an unexpected ca- fairs,
lamity, could not like them relieve his mind by giving vent
to its anguish. He was obliged to assume an air of tranquil¬
lity, in order to revive the spirits and sustain the hopes of his
followers. The juncture, indeed, required an extraordinary
exertion of fortitude; for the Mexicans, elated with their
victory, sallied out next morning to attack him in his quar¬
ters. But they did not rely on the efforts of their own arms
alone. They sent the heads of the Spaniards whom they
had sacrificed to the leading men in the adjacent provinces,
and assured them that the god of war, appeased by the blood
of their invaders, which had been shed so plentifully on his
altars, had declared with an audible voice, that in eight days
time these hated enemies should be finally destroyed, and
peace and prosperity re-established in the empire. A pre¬
diction, uttered with such confidence, gained universal credit
amongst a people prone to superstition. The zeal of the
provinces which had already declared against the Spaniards
augmented, and several which had hitherto remained inac¬
tive now took arms to execute the decrees of the gods. The
Indian auxiliaries who had joined Cortez, accustomed to
venerate the same deities with the Mexicans, and to receive
the responses of their priests with the same implicit faith,
abandoned the Spaniards as a race of men devoted to de¬
struction. Even the fidelity of the Tlascalans w as shaken,
and the Spanish troops were left almost alone in their sta¬
tions. Cortez, finding that he had attempted in vain to
dispel the superstitious fears of his confederates by argu¬
ment, took advantage, from the imprudence of those who
had framed the prophecy, in fixing its accomplishment so
near at hand, to give them a striking demonstration of its
falsity. He suspended all military operations during the
period marked out by the oracle. Under cover of the brig¬
antines, which kept the enemy at a distance, his troops lay
in safety, and the fatal term expired without any disaster.
His allies, ashamed of their own credulity, now returned to
their station. Other tribes, judging that the gods, who had
deceived the Mexicans, must have decreed finally to withdraw
their protection from that nation, joined his standard; and
such was the levity of a simple people, moved by every slight
1
M E X
History, impression, that in a short time after such a general defec-
^ tion of his confederates, Cortez saw himself, if we may be-
1521 • Keve his own account, at the head of 150,000 Indians,
more Even with such a numerous army» he found it necessary
autious t0 a new an(^ more cautious system of operations. In-
aethod of stead hf renewing his attempts to become master of the city
ttack. at once, by such bold but dangerous efforts of valour as he
had already tried, he made his advances gradually, and with
every possible precaution. As the Spaniards pushed for¬
ward, the Indians regularly repaired the causeways behind
them. As soon as they got possession of any part of the
town, the houses were instantly levelled with the ground.
Day by day, the Mexicans, forced to retire as their enemies
gained ground, were hemmed in within more narrow limits.
Guatimpzin, though unable to stop the career of the enemy,
continued to defend his capital with the most obstinate reso¬
lution, and to dispute every inch of ground. But the Spani¬
ards, having not only varied their mode of attack, but changed
the weapons with which they fought, were again armed
with the long Chinantlan spears, which they had employed
with such success against Narvaez ; and, by the firm order
in which this enabled them to range themselves, they re¬
pelled, with little danger, the loose assault of the Mexicans,
great numbers of whom fell in the conflicts which they re¬
newed every day. Whilst war wasted without, famine began
to consume them within the city. The Spanish brigantines,
having the entire command of the lake, rendered it impos¬
sible to receive any supply of provisions by water; and the
vast number of his Indian auxiliaries enabled Cortez to shut
up the avenues to the city by land. The stores which Gua-
timozin had laid up were exhausted by the multitudes which
crowded into the capital to defend their sovereign and the
temples of their gods. Not only the people, but persons of
the highest rank, felt the utmost distresses of want; and these
sufferings brought on infectious and mortal distempers, the
last calamity which visits besieged cities, and fills up the
measure of their woes.
iefusal of But, under the pressure of so many and such various evils,
iuatimo- the spirit of Guatimozin remained firm and unsubdued. He
m to sub- rejected with scorn every overture of peace from Cortez;
Mt on any an(jj disdaining the idea of submitting to the oppressors of his
country, determined not to survive its ruin. The Spaniards
continued their progress. At length all the three divisions
.penetrated into thegreat square in the centre of the city, and
madea secure lodgment there. Three-fourths ofthe city were
now reduced, and laid in ruins; and the remaining quarter was
so closely pressed, that it could not long withstand assailants
who attacked it from their new position with superior advan¬
tage, and more assured expectation of success. The Mex¬
ican nobles, solicitous to save the life of a monarch whom
they revered, prevailed on Guatimozin to retire from a place
where resistance was now vain, that he might rouse the
more distant provinces of the empire to arms, and maintain
there a more successful struggle with the public enemy. In
order to facilitate the execution of this measure, they en¬
deavoured to amuse Cortez with overtures of submission,
that, whilst his attention was employed in adjusting the ar¬
ticles of pacification, Guatimozin might escape unperceived.
But they made this attempt upon a leader of too great sa¬
gacity and discernment to be deceived by their arts. Cor¬
tez suspecting their intention, appointed Sandoval, an officer
on whose vigilance he could rely, to take the command of
the brigantines, with strict injunctions to w atch every motion
of the enemy. Sandoval, attentive to the charge, having ob¬
served some large canoes crowded with people rowing along
the lake with extraordinary rapidity, instantly gave the sig¬
nal to chase. Gracia Holguin, who commanded the fastest-
sailing brigantine, soon overtook them, and was preparing
I c o. 777
to fire on the foremost canoe, which seemed to carry some History,
person whom all the rest followed and obeyed. At onceW-y-^
the rowers dropt their oars, and all on board, throwing down 1521,
their arms, conjured him with cries and tears to forbear, as
the emperor wTas tnere. Holguin eagerly seized his prize;
and Guatimozin, with a dignified composure, gave himself
up into his hands, requesting only that no insult might be
offered to the empress or his children. When conducted
to Cortez, he exhibited neither the sullen fierceness of a bar¬
barian, nor the crouching dejection of a supplicant. Ad¬
dressing himself to the Spanish general, “ I have done,” said
he, “ what became a monarch. I have defended my people
to the last extremity. Nothing now remains but to die.
Take this dagger,” laying his hand on one which Cortez
wore ; “ plant it in my breast, and put an end to a life which
can no longer be of use.”
_ As soon as the fate of their sovereign was known, the re- Submissicr*
sistance of the Mexicans ceased; and Cortez took posses- of Mexico,
sion of that small part of the capital which yet remained
undestroyed. Thus terminated the siege of Mexico, the
most memorable event in the conquest of America. It con¬
tinued seventy-five days, hardly one of which passed with¬
out some extraordinary effort of one party in the attack, or
of the other in the defence of a city, upon the fate of which
both knew that the fortune of the empire depended. As
the struggle here was more obstinate, it was likewise more
equal, than any between the inhabitants of the Old and the
New World. The great abilities of Guatimozin, the number
of his troops, and the peculiar situation of his capital, so far
counterbalanced the superiority of the Spaniards in arms and
discipline, that they must have relinquished the enterprise,.
if they had trusted for success to themselves alone. But
Mexico was overturned by the jealousy of neighbours who
dreaded its power, and by the revolt of subjects impatient
to shake off its yoke. By their effectual aid, Cortez was en¬
abled to accomplish that which without such support, he would
hardly have ventured to attempt. How much soever this
account of the reduction of Mexico may detract, on the one
hand, from the marvellous relations of some Spanish writers,
by ascribing that to simple and obvious causes which they
attribute to the romantic valour of their countrymen, it adds,
on the other, to the merit and abilities of Cortez, who, un¬
der every disadvantage, acquired such an ascendancy over
unknown nations, as to render them instrumental in carrying
his scheme into execution.
i The exultation of the Spaniards upon accomplishing this
arduous enterprise, was excessive. But their rejoicing was
quickly damped by the disappointment of those hopes which
had animated them amidst so many hardships and dangers.
Instead of the inexhaustible wealth which they expected
upon becoming masters of Montezuma’s treasures, and the
ornaments of so many temples, their rapacity could collect
only an inconsiderable booty amidst ruins and desolation.1
Guatimozin, aware of his impending fate, had ordered what
remained of the riches amassed by his ancestors to be thrown
into the lake ; and the Indian auxiliaries, whilst the Spani¬
ards were engaged in conflict with the enemy, had carried off
the most valuable part of the spoil. The sum to be divided
amongst the conquerors wras so small, that many of them
disdained to accept of the pittance which fell to their share,
and all murmured; some against Cortez and his confidants,
whom they suspected of having secretly appropriated to
their own use a large portion of the riches which should
have been brought into the common stock; others against
Guatimozin, whom they accused of obstinacy, in refusing to
discover the place where he had hidden his treasure.
Arguments, entreaties, and promises were employed in Guatimo-
order to soothe them; but with so little effect, that Cortez, zin tortured
1 The gold and silver, according to Cortez, amounted only to 120,000 pesos, a sum far inferior to that which the Spaniards had formerly
divided in Mexico.
VOL. XIV. 5 F
778
MEXICO.
from solicitude to check this growing spirit of discontent,
consented to a deed which has stained the glory of all his
great actions. Without regarding the former dignity of
Guatimozin, or feeling any reverence for those virtues which
he had displayed, he subjected that unfortunate monarch,
along with his chief favourite, to torture, in order to force
from them a discovery of the royal treasures, which it was
supposed they had concealed. Guatimozin bore whatever
the refined cruelty of his tormentors could inflict, with the
invincible fortitude of an American warrior. His fellow-
sufferer, overcome by the violence of the anguish, turned a
dejected eye towards his master, which seemed to implore
his permission to reveal all that he knew. But the high-
spirited prince, darting on him a look of authority mingled
vith scorn, checked his weakness, by asking, “ Am I now
reposing on a bed of flowers ?” Overawed by the reproach,
he persevered in his dutiful silence, and expired. Cortez,
ashamed of a scene so horrid, rescued the royal victim from
the hands of his torturers, and prolonged a life reserved for
new indignities and sufferings.
The fate of the capital, as both parties had foreseen, de¬
cided that of the empire. The provinces one after ano¬
ther submitted to the conquerors. Small detachments of
Spaniards marching through them without interruption, pe-
betrated, in different quarters, to the great Southern Ocean,
which, according to the ideas of Columbus, they imagined
would open a short and easy passage to the East Indies, and
thus secure to the crown of Castille all the envied wealth of
those fertile regions ; and the active mind of Cortez began
already to form plans for attempting this important disco¬
very. In his subsequent schemes, however, he was dis¬
appointed ; but from this time until the revolutionary spirit
broke out in the New World, not long after the commence¬
ment of the present century, Mexico remained in the hands
of the Spaniards.
II. HISTORY OR MEXICO FROM THE COMMENCEMENT OF
THE REVOLUTION TO THE PRESENT TIME.
Revolt of For nearly three centuries after the conquest of Cortez,
the Hispa- Mexico remained quietly subject to the Spanish yoke; but
no-Ameri- the internal tranquillity thus enjoyed ceased with the inva-
can colo- sion of Old Spain by the armies of Napoleon. The humi-
iaei’ liation of the mother country was the signal for revolt through¬
out all her colonial possessions ; and commotions then took
place which for years continued to agitate the country. But
before proceeding to narrate the events which have termi¬
nated in the separation of Mexico from the mother country,
it will be necessary briefly to review the system of colonial
policy by which it was so long governed, and to point out the
causes which ultimately led to the assertion of independ¬
ence. It is to the complication of abuses, to which the old
system gave rise, that we must mainly attribute those events
which have changed the destiny of the New World.
Division The vast American possessions of Spain were divided into
and go- five captain-generalships, viz., Yucatan, Guatemala, Chili,
vernment Venezuela, and the island of Cuba; and four viceroyal-
® , ties, viz., Mexico, Peru, Rio de la Plata, (Buenos Ayres),
American anc^ -^ew Granada. The government of each separate co-
possessions ^onY was vested in one of these great servants of the
crown, who were all independent of each other. In Mexico
the viceroy was endowed with the prerogatives of royalty,
and considered as the alter ego of the king himself. He was
commander-in-chief of the troops, and he regulated the mili¬
tary operations, and filled up all vacancies; it being under¬
stood that promotions made by him would receive the sanc¬
tion of the king. He was assisted in this part of his duty
by a council of war, as he was in all judicial questions by a
fiscal, or legal adviser to whom the law of the case was re¬
ferred. All sentences of every description bore his signa¬
The Span¬
iards be¬
come mas¬
ters of the
Mexican
empire.
ture, nor was there any appeal from his decision. The only History,
checks w'hich interposed between him and despotic sove-v'-^v%*
reignty were the resideneia, or legal investigation of his
conduct, to which the king might subject him on his return
to Spain, a measure which was seldom or never enforced;
and the Audencia, or the court of appeal in the last re¬
sort. This body possessed considerable power and influ¬
ence. It had control over all other tribunals, ecclesiasti¬
cal as well as civil, in every case where the value of the
subject in litigation did not exceed ten thousand dollars. It
likewise enjoyed the privilege of corresponding directly with
the sovereign, and with the council of the Indies, a board
at which the king was supposed constantly to preside in
person, and whose sanction it was necessary to obtain before
orders, decrees, or projects of reform, although emanating
from the crowm, could acquire the force of law. This board
was created in 1511 by Ferdinand II., and remodelled by
Charles V. in 1524, for the exclusive superintendence of the
affairs of the colonies. The laws enacted by the last named
monarch were in general wise and equitable, and framed in
the spirit of humanity. It wras decreed that the aborigines
should be considered as freemen and vassals of the crown ;
and also that the discoverers, the settlers, and their poster¬
ity, including others “born in the country,” were to be pre¬
ferred in all appointments, civil and ecclesiastical. These
laws, however, as we shall immediately see, proved a dead
letter to the natives; for from the very first the government
had pursued a course of policy diametrically the reverse of
that which they guaranteed.
The Audiencia was entirely composed of European Span- Audienca.
iards, who were forbidden to intermarry with creoles, (as
were the viceroy and his children), or to engage in trade,
or even to hold property in the country in which they re¬
sided. The privilege of directly corresponding with the
Council of the Indies, might have rendered this body an
efficient check upon the conduct of the viceroy, if the latter
had not possessed such inordinate power. He was himself
honorary president of the body, and had thus every oppor¬
tunity of conciliating the members, and attaching them to
his interests and those of the Europeans. As some com¬
pensation, they were entitled to assume the supreme power
in the event of the viceroy’s decease or removal, which they
exercised until his successor was appointed. They also en¬
joyed various other privileges, which in a pecuniary point of
view rendered their position highly advantageous. Indeed,
the emoluments attached to the office of oidor, or member,
were so considerable, that no small degree of influence, in¬
trigue, and bribery was employed to obtain the situation.
Three branches of the Audiencia were established in the
provinces most remote from the capital, but these exercised
no independent jurisdiction.
Besides the boards already noticed, the municipal eorpo- Municipal
rations, from their great possessions, had naturally a consi- corpora-
derable share of influence; and that of the city of Mexico, tlons•
containing a population of 140,000 inhabitants with immense
estates, had a larger proportion than usually fell to the lot
of other Spanish American cities. Those municipalities,
called sometimes the Cabildo, sometimes the Ayuntamiento,
and sometimes the City, were in their composition not un¬
like the ancient parliaments of France. Their members,
called regidors, their president, the corregidor, and their ex¬
ecutive officers, the syndics, were chosen from the people, and
originally by the people; and although the institution was soon
perverted, the people always looked up to it with respect, and
regarded the members of the Cabildo as their natural protect¬
ors. Had the people been permitted to exercise their privilege
without interference, the Ayuntamiento might have proved
equivalent to an English House of Commons; but the right
of election was rendered merely nominal by Spanish fraud or
gold. The situations of alcalde and regidor were in fact put
up to auction, and disposed of to the highest bidder, the
Hi!'
A
IS
lie
jit ta
i feles
< Utlf!
‘ iie
MEXICO.
Ste of
tii laws.
Blesias-
twl estab-
li:aents.
purchaser having the power of relinquishing them in favour
of relatives or friends. In some parts of the country they
were even made use of as an inducement to people to enter
themseives on the militia roll. Disgracefully as things were
thus conducted, these functionaries uniformly proved the
friends of the creoles ; for they were connected with them
by numetous ties, which the members of the Audiencia were
prohibited from forming, and by a community of interests,
which could not exist between the Europeans and any of
the natives. Another important class of officials were the
collectors of customs and revenue. These consisted of a
host of officers, who were subordinate to the Intendentes, one
of whom presided over a district, in which he was almost
independent, for his appointment emanated from the coun¬
cil of the Indies, without the concurrence of the viceroy;
and in all questions respecting the interests of the revenue
he possessed very extensive powers.
The Kecopilacion de las Leyes de las India,s, or general
collection of the laws of the Indies, was the name given to
that chaotic mass of statutes by which the decisions of the
tribunals were supposed to be determined. These statutes
were originally merely decrees upon different subjects, ema¬
nating from the king or from the Council of the Indies; and
being all bound up together, without regard to order or classi¬
fication of any kind, they were generally unconnected, often
contradictory, and almost always full of glaring inconsisten¬
cies. Nothing could have been conceived better calculated
to embarrass the lawyer* and to defeat the ends of justice,
than this farrago of legislative enactments. Indeed it was
not long before the decrees not included in this heteroge¬
neous budget of statutes outnumbered those which it con¬
tained ; many of these, again, were annulled by others sub¬
sequently issued, so that it was scarcely possible to know
which decrees were in force, and which had fallen into disuse
or been suspended. It is quite obvious that from these causes,
discrepancies in the royal orders were likely to occur fre¬
quently ; and that in the general confusion, ample facilities
were afforded to the delinquent of defeating the ends of jus¬
tice, by sheltering himself under some forgotten or ambigu¬
ous decree. An appeal to judicial authority had thus in it
all the uncertainty and hazard of a game of chance; and this
was further increased by different professions and corporate
bodies enjoying various special privileges or fueros. Each
of these exempted the persons who chose to plead it, from the
jurisdiction of the ordinary authorities, and made them amen¬
able, in all civil and criminal causes, to the tribunal of the
head of the body to which they belonged. It thus happened
that the native American was generally the sufferer in cases
in w'hich his opponent was a European; for the difficulty of
obtaining redress in any dispute was augmented by the cir¬
cumstance of the latter enjoying a double or triple fuero, as
a merchant, a government officer, a dignitary of the church,
or at least as holding some rank in the militia.
To complete the outline of that mighty fabric by which
•the authority of Spain in the New World was so long sup¬
ported, it is necessary briefly to advert to ecclesiastical es¬
tablishments. These were altogether independent of the
see of Rome, and the Spanish sovereign was as effectually the
head of the Hispano-American church as Henry VIII. made
himself of that of England. No spiritual jurisdiction was
allowed to interfere with the royal prerogative, so that the
Pope could neither fulminate bulls nor hold any sort of in¬
tercourse with Spanish America, unless through the medium
of the court of Madrid, and the Council of the Indies. As
might have been expected under such circumstances, a traf¬
fic in bullsbecame an important branch of the royal revenue.
The king bought of the holy see indulgences and dispen¬
sations of all kinds, and retailed them to his American sub¬
jects at an enormous profit. The business was managed
with as much strictness and regularity as an ordinary com¬
mercial transaction, the monopoly of tobacco, for example;
779
History.
1808.
and so jealous was the king of his right, that the most severe
penalties were not only enacted but enforced against eccle-1
siastics who dared to infringe the regulations. This traffic,
which proved to be as lucrativeas it was discreditable to both
parties, was notcarriedon without some contentionsbetwreen
the courts of Madrid and Rome, the latter of which threaten¬
ed to dissolve the partnership, for the Pontiff felt anxious to
obtain a larger share than he actually possessed of so advan¬
tageous a concern ; but after several ineffectual attempts to
attain his object, he was compelled to relinquish the contest,
and leave his royal partner in quiet possession of nearly the
whole of the profits. The leading principle in the Spanish
coJonial system, was to represent power and authority, right
and privilege, every thing in short, which an American enjoy¬
ed or could hope for of place or advancement, as all emanating
from the king, the great fountain-head of honour and prefer¬
ment. Had the Pope, therefore, in virtue of his sacred cha¬
racter, and independently of the Council of the Indies, held
immediate intercourse with the Americans, who, being Catho¬
lics, were, like the inhabitants of other countries professing a
similar faith, his spiritual subjects, it would have disturbed that
unity of plan which it was the darling object of the Span¬
iards to maintain unbroken. Thus, not only the avarice but
the policy of the mother country was concerned in exclud¬
ing all interference, and hence the designs of the court of
Rome were as suspiciously watched, as the attempts of the
English or French to smuggle their manufactures into the
country.
Such is a general view' of the colonial system of Spain; and Evils of
when we consider that all the great offices of state, not except-the Span-
ing the vice-regal dignity itself, wrere open alike to Americans ish colon-
and Europeans, every subject of the crown being eligible, itsial system,
defects, in theory at least, are scarcely so glaring as they are
sometimes represented. The evils, many and grievous, con¬
sisted in the practice, and in the maintenance of a system
of laws by which the colonies w'ere sacrificed to the mother
country. Nothing is so frequently or so strongly insisted upon
in the Hecopilaciones, as the equality to which we have just
alluded; nothing was in practice so utterly lost sight of
by the Spaniards. Every situation, from the highest to
the lowest was bestowed upon Europeans ; nor for many
years previously to the revolution, was a single native pre¬
ferred to any official post either in the church, the army, or
the law. Indeed, the colonial offices were disposed of in •
Madrid to the highest bidder; and at one time the pro¬
ceeds, like the traffic in bulls, formed a not inconsiderable item
of the royal revenues. Of the fifty viceroys wrho governed
Mexico from 1535 to 1808, only one was an American, and
even he was born in Peru. The same spirit of self-aggran¬
disement and contempt for the natives, extended to the
meanest offices in the gift of the crown ; for even amongst
the common clerks and other subordinates, an American
w'as rarely to be met with. The manifesto published by the
Congress of Buenos Ayres, places the condition to which
the native population had been reduced, in a very strong
light; and as the statements which are there made apply
to Mexico and all the other Spanish settlements in Ameri¬
ca, it may be here proper to make a few extracts from this
important document.
“Every thing,” says the manifesto in question, “ was dis¬
posed of on the part of Spain in America, to effect the degra¬
dation of her sons. It did not suit the policy of Spain that sages
should rise up amongst us; fearful lest men of genius should
remind them of advancing the condition of their country,
and of improving the morals and excellent capacities with
which its sons have been gifted by their Creator, it was
her policy incessantly to diminish and depress our popula¬
tion, lest one day we should imagine aught against her do¬
mination, guarded by a force too contemptible for keeping
in subjection regions so various and so extensive. Commerce
was exclusively confined to herself, from a mean suspicion
MEXICO.
780
History, that opulence would make us proud, and render us capable
0f aspiring to free ourselves from so many vexations. The
1808. growth of industry was checked, in order that the means of
escaping from our wretchedness and poverty might be denied
us ; and we were excluded from all participation in publ ic em¬
ployments, in order that the natives of the Peninsula might
have entire influence over the country, so as to form the
inclinations and habits necessary for retaining us in a state
of dependence, that would permit us neither to think nor to
act but in conformity to the modes dictated by the Span¬
iards.
“ This system was acted upon with the utmost rigour by
the viceroys. Each of them was invested with the autho¬
rity of a vizier ; their power was sufficient to annihilate all
those who dared to displease them. However great the
vexations they practised, we had to bear them with pati¬
ence, whilst these were compared by their satellites and wor¬
shippers to the effects of the wrath of God. The com¬
plaints which were addressed to the throne were either lost
in the distance of many thousand leagues over which they
had to pass, or they were smothered in the offices at Madrid
by the protectors of those who tyrannised over us. Not only
was this system not softened, but there was no hope of its
moderating in the course of time. We had no voice, direct
nor indirect, in legislating for our country ; this was done for
us in Spain, without conceding to us the privilege of send¬
ing delegates or counsellors, to be present, and to state what
would be suitable or otherwise, as is practised by the cities
of Spain. Neither did we possess such influence in the
government set over us, as might serve to attemper the se¬
verity of its administration. We knew that there was no reme¬
dy for us but to bear with patience ; and that for him who
could not resign himself to every abuse, death was consider¬
ed as too light a punishment, for in such cases punishments
have been invented of unparalleled cruelty, and revolting to
every sentiment of humanity.”
Literature. In the passage that has just been cited, allusion is made to
literature and commerce, both of which, as far as the natives
were concerned, were rigorously interdicted. The power of
Spain depended upon the ignorance of those over whom she
ruled; and hence to have disseminated the blessings of edu¬
cation amongst the people, would have been to sap the very
foundations of her authority. The consequence was, that al¬
most every species of learning was not only discouraged but
prohibited, and pains and penalties v/ere annexed to the in¬
fringement of the laws relating to it. “ It was forbidden,”
says the manifesto above quoted, “ to teach us the liberal
scien ces; we were permitted to learn only the Latin grammar,
the philosophy of the schools,and civil and ecclesiastical juris¬
prudence.” The Inquisition was not only constituted the
guardian of a doctrine which was studiously instilled into the
minds of the natives, namely that all foreigners, such as Eng¬
lish, French, Germans, and others, were heretics, with whom
no Catholic could hold intercourse without contamination ;
but it also took special cognizance of the importation of books.
All the ingenuity of this odious tribunal was exerted to check
the introduction ofworks in the leaves of which a liberal sen¬
timent might be supposed to lurk; and every vessel was ac¬
cordingly subjected to the most searching examination. The
works of Luther lay not under a stricter interdict than mo¬
dern histories, and political writings; and even as late as the
year 1811, the doctrine of the sovereignty of the people was,
by a strange anomaly, denounced as a damnable heresy in
Mexico, at the very moment that it was solemnly sanctioned
by the Cortez in Spain. In a word, although certain studies
that seemed calculated to do little or no harm were encour¬
aged, the spirit of the system was to exclude information, to
stifle enquiry, and to check the progress of intellectual im-
Commerce provement amongst the native population.
and indus- But whilst ignorance was ranked amongst the virtues,
try. some branches of industry were degraded into crimes. As
the commercial restrictions, and the endless train of griev- History,
ances, vexations, and abuses, of which these became the pro-
lific source, generated that spirit of resistance which terrain- 1808.
ated in the overthrow of the Spanish power in America, we
shall briefly enumerate some of those which were most ob¬
noxious, and inimical to native industry and enterprise.
The Americans were prohibited under severe penalties from Restric-
raising flax, hemp, or saffron, and growing tobacco was a go- tions affeet-
vernment monopoly. The cultivation of the olive, the mul- t^le P'o-
bery, and the vine, was also frustrated by the same blind ™jts 0
policy; and even the growth of the more precious articles,
of what we term colonial produce, such as cacao, coffee, and
indigo, was only tolerated under certain limitations, and in
such quantities as the mother country might require annual¬
ly to import. During M. Humboldt’s residence in Mexico
in 1802, the court of Madrid sent orders to the viceroy to
root up all the vines in the northern provinces, because the
merchants of the Spanish capital complained of a diminution
in the consumption of their wines. Happily this order was
not carried into execution; but that it should ever have been
issued, shows the contempt in which the Spaniards held both
the Americans and their property. Not only were they pro¬
hibited from appropriating to their use the vegetable pro¬
ductions which nature had bountifully scattered over their
native hills and valleys; they were actually forbidden £to
manufacture any thing which could be supplied by the mo¬
ther country, and to the interests of a few maritime towns in
Spain, the ministry unhesitatingly sacrificed the prosperity
of a large portion of the New World. Had the traders
taken in return those agricultural productions in which the
colonies abounded, the grievance would have been ameli-
oi'ated; but payment in specie was the grand object of the
Spanish merchant. In conformity with the principle of con¬
centrating all trade in the Peninsula, foreigners were entirely
excluded from the colonial market. The natives were for¬
bidden, upon pain of death, to hold commercial intercourse
with them, and none were allowed to visit their shores.
From time to time concessions were made in favour of a traf¬
fic with other nations ; but these were not at all equal to the
demands and the growing importance of the colonies.
We have already alluded to the sale of titles anddistinc- Abase of
tions ; but the most lucrative branch of what deserves no Licences,
better name than legal peculation, was the power of grant¬
ing licences for the introduction of any article of foreign
produce during a limited period. For these, enormous sums
were paid by the leading commercial houses ; and a share
in the profits accruing from the speculation commenced
with the viceroy, and extended to the meanest offices which
swarmed with European hangers-on, all candidates for pre¬
ferment, and waiting in expectation of realizing a fortune,
in which they generally succeeded by means best known to
themselves. It was in vain for the creoles to attempt bring¬
ing offenders to justice. Actuated by a spirit of clanship, the
Europeans all clung together, one taking shelter behind an¬
other in an ascending scale up to the viceroy himself, who
seems generally to have covered the long series of delinquents.
But the exclusion of foreign vessels from the Mexican ports
was not all that the rapacity of Spain laid claim to; that country
also asserted a right to supreme dominion over the vast oceans
which surrounded her American possessions ; and this she
attempted to vindicate wherever a superiority of maritime
force enabled her to do so. Even ships in distress were
by a royal ordinance ordered to be seized as prizes, and
their crews thrown into prison. As late as the year 1790, a
very remarkable instance of this occurred. A vessel belonging
to the United States having lost her rudder, and being other¬
wise damaged by a storm, was compelled to touch at the is¬
land of Juan F ernandez to refit. The governor quietly allowed
the Boston trader to be repaired and to depart without mo¬
lestation ; but the viceroy under whom he served warmly
reprehended him for dereliction of duty, expressing in no
«
MEXICO.
History, measured terms his displeasure at the negligence of the go-
vernor, in allowing the vessel to leave the island without hav-
.isut. ing even attempted to seize her. His astonishment, he
said, was excited “ at the governor of any of the king’s is¬
lands being so ignorant as not to know that any foreign
vessel sailing in the South Sea without a Spanish license
was to be treated as an enemy’s vessel, although the coun¬
try to which she belonged might be at peace and amity with
Spain.” Notwithstanding all the efforts of Spain, however,
manufactures did make some little progress in the course of
the three centuries during which she wielded the destinies
of Mexico and the whole of South America; and the exclu¬
sion of foreign vessels from her colonies gave rise to one of
the most extraordinary systems of organised smuggling
which the world ever witnessed. This was known under the
name of the contraband or forced trade, and was carried on in
armed vessels which often bade defiance to the coast block¬
ades of Spain, and, fighting their way to the American ports,
landed great quantities of European goods. This system of
warlike commerce was conducted by the Dutch, English,
French, and others ; and not only was it the means of im¬
parting to the Americans a taste for the luxuries of Europe,
but latterly no small portion of the leaven of knowledge was
infused into the inert mass of the population spread over the
Spanish possessions.
Other evils Such was the colonial system of Spain, which on all hands
«t the Spa-is admitted to have been worse even than that of the Por-
n sh colon- tuguese or 0f the Dutch ; and such were the evils to which
in system. gave r;se< When, therefore, in connection with these
evils we further consider that the civil, fiscal, and criminal
administration was tyrannical, unjust, or partial; that exac¬
tions in the shape of taxes, duties, and tithes, were levied
with unexampled severity; that amongst the taxes was one
which has justly been called, “ the horrible alcavala” and
pressed heavily bn all classes, being levied in infinitum on
every transfer of goods; that nothing escaped tithes, and
that every individual was compelled to purchase annually a
certain number of the papal bulls, under a penalty of for¬
feiting various important advantages ; that every stage of
legal procedure was in the most corrupt and deplorable
state, and that the administration of justice had scarcely
any existence whatever ; that imprisonment was the grand
recipe for every malady; that in the most horrible dungeons,
ill diet, filth, infectious diseases, and corporal punishment,
including occasional torture, all combined to unhumanize
the fettered victim ; and, finally, that the Inquisition bound
in chains of darkness the minds of all classes of the com¬
munity from the viceroy downwards ;—he would be a bold
theorist who should venture to affirm that Spain did not
deserve that fate which soon befel her possessions in the
New World.
Events in How long an indisposition upon the part of the creoles to
Spain ; assert their rights might have continued, had not the events
riieir effect 0f the year 1808 occurred, it is impossible to say ; but it is
m America. generajiy ajmitted that the insurrection of Aranjuez which
led to the dismissal of Godoy, Prince of the Peace, and to the
abdication of Charles VI., gave the first shock to the royal
authority in America. Authentic intelligence of the resig-
nation of the Spanish monarch arrived in Mexico on the
I5th of July 1808. The government of the country at this
critical moment was in the hands of Don Jose Iturrigaray,
who is universally described as a good and just old man, but
who was apparently deficient in energy and decision of cha¬
racter. Uncertain what line of conduct to pursue, he assem¬
bled the Audiencia, and at the suggestion of that body pub¬
lished the intelligence contained in the Madrid Gazette,
without note or comment. But however indifferent the officers
of state were upon this occasion, the inhabitants of Mexico
were thrown into a ferment of indignation. Crowds eagerly
assembled in the squares and public walks, and threats of ven¬
geance against France were mingled with strong expressions
1809.
of adherence to the cause of the deposed monarch. The
Cabildo immediately presented an address tending to stimu-'
late the zeal of the viceroy, who in consequence declared
his determination to preserve to the last his loyalty to his
sovereign, and his fidelity to Spain. The municipality and
the popular party profited by the wish of Iturrigaray to con¬
ciliate them, and accordingly demanded a solemn abjura¬
tion of France and her partizans, on the part of the authori¬
ties, and the immediate creation of & junta in imitation of
the mother country, composed of representatives of the dif¬
ferent corporations of the kingdom. This suggestion, though
not unfavourably received by the viceroy was opposed by
the Audiencia, who declared that it was contrary to the pri¬
vileges both of the crown and of the Europeans. For seve¬
ral weeks disputes ran high between the two bodies ; the
Audiencia urging the necessity of submitting to the assem¬
bly of Seville, by virtue of official advices, from which the
viceroy had proclaimed Ferdinand, whilst the municipality
demanded representatives from the various corporations.
At length despatches arrived from the junta of Asturias, Imprison-
assembled at Oviedo, also claiming supreme authority in the merit and
name of Ferdinand. This event furnished strong grounds removal of
for the creoles pressing their claim to a share in the govern- t^ie ™ero)'*
ment; and the Audiencia, finding that the viceroy was in¬
clined to favour their opponents, (for it would appear that he
had not formally acknowledged the authority of either of the
peninsular juntas), determined to arrest and depose him, re¬
garding his project as calculated to prove fatal to their
interests. Accordingly a band of about two hundred and
fifty Europeans, principally merchants, having been secretly
organised, they proceeded at midnight on the 15 th of Sep¬
tember 1808, to the palace of the viceroy, seized him toge¬
ther with his wife and family, and conveyed all of them to
prison. The Audiencia were well aware that this extreme
measure would be resented by the people and the munici¬
pality, with whom Iturrigaray was popular; and to prevent
any movement upon the part of the Mexicans, they assigned
as the cause a suspicion of heresy; whilst to the better in¬
formed they attempted to justify their conduct by one of the
laws of the code of the Indies, which provides, that in cases
where the viceroy shall have exceeded his powers, the Au¬
diencia has a right to interfere for the safety of the coun¬
try. For the time their plans proved completely successful.
Iturrigaray, after remaining a short time in the dungeons
of the Inquisition, was conveyed to Vera Cruz, and sent a
prisoner to Cadiz charged with a crime different from those
already mentioned. The Audiencia well knew that under
existing circumstances neither of the charges which they
had brought against him in Mexico would be sufficient to jus¬
tify their proceedings in the eyes of their masters at home;
that the one was false and the other ridiculous. Accordingly
in the manifesto which they transmitted to Spain along with
the captive viceroy, he was impeached with a design to es¬
tablish himself upon an independent throne, and with having
acted independently of the authority of the central junta.
The accusation was successful. Without trial or examina¬
tion he was incarcerated in one of the dungeons of the city,
and after languishing there for three years he was liber¬
ated by a general amnesty, ruined in fortune, in health, and
in reputation.
In the meanwhile the creoles of Mexico were not inclin- Feelings of
ed to submit with indifference to such violent changes ; the the creoles,
cause of Iturrigaray they identified with their own, and con- Eroceed^
sidered his removal as implying their exclusion from power,
To repress feelings so dangerous to the stability of their
authority, the Audiencia ordered juntas of public security to
be formed, and armed bands of Spaniards to be organised,
who, under the convenient denomination of patriots, kept
rigorous watch over those were suspected of having a bias in
favour of the deposed viceroy. Not a few influential mem¬
bers of the Cabildo, who had voted for a Mexican junta,.
MEXICO.
782
History, were arrested and either banished or otherwise disposed of.
The vice-regal authority was for the time confided to the
1810. archbishop Lizana ; but the mild and conciliatory policy of
this prelate accorded little with the views of the Audiencia,
who met the advances of the natives with insolent harsh¬
ness, and maintained their exclusive right to represent the
absent king, conduct which only served to increase the ge¬
neral irritation. The Cabildo of Mexico was told by the
Audiencia in answer to some remonstrance in favour of
the viceroy “ that it possessed no authority, except over
the leperos (lazzaroni) of the capitaland it was a favour¬
ite maxim with the oidor Bateller, one of the chief pro¬
moters of Iturrigaray’s seizure, “that whilst a Manchego
mule, or a Castilian cobler, remained in the peninsula, he
had a right to govern the Americas.” He was not alone
in the expression of such outrageous sentiments. They were
everywhere re-echoed by the Spaniards, who eagerly form¬
ed themselves into “ patriotic associations” for the protec¬
tion of what they called their rights, and armed themselves
against the natives, whose excited feelings such proceedings
were not likely to allay. In the year 1809 the archbishop
was replaced by the Audiencia to whom the central junta
transferred the reins of government; whilst the violent and
contemptuous conduct of this body only served to bring
matters more speedily to a crisis. A general feeling of hos¬
tility towards the Spaniards spread throughout the country,
and as early as May 1809, attempts were made to concert
insurrectionary movements, but these were crushed in em¬
bryo by the arrest of those principally concerned in them.
This check, however, did not materially retard the onward
movement of the country. A hatred of their oppressors
had long been accumulating in the minds of the Mexicans,
and discontent had become too general to be thus repres¬
sed. Although subdued in one part it broke out with more
violence in another, like the volcanic eruptions of their na¬
tive mountains. The scene of commotion alone was chang¬
ed from the province of Michoacan to that of Guanajuato,
where the famous Curate Hidalgo was destined first to raise
the standard of revolt, and call forth the long subdued en¬
ergies of his countrymen.1
Standard of Hon Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla was a man of considerable
independ- natural talents, learned, active, intelligent, and, above all,
ence raised in a high degree enthusiastic and enterprising. After dis-
by Hidalgo tinguishing himself at the university of Valladolid, he was
appointed rector of the little town 'of Dolores, in the pro¬
vince of Guanajuato. Here he encouraged manufactures
amongst his parishioners, and also introduced the cultiva¬
tion of the silk worm and the vine; but a special order from
the capital prohibiting the making of wine, rendered the
numerous vineyards which he had planted useless, and thus
added a private cause of discontent to the long list of griev¬
ances which he shared in common with his countrymen.
He paid much attention to the education of those under his
care; and from the extreme devotion which he displayed
towards the virgin of Guadalupe, he was held in great ve¬
neration by the inhabitants, over whom he consequently
possessed almost unbounded influence. To form a party will¬
ing to embark in the enterprise which he meditated was there- History,
fore no very difficult task; for not only were his countrymen11 ****
prepared for it beforehand, but the example of a man of his 1810,
character and authority was irresistible. He took so little
precaution to conceal his projects, that they were discovered
before being fully matured, and orders were issued to arrest
him, along with Alende, Aldama, and Abasolo, three creole
officers whom he had seduced from their allegiance to Spain.
This premature disclosure, however, only served to hasten
the execution of his plan ; and having secured the co-oper¬
ation of several of his parishioners, on the morning of the
16th September 1810, the standard of revolt and independ¬
ence was publicly unfurled. Seven Europeans, resident in
Dolores, became the first victims of the revolutionary move¬
ment. 1 hey were thrown into prison, and their property
seized and distributed amongst Hidalgo’s followers. The
news of this first exploit spread throughout the country with
the rapidity of lightning, and was every where hailed as a
propitious omen. His force increased so suddenly, that on
the 18th, he found himself in possession of two towns, each
containing sixteen thousand inhabitants, in both of which
places the confiscated property of the Europeans enabled
him to reward his partizans as well as to add to their numbers.
His next object was Guanajuato, the capital of the province, Capture of
and also the emporium of the Spanish treasures in that part Guanaju-
of the country. The town contained about seventy-five thous- ato.
and inhabitants, who were governed by a magistrate of a de¬
cided and active character, and one highly respected for his
integrity and benevolence, so that it became necessary for
Hidalgo to take every precaution that the number of his
troops should be equal to the enterprise which he contem¬
plated. On the 28th of September, Abasolo was despatched
with a letter to the intendant, announcing that Hidalgo had
been elected “ captain-general of America,” and that the
independence of Mexico was proclaimed ; at the same time
offering the Spaniards terms of capitulation, according to
which their persons were to be respected. These were re¬
fused; and Hidalgo’s troops, nowamounting to about twenty
thousand but indifferently armed, advanced to the attack.
Strong symptoms of disaffection having been evinced by the
lower classes in the town, the intendant could not under¬
take the defence of the whole of it from apprehension of
treachery; so, with all the Europeans, he fortified himself in
the public granary, w hither he also conveyed the gold, silver,
and other valuable property contained in the royal treasury.
Little opposition was offered to the entrance of Hidalgo’s
troops, who wrere immediately joined by the whole popula¬
tion of the town, and carried all before them. The gran¬
ary continued for some time to hold out, and the musketry
did terrible execution amongst the crowds with which the
streets were filled. But the death of the intendant relaxed
the vigour of his followers. The great gate was forced, and
the besieged, giving up resistance as hopeless, surrendered.
Nothing could surpass the ferocity of the Indians, or the
excesses which they committed. The town was given up to
pillage ; the Europeans were butchered without mercy; their
property was eagerly seized; and before next morning there
By some writers, the general discontent, and subsequent revolt, has been ascribed to the operation of other causes than those assigned in
the text, namely, to a detestation of the French, and a determination to adhere to the Spanish monarch in every change of fortune. The
interests of Spain and of its ex-king were totally distinct; for the former being conquered by Napoleon would of course be placed under a
Corsican dynasty, to the exclusion of the family of the latter, in which case Mexico, being a colony of old Spain, would change masters
and virtually become a colony of France. It has been assumed that the creoles suspected the Audiencia of being indifferent about who
governed Spain, provided they ruled Mexico. These suspicions, it is said, were strengthened when intelligence arrived that the vice regal
power had been transferred to General V enegas, whom the Mexicans regarded as a traitor ; and that the regency had expressed their appro¬
bation ot the conduct of those who had deposed Iturrigaray, and had resolved to reward them with decorations and appointments. This
appeared to the Mexicans decisive evidence of a design on the part of the regency and of their new viceroy, to annex Mexico to the fate of
opain, under a new ruler, to rid themselves of their old sovereign. The disasters which overwhelmed the Spanish cause in the peninsula
were attributed to treachery, for the Spaniards had studiously instilled into the minds of the Americans so exalted an idea of the military
prowess of their countrymen, that their subjugation by France could be accounted for in no other manner. Hence, it is concluded, sprung
popular discontent, local eruptions, and finally a general insurrection. Now, without attaching much importance to this view of the case,
it may, to a limited extent, be founded on truth, and discrepancies may be reconciled by supposing that the insurgents were actuated by vari¬
ous motives. s rr o j
MEXICO.
■oy
History, was not left standing a single house which had belonged to
Spaniard; The sacking of the city continued for three
ibio- days, and the plunderers were loaded with spoil. An enor¬
mous quantity of money and other treasure was found in the
alhondiga or granary to which the inhabitants had trans-
ported their most valuable effects. It is generally estimated
at five millions of dollars, the possession of which entirely
changed the aspect of Hidalgo’s enterprise, and gave it an
importance in the eyes of the country which did not before
belong to it. During his stay at Guanajuata, he establish¬
ed assort of government, a mint with all the apurtenances for
coining money, and a foundry for casting cannon, employ¬
ing for the purpose the bells which had been found in the
houses of the Europeans.
Proceed- The intelligence of the fall of Guanajuato, whilst it gave
ngs of the celebrity to the name of Hidalgo, created great consterna-
iew vice- tjon amongst the Spaniards of the capital, who were but little
prepared for such a display of energy and warlike prowess
upon the part of the natives. 'I he new viceroy, however, Don
Francisco Xavier Venegas, although misled at first by re¬
presentations of the cowardice of the Mexicans, soon per¬
ceived the true state of affairs, and displayed such judgment
and firmness in his measures, that the creoles were com¬
pelled to repress their feelings of exultation, and public
tranquillity remained undisturbed in the capital. Upon this,
as a central point, he ordered the troops stationed in different
parts of the country to be concentrated ; and the command of
one of the best regiments he confided to the Conde de la
Cadena, a Mexican by birth. Don Felix Maria Calleja, who
headed a brigade of troops stationed at San Luis Potosi, was
also intrusted with a command, and ordered to pursue Hidal¬
go. Nor was the superstition of the people overlooked; for
some doubts having arisen with respect to the justice of the
sentence of excommunication which had been pronounced
against the leader of the insurgents, it was confirmed by
Lizana and by the Inquisition, who likewise declared that
the same penalty should extend to all who dared to call in
question its validity in future. In one respect only did the
viceroy fail to evince his usual sagacity, namely, in distributing
rewards amongst those individuals who were most active
in deposing Iturrigaray. We have already alluded to the
high estimation in which this functionary was held by the
Mexicans, and hence a display of generosity towards his
enemies was at once an open justification of their conduct,
and an insult offered to those who had regarded his cause
as identical with their own.
W1 vance of After remaining at Guanajuato until the 10th of October,
'i’.dalgo to- Hidalgo, at the head of his army, advanced upon Vallado-
aids the lid, which being abandoned by the Spaniards, was quietly
taken possession of on the 17th of the same month. Here
he was joined by some royal troops, and also by Don Jose
Maria Morelos, curate of Nucupetaro, a very distinguished
character, whose career we shall afterwards have occasion to
trace. The army of Hidalgo was now about sixty thousand
strong, a force which he considered as sufficient to conquer
the capital, and thus, by one decisive blow, to terminate the
revolutionary struggle. He accordingly left Valladolid on
the 19th, and on the 28th arrived at Tolluco, a town within
twelve leagues of the metropolis. An attempt was made to
stop his further advance, by a corps of observation under the
command of colonel Truxillo, assisted by Don Augustin
Iturbide, then a lieutenant in the service of Spain. After
a sanguinary contest, in which all the ordinary rules of war
were set at defiance, the royalists were defeated, and com¬
pelled to fall back upon the capital. Venegas had succeed¬
ed in collecting about seven thousand men, who were sta¬
tioned in the most advantageous manner for the defence of
the city; but alarmed at the recent success and the near
approach of the insurgents, he again drew upon the super¬
stition of the people in support of the Spanish cause. An
image of the Virgin, which the populace regarded with pe-
783
apital.
cuhar veneration, and which apparently, like the banner of History.
Mahommed, tvas only exhibited upon critical or very solemn 8—
occasions, was brought from a little distance, and placed in 1810.
e cathedral of Mexico. Thither the viceroy went in full
uniform, and with all due pomp, to pay his respects to it;
and after imploring the Virgin to take the government into
her own hands, he wound up his appeal by laying his staff
of command at the feet of her image.
. y,ut the aid of the Virgin was not required in the present His retreat,
instance; for Hidalgo, after appearing before the city, to the an(i discom-
astonishment of every one, and the delight of the Spaniards,fiture at A*
withdrew^ his troops without risking an assault, and retreat-culco-
ed upon Guanajuato. Various reasons have been assigned
for his conduct upon this occasion, amongst which we^may
mention cowardice, and a desire to save the capital from
destruction. But the fact is, that he found the viceroy
better prepared than he had anticipated; the city being de¬
fended by batteries which Hidalgo foresaw he never would
be able again to bring his half-armed and undisciplined
band to face, so terrible had been the effects of the Spanish
artillery in the previous conflict. Besides this, his ammuni¬
tion was now nearly exhausted, and from some intercepted
despatches of Calleja’s, he learned that that officer was in
full march upon the capital. Accordingly, to avoid the
danger of being hemmed in between two fires, the insurgents
commenced their retreat, and, on the 7th November, came
in contact with the outposts of the royal army at Aculco.
The surprise appears to have been mutual, neither party
being aware of the proximity of the other. But a sanguin¬
ary action ensued, in which, from the superiority of their dis¬
cipline and arms, the royal forces gained a complete vic¬
tory. Indeed, the insurgents scarcely awaited the attack;
for struck with the military evolutions and martial bearing of
the royal army, which advanced upon them in five columns,
they dispersed in confusion at their first approach, leaving
ten thousand killed or wounded on the field of battle. But
the commander and most of his officers effected their escape,
and with as many fugitives as they could collect, effected a
hasty retreat to Valladolid. Here Hidalgo remained a few
days, and then proceeded to Guadalaxara, where he was re¬
ceived with the greatest pomp and enthusiasm. Soon after
his arrival at this city, Hidalgo was joined by a small force
under Alende.
After the disastrous battle of Aculco, th e insurgent chief had Mutual
taken the road to Guanajuato, with the intention of defend- atrocities,
ing the town; but finding that his troops were incapable
of opposing those of Calleja, he evacuated the place on
the approach of the latter. It is universally admitted that
the atrocities perpetrated in Guanajuato by the Spaniards
were great; but they found some palliation for their con¬
duct, in a circumstance which had occurred the very morn¬
ing on which they entered the city. Between two and three
hundred Europeans who had escaped the massacre which
followed the capture of this place by Hidalgo, were left
there by him as prisoners. After Alende’s retreat the po¬
pulace became furious, and in a paroxysm of rage flew to
the fort where these unfortunate individuals were confined,
and butchered them to a man. A similar atrocity was com¬
mitted by Hidalgo, during his stay at Guadalaxara. Upon
his arrival he had ordered all the Europeans to be thrown
into confinement; and a vague rumour having arisen of a
conspiracy amongst them, they were without trial or exami¬
nation, and during the night, privately conveyed in small
parties at a time, to lonely places in the neighbourhood of
the city, and there despatched in cold blood. It is stated on
good authority that between seven and eight hundred indi¬
viduals perished in this diabolical manner. Thus the stern
and inexorable spirit with which Hidalgo began the contest,
w'as met by a spirit equally fierce and unrelenting on the
part of the Spaniards, and gave to the revolution that san¬
guinary character which distinguished it throughout.
784
MEXICO.
History. At Guadalaxara Hidalgo proceeded with his usual ac-
tivity to replenish his stores, recruit his forces, and bring
* cannon from San Bias, the principal Spanish arsenal on the
western coast. The artillery which he thus with infinite
Captureandfalmm. collected, appeared to him so formidable, that with
of Hidalgo. e twe^ve hundred muskets, the total amount of his
0 small arms, he thought he might be able to face Calleja and
compel him to retreat. Flushed with this hope, he advanced
to the bridge of Calderon, which is sixteen miles from Gu¬
adalaxara, and having fortified himself in a strong position,
he awaited the approach of the royalists. On the 16th of
January 1811, the two armies were once more in sight of
each other, and on the following day a general action took
place. After various attacks which the Mexicans repulsed
with spirit, Calleja at last succeeded in carrying all their
batteries; and the explosion of an ammunition waggon hav¬
ing thrown them into confusion, Hidalgo wTas forced to with¬
draw them from the field. The retreat was effected in good
order, but all the artillery and stores of the insurgents fell
into the hands of Calleja.1 Don Ignacio Lopez Rayon, who
had joined the insurgents at Valladolid, and was appointed
confidential secretary to the commander-in chief, returned
to Guadalaxara, and succeeded in securing the military
chest, containing considerable treasure, with which the in¬
surgent chiefs withdrew to Saltillo, followed by about four
thousand men. At this place it was agreed that Rayon should
be left in command of the forces, whilst Hidalgo, Alende,
Aldama, and Abasolo, with a small escort should proceed to
the frontiers of the United States, for the purpose of collect¬
ing arms and other necessaries. But by the treachery'of one
Don Ignacio Elizondo, a former associate, an ambuscade
wras laid for them on the road, and they were all surprised
and taken prisoners on the 21st of March 1811. So anxious
were the royalists to extort from them information regarding
the future plans of the insurgents, and the ramifications of
their forces throughout the different provinces, that their trial
was protracted until the end of July. They were, of course,
condemned to death; and execution speedily followed. The
insurgent chiefs met death with their characteristic firmness
and intrepidity.
National After the death of Hidalgo, a guerrilla war was carried
junta. on in various parts of the country ; but as the leaders acted
without concert, and no general engagement took place, it
is unnecessary to follow it in its irregular course. Rayon
being now left in supreme command of the troops at Saltillo,
retreated first to Zacatecas, and afterwards to Zitacuaro in
the state of Valladolid, which he entered about the end of
May 1811. At this period in the history of the revolution,
disaffection towards the Spaniards had become very gene¬
ral, and although the authority of the viceroy was acknow¬
ledged in all the principal cities, armed bands of insurgents
overran the open country, and hardly a day passed without
being signalized by a skirmish. Meanwhile, Rayon was
busily employed in furthering the scheme of a national junta;
being firmly convinced that a general coalition alone could
enable the Mexicans to contend with any chance of suc¬
cess against an enemy who had the power of throwing an
overwhelming force upon any particular point, and thus cut¬
ting off his troops in detail. Having bravely repulsed an
attack of the royalists under brigadier Emparan, he was en¬
abled successfully to accomplish his purpose. On the 10th
of September 1811, a junta, or central government, was in¬
stalled, consisting of five members, who were elected by
the ayuntamiento, in conjunction with the principal inhabi¬
tants of the town and district. Amongst the principles
adopted by this new junta, were, the acknowledgment of
Ferdinand VII. as sovereign of Mexico, provided he would
quit his European dominions, and assume the reins of govern¬
ment in person, and the desire of an intimate union with
Spain. But, from documents published after the struggle History,
for independence had terminated, we learn that there was
but little sincerity in these professions of adherence to the 1811.
mother country, and that expediency alone compelled the
framers of the first declarations to have recourse to them.
The king’s name was yet “ a tower of strength,” which
overawed the lower classes, and any violent expression of
contempt for his authority, and renunciation of allegiance to
him as sovereign, would have so shocked their notions of
duty, as to create a reaction in favour of the viceroy and the
royal troops.
The intelligence of the formation of the junta of Zitacua¬
ro, excited enthusiastic hopes throughout Mexico ; and from
the first moment of its establishment, the Spaniards con¬
sidered it as their most formidable enemy. Its destruction,
or dispersion, therefore, became an object of the last impor¬
tance; and, towards the end of the year, Venegas sent per¬
emptory instructions to Calleja to march with all his forces
against the town. After overcoming hardships and diffi¬
culties, which commanded the admiration even of their
enemies, the royal army arrived before Zitacuaro on the
1st of January 1812, and carried it on the following day.
The junta escaped to Sultepec, where it established a new
seat of government; but Calleja inflicted signal vengeance
on the place, for affording shelter to the fugitives. He or¬
dered the inhabitants to be decimated, the town to be burn¬
ed, and the walls of the buildings to be levelled with the soil,
the churches and convents alone being spared. By forced
marches, the royal forces now proceeded to Mexico, where
they were anxiously expected by the viceroy, in order to
check the progress of Morelos, whose triumphant career
we shall now stop to trace from the period at which he last
appeared on the theatre of war.
In October 1810, Morelos was appointed captain-general Exploits of
of the provinces on the south-western coast. In early life Morelos,
he had served in the corps of royal artillery, but having
abandoned the army, he entered the church, and became
curate of Nucupetaro. The success which at first crowned
the rising of Hidalgo, inflamed him with an ardent love of
liberty, and throwing aside the priestly stole, he once more
assumed the profession of arms. His talents and bravery
soon rendered him conspicuous, and secured for him the
important command to which we have just alluded. Fol¬
lowed by a trifling retinue, he proceeded to the coast, and
in about a month after his arrival he found himself at the
head of about one thousand men. With thjs force he ad¬
vanced upon Acapulco. Having come in sight of a numer¬
ous and well appointed body of troops, under Don Francisco
Paris, the commandant of the district, he determined to at¬
tack the camp of the royalists by night, and thus commence
his operations by a coup-d’eclat. This resolution he carried
into effect on the 25 th of January 1811. The enemy were
surprised and put to flight in the utmost confusion, leaving
in the hands of the victorious insurgents, seven hundred
prisoners, (who were treated with the greatest humanity,)
eight hundred muskets, five pieces of artillery, a quantity of
ammunition, and a considerable sum of money. By this bril¬
liant exploit, Morelos obtained so much celebrity, that num¬
bers from everyquarter flocked to his standard; and amongst
others, Galeana, Matamoros, and three persons of the name of
Bra\o, one of whom, Don Nicolas, afterwards became so fa¬
mous. The whole of the year 1811 was spent in a series of
skilful manoeuvres and petty engagements, in which the in¬
surgents were generally successful. Multitudes of blacks now
joined Morelos, but their natural ferocity required to be re¬
strained, and strenuous efforts were made to introduce some¬
thing like discipline amongst them. During January and
February, several actions took place, in all of which Morelos
was victorious; and amongst other advantages which he
*
Bi
fei
Cl
li)S(
!'0ce,
Lilt
1 It was from the name of the bridge where this battle was fought, that Calleja took the title of Conde de Calderon.
MEXICO.
1812.
Brave de¬
fence of
Cuautla.
jEfetory^gained, was'that of the capture of Tasco by Galeano and
_'' Bravo. This town, famous for its mines, is only twenty-five
leagues distant from the capital, towards which the grand
scene of action was gradually approaching.
Meanwhile, intelligence reached Morelos of the arrival of
the victorious royalists under Calleja ; but nothing daunted
by the circumstance, he determined to await the attack at
Cuautla Amilpas, which is distant about two-and-twenty
leagues from the city of Mexico. The town being destitute
of fortifications, was open to attack; but by many ingenious
expedients, it was rendered so strong, that the whole build¬
ings and streets composed one vast system of fortifications.
On the approach of the royalists under Calleja, Morelos with
a small party, proceeded to reconnoitre, but advancing too
near to the enemy, he was charged by a party of cavalry, and
would probably have been taken prisoner, had not Galeana
with a chosen band come to his rescue. On this occasion, Don
Jose Maria Fernandez, afterwards the celebrated general Vic¬
toria, first distinguished himself, having saved the life of Gale-
ana, by receiving a blow which was aimed at him. On the
19th ofFebruary Callejamade a general attack upon the town,
his troops advancing in four columns, and with a confidence
which indicated a resolution to carry all before them. They
were allowed to approach unopposed within one hundred
yards of the Mexican entrenchments, when so murderous a
fire was opened upon them that they were forced to retire
in disorder. Here Galeana engaged a Spanish colonel in
single combat, and slew him in sight of both armies ; an
action which contributed not a little to stimulate the hero¬
ism of his own followers. Another column of royalists was
as gallantly repulsed in the quarter where Morelos com¬
manded in person, and after a conflict which lasted eight
hours, Calleja withdrew from the town, leaving five hundred
dead behind him. From this day he abandoned all thought
of risking another general assault; but fixing his head-quar¬
ters at a little village situated about a league from the town,
he wrote to Venegas for a supply of artillery and other ne¬
cessaries, and having obtained it, he erected batteries, and
began to cannonade and bombard the town. On the first
of March he had been joined by brigadier Llano with his
whole division ; so that the number of his troops, and his
strength in artillery, enabled him to batter both sides of the
place at once. But the firmness of Morelos remained unshak¬
en, and he determined to defend himself to the last extremity.
Many instances of enterprising gallantry occurred, during
this protracted siege; but a detail of these would carry us
beyond our limits, and must be sought for in more detailed
narratives of the revolutionary struggle. Disease and fa¬
mine began to diminish the numbers of the besieged, so that
the commander-in-chief formed the resolution of evacuat¬
ing Cuautla ; and this he succeeded in accomplishing with
equal ability and success, on the night of the second of May.
The troops which had been formed in columns, passed un¬
observed between the enemy’s batteries, but on being at
last discovered, Morelos gave the word for a general dis¬
persion, as had been previously concerted, with orders to
rendezvous at Izucar ; and it is remarkable, that when the
insurgents did muster in that place, only seventeen soldiers
were amissing. Calleja entered Cuautla some hours after
his opponent had left it, and there a-s usual, he perpetrated bar¬
barities which will for ever leave a stain upon his reputation.
Subsequent The moral effect which the siege of Cuautla produced was
pjceedings great, and entirely in favour of the insurgents ; for the re-
01 e*os’sources which Morelos had displayed, and the skill and bra¬
very with which his military operations were conducted, ex¬
torted admiration even from his enemies, whilst they became
the theme of universal praise amongst his countrymen.
Leaving Izucar, he proceeded to Tehuacan, into which he
made a triumphal entry on the 16th of September 1812,
having defeated three divisions of the Spanish army on his
way. His next exploit was the taking of Orizava, where he
VOL. XIV.
785
found nine pieces of artillery; and money, tobacco, and va- History,
rious stores, to the amount of above twelve millions of dol-'w^s/^^/'
lars. On the advance of a superior force, he returned to fSbi-lS.
I ehuacan; and after a short respite from active duty, in the
beginning of November, he set out on his celebrated expe¬
dition to Oaxaca. The royal garrison in that town wras com¬
manded by brigadier Regules, a brave officer. His defence
of the place was gallant; but nothing could resist the im¬
petuous courage of the insurgents. Oaxaca was taken, and
here, after releasing all those who were under restraint for
political opinions, and replacing the Spanish authorities by
Mexicans, Morelos began to take measures for constituting
a National Congress. But to secure from casualties, the go¬
vernment w hich it was proposed to constitute, it became ne¬
cessary to make a conquest of the whole province. This was
rapidly achieved; no place offering any serious resistance,
except Acapulco, the siege of which lasted from February
until August, when it capitulated.
During the absence of Morelos, every thing had been Declaration
prepared by Matamoros for the meeting of the National Con- of inde¬
gress, which took place accordingly, on the 13th of September Pendei,ce*
1813, in the town of Chilpanzingo. This assembly consist¬
ed of the original members of the junta of Zitacuaro, the
deputies elected by the province of Oaxaca, and others
again selected by them as representatives for the provinces
in the possession of the royal troops. Exactly a month after
the opening of the session, an act was published, declaring
the absolute independence of Mexico. It is difficult to deter¬
mine what effect this bold announcement might have produced
in the country, had Morelos continued his career of triumph;
but his star, hitherto in the ascendant, had now reached its
culminating point, and in future was destined rapidly to wane.
Besides the achievements already recorded, the years Morelos
1812 and 1813, were distinguished by several other victories
gained by the insurgent generals, Don Nicolas Bravo and
Matamoros. Two actions took place at the Palmar, in the
first of which Bravo defeated Labaqui, the commandant of
the regiment of patriots at Vera Cruz. The engagement
lasted three days, when the village in which the Spaniards
had sheltered themselves was carried by storm on the 20th
of August 1812. Three hundred prisoners which had been
taken were offered by Bravo in exchange for his father, then
in the hands of the royalists, and under sentence of death.
But the proposal was disdainfully rejected, and Don Leon¬
ardo Bravo was ordered for instant execution. The con¬
duct of the sonin circumstances where severe reprisals might
have been excusable, if not justifiable, reflects the highest
honour on his character. He immediately set all his prisoners
at liberty ; “ wishing,” as he said, “ to put it out of his own
power to avenge on them the death of his parent, lest, in
the first moment of grief the temptation should prove irre¬
sistible.” For the present an entire division of the insur¬
gents was placed at his disposal, and with it he penetrated
into the province of Vera Cruz, w here he fortified the Cerro
of Coscomatepec, and defended it during September and Oc¬
tober against the assaults of Colonel Aguilar, at the head of
three thousand men. Want of provisions alone forced him
to quit the place, and join Morelos at Oaxaca, which he ac¬
complished without the loss of a single man. The second
battle of the Palmar was fought on the 18th of October
1813, when the insurgents under Matamoros gained a com¬
plete victory. It was here that the regiment of Asturias, which
liad distinguished itself at the battle of Baylen, and bore on
its standards the proud title of “the invincible conquerors of
the conquerors of Austerlitz,” was entirely cut off. But the
time had now arrived for Morelos attempting a more deci¬
sive blow than any which had yet been struck. With seven
thousand men, and a large train of artillery, he left Chilpan¬
zingo on the 8th of November, and after sustaining in¬
credible fatigue and privations, arrived before Valladolid
on the 23d of December. This place wras defended by a
5 G
786 M E X
History, formidable force under brigadier Llano and colonel Iturbide.
'*o**Ym**/ Confident of success, Morelos ordered his troops immedi-
1814-15. ately to advance to the attack, but they were driven back
with loss. Next morning, during a general review which
took place within half a mile of the walls, Iturbide made a
sudden attack upon the Mexicans, and threw them into
confusion. They gradually rallied, however, and might have
effectually repulsed the Spaniards, had not a fatal mistake
occurred. A body of cavalry having come to the aid of the
insurgents were by them mistaken for enemies, and fired up¬
on, a circumstance which so enraged the horsemen that they
made a furious charge upon the flank of the insurgents. Itur¬
bide did not allow this accident to pass unimproved. He re¬
newed his attacks, and succeeded in totally routing the whole
army, which lost its best regiments, and all its artillery. This
was the first discomfiture which Morelos had sustained, al¬
though he had been engaged in no less than forty-six battles,
great and small. Unfortunately it was but the commencement
of a series of reverses which, like fatality, attended every en¬
terprise in which he engaged till the close of his career. He
retired to Puruaran, where he was again completely de¬
feated by Iturbide, on the 6th of January 1814. Here a
number of prisoners were taken by the royalists, and amongst
the rest Matamoros. Some Spaniards who had been taken
in former engagements were offered by Morelos in exchange
for him ; but Calleja, who, on the 4th of March 1813, had
superseded Venegas as viceroy, refused to accede to any
such proposal. Matamoros was accordingly shot, and by
way of reprisals the Mexicans put to death all the prisoners
in their hands.
Further re- After appointing Don Miguel Mier y Teran commander
verses and 0f the district of Tehuacan, and Victoria captain-general of
death of tpe province of Vera Cruz, Morelos himself withdrew to the
Morelos. sout]iern coast, the scene of his early triumphs, and there
began to recruit his forces, with his characteristic activity
and resolution. But he was destined to experience defeat
upon defeat. Oaxaca fell into the hands of the royalists on
the 28th of March 1814, and here Don Miguel Bravo was
made prisoner and executed. Galeana also, whose personal
daring had so often been conspicuous, perished on the field
of battle on the 27th of June; whilst the congress itself,
expelled from Chilpanzingo, was forced to take refuge in
the woods of Apatzingan, where it continued its labours, and
on the 22d of October sanctioned the constitution known
by that name. An attempt of the royalists under Iturbide
to surprise this assembly having very nearly proved suc¬
cessful, Morelos resolved to undertake an expedition to Te¬
huacan, where Teran had assembled a considerable force,
for the purpose of placing it in greater safety. With only
five hundred followers he commenced a journey of sixty
leagues through a country occupied by several divisions of
the royalists. The Spaniards conceiving his force much more
considerable than it really was, did not venture to attack him.
But information of the real number of his followers having
been conveyed by some Indians to the commandant Concha,
Morelos was surprised by two parties of Spaniards, on the
5th of November 1815. He ordered Bravo immediately to
continue his march with the main body, whilst he with a
few' men endeavoured to check the advance of the enemy.
He thus succeeded in gaining time, which w as his chief ob¬
ject ; but the enterprise cost him his liberty and his life.
Indeed, he seems to have anticipated such a result. “ My
life,” he observed, “ is of little consequence, provided the
congress be saved. My race was run from the moment I
saw an independent government established.” Most ofhis
fifty followers abandoned him when the firing became wrarm;
but not until only one man remained by his side did the
royalists venture to advance upon him, so great was the
a\ve inspired by his personal courage. He w'as taken prison¬
er, and transferred to the capital with as little delay as pos¬
sible, after experiencing the most brutal treatment at the
ICO.
hands of the Spanish soldiery. Both on his wray to prison, History,
and during his confinement, he maintained the same un-
shaken firmness and self-possession which had all along char-
acterised him. He was first degraded, a humiliating cere¬
mony, which affected him more than the prospect of death
which was to follow; and after a trial, which was conducted
by the odious Bataller, he was condemned to be shot, which
sentence was carried into effect on the 22d of December
1815. He w alked to the place of execution with the most
perfect serenity; and after pronouncing this short prayer,
“ Lord, if I have done well, thou knowest it; if ill, to thy
infinite mercy I commend my soul,” he bound a handker¬
chief about his eyes, and met death with as much composure
as he had ever shewn when facing it on the field of battle.
After the fall of this extraordinary man the affairs of the The affairs
insurgents relapsed into their former confusion. The loss °itlie >»-
of Morelos was irreparable, for he w as the only patriot chief
whose commands were implicitly obeyed. There was indeed c‘onfulsion
no deficiency of military talent, personal courage, and en¬
thusiasm on the part of the people, but there was a total
want of unity of plan, concentration of purpose, and com¬
bination of movement. There was no want of strength, and
the resources of the country which still lay w'ithin the reach
of the insurgent leaders, were quite sufficient to enable them
to achieve the independence of Mexico ; but unfortunate¬
ly these were scattered over a number of provinces amongst
which no bond of union subsisted, each considering itself as
isolated from the rest and entitled to act an independent
part. For several years, therefore, the history of the revo¬
lution consists only of disjointed details of a wide-spread gu¬
erilla wrar, in which success on either side led to no impor¬
tant results. But before returning to Teran, Rayon, and the
other principal lieutenants of Morelos, it will be necessary
shortly to advert to an interesting episode in the narrative
of the revolution, connected with a part of the country not
yet mentioned, but which became in the sequel the scene
of a momentous struggle, namely, Texas.
Amongst the followers of Hidalgo, who were compelled Texas in.
to fly from the vengeance of the Spaniards, was Don Ber- ™de.d ^
nardo Gutierrez. After the confiscation of his property, ft1*1161™1
which was considerable, he effected his escape to the Unit¬
ed States, his first object being to create an interest there
in the cause of Mexican independence. Although labour¬
ing under considerable disadvantages he succeeded at last
in inducing a number of Americans to join the enter¬
prise, amongst whom were several officers who had been in
the field. He organized his little army, of which he was in¬
vested wfith the supreme command, and quitting the United
States, he raised the standard of American independence
and pushed forward into the interior of Texas. Great suc¬
cess attended the enterprise at its commencement. Na¬
cogdoches wras first taken, and the small Spanish garrison
of this place joined the army of Gutierrez. He next took
the town of Salcedo, and his force being daily augmented
by the arrival of fresh volunteers he penetrated to La Ba¬
hia, then defended by a small stone fort. The garrison,
either taken by surprise, or disaffected towards the existing
government, yielded without a struggle. The principal
military force of Spain in Texas was stationed at San An¬
tonio de Bejar, under the immediate command of Don Si¬
mon Herrera, whilst Don Manuel Salcedo was at the same
time governor of the province. The Spaniards lost no time
in advancing to the siege of La Bahia, but wfith all the ad¬
vantages which they possessed in superiority of force, their
efforts to take the place were unavailing; and after a siege
of several months they were compelled to retreat upon San
Antonio, the capital, followed shortly afterwards by the re¬
publican army, The whole royal forces were mustered on
the approach of the enemy, and a conflict took place at the
Salado, about two leagues from the town, in which the
Spaniards were defeated wfith great slaughter. The capital
4
MEXICO.
1815.
listory. ^ surrendered in a few days, Salcedo, Herrera, and all the
Spanish officers resigning their swords under a solemn pro¬
mise that their lives would be spared; but this pledge was
most barbarously violated ; thirteen prisoners of distinction,
including the governor of the province, were taken to a re¬
tired place and inhumanly put to death in cold blood. Most
of the royal troops joined the republican army, which gain¬
ed by the conquest of San Antonio not only an accession of
strength in men, but in artillery, horses, and military stores.
These successes might have led to important results had
they not been followed by a relaxation of discipline and a
spirit of insubordination, which ultimately proved fatal to
the cause. It was, however, sustained for a time by an¬
other victory gained over the royalists, and the confidence
with which the troops of Gutierrez were now inspired ren¬
dered them careless about making preparations to meet the
further efforts of Spain. Instead of pushing forward and
raising the revolutionary standard in the internal provinces,
where numbers of disaffected creoles would have joined him,
Gutierrez lingered in Texas until time was afforded the
viceroy and the captain-general to concentrate a force suf¬
ficient to overwhelm him. The battle was fought on the
20th of June 1813, and was afterwards followed by the ex¬
pulsion of the republican leader from the command, and the
elevation of Toledo, another remarkable individual, whose
career we shall go back a little to trace.
Bn Jose Don Jose Alvarez de Toledo, a native of Cuba, entered
c Toledo, the Spanish navy in very early life and continued in that
profession until he rose to the rank of lieutenant. During
the invasion of the peninsula he joined the land service and
afterwards took his seat in the Cortes of Cadiz as mem¬
ber for the Spanish part of St. Domingo. Being detected
in some correspondence in which he advocated the inde¬
pendence of Spanish America, he was compelled to quit the
country, and sought refuge in the United States. The au¬
spicious commencement of the enterprise under Don Ber¬
nardo attracted his attention ; and resolving to co-operate
with him he collected a small party with which he advanc¬
ed to the theatre of war. Having fixed his head quarters
at Nacogdoches, a printing press was erected, and the first
paper ever published in the interior provinces of Mexico
was issued in Spanish and English early in May 1813. His
party was increased by daily arrivals of fresh volunteers,
and he was on the eve of setting out for San Antonio when
an express arrived from Don Bernardo ordering him to quit
the territory immediately. He complied with this injunction ;
but having been elected commander-in-chief instead of Don
Bernardo, who wTas compelled to resign his commission, he re¬
turned and was duly invested with the command in the month
of July. Whilst preparations were making to meet any force
which might be sent from the interior, a rumour reached
head-quarters that two divisions of Spaniards were advanc¬
ing upon them from different points, with the intention of
concentrating their forces at the distance of three or four
days’ march from the capital of Texas. In this posture of
affairs the choice of two courses remained for the republi¬
cans; either to fortify San Antonio and await an attack, or
to advance upon the royalists before they w'ere able to form a
junction and cut them off in detail. The latter plan was that
adopted. Early in August the republican army, consisting
of about fifteen hundred men together with a small train of
artillery, began its march. But it was soon ascertained that
the two Spanish divisions had effected a junction and were
advancing upon San Antonio. Under these circumstances
it became necessary to alter the plan of operations, and to
place the Medina, a deep ravine rather than a river, between
the army and the town. Toledo disposed his army in a very
skilful manner, his intention being to take the royalists by sur¬
prise ; but an untoward accident rendered his design abortive.
Whilst anxiously waiting for the approach of the royalists
a single horseman advanced to within a short distance of
787
the republican lines, apparently without suspicion of find- History,
ing an enemy there. No sooner did he discover his situa-
tion, however, than he wheeled about and effected his es- 1815-17.
cape. The republican army thus discovered, quitted its po¬
sition which was most advantageous, and advanced to meet
the enemy. Two small skirmishing parties having been driven
back, the main army was at length discovered drawn up
on very favourable ground. Toledo wished to operate only
on the defensive; but a majority of the officers declared other¬
wise, and orders were given to advance and attack the ene¬
my at all hazards. The battle which ensued was contested
with great obstinacy, but the republicans were ultimately
put to flight, and no quarter was given on the field. It was
found impossible to rally the fugitives ; and although an
attempt was made in the spring of 1814 to renew the en¬
terprise, it totally failed.
We have already alluded to the distracted situation ofCoiuijtjon
Mexico after Morelos ceased to direct the operations ofof Mexico
the independents. The country was divided into districts, at this pe-
in each of which one of his former lieutenants assum-riod-
ed the command; and a brief sketch of the career of the
principal chiefs is all that we can afford in this place.
Don Nicholas Bravo succeeded in escorting the deputies
in safety to Tehuacan, where they were received at first
with great respect by General Teran. But disputes soon
arose between the civil and military authorities, each be¬
coming jealous of the power of the other, and suspecting
design's which were never even contemplated. The person
whom the Congress had appointed to manage the public
purse, contrived to embroil himself with Teran, by de¬
manding possession of the money and stores which that
general had with infinite pains collected. Teran finding
himself thus reduced to a state of dependence on the Con¬
gress which had just thrown itself upon his protection, re¬
solved to discard its authority altogether, and accordingly
dissolved it in December 1815. This step has been gene¬
rally blamed as at least precipitate. There can be no
doubt that it was attended by disastrous circumstances ;
for from that moment confusion became worse confound¬
ed ; Victoria, Guerrero, Bravo, Rayon and Teran, confin¬
ing themselves each to his own separate circle, where
they were crushed in turn by the superiority of the com¬
mon enemy. Teran attempted to established a govern¬
ment himself, but none wjould acknowledge it. He con¬
tinued, however, to prosecute that sort of desultory war¬
fare so characteristic of the time, in which he was com¬
monly successful. B ni, the wrant of arms cramped his ef¬
forts, and to supply the deficiency, he undertook an expe¬
dition to the coast, escorted by only three hundred men.
His enterprise proved unsuccessful, although conducted in a
masterly manner, and he distinguished himself by making a
military road, winch is allowed to be a very extraordinary
work, and by a victory gained over a royalist force consist¬
ing of eleven hundred men. Compelled to return to Tehu¬
acan, he fortified himself in Cerro Colorado, w here, being be¬
sieged by a royalist force of four thousand men, he w'as forc¬
ed to surrender on the 21st of January 1817, but on terms
more favourable than had ever yet been granted to a revo¬
lutionary chief.
During the prosperity of Morelos, Rayon acted as one of
his lieutenants, commanding chiefly in the mountainous parts
of Valladolid. His principal strong-hold was in the Cerro
de Coporo, where, in the early part of 1815, he successfully
repulsed a very formidable attack of the royalists ; but this
fortress was ultimately carried during his absence, and Ra¬
yon himself was soon afterwards taken prisoner, and confin¬
ed in the capital until the year 1821. ThefateofDon Nicholas
Bravo w as exactly similar to that of Rayon. Guerrero oc¬
cupied the western coast, and here he maintained himself
in the fastnesses of the Sierra Madre, until the year 1821,
when he joined Iturbide.
788
MEXICO.
History. But amongst all the insurgent chiefs none harrassed the
Spaniards so much, or was so closely pursued by them, as
1817. Victoria. Occupying the important province of Vera Cruz,
o^Vie”^8 ^ur^n» years 1814 and 1815, he succeeded in cutting off
toria1C" almost ah communication between the capital and the only
port through which intercourse with Europe was carried on.
The necessity of keeping this channel open, induced the
viceroy from time to time, to throw fresh bodies of troops
into the province in which it is situated. Victoria was thus
gradually driven from his strongholds-, yet he maintained
the unequal contest for upwards of two years, until the vil¬
lages refusing him supplies, the last remnant of his followers
forsook him, and he was absolutely left alone. Still his cou¬
rage was unsubdued, and his resolution not to submit to
Spanish authority on any terms, remained unshaken. He
scorned the offers that were made him, and accompanied by
a single attendant, sought an asylum in the depth of the
forests. For a time the Indians supplied him with pro¬
visions ; but the viceroy dreading that he might again
emerge from his hiding-place, ordered out a thousand men,
in small detachments, literally to hunt him down like a beast
of prey. His hair-breadth escapes-, and the romantic life
which he led, render this part of his history so extraordinary,
that its truth might be doubted dicl not the unanimous
testimony of his countrymen confirm the story of his suffer¬
ings. Pursued from place to place, he was for several years
subjected to every species of pain and privation. For thirty
months he never tasted bread, but subsisted chiefly on the
fruits of the soil, and occasionally on the flesh of animals,
until he accustomed himself to an abstinence of four or five
days at a time. During all this time he never saw the
face of man, and remained unsheltered, save by the woods,
whose thorny brakes tore his clothes to rags, and lacerated
his body. In short, when the events of 1821 induced him
to quit his fastnesses, the very Indians whom he first met,
fled in terror from such a phantom. Such inflexible virtue,
and unflinching patriotism, merited public gratitude, and
his countrymen shewed it to Victoria. He became the first
president of the Mexican republic.
State of Some facts relative to the state of the country require to
the country be mentioned, before we advert to the enterprize of Mina,
the only event of importance which occurred prior to the
breaking out of the second revolution. The cause of in¬
dependence had been gradually gaining ground amongst
the people, particularly since 1812, when the constitution
which was sanctioned by the Cortez of Cadiz, was extended
to the transatlantic dominions of tfcc crown. It took ef¬
fect in Mexico in the autumn of the same year; and for
two months during which the liberty of the press was toler¬
ated, so many pamphlets against Spain and Spanish domin¬
ation, wrere published, that the tranquillity of the capital was
endangered by the excitement thus produced. These politi¬
cal writings created a national feeling, which became every¬
where predominant. By the new constitution, several im¬
portant privileges had been conceded to the natives; amongst
the rest, the right of electing the members of the Cabildo,
and the deputies to the Cortez. It was in exercising these
that the true state of public opinion became apparent. Out
of six hundred and fifty-two elective appointments, not one
was bestowed upon a European; and most were conferred
upon individuals identified with the cause of independence.
In law, also, matters underwent so complete a reform, that
a creole might now hope for a favourable decision, provid¬
ed his cause was a good one. Thus by t-he pew constitution,
the reverses sustained by the creole leaders in the field,
were more than counterbalanced ; and it appears from seve¬
ral important documents which were found in the archives of History,
the vice-royalty, after the independence of Mexico had been
effected, that for many years the confidential servants of the 1817.
crown felt the impossibility of maintaining its authority there,
unless supported by an overwhelming military force, such
as the mother country could not supply, and that any pros¬
pect of permanently suppressing the revolution had become
hopeless. Under the mild sway of admiral Apodaca, who
succeeded Calleja in the vice-regal authority, all was done
that could be done to secure the allegiance of the natives. The
arrival of fresh troops from the Peninsula, enabled him to
extend his military ramifications throughout the whole coun¬
try, and enforce obedience even at the most distant points.
Thus, as we have seen, the revolutionary chiefs were suc¬
cessively crushed ; and the facilities afforded to all who had
embarked in the enterprise for reconciling themselves with
the government by accepting pardon, reduced the number
of those actually in arms in 1816, and the three following
years, to a very inconsiderable amount.
After her last patriotic chiefs had quitted the open field, Inroad of
and sought refuge in the mazes of the forests, a deep gloom Mina,
hung over the affairs of Mexico, which remained for a
long time unbroken, save by the sudden inroad of Mina.1
This remarkable individual landed in Mexico on the 15th
of April 1817, at a time most unpropitious for the undertak¬
ing in which he had embarked. All the independent lead¬
ers had disappeared from the scene, except those with whom
it was a disgrace to be associated. Such was the infamous
Padre Torres, who exercised a despotic sway over the Baxio,
which he parcelled out amongst his military commandants,
men whose only recommendation was implicit obedience to
the will of their chief; and who obtained honour and re¬
wards in the inverse ratio of their humanity and virtue.
From a fortress, on the top of the mountain of Los Remedi-
os, Torres proved the scourge of the whole country around,
sparing none who had the misfortune to offend him, and
laying waste the most fertile portion of Mexico. Robin¬
son mentions several instances of the most wanton barbar¬
ity on the part of this man, which do violence to human feeling;
yet it was under his auspices that the only shadow of a go¬
vernment, termed the junta of Jauxilla, was still kept up by
the insurgents. Nevertheless the feeling throughout the coun¬
try was so decidedly in favour of independence, that the suc¬
cess of Mina would scarcely have been doubtful, had he not
laboured under very great disadvantages. He was not
a Mexican, but a Spaniard ; and he was against a disunion
of the two countries, wishing only for the re-establishment
of the constitutional system of 1812. We cannot follow him
throughout his short but extraordinary career, but his prin¬
cipal exploits may be narrated. With about two hundred
men, he left Soto la Marina, the place of his landing, and
pushing forward to the confines of the table land, defeated
a body of four hundred royalist cavalry. About the mid¬
dle of June 1817, he reached the Hacienda de Peotillos,
and on a little eminence which commanded the plain, await¬
ed a royal army two thousand strong, with a force of only
one hundred and seventy-two men, a small detachment
being left in charge of the baggage. Incredible as it may
appear, he totally routed the royal troops; and two days af¬
terwards took the town of Pinos by surprise. He continu¬
ed to penetrate into the interior, until he fell in with the ad¬
vanced guard of the insurgents of the Baxio, with whom he
reached Sombrero on the 24th of June, having in thirty days
traversed a tract of country two hundred and twenty leagues
in extent, and been three times engaged with an enemy
greatly superior in numbers. In conjunction with his new
1 Don Xavier Mina, a famous Spanish guerilla chief, and nephew to Espoz y Mina, still more celebrated for his patriotic efforts in
Spain. Don Xavier was driven from his native country after an unsuccessful attempt to create a rising in favour of the Cortez at Pam-
peluna, subsequently to the dissolution of that assembly by the king; but not discouraged by his first failure, he repaired to the New
World, a wider theatre of action.
*
M E X
History allies, and some recruits, by whom his force was swelled to
about four hundred, he advanced upon San Juan de los
Llanos, and on the 29th of June totally defeated the royal¬
ists under general Gastanon. Of seven hundred men whom
the latter led into the field, only one hundred and fifty ef¬
fected their escape, all the rest being either killed, wound¬
ed, or taken prisoners; and amongst the slain was Castahon
himself.
'Defeat and
ieath of
Vlina.
Soon afterwards Los Remedios, the strong-hold of Padre
Torres, was invested by a royalist force of five thousand men,
under the command of general Linan. Previous to the com¬
mencement of the siege, Mina had quitted this place at the
head of nine hundred insurgent cavalry, intending to harass
the besiegers by keeping up a desultory guerilla war; but his
movements were watched by another body of Spaniards, eight
hundred strong, so that the necessity of striking a blow else¬
where, became apparent. He accordingly advanced by se¬
cret marches upon Guanajuato, and on the 24th of October,
at nightfall, succeeded in carrying the gates, and penetrating
into the very centre of the town. At this critical moment
the courage and subordination of his troops failed them ;
they refused to advance a step farther; and time being thus
allowed the garrison to arm themselves, they attacked the
insurgents, who, by the general’s orders, dispersed with the
utmost precipitation. Mina himselfwas taken prisoner three
days afterwards, and sent to the head-quarters of Linan, there
to remain until intelligence of the manner in which he was
to be disposed of, should arrive from Apodaca. The viceroy
dispatched orders for his immediate execution, and the sen¬
tence was carried into effect on the 11 th of November. Mina
perished in his twenty-eighth year, and appears to have met
his fate with great firmness. He is uniformly represented
by those who knew him, as a young man of uncommon talent;
uniting, in a remarkable degree, energy and personal cour¬
age with coolness and judgment. He was besides untainted
with that ferocity which characterised many of the guerilla
chiefs of the Peninsula. Not long after his death, Los Re¬
medios was evacuated by the insurgents, and with the ex¬
ception of Padre Torres and twelve of Mina’s division, none
of the fugitives escaped. The ferocious commander himself,
was a few months afterwards run through the body by one of
his own officers. The fort of Jauxilla, the only other strong¬
hold of the Mexicans in the interior, surrendered on the
6th of March 1818. One or two insurgent chiefs attempt¬
ed to make a stand against the Spaniards, but without suc¬
cess ; they gradually disappeared, so that in July 1819, not
one remained of those who had taken any lead in the revo¬
lution.
state of the The cause of Mexican independence seemed now to have
ndepend- gunk to such a low ebb, that the viceroy wrote in great con-
■nt cause. fjjence to the court of Madrid, representing the country as
so tranquil and submissive to the royal authority, that he
would answer for its safety, w ithout the assistance of a sin¬
gle soldier from Europe. But the appearances on which
he relied proved altogether fallacious. The suspension of
hostilities afforded the creole troops who had assisted Spain
against their country an opportunity of reflecting upon their
situation, and the object for which they had shed their blood
so profusely. The disbanded insurgents were allowed to
mingle freely in their ranks, and proselytes to the principles
of the revolution were rapidly made even in the royal camp
itself. In private, the bulk of the people were as warmly
attached to them as ever, although they did not openly boast
of holding such doctrines. About the middle of 1820 ac¬
counts arrived in Mexico of the revolution in Spain, occa¬
sioned by the revolt of the army in the Isla de Leon; and
it soon became public that orders had been sent to Apodaca
to proclaim the constitution, which Ferdinand VII. had
been compelled to adopt. The era of 1812 was revived,
and the public mind thrown into a ferment, which the
viceroy, from his restricted powers, found it impossible
ICO.
to allay. Besides, the Mexicans were divided amongst History,
themselves, one party professing a sincere adherence to thev-*p^-W
constitution, whilst another class was as strongly attached to 1821.
the old system. Necessity, of course, compelled the viceroy
to take the oath to the constitution; but he favoured those
who were opposed to it, and took secret measures for effect¬
ing its subversion.
General Armigo, who was partial to the constitution, was Defection
dismissedfrom the command of the army stationed between of Iturbide.
the capital and Acapulco, and his place supplied by Don
Augustin Iturbide, to whom allusion has already been made.
This officer, a Mexican by birth, early distinguished himself,
and was upon the eve of joining the insurgents, in 1808, when
either, as he himself says, disgusted with their projects, or, as
they on the other hand assert, having been rejected on ac-
countoftheexorbitantrateatwhich he estimated his services,
all communication between them was broken off, and he join¬
ed the royal standard. Having distinguished himself in the
action of Las Cruces, he from that moment rose rapidly.
His activity and knowledge of the country recommended
him as a fitting agent to execute any dangerous enterprise ;
and in these he was almost uniformly successful. As a gue¬
rilla chief he had displayed uncommon military talent; and
when intrusted with a more important command, he inflicted
two of the most severe blows which the insurgent cause sus¬
tained, in the battles of Valladolid and Puruaran. The lus¬
tre of his military exploits was, however, tarnished by a
cruelty towards prisoners seldom evinced e\'en amongst the
Spaniards. His cold-blooded executions, together with
the rapacity and extortion which he exercised in the go¬
vernment ol the Baxio, where he commanded, became at
last so odious, that the viceroy found it necessary in 1816,
torecalhimtothe capital, where he remained unemployed till
1820. It was at the close ofthis year that Apodaca had recourse
to him as a fit agent for executing his plans against the con¬
stitution. He was offered the command of a body of troops
stationed upon the western coast, at the head of which he was
to proclaim the re-establishment of the absolute authority
of the king. The proposal was accepted, and Iturbide left
the capital in February 1821, but with intentions very dif¬
ferent from those by which the viceroy supposed him to be
actuated.
Four years of leisure and reflection had enabled this man Second
to form a proper estimate of the strength of parties in Mexico, Mexican
and to perceive that the authority of Spain might be shaken revolution,
off provided the creole troops could be brought to co-operate
with the old insurgents. But no suspicion of his real mo¬
tives was entertained by the viceroy, and the escort of half
a million of dollars destined for embarkation at Acapulco was
implicitly confided to him. Iturbide, however, having ar¬
rived at a town called Iguala, situated about one hundred
and twenty miles from the capital, took possession of the
money; and on the 24th of February he commenced the
second Mexican revolution, by proposing a new government,
which is well known under the title of “ the plan of Iguala.”
His force at this time amounted to eight hundred men, who
unanimously took the oath of fidelity to the “ plan,” whilst
a copy was transmitted to the viceroy, and to all the gover¬
nors of provinces. This celebrated document consisted of
twenty-four articles, the principal points embodied in which
were, a declaration of Mexican independence ; the recog¬
nition of the Catholic religion as the national creed; the es¬
tablishment of a constitutional monarchy; the formation of
a junta of government; an offer of the crown to Ferdinand
VII., and in the event of his refusal to the Infantes Don Carlos
and Don Francisco de Paula, provided any of them would
consent to occupy the throne in person; an abolition of
castes, and of the despotism of military commandants ; the
formation of an army for the support of religion, independ¬
ence, and union, and for guaranteeing these three principles,
whence it was to be called the army of the three guarantees;
790
MEXICO.
History, a general amnesty to all who should give in their adhesion
to the “ plan and other provisions of less importance.
1821. When the viceroy learned the defection of Iturbide, and
Success of gygtem 0f government which he had concocted, he con-
UU 1 e‘ centrated a force upon the capital for the purpose of defend¬
ing it, and frustrating the plans of the revolutionists. But he¬
sitating to put himself at the head of the troops, the Europeans
became alarmed at his indecision and delay, and without
further ceremony deposed him, as they had done Iturrigaray,
placing at the head of affairs, Novella, an officer of artillery.
By this unwise proceeding a schism was created in the capi¬
tal, which afforded Iturbide an opportunity of prosecuting his
scheme without interruption. He effected a junction with
general Guerrero, and from this moment his success became
certain. On his route to the Baxio, great numbers of men and
officers joined his standard, and whilst both the clergy and
the people declared in his favour, the most distant districts
gave in their adhesion to his “plan” of government. Before
the month of July the whole country had recognised his au¬
thority, with the exception of the capital, where the viceroy
had shut himself up with the European troops. On his march
to invest the city of Mexico, intelligence reached Iturbide
that the new constitutional viceroy and political chief, O’Don-
oju, had arrived at Vera Cruz. He immediately requested an
interview with this functionary, and allowed him to advance
as far as Cordova, where a meeting took place. The adop¬
tion, by treaty, of the plan of Iguala was proposed to O’Don-
oju, and by him agreed to. In the name of his master the
viceroy recognised the independence of Mexico, and gave
up the capital to the army of the three guarantees. Such
was the treaty of Cordova, which was signed by Iturbide,
“ as the depository of the will of the Mexican people,” and by
O’Donoju, as the representative of Spain, on the 24th of
August 1821. By virtue of this treaty, Iturbide obtained
possession of the capital, which he entered in triumph on the
27th of September. Novella and such of the Europeans
as chose to leave the country, were allowed to quit the Mex¬
ican territory, and private property was strictly respected.
The junta proposed in the plan of Iguala was installed with¬
out loss of time. It was composed of thirty-six persons, who
elected a regency, consisting of five individuals, with Itur¬
bide at their head. He was at the same time created gene¬
ralissimo and lord high admiral, and had assigned to him a
yearly salary of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars.
Usurpation The career of Iturbide had hitherto been triumphant, and
of Iturbide. to all appearance the country had gone along with him. As
far as concerned the separation from Spain, this was really the
case ; but when the details of the future government came
to be discussed, matters very soon took a different turn. By
one rash, if not despotic step, the power of Iturbide was over¬
thrown. In assembling the National Congress, he suggested
the necessity of the deputies pledging themselves to his plan,
by swearing to observe it before they took their seats in the
congress. This displeased many of the old insurgents, par¬
ticularly those who had acted a conspicuous part in the cause
of independence, such as Victoria, Bravo, and Guerrero. The
first Mexican Cortes met on the 24th of February 1822, and
its members soon split into three distinct parties; first, the
Bourbonists, or those who adhered to the plan of Iguala,
and wished to establish a constitutional monarchy, with a
prince of the house of Bourbon at its head ; secondly,
the Iturbidists, who adopted the plan of Iguala, with the
exception of the article in favour of the Bourbons, wish¬
ing to elevate Iturbide himself to the throne; and, third¬
ly, the republicans, who denied the right of the army to
pledge the nation to the plan of Iguala, and desired a cen¬
tral or federal republic. Amongst the Bourbonists were
many honourable and enlightened men; but they soon ceased
to exist as a separate party, the Cortes of Madrid having
declared the treaty of Cordova “to be illegal, null and void,
in as far as the Spanish government and its subjects were
concerned.” They formed a junction with the revolution- Histor-
ists whenever it was necessary to check the growing power8—
of Iturbide, whose ambitious projects now became more and 1822,
more conspicuous. A protracted contest ensued; the Con¬
gress meeting the demands of the regency for money with
a charge of wasteful expenditure, whilst the president loudly
denounced the Congress, accusing them of wilfully expos¬
ing the army to the greatest privations, and the country to
the most imminent danger. Of the multifarious conten¬
tions which followed, it is unnecessary to give any detailed
account. Iturbide strenuously urged the necessity of aug¬
menting the army ; but the Congress, instead of adding to
the regular troops, brought forward a measure for reducing
the army from sixty to tw enty thousand men, the deficiency
to be supplied by calling out an auxiliary force of thirty
thousand militia ; and notwithstanding all the exertions of
Iturbide, this proposal was carried by a large majority. The
friends of the president now saw that his influence was on
the wane, and that if they wished to raise him to the throne,
the attempt must be made before the memory of his former
services was obliterated. Their measures were concerted
accordingly. Upon this occasion none of the commissioned
officers was employed. The sergeants of three regiments
then in garrison in the capital, which were known to be
much attached to Iturbide’s person, wrere the instruments se¬
lected for carrying into execution their designs. On the
night of the 18th of May, having assembled the soldiers,
they marched out of their quarters, and followed by a motley
group of leperos or lazzaroni, drew up in front of Iturbide’s
house. At ten o’clock commenced the shouts of “ Long
live Iturbide, Augustin the First, Emperor of Mexico;” and
the vivas and firing continued during the whole night. Next
day the Congress assembled to discuss his title to the crown;
and although many were opposed to the measure, the gal¬
leries and places leading to the hall were so crowded with
the armed partisans of Iturbide, that the Congress was un¬
der the necessity of consenting to the wishes of the soldiery,
and of a blind infuriated mob, the wTorst perhaps in the
world. Iturbide had recourse to the old and stale manoeuvre
of pretending to consent with reluctance to the will of the
people ; he was accordingly proclaimed emperor, with the
sanction of the National Assembly; and the choice was rati¬
fied by the provinces without opposition.
Had the new emperor confined his authority within con- Conduct of
stitutional bounds, and endeavoured to conciliate the con-ffe ne'v
gress, he probably might have remained in quiet possession
of the throne of Mexico. The limits of the imperial pre¬
rogative, and the authority of the legislative body had yet to
be defined, and before this could be accomplished they requir¬
ed to be discussed. The privileges demanded by the emperor
were quite inconsistent with any thing like regulated freedom.
He wished to have the right of appointing and removing
at pleasure the judges of the supreme court; he claimed a
veto upon all laws, not excepting the articles of the consti¬
tution, then under discussion ; and he recommended the
establishment of a military tribunal in the capital, with pow¬
ers very little inferior to those exercised by the Spanish
commandants during the revolution. Some of his former
demands the Congress had agreed to concede, but this last
attack upon their liberties they indignantly repulsed. Such
decisive conduct led at once to an open rupture. LTpon the
night of the 26th of August, fourteen deputies of liberal
principles were by the emperor’s orders arrested, and thrown
into prison. This bold step was followTed by a series of re¬
clamations and remonstrances on the part of the Congress,
which only tended to widen the breach, and to render an
accommodation impossible. Iturbide determined to end the
dispute, as Cromw ell had done under similar circumstances.
He sent an officer to the hall of the Congress with a simple
notification that the assembly had ceased to exist, and an
order to dissolve it by force should any resistance be offered
to ■
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MEXICO.
791
The old Congress was immediately convoked ; a provi- History,
sional government was established; and an executive, com-
the chamber were closed by the officer whom the emperor had posed of three persons was appointed. These wei’e Gene- 1824-25.
^•'deputies dissolved their sessions at once, and"the doors of
commissioned to make known his will. This took place on the
30th of October 1822. On the same day, a proclamation
announced the dissolution of Congress, and appointed a new
legislative assembly called the Instituent Junta, consisting
of forty-five members selected by Iturbide himself. The
state of the treasury being laid before this body, a forced
loan of two millions and a half of dollars was decreed; and
as the exigencies of the state were urgent they applied for
its immediate use a large sum belonging to Spaniards who
had quitted or were about to quit the country, and which
had been accidentally detained at Perote.
This assembly, however, never possessed any influence in
the country, and the tranquillity which Iturbide enjoyedprov-
ed of short duration. An insurrection broke out in the
northern provinces in the month of October, which might have
proved serious under an efficient leader, though it was soon
crushed by the imperial troops. But matters were brought to
i*als Victoria, Bravo, and Negrete, the two former being na- His re-ap-
tives, and the latter a European of distinguished talents. Pearance
They conducted the affairs of the country until a new Con-anddeath‘
gress was assembled in August 1823; and in October 1824,
the federal constitution was definitively settled by the lat¬
ter. But before alluding to this subject, we shall here briefly
notice an event which again placed the tranquillity of the
country in jeopardy. Iturbide the ex-emperor had proceeded
to Leghorn by a ship freighted to convey him thither. He
subsequently visited London, whence, on the 11th of May
1824, he embarked with his family for Mexico. In taking
this step he seems to have acted under the impression that
a little time would prove as fatal to the popularity of his
rivals as it had been to his own; and that the eyes of his
countrymen would then be directed to himself, as the only
means of preserving them from anarchy. A decree of Con¬
gress, dated the 28th of April preceding, had declared him
a crisis by the defection of General Santa Anna, governor of a traitor, and placed him out of the protection of the law,
Vera Cruz. Towards the close of the year 1822, he publish- in the event of his again appearing in Mexico. Disregard¬
ed an address to the nation, in which he reproached the ing this denunciation, he landed about the middle of July,
emperor with having broken his coronation oath by dissolv- at Soto la Marina, where he introduced himself in disguise
ing the Congress ; and declared his resolution, and that of and under a feigned name. But he was apprehended by
the garrison under his command, to reassemble this body, General Garza, and shot a few days afterwards; a measure,
and to support whatever form of government it might please
to adopt. Iturbide, instead of endeavouring to conciliate
the insurgents, as Santa Anna’s troops were called, deter¬
mined to repress the revolt by force of arms. With this view
he despatched General Echavari, a Spaniard, in whom he
placed the highest confidence, with a force sufficiently strong
to invest Vera Cruz. But in the meantime Victoria quitted
his hiding place in the mountains and joined Santa Anna, who
immediately yielded to him the chief command. He could
not have adopted a wiser measure. Victoria’s principles and
character being well known, the natives rallied in great
numbers round his standard. Echavari finding that public
opinion was everywhere decidedly against the emperor, made
common cause with the garrison of Vera Cruz, and induced
his whole army to follow his example. On the first of Feb¬
ruary 1823, an act was signed called the act of Casa-Mata,
by which the armies pledged themselves to effect the re-es-
tablishment of the national representative assembly, and to
support it against all attacks. As soon as this was known
the provinces rapidly gave in their adhesion to Victoria; and
Bravo, Guerrero, and Negrete having joined the republican
army, defection now became so general, that Iturbide ab¬
andoned all thoughts of resistance. On the 8th of March
he assembled all the members of the old Congress who were
in the city, and tendered his abdication ; but the number
present being insufficient to constitute a house, it was not
accepted. On the 19th of March he repeated the offer, and
stated at the same time his intention of quitting the coun¬
try, lest his presence might give rise to further dissensions.
The Congress refused to accept of the abdication, as that
would have implied that he had legal right to the crown; but
they willingly allowed him to quit the kingdom with his fa¬
mily, andassigned him a yearly pension of about fivethousand
i pounds. Iturbide was allowed to choose his own escort to
the coast, and selected General Bravo for the purpose, by
whom he was accompanied to Antigua, near Vera Cruz,
where a ship was freighted by government to convey him
to Leghorn.
the severity of which has been justified by the impossibi¬
lity of otherwise avoiding a civil war.
The form of government adopted by the representatives Form of
of Mexico, was that of a Federal Republic, upon the plan of government
that of the United States, the deviations being few and
unimportant. Nineteen states and four territories, each of
which manages its own internal concerns, compose the con¬
federation ; whilst the wdiole are cemented into one body
politic, by certain general laws and obligations, contained
in the federal constitution of the 4th of October 1824, of which
an outline will be afterwards given. For some months
Generals Victoria, Guerrero, and Bravo, exercised the su¬
preme executive power; but it soon became necessary to elect
a president, and the choice fell upon Victoria, whilst Bravo
obtained the vice-presidency. The devoted patriotism of
Victoria, and the eminent services rendered by him to his
country in its struggle for independence, gave assurances of
tranquillity and freedom ; and the first Congress of Mexico
under its new constitution, assembled on the 1st of January
1825. It is worthy of remark, that about the same time
the independence of Mexico and that of some of the south
American republics was recognised by the British cabinet.
But the hopes which had been formed regarding the peace Subsequent
and prosperity of Mexico, have proved altogether fallacious, disorders
Since the above period repeated revolutions have disturbed and revolu-
and agitated the country. From the moment at which the war tlons‘
ofindependence commenced, the nation became divided into
two parties ; natives, and guachupines, or European Spani¬
ards. The former consisted of those who wished to establish
the independence of Mexico; the latter were warmly attach¬
ed to the dominion of Spain. To these two parties, succeed¬
ed the Imperialists and Republicans ; and, lastly, came the
Centralists and Federalists, which, under the sobriquets of
Escosses and Yorkinos, appellations derived from two ma¬
sonic societies, have for several years divided the republic.1
Since the success of what has been called the plan of Igua- Intrigues of
la, every new project or scheme of reform, either in the Rivero, and
organic laws, or in their administration, has been styled “a°foers-
1 The term Escosses is synonymous with aristocrat, and that of Yorkino with democrat. The first society, which is supposed to be of
Scotch origin, is composed of many of the largest proprietors in the country, particularly those who possessed titles of nobility before the
revolution ; besides a number of officers of distinction, and wealthy individuals belonging to different professions. The members of this as¬
sociation are mostly men of moderate principles, and opposed to violent changes, although sincerely attached to the cause of independence.
They were the advocates of conciliating measures, and would have been contented with a prince of the royal blood of Spain, as constitu¬
tional king of Mexico; and on this account their adversaries the Yorkinos, charge them with “ Bourbonism.” Until 1825, the Yorkinos
did not exist as a party ; but in the summer of that year, a number of individuals not connected with the Escosses, though not violently
MEXICO.
792
History, plan.” The first of these which seriously disturbed the
administration of Victoria, was set on foot in 1827 by Mon-
-7-28. tano, at Ottumba. The document which he published, pro¬
posed the total suppression of all secret societies, an entire
change in the administrative functions of the government,
and the expulsion of the resident minister of the United
States, who, as we have seen, was an active agent in the for¬
mation of the Yorkino lodge ; and the blow aimed at him
must doubtless be attributed to that circumstance. Early
in January 1828, Colonel Rivero attempted to excite an in-
. surrection against the government in support of Montano,
but he was put down by a proclamation declaring Montano
guilty of treasonable designs. The vice-president became
involved in the intrigues of the time, and went so far as to
accuse the president of acting under Yorkino influence, and
sanctioning schemes highly injurious to the country. Bravo
suddenly left the capital, and, stationing himself at Zalan-
cingo, published a manifesto, in which, notwithstanding his
relation to the Escosses, he declared himself in favour of the
plan of Montano. This conduct on the part of Bravo, com¬
pletely changed the position in which he and his friends had
formerly stood. The advocates of order and moderation
appeared in the character of enemies to the established sys¬
tem, whilst the executive was compelled by their aggression
to throw itself into the arms of the Yorkinos, whose chief,
General Guerrero, assumed the command of the government
troops. Bravo was proclaimed a traitor, and although at
the head of a considerable military force, he surrendered
without any serious opposition to Guerrero, whom Victoria
had despatched to suppress the revolt. The Congress found
Bravo guilty of treasonable designs against government; and
by a decree dated the 15th of April 1828, he was banished
from the country for a period of seven years.
Pedraza The time was now approaching, when it became neces-
elected pre- sary to find a successor to Victoria as president of the repub-
sident. iic ; ancl from the blow which the Escosses had received in
the banishment of their chief, their advocates confidently
anticipated a triumph in the elevation of Guerrero. But the
period fixed by the constitution was still distant, and before
its arrival, another candidate was brought forward to oppose
the Yorkinos. This was General Gomez Pedraza, at that
time minister of war and marine, and a very efficient mem¬
ber of the Mexican cabinet. The whole of the Escosses party,
together with a portion of the more moderate Yorkinos, unit¬
ed in his favour; and the canvass was conducted with the great¬
est zeal, nay even rancour. After an arduous contest, Pe¬
draza was elected president by a majority of two votes ; and
the Escosses looked forward to a long period of tranquillity
under his firm and vigorous administration. But unhappily
these sanguine anticipations were not realized. The disap¬
pointed party was loud in its denunciation of the successful
candidate. His friends were accused of briber^ and corrup¬
tion, and even charged with procuring the interference of the
military in some of the states. By a singular anomaly in
the constitution of Mexico, a period of nearly seven months
is allowed to elapse, before the president who has been elect¬
ed, can take possession of the government; so that time was
thus afforded the defeated party to collect its strength, and
prepare for a vigorous effort to annul the election by an ap¬
peal to arms.
A ttempt of It was at this time that General Santa Anna, whom we have
Santa An- already had occasion to mention, began to play a distinguish-
na to annul ed part in public affairs. He exercised great influence over
'ihe election ]nS troops, with whom, as well as with the people, he was very
popular. He had previously been driven from the office of
vice-governor of Vera Cruz and had taken refuge injal- History,
apa. As soon as he learned the result of the general elec-8^"^
tion he gained over the troops in that place, and seizing 1828.
upon the military chest and stores, he marched early in Sep¬
tember to Perote, which he took possession of at the head
of about eight hundred men. There he published a mani¬
festo in the shape of an address from the liberating army to
the people of Anahuac. In this document he denounced
the legislature as the secret abettors of the plan of Montano,
and as intriguing against the liberties of the people in fa¬
vour of a Bourbon prince. He charged Pedraza with hav¬
ing shewn himself inimical to the interests of the people, and
with having succeeded in his election by fraudulent means,
contrary to the wishes of the majority, and he declared it
to be the will of the people that Guerrero should assume
the reins of government. It was further proposed that
the people and army should annul the election of Pedraza;
that the Spanish residents should be banished, on the as¬
sumption that they were the primary cause of the grievances
from which the Mexicans suffered; that Guerrero should be
declared president; and that the legislature should proceed to
a new election. This audacious “ plan ” was vigorously
protestedagainst by Victoria; and addresses reprobating the
conduct of Santa Anna poured in from all quarters. Per¬
ote was invested by a government force, and the refractory
general was compelled to make a precipitate retreat in the
direction of Oaxaca. In the capital some of the Yorkinos, and
amongst others one of the chief leaders, Zavala governor of
the state of Mexico, evinced a disposition to make common
cause with Santa Anna; and Zavala, upon his being de¬
nounced to the Congress as a correspondent of that general,
confirmed the accusation by flight. The mass of the popu¬
lation, however, remained undisturbed, and Guerrero him¬
self resolved quietly to await the course of events.
Fiom a feeling of hostility towards the natives of the Expulsion
peninsula, which prevailed pretty generally throughout Mex- of the
ico, matters were very speedily brought to a crisis. On the Spaniards
night of the 30th November 1828, a battalion of militia,
headed by the ex-Marquis of Cadefia, and assisted by a regi¬
ment under colonel Garcia, took possession of the artillery
barracks at the Acordada, surprised the guard, seized the
guns and ammunition, and intimated to the president their
determination either to compel the Congress to issue a de¬
cree for the banishment of the Spanish residents in the course
of twenty-four hours, or to carry this resolution into effect
in a more summary manner by massacring all who should
fall into their hands. The military force at the immediate
disposal of the president was too small to make any effectual
resistance, and the night was wasted in fruitless attempts at
negociation. Next morning the insurgents were joined by
general Lobato, a partizan in the revolutionary war, Zavala,
the ex-governor of Mexico, the Yorkino deputy Cerecero,
a party of militia, and a number of officers, together with a
vast multitude of leperos, who were promised the pillage
of the capital as the reward of their services. Guerrero
was immediately proclaimed; and the general, after haran¬
guing the populace, quitted the metropolis with a small reti¬
nue, and took up a position about three leagues from the
gates, where he actively employed himself in collecting a force
to support the measure of his partizans. Unfortunately for
the executive, the president becamp suspected of favouring
the Yorkinos; and the Congress not only refused to entrust
general Victoria with extraordinary powers, but thought it
necessary repeatedly to call upon him to assert his author¬
ity by making a vigorous use of those with which he was
opposed to them, were united as a rival sect under the above designation, because they derived their origin from the masonic lodge of New
York, which transmitted through Mr. Poinsett, the American Minister, the diplomas and insignia requisite for the establishment of an
affiliated lodge in the capital of Mexico. They are the ultra-federalists, or democrats of Mexico, and profess the most violent hostility to
Spain and Spanish residents, whom the Escosses protected after their power to injure the country had ceased. At the head of the Es¬
cosses lodge was General Bravo; whilst the grand master of the Yorkinos was General Guerrero ; and an opportunity was soon afforded
ror putting to the test the strength of the adverse parties.
MEXICO.
793
1829.
f History, constitutionally invested. But Victoria does not appear to
have acted with his usual decision and prompitude, proba¬
bly from an aversion to shed Mexican blood. By the second
of December the insurrection had made alarming progress,
the doors of the prisons having been forced open and the
criminals allowed to escape. The government now hazard¬
ed an appeal to arms, and succeeded in recovering several
important posts from the insurgents ; but they were regain¬
ed on the following day after a severe contest, in which se¬
veral officers of distinction fell on both sides, besides a great
number ot men. The ranks of the insurgents were soon
filled up, whilst those of the government remained without
reinforcement. Indeed they gradually lost ground, and on
the night of the 3d many officers, foreseeing how the struggle
would terminate, sought safety in flight. During a suspen¬
sion of hostilities which took place on the 4th, General Guer¬
rero entered the city with a considerable force, and the appear¬
ance of these fresh troops was a signal for the recommence¬
ment of firing at every point. But the termination of this
calamitous struggle was rapidly approaching. The govern¬
ment troops were gradually driven back towards the palace,
and the leperos, spreading themselves like a torrent over
the town, committed every species of excess. They direct¬
ed their vengeance chiefly against the Spaniards ; but all
who were supposed to possess wealth fell victims to the ra¬
pacity of an unbridled mob. These disgraceful scenes con¬
tinued for two days, and property to a very great amount,
was destroyed or changed owners. The pillage was at last
put a stop to by Guerrero, whom the president had appoint¬
ed minister of the war department, Pedraza having quitted
the capital just in time to save his head. Several provin¬
ces eagerly espoused his cause, but he sacrificed his indivi¬
dual rights and personal feelings in order to preserve the
peace of his country, and recommended submission to an
unconstitutional president in preference to a civil war. The
troops scattered throughout the country gradually went
over to the victorious party, and state after state, in rapid
succession, declared in favour of the expulsion of the Span¬
iards and the presidency of Guerrero. Pedraza formally
resigned his office, and was allowed to quit the territories of
the republic. A new congress having assembled on the first
of January 1829, Guerrero was declared duly elected, and
General Anastasio Bustamante, a distinguished Yorkino lea¬
der, was associated with him as vice-president, whilst other
offices of government were filled by members selected from
the Yorkino body. It is not a little remarkable that Santa
Anna, the prime mover of this “plan,” was not permitted to
take an active part in its execution. He remained closely
besieged in a convent in the vicinity of Oajaca, and was forc¬
ed to surrender at discretion to General Calderon on the
14th of December. But before that time the fate of Mexi¬
co had been decided, and any partial success which might
have attended the government forces would have been of
little avail. Santa Anna laid down his arms only to be in¬
vested with the supreme military command of the republic
twenty-four hours afterwards.
Invasion of The success with which this daring revolt was crowned
Barradas, cannot be otherwise regarded than as a most unfortunate
and abdica- circumstance. The interference of the military to reverse
the decree of the people in the case of a general election is
always a filial precedent, and one entirely subversive of civil
rights. The first event which disturbed the country after
the elevation of Guerrero was its invasion by Barradas in
the summer of 1829. This general having collected a con¬
siderable number of troops in the island of Cuba, for the
purpose of making a last effort for the recovery of Mexi¬
co, transported his force to Tampico, and immediately com¬
menced warlike operations. In the meanwhile the president
was invested with extraordinary powers, a step which the le¬
gislature considered as fully justified by the occasion. Santa
. Anna was dispatched to repulse the invading force, in which
VOL. XTV.
tion of Gu
errero.
he completely succeeded, at the same time taking Barradas History,
himself prisoner. But Guerrero was now destined to taste
the cup which he had mixed for his predecessor and rival. 1832.
His alleged reluctance to lay down the powers of dictator,
which had been conferred on him in the above emergency,
led to various revolts and insurrections in various parts of
the republic. The state of Yucatan declared against the
federal government and in favour of the central system.
Early “in December 1829, Bustamante, the vice-president,
flew to arms, and having placed himself at the head of the
army of Mexico, which was stationed in the state of Yera
Cruz, he.advanced upon the capital, everywhere denouncing
the abuses and usurpations of Guerrero. Santa Anna issued
a proclamation in support of the government; but long be¬
fore he could reach the capital the revolution had been com¬
pleted. Guerrero first resigned his dictatorial powers, and
then convoked the Congress and appealed to it for support;
but it was all in vain ; he was ultimately compelled to ab¬
dicate. The army then elected Bustamante as his succes¬
sor, whilst Santa Anna, following the example of Guerrero,
retired to his estates, and tranquillity was soon restored.
At this period it required no great gift of prophecy to pre-Fail of Bu-
dict, that even the shadow of the constitution of 1824 would stamente;
not long survive. Mexico was now beyond all doubt subject- election
ed to a military despotism ; and a pretext or cause for pros-®/ ®ailta
trating Bustamante in his turn, could not long be wanting. nna‘
It was enough that the daring, crafty, and cruel Santa Anna,
the conqueror of Barradas,j[was living in retirement and dis¬
grace, hatching new schemes of revolt. From that pe¬
riod, Mexico has presented a kaleidoscopic exhibition of fac¬
tions and parties. It would require volumes to detail the
series of manoeuvres, of gritos and insurrections, which seated
Santa Anna ultimately in power, and made him the repre¬
sentative of that amalgam of all parties which has been de¬
signated by a cant term in which the most incongruous ideas
are jumbled together. In July 1832, the Ayuntamiento and
people of San Felipe de Austin, unanimously gave in their
adherence to the plan of Vera Cruz, and to the principles
of the republican party, headed by General Santa Anna.
This example was followed by other states, and Santa Anna
assumed the reins of government. In April following he
drove out the Congress ; and in 1835, Gomez Farias, who
had been elected vice-president, was driven into exile. Santa
Anna was now undisputed master of the destinies of Mexico,
for all the effective power of the republic had been confided to
him. During the summer hisattention was engaged in the al¬
teration of the government, from a federal to a central form ;
from a coalition of several states, to the concentration of the
powers of all in one point. He was again successful in this
new “ plan,” and centralism with a de facto dictatorship suc¬
ceeded to the federal republic. The states were converted
into departments, and the legislatures cut down to a coun¬
cil of five. This new order of things was acknowledged by
the whole country, with the exception of Texas, which was
warmly attached to federalism. But in order to understand
the true position of affairs in that state, and also the causes of
the events which have recently taken place there, it will be
necessary to trace back the history of its settlement.
The colonies of Texas owe their existence to a colonel Texas;
Austin, who in the year 1821 was authorised by the Mexi-history of
can government to introduce and settle three hundred fa-its settfr-
milies upon favourable conditions. The first settlement was ment*
made on the river Brazos, in December 1821. The original *
grant was confirmed by the new government in 1824 ; and
since that period, several new contracts for the establishing
of colonies have been entered into. All the other grants in
Texas, excepting a few in favour of Mexican citizens, were
modelled upon those of Austin. The Mexican govern¬
ment drew up a number of colonization laws, by which, in as
far as they had reference to Coahuila and Texas, it was sti¬
pulated that Catholicism should be maintained as the esta-
5 H
794 M E X
History, blished religion of the country ; that all foreigners, provided
they were married and followed a profession, should be consi-
1832. dered as naturalised in three years ; and that Coahuila and
Texas together should constitute one of the united federal
states of Mexico, whilst the colonists should be considered
as Mexicans, and governed like the other inhabitants of the
republic. The nominal grantee of the land is called the
empresario ; and according to the terms of the contract, he
is considered merely as a trustee of the government, having
no title himself to the land within the limits of his colony,
excepting upon the condition of settling a certain number
of families in a given time. The settlers themselves receive
a title for each family to a square league, upon the express
condition of settlement and cultivation, and the payment of
certain trifling charges within a limited period. These con¬
ditions constituted the basis of all the land titles in Texas,
but were coupled with the provision, that all right and title
would be forfeited, if the grantee should abandon the coun¬
try, or sell his land before having cultivated it. These privi¬
leges were conceded to a great number of empresarios ; and
many of them, forgetting the contingent character of their
own rights to the soil, and the conditions upon which their
future colonists were to receive allotments of land, proceed¬
ed at once to make out scrip, or lots of land, which was sold
in the United States, to a considerable amount. A regular
company, called the Galveston Bay and Texas Land Com¬
pany, was formed in New York, for the purpose of facilitat¬
ing the disposal of tracts of country, to which no one had as
yet acquired the smallest title. Many respectable individ¬
uals, eager to obtain such extensive grants of land for the
trifle at which they were advertised for sale, made exten¬
sive purchases ; but when they emigrated to Texas for the
purpose of taking possession of their vast estates, they found
to their mortification and surprise, that they had no more
claim to them than any other person who might have come to
Mexico from a foreign country. So flattering, however, did
the prospects to emigrants appear, that great numbers flock¬
ed to Texas from the United States; indeed the country
may be said to have been peopled from that quarter.
Dispute Various causes have contributed to create a misunderstand-
with the ing between the inhabitants of Texas as an individual state,
Mexican anj the executive of the Mexican republic. The adminis-
govern- tration of Bustamante, was regarded by them as a military
ment‘ despotism ; and the arbitrary acts which were committed
by the military subalterns of the republic, became at last
so oppressive, that they had recourse to arms, and took Fort
Velasco on the 27th of June 1832. On the 16th of July
following, Colonel Mexia, second officer of the second di¬
vision of the liberating army as it was then called, of Mon¬
tezuma, anchored off the mouth of the Brazos, with his fleet
of five sail, and a force of four hundred men. He had been
informed by the military commandants of Fort Velasco,
Anahuac, and Nacogdoches, that the movements which had
taken place there had for their object the separation of Texas
from Mexico ; and the object of his expedition was to crush
the insurrection before it proceeded any farther. On his ar¬
rival, the civic authorities of Brazoria, presented to him a
statement of their case, in which they inveighed against the
arbitrary and unconstitutional measures of Bustamante ; and
declared their unabated attachment to their adopted coun¬
try, and particularly to its “ distinguished chieftain Santa
Anna.” This was quite satisfactory to colonel Mexia, who
being in the interest of Santa Anna, was desirous to gain
adherents to the plan of Vera Cruz, and to the principles
of the republican party, of which Santa Anna was the
head. The troops of the government still held out in some
parts of Texas ; but they were finally reduced, and about the
beginning of September, the warlike commotions had ceas¬
ed in these colonies. Could the inhabitants of Texas have
foreseen what the revolt of Santa Anna was to lead to, they
I c o.
would have displayed less eagerness in professing their at- History,
tachment to him.
At a meeting of the people^of Texas in 1833, there was '832-33.
drawn up a constitution, in which, amongst other important f>roPosed
matters, they pointed out the necessity of a separation from ofXoahuUa
Coahuila, and affirmed their resolution to form themselves aI1d Texas,
into a full and independent state of the Mexican confeder¬
acy, by the name of the state of Texas. The chief rea¬
sons assigned by this general convention for the contem¬
plated disunion, were, the dissimilarity between Coahuila
and Texas, in soil, climate, and productions, in common in¬
terests, and partly in population, so that laws happily con¬
structed for the benefit of Coahuila, and conducive to its best
interests, might be ruinous to Texas. The seat of govern¬
ment was also stated to be too remote, being fixed at Sal¬
tillo, and the inhabitants of that part of the state were almost
exclusively of Spanish descent. From this circumstance
alone, it is obvious that the union of Coahuila and Texas
as a single state of the Mexican federal republic, must from
the first have been odious to the colonists of American origin;
and it was likely to become more so, in proportion as fresh
supplies of emigrants poured in from the United States. With
the increase of their numbers, the Americans began to think
and to feel, that they were strong enough to manage their
own state affairs in their own way. Hitherto they had been
treated with great liberality and indulgence, and had been
entrusted with the administration of their own laws, which
were any thing but the ancient laws of Mexico. Colonel
Austin, who had for many years been member of Congress
for Texas, was in the spring of 1833 chosen once more to
represent the country. He was also charged with the duty
of submitting to the general government in Mexico, the new
constitution which had been formed; but finding it diffi¬
cult or impossible to effect his object, he wrote a letter to
some of his friends in Texas, in which he did not conceal
his sentiments as to the necessity of Texas taking matters
into her own hands,' and doing herself justice. This letter
was intercepted by government, in consequence of which
Austin was imprisoned upon a charge of entertaining trea¬
sonable designs. He was ultimately released ; but there can
be no doubt that the circumstance awakened the jealousy
of the Mexican government.
Before proceeding to narrate the leading incidents of the Causes of
struggle with Mexico, it is necessary to premise, that the un-the rupture
appropriated lands, although state property, cannotbe granted with Mexi-
to any one without the sanction of the general government.c0*
We have already noticed the great rage for land speculation
which existed not only in Mexico, but in the United States.
It became at last insatiable, and an extensive system of
fraud was the consequence. In 1834, a company of these
speculators induced the legislature of Coahuila and Texas,
to grant them four hundred square leagues of public land,
in consideration of a payment of twenty-thousand dollars.
This transaction was, of course, disavowed, and the grant
annulled by the Mexican government; but it led to the
dispersion of the legislature, and the imprisonment of the
governor Viesca. Yet, so far from putting a stop to the sys¬
tem of fraudulent dealing, it seems only to have encreased
it; for according to the best information which has been
obtained, the four hundred leagues became in the hands of
the speculators, nearly as many thousands. This interest
in the soil of Texas, so widely diffused amongst a specula¬
tive people extending from Boston to New Orleans, could
scarcely fail to create a sympathy, which, in the event of
another rupture between the colonists and the government
of Santa Anna, might compromise the neutrality of the
United States. Such a rupture actually soon took place, and
the colonists flew to arms. But as partial statements cannot
be trusted, it would be premature to give any thing like a his¬
tory of recent events ; and we shall therefore confine our-
MEXICO.
795
History, selves to a few leading facts, respecting which there seems
be no difference of opinion.
1834-35. Amongst a number of petitions which accompanied the
plan of the new constitution prepared by the convention,
there was one regarding the tariff, to which the attention of
the general congress was particularly called. The prayer of
the petitioners was, that there should be granted them for
three years, the privilege of introducing, free of duty, such
articles as were indispensable to the prosperity of Texas.
An exemption from payment of duties for two years was
obtained, at the expiration of which period, an attempt to
establish customs was forcibly resisted by the colonists.
This, together with a demand for the persons of those who
had been concerned in the grant of the four hundred leagues
of land, were the immediate precursors of hostilities. But
before these events occurred, the conduct of Santa Anna
had begun to be suspected in Coahuila and Texas; and the
consequence was, that the state government, which had
been removed to Manclova, a more central position, de¬
nounced his conduct as unconstitutional. This produced a
counter declaration from Saltillo, in which a number of per¬
sons avowed themselves favourable to Santa Anna’s mea¬
sures, and threw themselves under his protection. They
elected an officer of the permanent army governor of the
state, took possession of the hall of Congress, and disan¬
nulled all the decrees passed by the constitutional state con¬
gress, from the first of January 1823, to July 1834. The
contentions of the two factions which had thus sprung up,
tended more and more to spread anarchy and confusion
throughout the state, and to distract the minds of the
people. The American colonists, whose partiality to a fe¬
deral republic is well known, were loud in their censure of
Santa Anna, who was now close at hand, quelling an in¬
surrectionary movement in Zacatecas. Many refugees from
that state arrived in Texas, and contributed to increase the
alarm by stating, that the orders of Santa Anna were to cut
down all Americans. Viesca collected another state go¬
vernment, in which were many members of the last legis¬
lature; and he issued proclamations and addresses, calling
the inhabitants of the state to arms, against the encroach¬
ments of that military power, which, he said, threatened
their very existence, not only as a state, but as a people.
The press groaned under conflicting statements. Santa An¬
na was stigmatised as a dictator, and death was denounced
against all his supporters who should enter Texas. Taxes
were refused ; the custom-house officers were expelled ; the
custom-houses werq shut up ; and the laws of Mexico were
set at defiance. In these circumstances, Santa Anna, who
had succeeded in'gaining all the other states of the repub¬
lic, found it’necessary to turn his attention to Texas, which
had not only refused to acknowledge a central government,
but was in absolute rebellion against it.
lostilities; In September 1835, General Cos, the confidential friend
?claration and brother-in-law of the central chief, landed at Compano
f hide- at the head of four hundred men, destined to reinforce the
' sndence. garrison of San Antonio de Bejar. He issued a proclama¬
tion, stating that the objects of his mission were, the enforce¬
ment of the laws, the collection of the revenue, the punishment
of fraudulent speculators, and the disarming of the insur¬
gents. He thus disclaimed any intention of disturbing the
great body of the colonists; but his proceedings roused them
to arms, and the war commenced in earnest. The Mexi¬
can troops succeeded in reaching San Antonio, although
it seems to have been the intention of the Texians to pre¬
vent the intended junction of the forces. General Cos im¬
mediately prepared for the defence of the capital, by estab¬
lishing barricades and other works ; but the Texians, not¬
withstanding their inferiority of numbers, succeeded in re¬
ducing the place in October, when the Mexican general
and his troops were permitted to retire from the province.
After the fall of the capital and the expulsion of Cos, the
victorious party quarrelled amongst themselves, and violent History,
party dissensions broke out. Some advocated the formationv y **^-1
of a coalition with the northern Mexican states, whilst others 1835-36.
determined on attempting an independent government. A
declaration of independence was published in December,
by about ninety Americans, who, acting not in a representa¬
tive capacity, but for themselves individually, called upon
their fellow-citizens to follow a similar course. Early in March
1836, a convention of delegates from the various settle¬
ments of Texas, having assembled at a place called Washing¬
ton, issued a more formal declaration of independence, set¬
ting forth the grievances which impelled the people to take
that step. This declaration was signed by forty-four dele¬
gates, of whom only three or four were Mexicans by birth. The
convention, in their detail of grievances, enumerate as such,
the overthrow of the federal constitution by Santa Anna,
to uphold which, they considered the Mexican government
as pledged; the refusal to secure on a firm basis trial by jury,
and to separate Coahuila from Texas; the forcible dispersion
of the legislature; the imprisonment of Colonel Austin; and
the tyranny and oppression of the military commandant. They
complained that the government had demanded the surren¬
der of a number of citizens, and had ordered military de¬
tachments to secure and convey them into the interior for
trial ; that it had not only made piratical attacks upon their
commerce, but had demandeda surrender of their arms; that
their country was attacked both by land and by sea; and that
attempts had been made to excite the Indians to massacre
the defenceless inhabitants of the frontiers. With respect
to the justice of these complaints, it would be rash to offer
any opinion, until the restoration of peace and order shall
have afforded the historian an opportunity of collecting all
the facts of the case, and from ascertained data, drawing dis¬
passionate conclusions. If the people of Mexico preferred an¬
other form of government to that established in the year
1824, they had the right to effect this change, because it is
generally admitted, that in a republic the majority must
govern. The Texians have no just groundfor asserting their
independence upon that account; but they have an un¬
questionable right, if they choose to abide by the conse¬
quences, to try the strength of parties upon so momentous
a question, as whether Mexico shall be a central or a federal
republic. They acknowledge themselves citizens of Mexi¬
co; and as there seems to be nothing in the colonization laws
which promises to colonists in particular the perpetuity of
the constitution of 1824, their argument for independence
on that head falls to the ground. They complain, also, of
being subjected to the despotism of the priesthood ; but by
the colonization laws it was declared, that the Catholic re¬
ligion alone should be tolerated, and thus another of their
arguments is disposed of. Lastly, with regard to trial by jury,
it is a thing quite unknown in Mexican jurisprudence; and in
respect to the separation of Texas from Coahuila, and the
other grievances complained of, it is impossible at present
to offer any satisfactory opinion. But whether reasonable or
not, these complaints, and the redress demanded, were soon
to be enforced by an appeal to arms.
In their first declaration of independence the people of Advance of
Texas undoubtedly supposed that the internal divisions of the Santa An-
country would afford sufficient employment for the arms ofm agailist
Santa Anna; forgetting that there existed in Mexico an in- Texas-
veterate prejudice against the American colonists, which
might induce them to overlook for a time all minor differ¬
ences, and unite as against a common enemy. Hence the
defeat of Cos actually extended the authority and influence
of Santa Anna, and he was thus enabled to bring nearly
the whole resources of Mexico to bear upon Texas. It soon
became apparent, also, that from the strict alliance which ex¬
isted between Santa Anna and the Catholic clergy, religious
intolerance was mixed up with political animosity against
the American colonists; and that thus they had every reason
796
MEXICO.
Total de¬
feat of the
Mexican
army.
to expect a furious and desperate conflict. Yet they made lit¬
tle preparation for the approaching contest, and their early
operations were both feeble and ill-advised. It was soon as¬
certained that Santa Anna was on his march, at the head of a
pow erful army, advancing towards the Rio del Norte ; and
early in February 1836, he established his head-quarters on the
Nueces, to the eastward of that river. Here he issued a
proclamation, in which he denounced the insurgents as a
mob of ungrateful adventurers, on whom the authorities of
Mexico had incautiously lavished favours which they had
failed to bestow on Mexicans, and who had raised the stand¬
ard of rebellion, in order that that extensive and fertile de¬
partment which they inhabited might be detached from the
republic. By his plan of operations he proposed to advance in
two columns, one directed against San Antonio, and the other
against La Bahia, which place was lower down the coast;
intending by this means to intercept all communication be¬
tween the Americans and the Gulf. His effective force has
been variously estimated from five to ten thousand men, in¬
cluding a fine corps of cavalry. Upon the 23d of February,
the Mexicans, four thousand strong, attacked the fort of Ala¬
mo, in San Antonio, but were gallantly repulsed. The in¬
vading army wTas more successful in its assault on Bejar, which,
after sustaining a siege of two weeks, was taken by Santa An¬
na. The garrison, consisting of one hundred and eighty-seven
men, were all slain in the siege, or put to death afterwards;
and the loss of the Mexicans in storming the place was es¬
timated at one thousand killed or mortally wounded. The
second division of the Mexicans advanced towards La Bahia,
or Goliad. This town was occupied by Colonel Fanning, who,
conscious of the inadequacy of his force to defend the place,
evacuated it, but not till it had been committed to the flames.
In his retreat, however, he was intercepted by the Mexican
army, which was about three times as numerous as his own,
and after a severe conflict forced to surrender. The com¬
mander, along with about five hundred Texians, were cruel¬
ly put to death by the Mexicans, who still remembered their
old system of treating prisoners of war.
This military execution caused much excitement, and in¬
stead of deterring the Texians from prosecuting their pur¬
poses, it exasperated them in the highest degree. For some
time a panic seemed to prevail, and the colonists fled, leaving
all kinds of property behind them. The retreat of the Tex¬
ians suddenly ceased, and General Houston having rapidly
counter-marched a distance of about sixty miles, came up with
Santa Anna. On the 21 st of April, near the banks of the San
Jacinto, a fierce and sanguinary conflict took place between the
Mexicans and Texians, in which the former were defeated
with great slaughter, and above seven hundred taken pri¬
soners, amongst whom was the commander-in-chief himself.
A great quantity of arms, and about twelve thousand dollars,
likewise fell into the hands of the victors. This unexpected
event totally changed the aspect of affairs; and the success
of the Texians, which had at one time appeared impossible,
became at least probable. Their rising fortunes stimulated
their zeal and activity. Many of the more pacific of the
colonists had soifght refuge in the neighbouring states ; but
their place was speedily supplied by numerous adventurers
from the United States. On the 15 th of May, a convention
was held at Velasco, in Texas, where it was stipulated that
hostilities should cease; that the Mexican army should quit
Texas; and that Santa Anna should be sent to Vera Cruz,
upon condition of his agreeing neither to take up arms against
the Texians, nor to exercise any influence to cause them
to be taken up during the struggle for independence. This
agreement was disapproved of by the president ad interim
of Mexico, and General Filasola, who was next in command
to Santa Anna, was ordered to give up the command of the
army to General Urrea, and repair to Mexico to answer for
his conduct. By the latest accounts it appears that a large
body of Mexican troops had marched upon Texas; and that
by orders of Congress, General Gaines, commander of the History
United States’army, had crossed the Sabina, and established
his head-quarters at Nacogdoches, in Texas, whence, how- 1836.
ever, they were afterwards withdrawn. The right of the
United States to interfere in any shape may well be question¬
ed; butwhether they will actually interpose, or what course
they will pursue, it is impossible at present to determine. In
the meantime, volunteers from that country are crowding to
Texas, and by them will the independence of the revolted
Mexican province be effected, if this should ever take place.
After what has already been stated, it would be super¬
fluous to discuss the question w hether the Texians have any
legitimate right to separate themselves from Mexico, and
to establish an independentgovernment. In regard to the ab¬
stract merits of the case, the Mexicans, as we have already
stated, appear to have all the arguments upon their side.
Since th e maj ority of the T exians are emigrants from the Unit¬
ed States, an opinion very generally prevails that their ob¬
ject in separating Texas from Mexico is to engraft it upon
the American Union. There are good grounds for believ¬
ing that this conjecture is correct; and if it be so, their
proceedings must be held as altogether unjustifiable; nor
would the conduct of the American Congress be less so, if it
should accept them, in the event of the successful issue of
their scheme. But such a gross violation of the rights of an
independent power is not likely to occur, nor has Congress
as yet in the least degree countenanced the revolt.
III. STATISTICS OF MEXICO.
The republic of Mexico is bounded on the east and south- Boundaries
east by the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean sea; on the and extent,
west by the Pacific ocean; on the south by Guatemala;
and on the north by the United States of America. The
river San Pedro, which rises near the lake of Peten, and
after traversing a considerable tract of country is joined by
the stream of Yalchilan, constitutes the greater part of the
national boundary of Guatemala and Mexico; the remainder
is a chain of mountains, which separate it from the territory
of the Mayas, an Indian tribe inhabiting a portion of Pe¬
ten. The boundary line between Mexico and Louisiana
commences with the river Sabina, at the point where it falls
into the Gulf of Mexico about 29. north lat., 94. west long.,
and follows its course as far as its junction with the Red river
of Natchitoches. The course of the latter then marks the
frontier up to the 100th degree of west longitude, where the
line runs directly north to the river Arkansas, which it fol¬
lows to its source in the 42d degree of north latitude. From
this point another direct line is drawn, immediately upon
the forty-second parallel, to the coast of the Pacific; thus
dividing between the two rival republics the whole conti¬
nent of North America, with the exception of the British
possessions. The frontier, as above defined, was fixed by
the treaty of Washington, which was concluded in the year
1819- The exact line of demarcation is at present of little
importance, except with regard to the north-eastern frontier,
where the valuable province of Texas might prove a source
of contention, were the limits of the two countries not defin¬
itely fixed. The rest of the boundary line is as imaginary as
a parallel of latitude. Between Mexico and the western ter¬
ritories belonging to the American United States, and on
either side of the Missouri, a vast tract of country intervenes,
inhabited only by Indian tribes, who have never yet been
subjugated, and acknowledge no authority.
From the southern extremity of Yucutan, the province
which joins Guatemala, to the northern extremity of Cali¬
fornia, Mexico extends over twenty-seven degrees of lati¬
tude, or 1876^ English statute miles. In breadth it varies
considerably, being only one hundred and twenty-five miles
across at its lower extremity. It continues to expand,
MEXICO.
Statistics, however, until it joins the United States; and its greatest
breadth, which is in the parallel of 30° north latitude, from
the Red River of Texas, to the coast of Sonora, Hum¬
boldt has estimated at about eleven hundred miles. Ac¬
cording to the same great authority, the superficial extent of
the Mexican territory is 118,478 square leagues of twenty-
five to the degree. There is, besides, a tract of country sit¬
uated between the northern extremity of New Mexico and
Sonora, and the boundary line agreed to by the treaty of
Washington, the exact extent of which is not yet ascertain¬
ed. Of this vast territory about 82,000 square leagues are
situated without the tropics, or under the temperate zone;
whilst the remaining leagues of surface lie within the tro¬
pics, or what is usually entitled the torrid zone.
The most important part of Mexico is that which has been
denominated the Table-land. The Cordillera of the Andes,
after traversing the whole of .South America and the Isth¬
mus of Panama, expands or separates, upon entering the
northern continent, into two branches which, diverging to
the east and west, but still preserving their northerly direc¬
tion, leave in the centre an immense platform, or elevated tract
of country. The height of tire whole is considerable, vary¬
ing from six thousand to eight thousand feet above the level
of the Pacific, and thus equalling that of Mont St. Bernard
and other remarkable summits of the Old World. The eastern
branch declines as it approaches the north, and about the
26th parallel of north latitude it subsides to nearly a level
with the ocean ; but on the west the chain continues in an
almost uninterrupted line to the frontiers of the United
States, w here it splits into various ramifications, known
chiefly by the name of the Rocky Mountains. The summits
of some of the detached mountains penetrate beyond the line
of perpetual snow, and. attain an elevation almost equal to that
of the highest of the Andes. Such are the volcanic peaks
of Orizaba, Popocatepetl, and Toluca. But these are mere¬
ly insulated heights, or inferior chains, which bear no rela¬
tion of parallelism to the general direction of the Cordillera,
and can scarcely be said to interrupt that vast level, as
smooth almost as the ocean, which stretches from one ex¬
tremity of Mexico to the other. Thus the table-land is not
as in Quito and other parts of the southern continent, an
interval between opposite ridges, but generally speaking, it is
the most elevated portion of the ridge itself. In Peru, and
other parts of South America, immense transverse valleys
continually interrupt the progress of the traveller, and pre¬
vent him from proceeding in any other manner than on
horseback or on foot; but in New Spain, carriages roll with¬
out obstruction, from the city of Mexico to Santa Fe, a dis¬
tance of above fifteen hundred miles.
Volcanos. Volcanos—That great chain ofvolcanic mountains which
extends with little interruption from lat. 24° north, to lat.
2° south, appears to commence in Mexico. The most nor¬
thern volcanic craters occur near the town of Durango in
the former degree of latitude ; but there are no active vol¬
canos till we reach the parallel of the city of Mexico, be¬
tween which and the little towns of Cordova and Xalapa,
there is a group which rival in elevation the loftiest peaks
of the continent. The heights of the principal peaks w ere
measured by M. Humboldt. Popocatepetl, or the Smoking
Mountain, called by the Spaniards the great volcano, is
17,968 feet in height; the Iztacci-Huatl, or the White
Woman, the Sierra Nevada of the Spaniards, is 16,000 feet;
the Citlal-Tepetl, or Starry Mountain, otherwise called the
Peak of Orizaba, is 17,697 feet; and the Nauhcampa-
Teptl, or Coffre de Perote, is 13,633 feet in height. The
first of these volcanos is continually burning, but for cen¬
turies it has ceased to eject from its crater any thing except
smoke and ashes. Luminous exhalations, also, constantly
irradiate the summit of Orizaba, which is covered with per¬
petual snow. In 1545, an eruption of this volcano took place,
and the crater continued to burn during twenty years. In
797
the same province is that of Tuxtla, in which a considerable Statistics,
eruption took place in 1793, the ashes of which were carried
as far as Perote, a distance of fifty-seven leagues. On the
western side of the city of Mexico, are the volcanos ofJu-
rulla and Colima, the latter of which throws up smoke and
ashes, but has not been known to discharge lava. Jorulla,
which is situated between Colima and the city of Mexico,
is of much more recent origin than any of the others. In
1759? according to Humboldt, the plains of Jorulla upon the
shores of the Pacific ocean, formed the scene of one of the
most tremendous catastrophes that ever shook the globe.
In the month of June in that year, subterraneous noises of
the most frightful description were heard, accompanied with
frequent earthquakes, which succeeded one another during
fifty or sixty days. In the early part of September, all
became tranquil again ; but towards the end of that month
the same horrible noises recommenced, and a tract of ground
from three to four miles square, swelled up like an inflated
bladder ; flames issued through a thousand apertures, and
fragments of burning rocks were propelled upwards to a
vast height; whilst through the dense envelope of smoke
and ashes, illuminated by volcanic fire, the softened surface
of the earth was seen to rise and fall like an agitated sea.
The rivers Cuitimba and San Pedro precipitated themselves
into the flaming chasms. Thousands of small cones varying
from six to ten feet in height, issued from the volcanic ground;
and some of these yet retain a temperature equal to that of
boiling water. Vapour also ascends to the height of from
twenty to thirty feet, and, in not a few of them, subterrane¬
ous sounds still startle the traveller. In the midst of these
cones six large masses, elevated from three to sixteen
hundred feet each above the former level of the plain, arose
out of a chasm which ranges from north-north-east to
south-south-west. The loftiest of these elevated masses,
is the great volcano of Jorulla,' which burns continually,
and has thrown up upon one side an immense quantity of
scorified and basaltic lavas, containing fragments of primi¬
tive rocks. These eruptions continued till February 1760,
since which period, they have become less frequent. The
active volcanos above noticed, appear to be connected by a
chain of intermediate ones, running in a parallel direction,
and exhibiting the clearest indications of a similar origin.
Farther south, in the republic of Guatemala, the volcanos
increase greatly in number; but in this quarter, instead of
being placed nearly at right angles to the chain of the Cor¬
dilleras, they run parallel to it.
Minerals.—In the Old World granite, gneiss, mica Minerals,
slate, and clay slate, often form the central ridges of the
mountain chains ; but in the Cordilleras of America, these
rocks seldom appear at the surface, being covered by mass¬
es of porphyry, greenstone, amygdaloid, basalt, obsidian,
and other rocks of the same class. The granite which here
generally forms the lowest stratum, appears at the surface
in the little chain that borders the Pacific ocean, and which,
on the side of Acapulco, is separated from the mass of high
country by the valley of Peregrine. The beautiful port of
Acapulco is a natural excavation in granitic rocks. As w e
ascend towards the table-land of Mexico, we see it rise
through the porphyry for the last time, between Zumpan-
go and Sopilote. Farther to the east, the mountains of Mix-
teca and of Zapateca, in the province of Oaxaca, are formed
of the same rock, together with gneiss, traversed by veins
of quartz containing gold. The great central plateau of
Anahuac, as the tract of country comprehended between
the fourteenth and twenty-first degrees of latitude is call¬
ed, appears like an enormous dyke of porphyry tic rocks,
distinguished from those of Europe by the constant presence
of hornblende, and by the absence of quartz. These rocks
contain immense deposits of gold and silver. Basalt, amyg¬
daloid, trap, gypsum, and primitive limestone, form the pre¬
dominating rocks. The strata succeed each other here in
MEXICO.
798
Statistics, the same order as in Europe, excepting that syenite alternates
with serpentine. The secondary rocks equally resemble
those of the Old World ; but hitherto no considerable beds
of rock-salt or of coal have been discovered in the plateau
of Mexico; whilst, on the other hand, these substances, es¬
pecially the former, appear to exist in great abundance, to
the north of the gulf of California. In some parts the
porphyry presents itself in gigantic masses, which assume
extraordinary shapes, resembling ruined walls, bastions,
towers, and the like. The porphyritic traps in columns,
which terminate the mountains of Jacal and Oyamel, are
crowned with pine trees and oak, which materially add to
their picturesque appearance. It is from these mountains
that the ancient Mexicans obtained the obsidian, of which
they formed their sharp edged instruments. The Coffre de
Perote is a porphyritic mountain, resembling an ancient
sarcophagus, surmounted by a pyramid at one end. The
basalts of La Regia, of which the prismatic columns, an
hundred feet in height, have their central parts harder than
the rest, form the native decorations of a very beautiful
cascade.
Rivers and Rivers and Lakes.—The rivers of Mexico are unim-
Lakes. portant, and the want of water in an agricultural, and of navi¬
gable streams in a commercial point of view, are found to
be serious disadvantages. The Rio del Norte, indeed, may
have a course of about fourteen hundred miles ; and that of
the Rio Colorado on the west, may be about half that length;
but flowing as they do through a part of the country as yet
of little commercial importance, although possessed of al¬
most unlimited capabilities, viz., Texas, they do not at pre¬
sent facilitate the trade of the country to any great extent.
The Rio Grande de Santiago or Tololotlan, formed by the
union of the rivers Lerma and Las Laxas, is likely to be¬
come the most valuable. It rises in the very centre of Mex¬
ico, and after traversing the Baxio, empties itself into the
Pacific [near San Bias. In all the equinoctial parts of Mex¬
ico, only small rivers are met with ; but their estuaries are
very broad. The narrow form of the continent prevents the
union of a great body of water; whilst the rapid declivity
of the Cordillera gives rise to torrents rather than rivers
flowing with moderate velocity and capable of being navigat¬
ed. Amongst the small number of rivers which are found in the
southern part of the country, the only streams which are likely
to become useful mediums of intercourse with the interior,
are the Rid Guasacualco and the Alvarado, both of which
are to the south-east of Vera Cruz, and seem well calculated
to facilitate communication with the republic of Guatema¬
la. There is also the Rio de Montezuma, which carries
the waters of the lakes and valley of Tenochtitlan to the Rio
de Panuco. The lakes of Mexico are very numerous, and
appear to be the remains of others of vast extent, which
formerly covered a much larger portion of the lofty plateau.
The principal are the great lake of Chapala, in Guadalax-
ara, which covers nearly one hundred and sixty square leagues
of country; the lakes of the valley of Mexico, which extend
over one-fourth of its surface; the lake of Pazcuaro, in the
province of Valladolid, one of the most picturesque spots
on the globe; and the lakes of Mextitlan and Parras.
The whole of the eastern or Atlantic coast of New Spain,
may be viewed as an immense wall, against which the trade-
winds, and the perpetual movement of the waters from east
to west, heave up the sand which the agitated ocean holds in
suspension. An immense current rushes in from the south¬
ern Atlantic ocean, and after sweeping through the Gulf of
Mexico, issues by the Bahama channel or Gulf of Florida.
The sand accumulated by the revolving waters from the
peninsula of Yucatan to the mouth of the Rio del Norte, in¬
sensibly contracts the basin of the Gulf of Mexico, by add¬
ing to the breadth of the continent. The rivers which de¬
scend into the Caribbean sea materially contribute to fill up
and elevate the bottom. The whole of the eastern coast,
from the eighteenth to the twenty-sixth degree of latitude, Statistics,
is thus obstructed by bars, so that none but vessels drawing
little water can venture to cross them without danger of
striking. The violent storms which prevail during several
months, both on the eastern and western coasts of the isth¬
mus, are also serious obstacles to navigation. From the
autumnal equinox to the spring, north-west winds prevail
in the Gulf of Mexico: they are at their greatest height
in the month of March, but during September and October
they are generally mild. On the eastern coast the naviga¬
tion is very dangerous in the months of July and August,
when the dreadful tornadoes from the south-west prevail.
At this time, and even at a much more advanced period of the
season, the anchorage in San Bias, Acapulco, and all the
ports of the central republic, are exceedingly unsafe. Dur¬
ing the fine part of the year, from October till May, the
calmness of the ocean is again disturbed in these road-steads
by the furious winds from the north-east and north-west,
known by the names of Papagayo and Tehuantepec.
Climate—The climate of Mexico comes next to be con- Climate,
sidered; and here it may be stated generally, that in a coun¬
try so extensive as Mexico, and distinguished by such remark¬
able physical peculiarities, any theory that may be proposed
on this subject must be liable to great exceptions. An expos¬
ed situation, or one sheltered from the winds of the north¬
west, which occasionally sweep the country with incredible
violence; proximity to the Pacific, where the air is mild¬
er ; the want or abundance of water, and the like;—all
these are circumstances which affect the temperature in
the most opposite manner, even at the same height and in
the same parallel, and render it impossible, by the stand¬
ard of elevation alone, to form any exact idea of the climate
of the table-land. Humboldt gives 76° of Fahrenheit as
the mean heat of the coast, and 64° of Fahrenheit as the
mean heat of the table-land. The same accomplished tra¬
veller mentions a striking instance of the local peculiarities
by which the temperature is modified, namely, that sugar
is successfully cultivated four thousand feet above the
degree of elevation assigned by him from previous experi¬
ments as productive of the minimum of heat necessary for
raising the cane. Indeed, every little break or descent in
the surface of the table-land, leads us naturally to an in¬
crease of temperature, as the ascent from the coast does to
a diminution of it. The transition is sometimes extremely
sudden, a deep ravine being sufficient to change the stunted
growth peculiar to the central plateau to the luxuriancy of
tropical vegetation. It is impossible to proceed either to
the eastward or to the westward of the capital, without re¬
peatedly experiencing these transitions in the course of a
single day. The natives, without inquiring into their ori¬
gin, express the fact by styling these hot low ravines, 77-
erra Caliente, a term uniformly signifying those parts of
Mexico in which the heat is sufficient for producing the
fruits of the tropics; and, with the exceptions mentioned,
they are all situated upon the sea coast on either side of
Mexico, the table-land lying between them. Tierra Fria is
the term applied to the mountainous districts which rise above
the level of the capital, as high as the limits of perpetual
snow; whilst Tierra Templada, or temperate region, in
its most extensive acceptation, embraces all that is not
included under either of the other two divisions. This zone
is chiefly situated on the declivity of the Cordillera, at the
height of from four to five thousand feet above the level of
the sea; and here the genial temperature of spring almost
constantly prevails. Intense heat and excessive cold are
equally unknown. Unfortunately, however, this medium
elevation is nearly the same as that at which the clouds float
above the plains adjacent to the sea; and hence these tem¬
perate regions, although situated upon elevated ground, are
sometimes enveloped in dense fogs. It is to be observed,
however, that the terms by which the several zones are dis-
!
I
MEXICO.
;tatistics. tinguished are used in a very arbitrary manner; and thus
^■V^'what is called a temperate country by the inhabitant of one
part of Mexico would be considered as a cold country by
the denizen of a warmer region.
All the regions denominated cold enjoy a mean temper¬
ature of from 52° to 56° of Fahrenheit, equal to that of France
and Lombardy. Still the plants of Europe do not reach the
maturity which they attain in their native soil, and vegeta¬
tion is generally much less vigorous. May not this arise from
the rarity of the air, a plentiful supply of the elements of which
it consists being essential to vegetables acquiring the high¬
est degree of size and strength of which they are susceptible ?
On this supposition we can easily account for vegetation being
less luxuriant upon the ridge of the Mexican Cordillera than
upon the plains to the north of the tropic, even in cases where
the mean temperature is lower. In the equinoctial region
of Mexico, and even as far as the 28th degree of north lati¬
tude, there are only two seasons; that of the rains, which
commences in the month of June or July, and ends in Sep¬
tember or October; and the dry season, which continues
from October till the end of May. The formation of clouds
and their precipitation in various forms, generally commences
on the eastern slope of the Cordillera. These phenomena,
accompanied with thunder storms, extend in succession from
east to west, in the direction of the trade winds, so that the
rain falls fifteen or twenty days later on the central plateau
than at Vera Cruz. From the parallel of 24° to that of 30°,
the rain falls less frequently, and continues a shorter time;
but the deficiency is compensated by the snow which, from
the 26th degree of latitude northwards, is deposited in con¬
siderable quantities.
The climate of the provinces denominated internets, and
which are situated within the temperate zone, is distinguished
by a striking inequality in the temperature of the different
seasons; the winters being very cold, whilst the summers
are comparatively very warm. To this, as well as to other
local causes, must be attributed the aridity which char¬
acterises a considerable portion of the plateau of Ana-
huac. There are few springs in the mountains; and the
water, instead of collecting in little subterraneous basins,
filters through the earth or porous rocks, and loses itself in
crevices formed by volcanic eruptions. The evils arising
from aridity have increased since the Europeans first took pos¬
session of Mexico. The conquerors not only destroyed trees
without supplying their place by young plants, but by arti¬
ficially drying up extensive tracts of country, they occa¬
sioned a still more important evil. The muriates of soda
and of lime, the nitrate of potass, and other saline sub¬
stances, cover the surface of the soil. Still a great part of Mexi¬
co may be classed with the most fertile countries of the earth,
for there every species of vegetable production is found, or
may be successfully cultivated. On the ascent from Vera
Cruz, climates, to use an expression of Humboldt’s, suc¬
ceed each other in layers; and the traveller passes in i'e-
view, in the course of two days, the whole scale of vegeta¬
tion, from the parasitic plants of the tropics to the pines of the
arctic regions. In some parts, however, the climate is very in¬
salubrious. The humidity of the coasts favouring the putre¬
faction of a prodigious mass of organic substances, originates
diseases which attack Europeans and others not familiarised
to the climate; indeed, under the burning sun of the tropics,
the unhealthiness of the air is almost invariably a sure indi¬
cation of extraordinary fertility in the soil. Nevertheless,
with the exception of some sea-ports, and a few deep and
humid valleys, where the natives suffer from intermittent
fever, Mexico ought upon the whole to be considered as a
singularly healthy country.
egetable The Vegetable Productions of New Spain are infinitely
oduc- various ; and not only are fruits of the most opposite regions
)ns- assembled there, but they may be frequently met with in
singular approximation. From this circumstance, it is nearly
799
impossible to assign to any given article, a particular paral- Statistics,
lei of latitude, or district of country ; and the simplest mode '^**^/~***s
of conveying an idea of the agricultural wealth of Mexico
will be to give some account of its most important produc¬
tions, mentioning the characteristics of each, and the locali¬
ties where its cultivation has been carried to the greatest
extent.
Those which are essential to the subsistence of the in- Maize,
habitants, first demand our attention ; and amongst the most
important of these is maize, or Indian corn. This valuable
grain is almost every where cultivated with success ; and in
some favourable spots its fecundity is almost incredible, eight
hundred fanegas for one sown, having occasionally been ob¬
tained. Its growth is more colossal on the low hot grounds
on the coast, and on the slope of the Cordillera, than on the
table-land. Wherever irrigation is practicable, from three
to four hundred for one, is the ordinary ratio of increase; but
where the crop depends upon the season, it is more variable,
and in some parts, one good year in ten is all that is expected,
the intervening years producing only forty or fifty bushels for
one sown. Maize flour is used for food in various shapes; but
the most common mode of preparing it for the table, is the
following: After the grain is bruised, by passing over it a long
stone, something like a rolling pin, which moves in a hol¬
low trough, composed of basalt or lava,“a part of the paste
thus formed, is taken out and patted skilfully between the
hands until it becomes very thin. The cake is then laid on
a smooth plate of iron or flat earthenware, placed over in¬
candescent charcoal, or wood embers, where it is allowed to
warm through rather than bake, for great care is taken that it
be not at all browned. It is served up hot, and eaten with
a pungent sauce composed of chile, (a sort of capsicum,) and
tomates. This unfermented, but nutritious bread, is called
arepa, or more generally tortillas ; and the manner in which
it is now made is precisely the same as that practised pre¬
viously to the conquest of Mexico by the Spaniards. The
price of this grain varies with the year and the distance of
the place where it is grown, from the principal markets. In
the capital it is seldom lower than two dollars the fanega of
one hundred and fifty pounds ; and when the crop fails, it
sometimes rises to three dollars and a half. In the interior
about half a dollar is the ordinary price. A considerable
portion of the land which was formerly devoted to the cultiva¬
tion of maize, has been neglected since 1810; the war of the
revolution having caused a suspension of labour in the min¬
ing districts, where an enormous quantity was used, not
only by the miners themselves, but by the mules employ¬
ed in the works. Those parts now most abundant in maize
are the Baxio, or central part of the table-land; the plains
of Toluca; the southern and eastern parts of the valley of
Mexico itself; the state of La Puebla; and the vicinity of
Aguas Calientes. Various kinds of fermented liquors, known
by the general denomination of chicha de maiz, are prepar¬
ed from maize by the Indians. They are all more or less
intoxicating, as is the pulque de maiz, or tlaolli, which is
composed of the saccharine juice or syrup, extracted by pres¬
sure from the stalk. Before the conquest, this syrup was
condensed by the natives, and used as sugar.
Oats are little known in Mexico, but the wheat and bar- Wheat and
ley of Europe have been naturalised to the soil. The form- barley,
er succeeds well throughout the table-land; but both in
Tierra Caliente, and on the eastern and western slope of the
Cordillera the ear does not form. The success of the crop
on the table-land depends almost entirely upon the timely
commencement of the rainy season ; for if dry weather con¬
tinue beyond the middle of June, unless the grounds can be
watered by artificial means, drought destroys the crops of
wheat, barley, and maize, notwithstanding the extreme fer¬
tility of the soil. The great object of the Mexican farmer,
therefore, is irrigation ; and in the formation of canals, re¬
servoirs, and the like, vast sums have been expended on the
800 . M E X
Statistics, principal estates. Whenever these are established, the corn
]an(ls are watered twice in the year ; and so well is the im¬
portance of this process known, that a situation is seldom
chosen for a hacienda de trigo, or farm, where a supply of
water cannot be obtained. Humboldt gives twenty-five
bushels for one, as the average annual produce of the whole
of the corn lands of Mexico. In France the maximum
ratio of increase w ould be as ten, and in England probably
as twelve to one. The principal corn lands of Mexico, are
those of La Peubla, the Baxio, the valley of Mexico, Po-
anas in Durango, and the Nusscous in California. These
are mere spots of cultivation upon so extensive a surface of
country ; but the portion of soil appropriated to the culture
of the cerealia is quite sufficient for the demand. Maize
and bananas are preferred as articles of food ; and, besides,
so extremely difficult is the communication between the
table-land and the country on either side of it, that the east¬
ern and western coasts can be supplied with flour at a cheaper
rate from the United States. The soil of the wheat lands
is generally composed of tenacious clay, mixed with basalts
and amygdaloids, which are difficult to pulverise, yet such
land, when brought into a proper state for the purposes of
agriculture, is best adapted for the growth of that plant.
Rye and barley are raised at higher elevations than wheat,
as they are less liable to be injured by cold ; but the mini¬
mum height at which the proper temperature can be found
for bringing the latter to perfection, has not been ascertain¬
ed. For cattle, barley is in general use, either mixed with
maize or by itself.
The potato The potato for which Europe is indebted to America,
is much cultivated in Mexico. It is not an indigenous plant,
but was transported from the mountainous parts of Peru, at
a very early period after the conquest of that country. It
has been generally asserted, that the potato is a spontane¬
ous production of the Andes; but Humboldt and his com¬
panion, Bonpland, who diligently examined the vegetable
productions from the fifth degree of north to the twelfth of
south latitude, found none in a wild state with nutritive roots.
They were led to suppose, however, that in the Andes of
Chili potatoes are indigenous. In Mexico, they are cultivat¬
ed on the highest inhabited lands. The natives preserve
them for several years, by exposing them first to the frost
and then to the heat of the sun. They grow to a large size,
some of those found by Humboldt having measured from
tw elve to thirteen inches in circumference, and are upon the
whole superior in quality to any produced in Europe.
The ban- I he banana is, to the inhabitants of the w arm regions,
ana. wdiat grain is to the people of the temperate and cold coun¬
tries. It furnishes them with the principal article of their
daily food, and has the merit likewise of producing more
nutritious substance in a less space, and with less trouble
than any other plant. Humboldt calculates, that one acre
of ground planted with the platano arton, is sufficient to
support fifty men ; whilst an acre of wheat would barely
supply the wTants of three. Its cultivation requires but little
attention; when once the suckens are planted nature does
the rest. M ithin eight months after being set, the banana
begins to form clusters, and these may be gathered in the
tenth or eleventh month after their growth. When the stalk
is cut, some other shoots from it, about two-thirds the height
of the parent plant, are left standing, and they bear fruit in
about three months thereafter. Thus a plantation is per¬
petuated, without any other subsequent labour than that of
cutting the stalks upon which the fruit has ripened, and oc¬
casionally digging and dressing round the roots. The ripe
fruit of the banana resembles in appearance the bean pod,
but is far larger. When exposed to the sun, it is dried in
the same manner as the figs of the south of Europe. The
skin then becomes black, and emits a smell resembling that
of a smoked ham, in which state it becomes an object of
considerable internal traffic. Its taste is agreeable, and it
ICO.
is considered as very wdiolesome, but the ripe fruit, in its Statistics,
crude state, is found very difficult of digestion by newdy-ar-
rived Europeans. The green fruit is frequently cut into
slices and dried in the sun, and being thus rendered friable,
is reduced to powder, ^n which state it serves the purposes
of flour in many culinary preparations. The facility with
which this food is produced, gives it an advantage over every
other alimentary substance produced in these regions.
In the same temperature which favours the cultivation of Manioc or
the banana, the manioc or cassava is grown, and, like it, is cassava,
abundantly productive of aliment. There are two kinds of
manioc ; one, called the sweet, which may be eaten without
injury, and the other, the bitter, which is a very active poison
in its crude state; but both are made into bread, and the
latter is most generally used for that purpose. The root is
first dried, then grated, and the juice carefully expressed, by
which means a tolerably palatable and wholesome flour is pro¬
duced. It has the property of keeping for a very long time,
and is not liable to be attacked by worms, or other insects.
The cultivation of the manioc requires more care than that of
the banana, and in some measure resembles that of potatoes ;
the slips are planted, and in seven or eight months the har¬
vest may be gathered. The consumption of cassava bread
in Mexico is not considerable, nor at all likely to increase.
Rice is but little cultivated, and not very generally known.
Before the year 1810, the cultivation of the olive was pro- Fruits,
hibited lest the interest of the mother country should there¬
by be injured. During the revolution, however, a great
number of olive trees were planted, and so favourable is the
climate for its growth, and so excellent the oil which they
yield, that the importation ofthat article will soon be rendered
unnecessary. The vine was likewise a forbidden fruit dur¬
ing Spanish domination ; but as the plant flourishes in many
parts of Mexico, the attention of the landed proprietors has
been turned to the subject; and there seems little reason to
doubt that in course of time a supply of wine sufficient for
the wartts of the country will be obtained from the native
grape. Entire estates on the table-land are devoted to the
cultivation of chile or capsicum, and few are more produc¬
tive, as it constitutes one of the necessaries of life with the
Indian and Mestizo population, as well as with the creoles,
who use it in great quantities. In addition to the vegetable
productions already enumerated, Mexico possesses the yam,
which is confined to the Tierra Caliente ; tomatas (tomatl)
with every variety of garden plants and vegetables. There
are abundance of apples, peaches, pears, and other European
fruits, together with pines, guavas, chirimoyas, oranges and
lemons, limes, plantains, pistachio nuts, melons, and all the
usual productions of the tropics.
Mexico has likewise the maguey, a species of aloe, from Maguey,
which is distilled the favourite beverage of the lower classes
in the central part of the table-land. This spirituous liquor is
called octli or pulque, and is little known in Europe. In the
plantations the plants are arranged in rows having an inter¬
val of two or three yards between each. When the head of
the plant throws forth the bundle of central leaves, they are
cut off, and a hole is scooped in the stalk, which is covered
with the leaves. In this hollow the plant seems to deposit all
the juice, which, without the excision, would go to form the
flowers. It is a real vegetable spring, running for two
or three months, and which may be emptied twice or
thrice in the day. The plants are extremely productive ; in¬
deed a single one will yield annually one hundred and fifty
quarts of honey as it is called. It is placed in a situation
to ferment, an operation which takes place in a few days,
when it becomes fit to be drunk, and is then called pulque.
In its taste it is said to resemble cider, but it has a most disgust¬
ing smell, which, for a long time, prevents Europeans from
tasting it. When accustomed to it, however, people become
very fond of it, and account it healthy and nutritive. The
cultivation of the plant which produces this liquor is of vast
4
*
M EX
Statistics, importance, both to the public revenue and to the comfort of
individuals. It pays a duty on its introduction into the
towns ; and in the year 1793 the amount of the tax produced
at the gates of the cities of Mexico, Toluca, and Puebla, am¬
ounted to nearly L.200,000 sterling. By the distillation of
pulque, an intoxicating kind of brandy is produced, which is
very extensively consumed. The plant from which the pulque
is made is also adapted to other valuable purposes. It is used
in making ropes, and even paper; it furnishes the inhabitants
with a thread, which is called pita; its juice is used as a caus¬
tic application for wounds ; and its prickles serve the Indians
for needles and pins. In the states of La Puebla, Mexico,
Guanajuato, and a small portion of Valladolid, are found
the principal plantations of maguey. The most celebrat¬
ed are those in the vicinity of Cholula and in the Llanos de
Apam and in the valley of Toluca; but in general, although
the plant is found wild in every part of Mexico, no attempt
to extract pulque from it is made, excepting in the districts
which are within reach of the two great towns of La Pue¬
bla and Mexico.
iugar. Of those productions which in Europe are termed colonial,
Mexico supplies sugar, coffee, tobacco, indigo, chocolate, and
cotton, besides vanilla and cochineal, of which nature seems
to have given to New Spain the almost exclusive possession.
Sugar might be raised to almost any extent, the soil in many
parts being remarkably favourable to its growth; but the plan¬
tations are at present almost entirely confined to the valleys
of Cuantla and Cuernavaca, which are situated within twenty
leagues of the capital. Humboldt has endeavoured to deter¬
mine the maximum height at which the cane may be culti¬
vated in Mexico; and although there are almost insuperable
obstacles to the establishing of any general theory, it ap¬
pears to be very generally admitted, that the produce of a
plantation on the coast is superior both in quantity and
quality to one of similar extent in a valley on the table-land.
The same enlightened traveller states that a hectare of the
best land in the province of Vera Cruz produces five thou¬
sand six hundred pounds of raw sugar, or exactly double
the quantity obtained from the same space of ground in the
island of Cuba; from which circumstance the extraordinary
fertility of the soil may be inferred. The home consumption
is enormous, and enough is hardly grown to supply it. The
total produce is not exactly known, but it is considerably less
than that of the best years before the revolution, owing to
the plantations of Oaxaca, the Baxio, Valladolid, and Gua-
dalaxara, having been destroyed during the sanguinary con¬
test for independence. The cane is planted much closer
than is customary in Jamaica, but the ground is neverthe¬
less not exhausted by this system; for the extent of his es¬
tate enables the farmer to plant only one-fourth of it annu¬
ally, allowing the other three-fourths to lie fallow until their
turn comes round. The sugar of Mexico abounds in sac¬
charine matter, but has a coarse dirty appearance, the art
of refining being seldom carried beyond the first stage of
the process. From the molasses a considerable quantity ofrum
is annually distilled, and the trade is considered as a very lu¬
crative one. Any very rapid extension of the cultivation of
sugar in Mexico is not to be anticipated, on account of the
great expense requisite to construct works on an estate.
voffee, to- This, however, forms no drawback to the extensive culti-
acco, cot- vation of coffee, since the capital requisite to establish a plan-
3n> &c- tation is comparatively small. Many parts of the country are
remarkably favourable for the growth of this plant, and the
ordinary produce of good land considerably exceeds that of
the Havanna. Coffee, however, has never been exported
from New Spain, nor has its use been very general in the in¬
terior of the country until of late years. In the years 1818 and
1819, large plantations were laid out near Cordova and Ori-
zava, to which constant additions have since been made. The
ICO. 801
cultivation of coffee possesses at present many advantages Statistics,
over that of sugar ; and as the Mexican planters have turn- '*&~*y~***/
ed their attention to the subject, there can be little doubt
that the European market will ere long draw largely from
New Spain additional supplies of this article. The quality of
the coffee raised in Mexico is in general excellent; in the
opinion of the best judges, it is equal to that of any in the world.
Tobacco is a government monopoly, and the growth of the
plant is confined to a small district in the vicinity of Orizava
and Cordova ; it is thei’efore not likely to become an article '
of exportation, and is only interesting to European commerce
from the quantity of paper used in the cigar manufactories.
The quality of the plant is likewise considered as inferior to
that of the Havanna. Indigo is in some parts of Mexico a na¬
tural production of the soil; but from the preference which is
given in Europe to the indigo of Guatemala, and the fail¬
ure of the native cotton manufactures, its culture has been
much neglected. A little is grown on the western coasts,
in Yucutan and in Tabasco, and recently it has been intro¬
duced on a small scale into the valley of Cuantla. The use
of this plant was general amongst the Aztecs previously to
the conquest. Cotton was likewise found by the Spaniards
amongst the indigenous productions of Mexico, and formed
almost the only clothing used by the natives. Its cultiva¬
tion has since been much neglected; the art of imparting
to the cloth the brilliant colours of the Aztecs has been lost;
and manufactures are gradually disappearing. Still, how¬
ever, the raw material might constitute a valuable article of
exportation if not of home consumption. The hot country
is remarkably favourable to the growth of the plant; and it
requires but little attention upon the part of the proprietor.
The chief plantations are on the western coast, and in the
vicinity of the river Nazas in Durango, whence the cot¬
ton-spinners of Zacatecas, Saltillo, and San Luis, are sup¬
plied with raw material for their tapalos or shawls, and other
domestic manufactures. Cacao, from which chocolate is
made, is, like indigo, supposed to have been an indigenous
plant; but comparatively little attention is paid to its cul¬
tivation. The principal plantations are near Coluna, on the
western coast, in the isthmus of Tehuantepec, and in the
state of Tabasco, where it forms an article of considerable
importance. The number of trees under cultivation is not
known, but the average annual produce is estimated at about
fifteen thousand cargoes of sixty pounds each.
Several valuable drugs are produced in Mexico, as sarsapar- Drugs,
ilia, jalap, vanilla, snakeroot, and some others, which, how¬
ever important to the healing art, are of too little conse¬
quence to the agriculture or the commerce of the country to
deserve detailed notices. Cochineal is, however, a product
hitherto exclusively Mexican, and deserves some attention.
It was certainly cultivated long before America was known
to Europeans. The cultivation of cochineal is at present
limited to the intendancy of Oaxaca. There are two spe¬
cies of cochineal, called grana fina and grana silvestria; one
the wild, and the other, if we may be allowed the term, the
mesticated kind. The wild is found in several parts of the
world, but although pains have been taken to introduce the
better kind in many countries, they have hitherto been un¬
successful. The wild cochineal is covered with a cottony
down, which prevents the rings on its back from being vi¬
sible; the fine is distinguished by its being covered with a
mealy kind of white powder, which does not conceal the
wrinkles on its back.1
The great consumption of wax in the church ceremonies Wax.
renders this an article of much importance. Some attention
is paid to it in the peninsula of Yucutan, where there are
colmenares containing six and seven hundred hives ; but still
a large quantity is imported principally through New Orle¬
ans. In addition to the productions already enumerated, Mexi-
5 i
VOL. XIV.
1 For an account of the cochineal insect, see the article Entomology, vol. ix. p. 207, 208.
MEXICO.
802
Statistics, co possesses Tabascan pepper, which grows wild through-
's—out the state of Tabasco, and is collected in the months of
July and August. Campeche logwood, mahogany equal to
that of San Domingo or Cuba, and a thousand other varie¬
ties of timber of the most beautiful and variegated kinds,
as also of fruit trees, shrubs and flowers, abound in this coun¬
try ; but the enumeration of these different productions would
only be a dry nomenclature of botanical names.
Observa- “ The total agricultural produce of Mexico,” says Mr. W ard,
tions of “calculated by Humboldt upon the tithes, on a term of ten
Ward on years, with an allowance of three millions of dollars for the
the agricul- coc})ineap vanilla, sarsaparilla, jalap, and Tabascan pepper,
Mexico which paid no tithes, and two millions more for the sugar
and indigo, upon which the clergy only received a duty of
four per cent, was found to amount to twenty-nine millions
of dollars, and thus to exceed by four millions the annual
average produce of the mines, from which the wealth of the
country was supposed to be principally derived. Of the
present amount it is impossible to form any correct esti¬
mate, from the state of disorganization into which both
church and state have been thrown by the civil war. But
the produce under less favourable circumstances cannot be
objected to as a criterion of what may again be ; and should
the country continue in a state of tranquillity, I am inclin¬
ed to think that before the year 1835, the agricultural
wealth of New Spain will be fully equal to that of 1803.”
The same able writer then states, as the results of his obser¬
vation, “ that Mexico possesses the means of maintaining
in abundance a population infinitely superior to the present
number of its inhabitants ; that although from the peculiar
structure of the country, the agricultural wealth of the
table-land is not likely to be brought into the European
market, it ensures the general prosperity of the interior,
while the cotton, coffee, sugar, indigo, cacao, and other pro¬
ductions of the coasts, will form in the course of a few years
a very considerable mass of exportable commodities ; that
these, in conjunction with cochineal and the precious met¬
als, must render the external trade of New Spain highly
interesting to Europe, while the amount of the population,
and the absence of manufactures, give to the internal con¬
sumption of the country, an importance which none of the
other new states of America possess. Mexico,” he adds,
“contains nearly one half of the seventeen millions of inhabi¬
tants that are said to compose the population of the former
colonies of Spain; and this half possesses, perhaps, the largest
share of the mineral and vegetable riches of the New World.
It is not, therefore, a mere theory to suppose that the progress
, of such a country must exercise a considerable influence
upon the manufacturing industry of the Old World.”1 Ten
years have elapsed since these observations were written ;
and although from the distracted state in which the coun¬
try has ever since continued, the hopes therein expressed
have not been realized, yet when the re-establishment of
internal tranquillity shall permit native industry to develop
the almost boundless resources of the country, there can be
little doubt that the agriculture of Mexico will rapidly ex¬
tend itself, and acquire all the importance which it is cal¬
culated to attain in so favoured a region.
Zoology. Zoology The zoology of these interesting regions has
only been.partially explored, and the gleanings which have
been made relate chiefly to ornithology. Of one hundred
and thirteen species of land birds, hitherto ascertained to
be natives of Mexico, sixty-eight appear to be peculiar to
that country, eleven are also natives of South America, and
thirty-four of North America. The v/ater birds which have
been examined possess no novelty, the whole being identified
with the species distributed generally over North America.
Amongst the wading birds are two very beautiful species of ti¬
ger bitterns, hitherto unknown to naturalists, and as yet not
regularly described. The quadrupeds, insects, &c., are too Statisticsi
little known to admit of any satisfactory account being given
of them. The only quadrupeds yet brought to Europe, are a
new lynx, the Canadian porcupine, two small monkeys,
and a small tiger cat. Deer and antelopes of some unknown
species are found on the table-land, whilst the bison in vast
herds ranges throughout some parts of the Mexican territory.
Few countries are richer than Mexico in domestic animals
of every kind. The horned cattle, sheep, pigs, goats, and
horses, introduced by the Spaniards, have flourished in every
part of her territory, and multiplied to such a degree that
their numbers are now incalculable. In Texas, California,
and the Indian country, vast herds run wild in the forests ;
and even in the interior the number both of horses and cat¬
tle kept upon many of the large haciendas is hardly known.
The wool of the Mexican sheep is supposed to be of inferior
quality ; but Mr. Ward is inclined to attribute its defects
more to neglect, and the great abundance of the cactus and
other thorny shrubs in the plains where the great flocks of
the interior are fed, than to any peculiarity in the climate.
Wherever due attention is paid to preserve the fleece from
injury the quality improves and the price rises. Mules are
very abundant particularly in the mining districts.
Mines The mines of gold and silver form the prime ob- Mines,
jects which have associated the idea of boundless wealth and
indefinite splendour with the name of Mexico. The lustre
of the precious metals has, by a natural illusion, always
dazzled the eyes of mankind, and given a factitious impor¬
tance to the countries where they are found in the greatest
abundance. Gold is far more plentiful in Peru ; but, since
they were first wrought, the mines of Mexico have produ¬
ced more silver than all the rest of the world united. The
ore is far from being rich; but it is found in vast quantities,
in the very finest and healthiest parts of the country, and
can be obtained with comparatively little difficulty. Prior
to the year 1810, the country was supposed to contain five
hundred reales or spots, in which mines were worked, with
from three to five thousand mines large and small, includ¬
ed in thirty-seven mining districts, into which the viceroy¬
alty was divided by the government of the mother coun¬
try. But these were confined to a comparatively narrow
circle ; for the immense mass of silver which the country
has yielded since the conquest, and which was calculated by
Humboldt in the year 1803, at 1,767,952,000 dollars, has pro¬
ceeded from a few central spots of the table-land, in which
the capital and activity of the first speculators found ample
employment. Yet, three centuries of constant productive¬
ness have been insufficient to exhaust the principal mines
originally worked; whilst by far the largest proportion of
the great veins still remains unexplored. The principal
mines are situated in the provinces of Mexico, Guadalax-
ara, Guanajuato, Durango, Zacatecas, Chihuahua, San Luis
Potosi, Sonora, and Senaloa. Previously to the revolution,
the produce of the mines continued to increase; but du¬
ring the dreadful civil convulsions which have agitated the
country since the year 1810, it has greatly declined, and many
of 4he mines have been allowed to go to ruin. From facts
which he was at great pains to collect and investigate, Mr.
Ward concludes, first, that the annual average produce of
the mines before the revolution, amounted to twenty-four
millions of dollars, and the average exports to twenty-two
millions ; and, secondly, that since the revolution, the pro¬
duce has been reduced to eleven millions of dollars, whilst
the exports in specie have averaged 13,587,052 dollars an¬
nually. These results were deduced from data furnished in
the year 1825. The descrepancy between the produce and
the specie exported, is to be attributed to the removal of
Spanish wealth, during the revolutionary war, to places of
greater security.
1 Ward’s Mexico in 1827, vol. i. p. 67. Second edition, London, 1829.
Statistics. Extraordinary efforts have, within the last ten years,
■«rf'*\/-'w'been made by British capitalists to recommence the work¬
ing and extend the produce of the mines. During the pe¬
riod of excited speculation in 1825, numerous companies
were constituted for this purpose, and their shares sold for
some time at advancing premiums. There were also two
North American and one German association, but on a smaller
scale than the English companies. The hopes held out by
the projectors have not as yet been realized ; but there is
reason to believe that, in a little time, the capitals invested
in these undertakings will become productive. Although
the mines of Mexico are no longer the same source of wealth
which they formerly were, the greatest impediments were
removed at the revolution. First, the duty upon silver and
gold was reduced from ten to three per cent.; secondly,
quicksilver for amalgamation was made duty free; and, thirdly,
several local mints were established. It must likewise be kept
in view, that any falling off that has taken place in the produce
of the mines has not arisen from exhaustion; for even in
those which have been worked for centuries, no defalcation is
observable. Besides, the states of Durango, Sonora, Chihua¬
hua, and Senola, contain an infinity of mines hitherto but
little known, and holding out, whenever they have been
tried, a promise of riches superior to any thing that Mex¬
ico has yet produced. The ores appear to increase in
riches the farther north the operations are prosecuted. So
much so is this the case, that in the real, or district of Jesus
Maria, in that great branch of the Sierra Madre which se¬
parates the states of Durango and Chihuahua, from those
of Sonora and Senaloa to the north and west, the ores of the
mine of Santa Juliana, which does not exceed seventy yards
in depth, average seven and eight marcs of silver per cargo
of SOOlbs, which is the average produce of ten cargos of
good ore in Guanajuato; whilst ores of the best quality yield
as much as from four to ten marcs per arroba of 25 lbs, or
forty marcs per cargo. Without entering into similar de¬
tails respecting each of the other mines in the northern dis¬
tricts, it is sufficient to state, that, with some few exceptions,
they all possess in a greater or less degree the same advan¬
tages, richness of ores, and veins productive almost at the
surface ; that few have been worked to any extent; and
that, consequently, the risk of making the necessary expe¬
riments there is trifling, in comparison of the immense
outlay required by the old mines of the southern districts,
which have in general attained an enormous depth.
It is a very great advantage to the mines of Mexico, that,
unlike those of South America, they are found in regions of
moderate elevation and temperature. The greater propor¬
tion of the most valuable are at the height of from six to
ten thousand feet above the level of the ocean, and, con¬
sequently, are exempt from that severity of cold which is
found so injurious in Peru. In consequence of the country
around the mines being thus in healthy and fruitful eleva¬
tions, the great number of labourers which they require
easily find subsistence ; and whenever an extensive mine
flourishes, the concourse of people which it collects creates
a market for food, which the uncultivated fields around them
are soon brought to supply; and towns spring up, and land be¬
comes fruitful, where a few years before only uncultivated de¬
serts were to be seen. It is from the healthiness of the cli¬
mate in which the mines are situated, and from the fertility of
the land around them, that Mexico has been enabled to ex¬
tract so great a quantity of mineral wealth, rather than to the
richness of the ore, or to the accessibility of the veins. The
mines are all worked by freemen, compulsory labour being
unknown in Mexico. But the miners lead a very wandering
and desultory life. There are particular tribes of natives who
have been miners from generation to generation, and who
lead a roving life, migrating with their wives and children
from one district to another, as they are attracted by the fame Statistics,
of superior riches. They are paid by partido, that is, by a
share in the ore raised, which is preferred to regular wages
however high. It was by employing liberally this powerful
stimulus to exertion, that the old Spaniards found means to
create a population in the most distant and desolate districts,
without having recourse to the mita or tauda, which in Peru
and Chili, was in such general use. The natives, far from
looking upon mining with repugnance, have a very great love
for it, and, in some places, look down with contempt upon
those engaged in agriculture. It only remains to be stated
regarding the mines of Mexico generally, that their impor¬
tance consists not merely in the amount of the mineral trea¬
sures which they produce, but in the impulse communicat¬
ed by them to all the other great interests of the country.
Agriculture in particular, can only be said to flourish to its
full extent in those districts where mining operations are
vigorously carried on ; for in these places the population is
found most dense, and in them, also, exists the greatest de¬
mand for the products of the soil.
The following statement of the value of gold and silver
raised in Mexico, in the two periods of twenty years, from
1790 to 1809 inclusive, and from 1810 to 1829 inclusive,
is derived from the returns of the British consular agent.
Gold. Silver. Total.
From 1790 to 1809.-.£4,523,378 £94,429,303 £98,952,681
... 1810 to 1829... 1,913,075 45,388,729 47,301,804
The annexed statement derived from the same sources as
the preceding, shews the comparative increase or decrease
in periods often years.
Gold. Silver. Total.
From 1790 to 1799...£2,093,170 £47,788,102 £49,881,272
... 1800to 1809... 2,430,208 46,641,201 49,071,409
Being, as compared ) an increase a decrease a decrease
with the first period, f of 16-^-. of 2f. of 11.
From 1810to 1819...£1,466,830 £24,577,764 £26,044,594
Being, as compared j a decrease a decrease a decrease
with the first period, JT of 30. of 48f. of57f.
From 1820to 1829...£446,245 £20,810,965 £21,257°,210
Being, as compared } a decrease a decrease a decrease
with the first period, j of78T^. of56f. of57f.1
The following is a general table of the total coinage of all
the mints of Mexico, including that of the capital, from the
year 1733, when it was first placed under the direction of
the government, and returns of the coinage regularly kept.
By this it will appear that the sum of 1,435,658,611 dollars
has been registered as the produce of the mines of Mexico,
in ninety-three years, from 1733 to June 1826.
Coinage of Mexico.
The mint of the capital was established in 1525. Until
the year 1733, when it was placed under the direction of
the government, there are no returns.
From 1733 to June 1826, the registered coinage is
Dollars.
3,024,194
In gold,  63,365,406 1 oo9 o, o
In silver, 1,318,853,130 / M«^lS,55b
Guanajuato—From Dec.
1812, to May 15, 1813,
From April 1821, to June
1826,  2,
Zacatecas—From Nov. 24, 1810, to
June 1826, 32,108,185
Guadalaxara.—From 1812 to June
1826,
18,853,130 j •
C‘ )
1, 311,125 f
2,713,0693
3 0
0 0
1 6
In gold,  225,632 0 0)
In silver,....5,433,527 7 9 Jf
5,659,159 7 9
Carried forward.
1 Parliamentary Paner, session 1833.
804 MEXICO.
Statistics. Brought forward.
Durango.—From 1811 to June 1826, 7,483,626 4 0
Ch ihuahua.—F rom 1811 to 1814, when
the mint was suppressed,  3,603,660 0 0
Sombrerete.—From Oct. 1810 to July
16, 1811, when the mint was sup¬
pressed,  1,561,249 2 0
Total, :. ..1,435,658,611 2 3
The total quantity of gold and silver coined in the differ¬
ent Mexican mints during the four years ending with 1829,
was,
Dollars. Dollars.
In 1826... 8,608,278 1828... 9,982,905
1827...10,619,217 1829...11,787,1331
When the internal tranquillity of Mexico is restored, and
those enterprising individuals who have undertaken to exca¬
vate the mineral riches of the country are permitted to pro¬
secute their operations without molestation, a large increase
of produce may fairly be anticipated.
Besides the precious metals, gold and silver, which we have
thus far exclusively considered, Mexico abounds in other
ores, which equally contribute to the improvement and com¬
fort of man in the social state. Iron is found in great abund¬
ance in the intendancies of Valladolid, Zacatecas, and Gua-
dalaxara, and especially in the more northern provinces.
The increased production of these mines is always suspend-
ed by a return of peace, however much they may have
yielded in the preceding periods of war. The difference of
price in war and peace, both in iron and steel, is enormous.
The former has sometimes risen from twenty to two hun¬
dred and forty dollars the quintal; and the latter, which in
peace is commonly sold for £3, has been known in war to
bring £50. During the early part of the wars occasioned
by the French Revolution, the tribunal of mines advanced
money to the iron miners ; but the works were suspended
by the peace of Amiens. When war recommenced, these
mines were resumed, but very imperfectly, and the tribunal
having lent its capital to the government, could not afford
them any assistance.
Copper is found in a native state in the intendancy of Val-
ladolid, and also to some extent in Guanajuato. Tin, although
obtained in mines, is principally extracted from the earth
washed down in the deep ravines. A combination of these
two metals, both of which were known to the ancient Mex¬
icans, although they had not discovered iron, was used to
form their tools and weapons. By an examination of one
of their implements, it was ascertained by some French che¬
mists that they had acquired the art of tempering these two
metals, so as to render them equal in effective utility to iron,
nay even to steel. Lead is found, but the mines are very lit¬
tle worked. Zinc, under the form of a brown and black
blende, is obtained in several veins. Antimony is produced
in Catorce; and arsenic, combined with sulphur, has been
extracted from the minerals found in Zimapan. Neither
cobalt nor manganese has yet been discovered in Mexico;
indeed these minerals appear to be much less abundant in
the equinoctial regions of America than in the temperate
climates of the old continent.
Having thus described the various productions of Mex¬
ico, vegetable and mineral, we now proceed to give some
account of the trade and commerce of the country, the re¬
venue, the army and navy, the state of religion, and other
subjects. But as these were materially affected by the politi¬
cal changes which took place in the yearl 824, it will be ne¬
cessary, first of all, to explain the actual form and constitu¬
tion of the government.
Govern- Government When the resignation of Iturbide left the
inent. representatives of Mexico at liberty to chuse a form of go¬
vernment, that of a Federal Republic was fixed upon. The Statistics.
Constitution is dated the 4th of October 1824; and by it,
whilst each member of the federation is permitted to man¬
age its own affairs, the whole are cemented into one body
politic by certain fundamental and constituent laws. This
instrument, after declaring the absolute independence of the
country, and adopting the Roman Catholic religion, proceeds
to enumerate alphabetically the nineteen states of which
the republic is composed. These are Chiapas, Chihuahua,
Cohahuila and Texas, Durango, Guanajuato, Mexico, Me-
choacan (Valladolid), New Leon, Oajaca, Puebla de los
Angeles, Queretaro, San Luis Potosi, Sonora and Sinaloa,
Tabasco, Las Tamaulipas, Vera Cruz, Xalisco (Guadala¬
jara), Yucatan, and Zacatecas, together with the territories
of Old and New California, Colima, New Mexico, and
Tlascala. The powers of the supreme government are then
divided into three branches; namely, legislative, exceptive,
and judiciary. The legislative power is vested in a Con¬
gress, which is divided into two chambers; the house of re¬
presentatives, and the senate. Representatives are elected
by the citizens of the states for a term of two years; one
member being returned for each eighty thousand inhabi¬
tants, as well as for each fraction that exceeds forty thous¬
and. Thus a state with a population of two hundred and
fi ve thousand would return the same number of deputies as
one with two hundred and forty thousand. A deputy must
be tw enty-five years of age, and have resided two years in
the state by which he is elected. He must be a Mexican
by birth, or if not he must have resided eight years in the
republic, and possess landed property to the amount of eight
thousand dollars, or have some profession by which he real¬
izes one thousand annually. There are a few exceptions,
though too unimportant to require being enumerated.
Certain individuals cannot serve as deputies for the states
or territories in which they exercise their functions. These
are, persons deprived of the rights of citizenship, or whose civil
rights have been suspended ; the president, vice-president,
and members of the supreme court of justice ; the secreta¬
ries of state, and those engaged in their several departments ;
those employed in the treasury whose functions extend
over the whole federation; governors of states and terri¬
tories, commandants-general, archbishops and bishops, go¬
vernors of archbishoprics and bishoprics, provisors and
vicars-general, circuit judges, and commissaries-general of
finance and war. The senate is composed of two senators
for each state, elected by a plurality of votes in the state
legislature or congress. The last of the two named is re¬
placed by a new appointment at the end of two years, the
first retaining his seat for four. Both must be thirty years
of age, and possess all the qualifications requisite for a de¬
puty. The Congress meets every year on the first of January,
and closes its session on the 15 th of April, unless it be found
necessary to prolong it for a month. An extraordinary con¬
gress may be convoked, but sessions can in no case be open¬
ed without the presence of more than half the total number
of members. The president and other high officers of state
are amenable for their conduct to either of the chambers,
which can resolve itself into a grand jury; and if two-thirds
of the body decide upon an impeachment, the person ac¬
cused may be suspended from his employment. Both depu¬
ties and senators are inviolable, and cannot at any time be
called to account for their opinions. A yearly salary of two
thousand dollars is assigned to each of them. Both chambers
must concur before any legal enactment can be transmitted
to the president, who in all cases must yield to a second re¬
monstrance by two-thirds of the members of both houses.
Laws of every kind may originate without distinction in either
chamber; with the exception of those on taxes and contri¬
butions, which must be proposed by the representatives. The
Parliamentary Paper, No. 338, session, 1833.
■
MEXICO. 805
Statistics, sanction of a majority of the members of both chambers is
'^■“Y required before a law can be passed. The powers of Con¬
gress are very considerable, extending to matters of war, and,
peace, trade, national improvements, religion, education, the
press, the internal administration of territories, taxes, du¬
ties, maintenance of the union, finance, expenditure, and the
public business of the country.
The supreme executive power is placed in the hands of a
president, assisted by a vice-president, who, in cases of any
moral or physical disqualification upon the part of the presi¬
dent, succeeds to all his prerogatives, and exercises all his
functions. The president cannot be re-elected till after the
lapse of four years. The election is made by the congresses
of the states, on the first of September of the year preced¬
ing the installation of a new president. His powers may be
said generally to consist in sanctioning and carrying into
effect the decrees and measures agreed upon by the cham¬
bers. Under certain legal restrictions he makes all govern¬
ment appointments whether civil, military, judicial, or reli¬
gious. He assigns military pensions according to law, dis¬
poses of the armed force of the country, receives foreign
ministers, superintends the administration of justice, sus¬
pends government officers guilty of disobedience or infrac¬
tion of the laws, and concedes or denies his pase, or exequa¬
tor, to all decrees of councils, pontifical bulls, briefs, and
rescripts, with the consent of the general Congress, if they
contain general regulations, and with that of the senate, the
council of state, or the supreme court of justice, in cases of
a more private and individual character. There are re¬
strictions upon his powers, by which any arbitrary or tyran¬
nical proceedings, or any neglect of duty upon his part, are
provided against.
The council of the government exists and acts only during
the intervals between the sessions of the Congress, and is
composed of one half of the senate, with the vice-president
of the republic at its head. Its principal duties are, to watch
over the observance of the federal act, and the general laws of
the union ; to consult with the president, and suggest al¬
terations to him; to convoke Congress in an extraordinary
session ; to give its consent to various measures and acts of
the president; and to act in certain cases for the president
and vice-president, in the event of their demise, absence, or
incapacity. The government is divided into departments, at
the head of each of which is a secretary of state, who be¬
comes responsible for all the acts in his department, to which
his signature is affixed, and at the commencement of the
annual sessions gives in a report of the state of his depart¬
ment, including the budget for the ensuing year. The se¬
cretaries must be Mexican citizens by birth.
The judicial power is lodged in a supreme tribunal of jus¬
tice ; and in inferior courts of departments and districts, the
number of which is determined by the Congress. The su¬
preme court is composed of eleven judges and one attorney-
general, who must all be Mexicans by birth, and thirty-five
years of age. They are elected in the same manner as the
president, and take cognizance of all differences between two
or more states of the federation, or between individuals of
different states respecting grants of land; government con¬
tracts ; controversies between the inferior tribunals of the fe¬
deration, or between these and the tribunals of the states; and
all impeachments which may be instituted against the presi¬
dent or vice-president, the secretaries of state, the governors
of states, or the diplomatic agents and consuls of the republic.
They likewise decide all admiralty cases; questions of prize-
money, or contraband crimes committed upon the high seas;
treason against the nation; and infractions of the constitu¬
tion, or fundamental laws. They may themselves be called
to account, by a tribunal constituted for the purpose by the
chamber of representatives.
The tribunals of departments and districts, are composed,
the former of a judge and fiscal, and the latter of a judge
alone, from whom an appeal lies to the supreme tribunal, in Statistics,
all cases exceeding the value of five hundred dollars. The's-^V“^"
judges in both instances, are named by the president from a list
of three candidates submitted to him by the supreme tri¬
bunal. The penalty of infamy can only attach to the per¬
son of the culprit. Confiscation of property, judgments by
special commission, retrospective laws, and the torture in any
shape, or under any pretence, are abolished for ever. No
one can be imprisoned without strong grounds of suspicion,
nor detained above sixty hours without proof of guilt. No
house can be entered, nor papers examined, belonging to any
inhabitant of the republic, unless in cases provided for by
the law, and then only in the manner presciibed by it. No
inhabitant of the republic can be forced to give evidence
upon oath, calculated to criminate himself. No one can be
deprived of the right to terminate a suit by arbitration, in
any stage of the proceedings; nor is it allowable to com¬
mence an action without having previously had recourse to
the judgment of conciliation.
With respect to the individual states, it was decreed, that
the government of each should be divided and organised in
a manner similar to that of the federation, and should regulate
its own affairs, observe and enforce the laws of the union,
protect the liberties of the inhabitants, deliver up criminals
reclaimed by other states, contribute towards the liquidation
of debts, give an account of receipts and expenditure to the
general Congress, and transmit thither a copy of all the de¬
crees and laws which they had passed. It was likewise pro¬
vided, that no individual state should exact duties, impose
new taxes, maintain troops or vessels of war, declare war, or
enter into any transaction with foreign powers, not even with
other states of the federation, respecting boundaries, or ces¬
sion of territory, without the consent of the general Con¬
gress. In all questions in which the country generally is
concerned, such as effecting changes in the constitutional
act, the National Congress alone has the power to decide.
It may be mentioned, that most of the articles of the federal
act are transcripts of corresponding articles in the constitu¬
tion of the United States. In reference to a point respect¬
ing which opinions are at variance, namely, whether a central
or a federal republic was best adapted to the habits and tastes of
the Mexicans, and the nature of the country, little need be
said in this place. It is certain, however, that the same
system in its general features, which for nearly half a cen¬
tury has secured tranquillity and prosperity to the United
States, has entirely failed to produce the same results in Mexi¬
co. But that disturbances would have agitated the country,
whatever form of government might have been adopted,
seems certain; for they sprung from the ambition of indi¬
viduals, and the evil spirit of faction, and cannot therefore be
traced to the bad working of the federal system. The laws of
Mexico are in general mild. There is no imprisonment for
debt; but trial by Jury has not yet been established, and
bribery is px*actised to a considerable extent.
Army and Navy—According to Mr. Ward, the army of Army and
Mexico for the year 1827, consisted of 58,955 men, of whom navy.
32,161 were actually under arms; the remainder being ready
to be called out if their services should be required. The
troops of the line were composed of twelve batallions of infan¬
try, each consisting of eight hundred and twenty-three men,
the full war complement being one thousand two hundred and
twenty-three; twelve regiments of cavalry, each of five hun¬
dred and fifty-nine men, the war complement being eight hun¬
dred and fifteen; and three brigades of artillery, of seventeen
hundred and sixty-seven men in all. In addition to these,
there are twenty-two thousand seven hundred and eighty-
eight regular troops under arms, and employed in protecting
the northern frontier, or distributed upon different points of
thecoast. Theactive militia consisted of nine thousand three
hundred and seventy-three men; but this force can be aug¬
mented at pleasure to thirty-six thousand one hundred and
806
MEXICO.
Statistics, sixty-seven men, who have all been enrolled and disciplined to
certain extent, although permitted to retire to their homes
when notwanted. A similar regulation was adopted, although
to a less extent, with the troops of the line, so that the no¬
minal is considerably greater than the real armed force.
The expenses of the war department for the same year a-
mounted to 9,069,b33 dollars, or including the navy, which
consisted of one ship ofThe line, two frigates, a corvette, four
brigs of war, a schooner, four gun boats, four launches, and two
pilot boats, to 10,378,678 dollars, being about four-fifths of
the annual expenditure of the republic. This is an enormous
drain upon the exchequer of Mexico; and as no country in
the world is better protected from foreign invasion, a reduc¬
tion of the armed force would greatly add to the national pros¬
perity. This was not only contemplated, but even partially
carried into effect. Subsequent events, however, rendered it
necessary to increase the army, the present state of which
is described in a recent work on Texas. In 1835, the actual
army and active militia consisted of 200,000 men, of whom
50,000 formed the federal army, and 150,000 belonged to the
states, being supported by them. They are independent of
the enrolled militia, which is calculated at 800,000 men, mak¬
ing altogether a force ofl,000,000men, independently ofthe
Texians. The federal army is furnished by rates from each
state ; the pay is enormous, and a great source of expence.
Each soldier of infantry has one dollar twenty-five cents
per day, and the cavalry two dollars ; the officers have pro¬
portionally large salaries, This makes every one anxious to
enter the army. But the soldiers have no rations; they
must clothe and feed themselves ; the states furnish no¬
thing but arms and ammunition. The horsemen must even
provide their own horses; but a horse can be had for from fif¬
teen to twenty-five dollars, and a Mexican soldier can live
upon four tortillas a-day. However, this pay is almost always
in arrear, being difficult to collect; and soldiers seldom re¬
ceive any thing but new clothes when they are in rags, and
these charged to them at an extravagant rate. As to their
food, they are often compelled to borrow, beg, or levy it by
military contribution. They are cheered, however, by the
love of country and liberty; with the actual privileges which
they possess over the peasantry, such as not being amenable
to any tribunal except courts-martial; with promises of land,
plunder, and the like. The army is altogether liberal, but
very turbulent.1 From other sources we learn, that the regular
Mexican soldier is excellent of his kind. He possesses ex¬
treme docility, great power of enduring fatigue, considerable
personal courage, and extraordinary readiness in acquiring
the manual duties of his profession. On the other hand,
those who are bad, are intolerably so, and perhaps more diffi¬
cult to manage than any other class of men in existence.
Mexico possesses only five fortresses, San Juan de Ul-
loa, Campeche, Perote, Acapulco, and San Bias. The es-
tado-mayor-general, which unites the duties of the quarter¬
master general’s office, with the more scientific branches
of the department of engineers, has been occupied since its
creation in 1823, in making military surveys, and otherwise
taking measures for defending the country against foreign in¬
vasion, as well as promoting a knowledge of military tactics.
Ecclesiasti- Ecclesiastical Establishments. The religion intro-
bUsh meats ^uce^ an^ established in New Spain was that ofthe church
ils men ^ of Rome. In the church as well as in the government, all the
highest offices were filled by Spaniards, the situation ofparish
priest being the only degree of preferment to which a creole
could aspire. This accounts for so many of the leaders ofthe
revolution having been clergymen. The secular clergy shar¬
ed in all the disadvantages under which their creole coun¬
trymen laboured, owing to the jealous policy of the mother
country ; and notwithstanding that the fatal influence which
they exercised over the natives had frequentlybeen pointed out Statisticsi
to the court of Spain, the old system was persevered in until
the year 1820, all benefices being conferred upon Gachupines.
The clergy, however, although they took a prominent part
in the revolutionary struggle, reaped no immediate advan¬
tage from the change. The separation from Spain having
broken the link which had connected Mexico with the see of
Rome, it was considered as dangerous, hastily to turn out the
old Spanish dignitaries, and to supply their places with creoles;
and they were, therefore, allowed to remain in undisturbed
possession of their preferments. But since the revolution
the influence and reverence of the church have been con¬
siderably diminished, whilst the old Spaniards have recent¬
ly been supplanted by creoles. In 1802 the number of ec¬
clesiastics, secular and regular, in New Spain, was estimat¬
ed at ten thousand, or, including the lay-brothers of convents
and other religious houses, thirteen thousand. Their revenues
were estimated at 439,000 dollars, besides which they posses¬
sed a very large amount of capital in specie, and a portion of
landed property. The wealth of the clergy, however, has,
from various causes, been materially reduced.
Mr. Ward gives a view ofthe state of the church in 1827,
which he describes as in a very disorganised condition ; nor
does it appear that matters have much improved since.
The republic is divided into one archbishopric, (that of
Mexico,) and nine bishoprics; viz. La Puebla, Guadalax-
ara, Valladolid, Durango, Monterey, Oajaca, Yucatan, Chi-
apa and Sonora. All these, excepting Sonora, have cathe¬
dral churches and chapters, which, with the collegiate chap¬
ter of Guadalupe, contain one hundred and eighty-five pre¬
bends and canonries formerly in the gift of the king. The
country is divided into eleven hundred and ninety-four
parishes. In 1827, the secular clergy amounted to 3,677,
and their annual income, computing the value of their lands,
and capitals at five per cent., and adding to the amount the
interest which these produce, the value of their consolidat¬
ed fund, was estimated at 9,225,015 dollars. Considering
the immense extent and population of Mexico, this sum ap¬
pears moderate. Besides the secular clergy, there are about
two thousand monks and nuns distributed in one hundred
and fifty convents and nunneries, chiefly of the Dominican,
Franciscan, Carmelite, and Augustinian orders. There are
also six colleges, containing above three hundred religious,
and sixty-one missions. The alms collected in all the con¬
vents of Mexico in the year 1826, amounted to 204,000 dol¬
lars. “ The clergy and monks,” says Mr. Edwards, “ possess
estates, property, and income, to an immense amount, all
untaxed. They have also the management of all the obras
pias, or pious legacies for benevolent purposes, said to
amount to 25,000,000 of dollars, mostly lent on mortgages ;
besides nearly 30,000,000 lent to Spain before the revolu¬
tion, which became a claim at the peace. The whole army
is against the church, and claim their useless property to
pay their arrears. The leaders alone, who fear without lov¬
ing the clergy, have heretofore restrained this feeling, par¬
ticularly since Santa Anna has glutted them with plunder
from another source.” It appears that all the Spanish monks
and priests had been expelled, their places having been filled
by creoles ; that the number of nuns was diminishing; and
that from the relaxation of religious restraints the monks went
wherever they pleased, frequenting gambling houses,theatres,
and other places of amusement. “All the clergy,” adds Ed¬
wards, “are like the army, subject to their own tribunals only,
and enjoy many other immunities; there is then a kind of tacit
union between church and state. The army and church,
although secret foes, find it convenient to'support each other.”2
There is little or no religious liberty in Mexico, sects differing
from the Catholic faith not being tolerated. There are no
1 Edwards’ History of Texas. Cincinnati, 1836.
2 Ibid.
M E X I C O.
807
9 Sftrstics. rights or privileges, civil or military, to which any Mexican
' subject, publicly professing any but the Catholic religion,
can be legally entitled. The hold of the church over the In¬
dians was never complete, and it is nowfast lessening. They
are all more or less inclined to idolatry.
Eccation. Education—Education is as yet at a low ebb, although
by the constitution provision was made for the instruction
of the people. The Spanish has become the general lan¬
guage of the Mexicans ; but many Indians still prefer and
retain their own native tongues, and others speak no Span¬
ish ; circumstances which must impede the diffusion of know¬
ledge, as only a limited number of books are printed in the
Indian languages. According to the regulations of govern¬
ment, all persons should be taught to read and write by the
priests, and for this purpose, Lancasterian schools have been
established in many parts ; but even this elementary edu¬
cation is very much neglected. The sciences in general have
not been cultivated to any considerable extent in Mexico,
although few governments have expended more in the promo¬
tion of physical science, than did that of Spain in America.
Three botanical expeditions were sent to Mexico and other
I parts of its transatlantic dominions, at a cost of upwards of
L.80,000. Geometry and astronomy have likewise made
considerable progress. Humboldt names three individuals,
Velasquez, Gama, and Alzate, who would have held a re¬
spectable rank as men of learning, even in Europe. A botan¬
ical garden and collections of minerals were formed onagreat
scale in Mexico. From a school of mines where chemis¬
try and mineralogy were taught, the country derived impor¬
tant advantages; but the revolution gave a severe shock
to all these establishments. The new government, how¬
ever, have taken measures to revive them, which, we trust,
will ultimately be successful. The fine arts were also zeal¬
ously promoted by the old government, which, at an expense
of L.8000, transported to Mexico, across the rocky passes
of the Cordilleras, a collection of casts of the finest antique
statues. There was also an academy of the fine arts which
possessed an annual income of L.5000, and by its exertions,
many of the public edifices of the capital were adorned.
AWufac- Manufactures—The manufactures of Mexico are, and
turt. wiH probably continue for a considerable time to come, in a
very rude state. The natives entertain strong prejudices
against manual labour, which is for the most part confined to
criminals, or persons compelled by debt to engage in it. The
Indians excel in working in jewellery, sculpture, carving,
and indeed all the ornamental arts; and they are likewise good
masons, painters, musicians, &c. They make beautiful vases,
similar in form to the Etruscan ; besides toys of all kinds,
wax figures, feather mantles and mosaics, masks, ornaments,
saddles, cotton cloth, ornamented cloths of great value, and
the like. They are susceptible of being taught any other
handicraft in which ingenuity is necessary to proficiency.
All these, however, are disdained by the creoles, who apply
themselves merely to agriculture, trade, and the more ele¬
gant professions. The manufactures of coarse woollens
and cottons, were at one time considerable, but they declin¬
ed during the revolutionary struggle. Prior to this period,
the consumption of these home manufactures amounted, it
is supposed, to about ten millions of dollars annually. The
importation of European goods was strictly forbidden by
Spain, although they could have been procured of a superior
quality, at an infinitely lower price. Services of plate worth
L.6000 and L.8000 have been manufactured at Mexico ;
and for elegance and delicacy of workmanship, they rival
any thing of the kind produced in Europe. Sugar is made
by a complicated process, but at a very cheap rate. The
manufacture of glass has also made some progress, and the
coaches of Mexico have long been celebrated. Clothing of
all kinds is so very dear, that articles of wearing apparel form
a good consignment for the Mexican market. French wines
have, in a great measure, superseded those of Spain ; but,
ere long, this article will doubtless constitute one of home Statistics,
manufacture. ^ ^ '
Commerce—The commerce of Mexico does not at all Commerce,
correspond to its great fame for wealth ; indeed the small¬
ness of its trade may justly excite surprise. From the time
of the conquest until the commencement of the revolution,
it was confined to the two ports of Acapulco and Vera Cruz,
through which a very limited supply of Chinese and Euro¬
pean goods was admitted into Mexico. An exclusive mo¬
nopoly was enjoyed by a few wealthy houses in the city of
Mexico ; but in 1778 a relaxation of the old colonial policy
took place, and a new impulse was given to commerce. By
this change the trade with Europe became concentrated in
Vera Cruz, and from the “general balance of trade” kept
at this port, the annual amount of the exports and imports
may be ascertained. According to Humboldt’s estimate for
the year 1803, the annual exports consisted of
Dollars.
Gold and Silver, 17,000,000
Cochineal,  2,000,000
Sugar,  1,300,000
Flour,  300,000
Indigo (native),  280,000
Salt meat,   100,000
Hides,  80,000
Sarsaparilla,   80,000
Vanilla,  60,000
Jalap,  60,000
Soap,   50,000
Campeche Wood,  40,000
Tabascan Peper,  30,000
The total, or 21,780,000 dollars, Humboldt fixes as the aver¬
age amount of the exports, reckoning by the custom-house
registers during several years of peace. The average im¬
ports of each year were
Dollars.
Eopas (linens, cottons, cloths, and silks), 9,200,000
Paper (300,000 reams), 1,000,000
Brandy, 1,000,000
Cacao, 1,000,000
Quicksilver,  650,000
Hon,  600,000
Steel,  200,000
Wine,  700,000
Wax,  300,000
Total, 14,650,000
It is to be observed that this statement refers only to the
registered articles, or to those upon which the importation and
exportation duties were paid. But exclusively of these, the
value of the articles clandestinely admitted into the country
through the ports on the Gulf, previously to the revolution,
was estimated at 4,500,000 dollars a-year; and 2,500,000
dollars were supposed to be annually smuggled out of the
country, in plate, bars, and ingots of gold and silver. Not¬
withstanding all the efforts of government, a regular con¬
traband trade was carried on between Vera Cruz and Jamai¬
ca, by which the products of England and Germany were in¬
troduced into Mexico.
The trade in registered articles, as estimated by Hum¬
boldt, may be stated in round numbers at 37,000,000 dol¬
lars annually. But later authorities have reduced it to about
34,000,000, which may be considered as the annual average
value in dollars, of the trade of Mexico before the year 1821.
The exports always exceeded the imports; and the whole of
the exports from Acapulco, and five-sixths of those from
Vera Cruz, consisted of the precious metals.
The first effect of the revolution of 1821 was to cause an
immediate and extraordinary decrease in the imports and
MEXICO.
808
Statistics, exports, which continued till 1823, when they reached the
lowest point of depression, being only 6,259,209 dollars.
They gradually rose again, however, and in the year 1824
were as follows :—
Dollars.
Total imports, 12,082,030
Total exports,   4,692,557
16,774,587
But there were, besides, about five thousand tons of ship¬
ping employed in 1824 in the trade between Tampico and
the United States; and hence if we allow 4,000,000 of dol¬
lars for the value of the exports and imports in American
bottoms, there will be but little difference between the trade
of Mexico in 1824, and its annual value before the declar¬
ation of independence. The progress made since that time
it is impossible exactly to state ; but taking the produce of
the custom-houses, along with the number of vessels en¬
gaged in the trade, it appears to be very considerable. In
1824 the customs produced 4,351,218 dollars, and the num¬
ber of vessels which cleared was about 220. In 1826 the cus¬
toms were nearly doubled, and the number of vessels which
entered the ports of Mexico during the same year amount¬
ed to 1273. Of the vessels which entered, six hundred and
twenty-six were national, and all coasting vessels; ninety-five
were English, forty-nine were French, three hundred and
ninety-nine belonged to the United States, fifteen to Hol¬
land, and about fifty arrived from different ports in South
America. The remainder were chiefly from various Eu¬
ropean ports. Until civil contentions cease, it would be
rash to fix the ultimate value of Mexican commerce; yet from
the extraordinary resources of the country, it must be re¬
garded as destined to acquire great and lasting importance.
The following is a statement of the trade of Mexico with
Great Britain, France, and the United States, (the countries
with which she chiefly carries on commercial intercourse,)
for the year 1831:—
Great Britain—Official and declared
value of exports to,... £160,751 12 3
Ditto of imports from,... 1,251,768 17 9
France—Exports to valued in francs, 8,864,196
Imports from, 20,353,235
United States—Exports to valued in dollars, 5,166,745
Imports from, 6,178,218
These returns shew a considerable increase, as compar¬
ed with former years ; but it appears small when we consi¬
der that, with the exception of the United States, Mexico
is the richest and most populous of all the American coun¬
tries. This originates principally in the want of good ports
and large cities on the coast, and the distance and difficulty
of the roads from the coast to the table-land, as well as the
unsettled state of the country. These circumstances, coupled
with the obstacles which the restrictive policy of the Span¬
iards threw in the way of the importation of foreign pro¬
ducts, led to the establishment of manufactures, which at
one time were in a very advanced state, and capable of sup¬
plying the population with most of the articles required for
their consumption. Since the revolution, however, they
have declined, and the wealth of the inhabitants has expe¬
rienced a still greater decrease. It is to be observed, that
in estimating the amount of imports before and after the es¬
tablishment of independence, large allowance must be made
for the cheapness at which goods are now valued, compared
with their cost in Mexico when trade was little else than a
government monopoly.
Tariff. Tariff—Foreign vessels pay in the port of Vera Cruz,
Dols. Reals.
Tonnage duty and other port charges, 2 1
Pilotage on entering, 15 4
  on leaving, 19 0
Twenty per cent, is deducted from the duties on all com- Statistics,
modities brought from a foreign port in Mexican ships. The
Mexican Congress has either very lately modified the tariff,
or is about to do so. Vessels of all nations in amity with
the republic are allowed to enter the privileged ports, but
no foreign ships are permitted to trade coastwise. All ar¬
ticles not specified in the tariff pay a duty of forty per cent,
upon the valuation fixed at the port of entry. The articles
admitted duty free are, quicksilver, carts of foreign con¬
struction, wooden frames for houses, printed books, maps and
music, philosophical, mathematical, and optical instruments,
slates of all sorts, instruments of agriculture, mining, and
artificers, carding wire, plants, and seeds. The articles the
importation of which are prohibited, are aniseeds, cummins,
and caraways, rum and molasses, sugar, coffee, chocolate,
rice, leather, boots, shoes, saddlery, salted and dried meats,
lard, wrought wax, tallow, soap, epaulettes, gold and silver
lace, galloons, &c., tapes of cotton, shawls of silk or cotton,
beds, bedding, copper, lead, biscuit, flour, wheat, vermicella,
cotton thread under a certain number, stoneware, trunks,
portmanteaus, woollen cloths, parchment, wearing apparel,
salt, hats, and tobacco. All articles which are the growth
and produce of Mexico may be exported duty-free, ex¬
cepting gold, in coin or wrought, which pays two per cent.
ad valorem; and silver, in coin or wrought, which pays three
and a half per cent, ad valorem. Gold and silver ore, in¬
gots, or dust, are prohibited, under penalty of seizure. Pas¬
sengers to Mexico must have passports signed by the min¬
ister of the republic in Mexico, for which a charge of six
dollars is made; and masters of vessels, besides their ship
papers and vouchers, must be provided with invoices of
shippers, bills of lading, and a bill of health. The monies,
weights, and measures are the same as in Spain.
Revenue and Finance.—For information regarding the Revenue
revenue of Mexico prior to the revolution of 1810, recourse and finance,
must be had to Humboldt. According to his statements it
amounted to 3,000,000 of dollars at the beginning of the
eighteenth century. In 1763 it had risen to 5,705,876 dol¬
lars, and it continued to increase until 1802, when it amount¬
ed to 20,200,000 dollars. This extraordinary rise was owing
in part to the establishment of the monopoly of tobacco, but
infinitely more to the reduction ofthe duty on quicksilver from
eighty-four to twenty-four dollars the quintal. The prin¬
cipal sources of the revenue at that time were the mines,
the monopoly of tobacco, the alcavala or excise upon home¬
made goods, the Indian capitation tax, the duty on pulque,
and the importation and exportation duties. The expendi¬
ture might amount to about 10,000,000 of dollars, which may
be taken as a fair average for the years immediately preced¬
ing the revolution of 1810. Up to this period Mexico had
no public debt of any kind. The deficit in the revenue oc¬
casioned by the war of independence was supplied by forced
loans and new duties and taxes; which, however, were a poor
compensation for the loss of the mining duties and the mo¬
nopoly of tobacco, both of which were reduced to a mere
shadow of their former importance. All the war taxes were
abolished by Iturbide in 1821; but the distress to which the
imperial government was reduced, compelled him again to
have recourse to the tax upon houses, which was not defini¬
tively suppressed until the year 1823. Forced loans were
likw'isenegociated, and an abortive attempt was made to intro¬
duce paper money. The revenues of Mexico now sunk to
a low ebb, and continued depressed until the re-organiza¬
tion ofthe country in 1824. From the report of the mi¬
nister of finance for 1825, it appears that the income was
only 10,690,608 dollars, from which sum was to be de¬
ducted the interest of the loans negociated with British ca¬
pitalists, amounting in all to £6,400,000. The available
remainder of Goldsmidt’s loan was 1,317,543 dollars, which
being deducted from the revenue of 1825, brought it down
to 9>373,065 dollars, whilst the expenditure exceeded eight-
f
4
»
MEXICO.
S09
Statistics, een millions of dollars. When this appalling statement ap-
Jpeared, it was at first contemplated that the republic would
return to the old Spanish prohibitory system; but Congress
refused to adopt such arbitrary policy, and after much dis¬
cussion it was resolved that the old royal monopoly on to¬
bacco should be kept up, under certain modifications. Every
branch of the finance department underwent a thorough
investigation. Retrenchments were made, and by a series
of new and severe regulations, subordination and a pro¬
per discharge of duty were enforced. By reductions, and
other improvements which were carried into effect, the ex¬
penditure in 1827 was reduced to about fourteen millions of
dollars, including payment of interest on loans, whilst at the
same time the income increased. The revenues of Mexico
have been during the years ending the 30th of
Dollars.
Dollars.
January 1827... 13,289,682
— 1828... 10,494,299
— 1829...12,232,385
January 1830... 14,493,189
— 1831...18,923,299
— 1832... 16,413,060
Of these sums about one half was produced by the custom
duties. The latter amounted in 1832 to 8,802,920 dollars.
During the same year the duties on imported cottons were
1,150,000 dollars, and those on the exportation of the pre¬
cious metals 309,472 dollars. The total receipts of the
custom house of Vera Cruz in 1832, were 2,962,299 dollars,
and those of Tampico 1,428,992 dollars. The federal reve¬
nue arises from the customs, the mint, monopolies of tobac¬
co, salt, pulquy, and gunpowder ; lotteries, and privileges ;
the post-office, stamps, tolls, &c. The monopolies are farm¬
ed to ensure the collections. That of tobacco and snuff has
lately been granted to English capitalists, who give annu¬
ally two millions for it. Other branches of revenue are
farmed to ensure a steady return; and even the custom-house
is reported to be too much under the control of the officers.
The state taxes are light and chiefly raised by local mono¬
polies, and excises or tolls in the towns. Land, property,
persons, and the church, are entirely exempt from taxation.
No country has more need of one or more banks, but such a
project is unpopular. The people are afraid of paper money,
to which as yet they have not had recourse. The sale of
public lands has begun to attract particular attention. In¬
dependently of Texas the republic possesses 1,000,000,000
of acres of good land, besides as many of barren soil to dis¬
pose of; which, at an assumed rate of forty cents per acre,
may realise from three to four hundred millions of dollars.
The one half of this land is suitable for raising sugar and
cotton, and all useful staples may be cultivated by freemen.
Population. Population—Before the publication of Humboldt’sPo-
litical Essay on the Kingdom of New Spain, the most er¬
roneous ideas prevailed regarding the population of Mexico.
By an actual enumeration made in 1793, in which the re¬
turns of two intendancies were made to depend on calcula¬
tion, it appears that the number of inhabitants were 4,483,5 29;
but for reasons which appear to be satisfactory, Humboldt es¬
timates the total at 5,200,000. The Baron had peculiar ad¬
vantages in forming an estimate of the population in 1803,
when he was in Mexico ; and he found the births to be to
the deaths in the proportion of 170 to 100; the births to
the number of inhabitants as 1 to 17; and the number of
deaths to be 1 in 30; whilst in France, which may be con¬
sidered as the fair average of Europe, the births are to the
deaths as 110 to 100 ; the births as 1 to 28I9jJths of all the
inhabitants, and the deaths as 1 to 3Or;)0ths.
The results of his calculations give 6,500,000 as the po¬
pulation in 1803, being an increase of 25 in the 100 in ten
years; and the imperfect census of the year 1806, which
gives 6,500,000 as the minimum, proves the correctness of his
estimate. The civil wars must have materially checked the
increase of population, not only by the mortality occasioned
on the field of battle, but also by depriving the agricultural po-
VOL. XIV
pulation of the means of subsistence. Still, however, their Statistics,
numbers augmented rapidly, and in 1830 they were esti-
mated at 8,666,666. Before the revolution the population was
divided into several distinct castes. The classes into which
the inhabitants of New Spain are divided is an object of
great importance; and upon this subject the diligence of
Humboldt has furnished us with ample details.
I he first class is that of the Euiopeans, who took up their .Europeans,
residence in Mexico, and were called Gachupines by the
other inhabitants. They have already been sufficiently de¬
scribed, and their numbers in the country are now compara¬
tively trifling.
The next class to the Europeans is that of the unmixed Creoles,
whites, natives of the country, the descendants of the first
adventurers who subdued it, or of others, who from time to
time have emigrated from the European peninsula. The
principal seat of the white population of Mexico is the table¬
land, towards the centre of which the Indian race is like¬
wise concentrated; whilst the northern frontier is inhabited
almost entirely by whites and descendants of whites, before
whom it is supposed that the Indian population must have
retired at the time of the conquest. It is a remarkable
fact, the truth of which cannot be doubted, after the pains
taken by Humboldt to verify it, that the proportion of fe¬
males to males is much greater amongst the creoles than in
any of the other gradations of the Mexican population. The
creoles are possessed of a very considerable proportion of
property in Mexico; the richest mines, and the most fer¬
tile tracts of land, and the most productive plantations, are
in their hands; and some of them derive revenues from
their estates far exceeding those of the most opulent Euro¬
pean nobility. The mines in particular have ennobled a large
number of creole families. Still, however, the extremes of
society meet in this class, many being excessively poor
whilst others are enormously rich. The pride of the cre¬
oles, an aristocratic feeling founded on their complexion,
which gives them distinction, prevents them from pursuing
those kinds of labour which are deemed degrading to gentle¬
men. The consequence is, that their poverty is often even
greater than that of the Indians, whilst indolence, added to
pride, prevents them from following any employment be¬
yond that of the gaming table, or becoming the flatterers of
the richer members of their own class.
The Indians form the next class of the Mexican popula- Unmixed
tion. They are the unmixed descendants of the aborigi- Indians,
nal inhabitants, and consist of various tribes, resembling
each other in colour, and in some general characteristics,
which seem to announce a common origin, but differing en¬
tirely in language, manners, and dress. No less than twen¬
ty languages, all different, are known to be spoken in the
Mexican territory; and many of these are not dialects,
which may be traced to a common root, but differ as entire¬
ly as the languages of Sclavonic and Teutonic origin in Eu¬
rope. Some possess letters which do not exist in others;
and in most there is a difference of sound which strikes even
the most unpractised ear. The Indians of Mexico are of
a darker colour than those of South America, although they
live in a climate of lower temperature. They have more
beard, and more hair on other parts of the body, than those
of the southern continent. They are almost all of them free
from personal deformity. Humboldt says of the Indians of
Mexico, “ I know no race of men who appear more desti¬
tute of imagination. When an Indian attains a certain de¬
gree of civilization, he displays a great faculty of a})prehen-
sion, a judicious mind, a natural logic, and a partial dispo¬
sition to subtilize or seize the finest differences in the com¬
parison of objects. He reasons coolly and orderly, but never
manifests that versatility of imagination, that glow of senti¬
ment, and that creative and animating art, which character¬
ize the nations of the south of Europe, and several tribes of
African negros.” The different nations or tribes are scat-
5 K
MEXICO.
810
Statistics, tered over a great number of provinces; and they are mostly
cultivators, only one tenth being miners, mechanics, fisher¬
men, shepherds, and soldiers. They have several large
towns in various provinces; and although some of the tribes
lead a wandering life beyond the pale of civilized society,
they are gradually becoming blended and identified with the
mass of the population. Some of their kings and chiefs, in¬
deed, have obtained high preferment in the federal army.
The number of unmixed Indians in New Spain may be es¬
timated at two-fifths of the whole population.
Mixed The class of mixtures from the primitive races has, in
classes. process of time, become a very important portion of the po¬
pulation of New Spain. In a country where rank depends
more on the complexion than on those endowments, which,
in other countries, confer distinction, it is not surprising,
that almost every shade has its limits defined by terms,
which, though apparently only expressing the colour, do in
reality express the rank of the individual. The son of a
white, whether creole or European, by an Indian female, is
called Mestizo. His colour is almost a pure white, and his
skin is of a peculiar transparency. The small hands and
feet, and a certain obliquity of the eyes, are more frequent
indications of the mixture of Indian blood than the nature
of the hair. If a Mestiza marry a white man, the second
generation scarcely differs in anything from the European
race. They are generally accounted of a more mild char¬
acter than the mulattos descended from whites and ne-
gresses, who are distinguished by the violence of their pas¬
sions, and the singular volubility of their tongues. The
issue of negros by Indian females bear in Mexico the sin¬
gular name of Chinos or Chinese, in common language ;
although by the laws they are denominated Zambos. The
term Zambo, however, is generally applied to the descen¬
dants of a negro and female mulatto, or a negro and a fe¬
male Chinese. Another gradation, called Zamboprieto or
blackish Zambo, is the offspring of a negro and female Zam¬
bo. From the union of a white man and a mulatto woman
the class of Quarterons is derived. When a female Quar-
teron marries a white man, the children are denominated
Quinteron. The issue of a white man by a female Quin-
teron is considered as white, and is elevated to the highest
rank. Next to the pure Indians, the mestizos are the most
numerous caste. It is, however, impossible to ascertain the
exact proportion which they bear to the whole population;
many of them being included amongst the pure whites, who
were estimated before the revolution at 1,200,000, inclusive
of from 70,000 to 80,000 Europeans. Of the mulattos and
Zambos, and other mixed breeds nothing is known with
certainty.
It was the policy of Spain to foster a spirit of rivalry be¬
tween the different classes of inhabitants, by creating little
imaginary shades of superiority amongst them, which pre¬
vented any two from having a common interest. White¬
ness of skin was the patent of nobility, and even the creole,
whom the Spaniard despised, looked with the contempt of
a European upon the rest of his countrymen. The revolu¬
tion, however, put an end to castes, the differences of which
were all swallowed up in the grand distinction of Ameri¬
cans and Europeans. The creoles were compelled to court
the allegiance of the mixed classes, without whom they
could make no effectual head against the Spaniards. Many
of the most distinguished characters of the revolutionary
war belonged to the mixed breeds; and under the system
now established, all are equally entitled to the rights of
citizenship, and equally capable of holding the highest dig¬
nities of the state. There is neither a pure African popu¬
lation nor a slave in the republic of Mexico.
Antiquities Antiquities and Ancient Inhabitants—Of the an-
and ancient cient inhabitants of Mexico, some very interesting monu-
inhabitants ments remain. The work of Humboldt on New Spain first
excited the curiosity of Europeans, and rescued the antiqui¬
ties of Mexico from the oblivion to which they had so long Statistics,
been consigned; but it was not until recently, that their value
as works of art, and as indications of a considerable advance
in civilization, was fully appreciated. Pyramids having even
a larger base, and being otherwise scarcely inferior in mag¬
nitude to those of Egypt, are found in many parts of
Mexico. Amongst the most celebrated is that of Cholula,
the base of which is one thousand four hundred and twenty-
three feet on each side, and the height one hundred and
seventy-seven feet. It consists of eight graduated square
towers, each rising above the other, and terminating in a
species of sanctuary. Here vestiges of noble sculpture are
visible, as well as at Otumba, Oaxaca, Mitlan, Tlascola, and
Palenque. The ruins of the latter, in particular, have at¬
tracted a considerable degree of attention, and are worthy
of description. They extend, says Colonel Galindo, of whose
description we shall avail ourselves, for more than twenty
miles along the summit of the ridge which separates the
country of the wild Maya Indians, from the state of Chi¬
apas, and must anciently have embraced a city and its sub¬
urbs. The principal buildings are erected on the most pro¬
minent heights; and several of them, if not all, have been pro¬
vided with stone stairs. The principal edifice, which has been
sometimes styled the palace, is built in several squares ; but
the main halls or galleries, run in a direction from the north-
north-east, to the south-south-west; and this position has
been observed in all the edifices hitherto examined, be their
situation what it may. The houses have all been substan¬
tially built of stone, cemented with mortar; but symmetry has
been little studied in their construction, it is supposed less
from ignorance than from design. Other ruins of considerable
magnitude, and distinguished by numerous sculptures, are
found upon the neighbouring hills. In the vicinity there is
one building in particular, apparently a religious edifice,
which deserves notice. Two galleries constitute its foun¬
dation ; the front one occupying its whole length, whilst
the back one is divided into three compartments. Of these,
the eastern has the appearance of a dungeon ; the western
is a small room with a chapel ornamented with elegant re¬
lievos. These consist of representations of the human figure,
in various attitudes, and adorned generally with boughs and
feathers. There are other very interesting ruins in this part
of Mexico, but they have not as yet been sufficiently de¬
scribed.
The mountain of Tezcoca is nearly covered with ruins of
ancient buildings. At Mitlan there are the remains of a large
palace, the architecture of which possesses a stately gran¬
deur, and melancholy beauty of a peculiar character. The
roof of the portico is supported by plain cylindrical columns,
and the facade ofithe palace is covered with a beautiful mat-
work, or basket scroll, such as is found in Egyptian sepul¬
chral chambers. Many of the statues found at Otumba,
Mitlan, Jochichalo, and the magnificent flower-temple of
Oaxaca, are sculptured in a purely classical style whilst vases
rivalling those of Egypt and Etruria, have been discovered
in sepulchral excavations. Roads are to be met with, not
only in the vicinity of great cities, but at a vast distance from
them, artificially constructed like the Roman military roads,
of large squared blocks of stone. These roads present a con¬
tinued level, and may be called viaducts, in contradistinc¬
tion to aqueducts, which were also constructed by the an¬
cient inhabitants of Mexico. Where they traverse acclivi¬
ties, they are parapeted, and the indications both of regular
posting stations at certain intervals, and of the regular di¬
vision of the distances, upon the principle of the mile-stones
of our turnpike roads, may still be observed. Bridges con¬
structed of the same durable materials, and thrown across
torrents, are also to be found. In these bridges there is
occasionally an approximation to the principle of the arch
and keystone ; but in general they only display the primi¬
tive and obvious form of architraves of stone superimposed
MEXICO.
Statistics, on two or more piers of the same massy character and dur-
'^V'^^able materials. Every feature of these structures is at once
singular, ingenious, and colossal.
With regard to the period at which these remarkable edi¬
fices were constructed, and the people to whom the labour
is to be attributed, the learned are as yet not agreed. One
point, however, seems pretty generally admitted, viz., that
their erection must be traced to a race who inhabited the
country prior to the invasion of the Mexicans, and who had
attained to a considerable degree of civilization. An attempt
has been made to prove that this people lived at a time prior
even to the Toltecans, who preceded the Mexicans by six
hundred years; and a close analogy between the antiquities
of Mexico and those of Egypt has been shewn to exist.
The hypothesis advanced regarding the people is, that they
were a branch of the Anakim or Cyclopean family of Syria,
the shepherd kings of Egypt, the Oscans of Etruria, and
the Pelasgians of Greece, the Titans or giants of classical
romance, and who are recorded to have been severally expell¬
ed from Egypt and Syria.
In reference to these questions, an able writer observes :
“ The first and strongest conviction which will flash on
the mind of every ripe antiquarian, whilst surveying the
long series of Mexican and Toltecan monuments, pre¬
served in the various works to which we have alluded,
is the similarity which the ancient monuments of New
Spain bear to the monumental records of ancient Egypt.
Whilst surveying them, the glance falls with familiar re¬
cognition on similar graduated pyramids; on similar marks
of the same primeval Ophite worship ; on vestiges of the
same triune and solar deity ; on planispheres and temples,
which, though characterised by some distinctions entirely
American, are not less worthy of the notice of the Egyp¬
tian antiquarian ; on relics of palaces at once noble in
their architectm*e, and beautiful in their proportions and
decorations ; on monuments sepulchral, domestic, religi¬
ous, or warlike, which deserve the designation of Cyclo¬
pean as much as any that are now extant in Italy or
Greece ; on idols and sculptures, some of rude and some
of finished workmanship, exhibiting different eras of civi¬
lization, and often presenting the most striking analogy in
posture and gesture to the monumental style of sculpture,
and of statuary preeminently called Egyptian. Lastly, the
eye of the antiquarian cannot fail to be both attracted and
fixed by evidences of the existence of two great branches
of the hieroglyphical language; both having striking af¬
finities with the Egyptian, and yet distinguished from it by
characteristics perfectly American. One is the picture¬
writing peculiar to the Mexicans, and which displays seve¬
ral striking traits of assimilation to the anaglyphs, and the
historical tablets of the Egyptian temples. The second is
a pure hieroglyphical language, to which little attention has
been hitherto paid, which appears to have been peculiar
to the Toltecans, or some still more ancient nation, that
preceded the Mexicans, which was as complete as the
Egyptian in its double constituency of a symbolic and phon¬
etic alphabet; and which, as far as we can judge, appears
to have rivalled the Egyptian in its completeness, whilst, in
some respects, it excelled it in its regularity and beauty.”
“The pyramid of Cholulas,” says the same writer, “ exhibits
a most singular identity with the model of the temple of
Belus, described by Herodotus, andwhich, by many scholars,
has been considered to be the Scriptural tower of Babel.
But in the internal economy of the pyramids, the analogy
between those of Egypt and Mexico is still more remark¬
able. In both, descending galleries, at a particular astron¬
omical angle of declination, lead to central chambers, either
for the purpose of mystery or sepulture. Amongst other
marks of architectural identity, may be mentioned, those
traced amongst the ruins of Palenque, where the wrell-known
Cyclopean arch, consisting of receding steps of stone in a
811
triangular form, is seen, and where a rectangular square is Statistics,
surrounded by cloisters built in this manner, and lighted
by windows bearing the exact form of the Egyptian face.
\\ ith regard to the personal characteristics and costume,
the sculptures bring to light a people of a very remarkable
appearance. Their physiognomy is unlike that of any of
the various families of mankind, that at present inhabit the
globe, or have been rendered familiar to us by ancient
sculptures. Their receding forehead, their low facial angle,
and the conical form of their heads, is quite unique ; and
the large long nose, the facial line receding in the same
singular manner from the base of the nostrils to the ter¬
mination of the chin, grotesquely broken off by an unsight¬
ly protrusion of the under lip, present a physiognomical out¬
line revolting to the European standard of beauty. The
costume shows some striking analogies with that of the
Egyptians ; but there are at the same time differences from
it as remarkable. The Egyptian apron, for instance, was
different. It was generally of striped cotton, and folded
in a peculiar manner ; a portion of it forming a girdle and
passing between the legs, resembling a similar article of dress
worn by the East Indians at the present day. But the Tol¬
tecan apron resembles the Roman military apron or the Scotch
philabeg. It descends from the waist and covers the thigh
down to the knee ; it is, however, distinguished by one Egyp¬
tian appendage, namely, by the mimic tail of an animal, which
appears to have adorned the Toltecan hero, as it adorned the
Egyptian demigod. The apron is supported by a baldric,
which descends from the right shoulder to the left side, and
joins the girdle at the waist. The dress of the military and
superior class of Egypt is not to be found in the Toltecan
costume, but the following strong resemblances exist: The
breast-plate and collar of the Toltecans were sometimes de¬
corated with a symbol of the sun ; the armlets, bracelets,
and anklets, are strikingly analogous to those of the Egyp¬
tian. The legs of the Toltecan heroes, however, are in¬
vested with sandals, some of them reaching above the ankle,
others like greaves, covering the leg to the knee ; whilst
others in every respect resemble the Highland sandal. All
these parts of dress would appear to have been richly orna¬
mented ; and the whole dress, it is said, may be safely de¬
scribed as at once gorgeous and elegant, and in these re¬
spects nowise inferior to the Egyptian. The head-dresses,
however, are in general extravagantly grotesque, without
regularity or taste, although, like the Egyptian, construct¬
ed out of certain combinations of symbols.”
With respect to the religion and religious rites of this an¬
cient race, a striking analogy with those of Egypt has like¬
wise been traced. The gods of the Toltecans appear sculp¬
tured, as usual in bas-relief, in the dark inner rooms of tem¬
ples. He who would appear to be the chief-god, is portrayed
on the inner wall of the adytum of one of the sanctuaries
belonging to the great temple of Palenque. He seems to
be not only the chief but the sole god, and he is worshipped
symbolically under other forms and in other localities. He
is supposed to be identical with the Osiris of Egypt and
the Adonis of Syria, or the well-known classical combina¬
tion of both divinities, the ancient god Adoni-Siris. The
manner in which he is enthroned, the cushion on which he
reposes, the cap, the symbols, and various appurtenances,
show an analogy with the Egyptian deity. But there is a
column affixed to the cap which is not found on any Egyp¬
tian head dress ; it was, however, an unquestionable sym¬
bol of Osiris. “ Various characteristics of the worship of
Osiris and Adonis, are complete in the sculptured tablets
of Mexico. A priestess kneels before the Toltecan god ii
the attitude of adoration, and offers him a pot of flow ers,
not the mint offered to Osiris, but the blood-stained hand-
plant or manitas, which all the monuments attest, was an¬
ciently held sacred throughout Mexico. On the sculptur¬
ed tablet over the head of the divinity, appear, precisely in
812 M E X
Statistics, the Egyptian fashion, the phonetic characters of his name,
in an oblong square, which in Egypt was devoted to the
names of gods. Of the phonetic or symbolic character,
however, nothing as yet is known. The same divinity is
represented on one of the walls at Palenque, not in a hu¬
man, but in an animal form. Instead of the hawk of Egypt,
however, the Toltecans chose as their sacred bird the rain¬
bow-coloured pheasant of Central America, which is perch¬
ed on the Toltecan cross, resembling the Christian, and with
its lower extremity terminating in a heart-formed spade. The
subject of the sculpture shows the simplicity of the worship.
Two Toltecan heroes, chiefs, or priests, stand beside the
sacred bird; one of them supports an infant in his arms,
probably for baptism, which was a rite practised by the vo¬
taries of Adonis, and at other places there are indications
of a similar ceremony.”
Of the temples we have already given a cursory notice.
Their architecture has a theological character like that of
Egypt and of Greece; and although their forms are peculiar
to the country, the original type of them is extant in Syria,
Palestine, and Judasa. Like those of the Egyptians, they
are all distinguished by architectural peculiarities, exclusive¬
ly appertaining to the people by whom they were erected.
A high-place of three successive terraces or steps, generally
constitutes the platform of the temple. The terraces are
distinguished by that sloping form which the Egyptian ar¬
chitects peculiarly affected, and they are generally con¬
structed of large blocks of stone, covered with stucco equal¬
ly hard and durable. On the top of the high-place wns an
oblong rectangular court; and in the centre of this court
stood the temple, divided, like the rock temples of Nubia, into
three dark rooms built of stone, and having an ark, or barn¬
shaped roof. The innermost of these rooms constitutes the
sanctuary. The apartments are occasionally decorated with
painted sculptures. Sometimes the staircase ascends the
high-place in front, traversing the cmwilinear terraces in a
straight line to the door of the temple. Occasional variety
was given to the square form of the area, and to the tri¬
ple form of the terraces, by staircases ascending to the sanc¬
tuary from each of the cardinal points. The high-place
has sometimes a circular instead of a square ground plan,
and in that case, it may remind antiquarians of the well known
Tepes, or high-places of Syria, which is a presumptive proof
of the Syrian origin of these structures.
The writer already quoted thus speaks of Palenque: “ It
maybe appropriately termed an ecclesiastical city rather than
a temple. It seems to be the locality of the chief cathedral
church of the Toltecan religion. Within its vast precincts
there appear to be contained, a pyramidal tower ; various
sanctuaries ; sepulchres ; a small and large quadrangular
court, one surrounded, as we have said, by cloisters; sub¬
terranean initiatory galleries beneath ; oracles, courts of
justice, high-places, and cells or dwellings for the various
orders of the priests. The whole combination of the build¬
ings is encircled by a quadrilateral pilastered portico, em¬
bracing a quadrangular area, and resting on a terraced plat¬
form. This platform externally exhibits the same architec¬
tural model which we have described as characterizing the
single temples. It is composed of three graduated stucco
terraces, sloping inwards, at an angle of about seventy de¬
grees, in the form of a truncated pyramid. Four central
staircases, one facing each of the cardinal points, ascend
these terraces in the middle of each lateral facade of the
quadrangle ; and four gates fronting the same cardinal
points, conduct from the top of each staircase into the body
of the building, or into the great court. The great en¬
trance, through a pilastered gateway, fronts the east; and
descends by a second flight of steps into the cloistered
court. On the various pillasters of the upper terrace are
the metopes, with the singular sculptures we have describ-
,ed. On descending the second staircase into the cloistered
ICO.
court, on one side appears the triple pyramidal towers which Political
may be inferred, from the curious distribution of little cells divisions,
which surround the central room of each story, to have
been employed as a place of royal or private sepulture. On
another side of the same cloistered court is the detached
temple of the chief god, to whom the whole religious build¬
ing appear to have been devoted; whom we have describ¬
ed as bearing all the characteristics of the Syrian god
Adoni-Siris ; and who appears to have been the great and
only god of the nations, who worshipped in this temple.
Beneath the cloisters, entered by well-staircases from above,
are what we believe to be the initiatory galleries. These
opened into rooms, one of which has a stone couch in it,
and others are distinguished by unintelligible apparatus
carved in stone. The only symbol described as found with¬
in these sacred haunts is, however, perfectly Asiatic, and
perfectly intelligible ; we mean two contending serpents.
The remnant of an altar, or high-place, occupies the cen¬
tre of the cloistered quadrangle. The rest of the edifice is
taken up with courts, palaces, detached temples, open di¬
vans, baths, and streets of priestly cells or houses in a
greater or less degree of dilapidation.”
It appears that the creed of this ancient people was a form
of deism, which permitted some varieties of symbolic repre¬
sentation. From the few records of their religious rites which
have come down to us, and which are principally derived from
the extraordinary rolls of American papyrus, formed of the
prepared fibres of the maguey, on which tlieir beautiful hiero-
glyphical system is preserved, we learn that they were as
simple as their creed. No human nor even animal sacrifices
appear to have been offered up to the presiding divinity of
their temples; nothing, indeed, but fruits and flowers. Such
a religious system was therefore quite different from the
hideous idols and sanguinary sacrifices which were in use
amongst the Mexican people.
IV. POLITICAL DIVISIONS.
The republic of Mexico, as hafe already been stated, is di- Mexico,
vided into nineteen states and five territories, each of which
we shall now proceed to give a short account of. Mexico,
the most populous of the whole, and which also contains the
metropolitan city, extends from 16. 34. to 21. 57. of north
latitude, and includes an area of about five thousand square
leagues. On its western side above two hundred miles of
this state are washed by the South Sea, but no part of it
approaches within many miles of the Eastern Ocean. Being
situated both on the low and on the high land, it partakes
of the climate of each ; but more than two-thirds of it are
mountainous, and consequently cool and healthy, whilst
that part which borders on the South Sea is hot and insalu¬
brious. Only the highest peak of one of its mountains at¬
tains the region of perpetual snow, and no other summit but
that of Toluca is equal in height to Mont Blanc. The state is
divided into eight districts, viz. Acapulco, Cuernavaca, Hui-
jutla, Mexico, Tasco, Toluca, Tula, and Tulancingo. These
embrace a large proportion of valuable mines, as well as a
number of districts celebrated for the richness of their agri-
cultural produce. Real del Monte, Chico, Capula, Zima-
pan, San Jose del Oro, El Cardonal, La Pechuga, the Ran¬
cho del Oro, Tasco, Tepantitlan, Zacualpan, and Tetela del
Rio, are all in the state of Mexico; as are the valleys of
Toluca and Cuautla Amilpas, the rich plains of Pachuca,
and the fertile Vega of Tulancingo. The best and most
valuable portion of this state is what is called the valley of
Mexico, a fertile and splendid region variegated with exten¬
sive lakes, and surrounded by high volcanic peaks. Its
general figure is an oval of about two hundred miles in
circumference, and forms the very centre of the great ta¬
ble-land of Anahuac, elevated from six to eight thousand
feet above the level of the ocean.
MEXICO. 818
P olitical The most interesting object in the valley of Mexico is the vast
divisions, system of drainage by which the capital is protected against the
periodical inundations of the lake of Tezcuco, which, during
the two first centuries after the conquest, threatened it repeat¬
edly with destruction. The valley of Mexico serves as a re¬
ceptacle for the humidity which filters from every part of the
lofty ridge of mountains by which it is environed. Only one
stream issues from it, whilst it receives the waters of several
rivers, which, accumulating in the immense basin, form the
great lakes Tezcuco, Zumpango, San Cristobal, Chaleo, and
Xochimilco. The city is situated on a lower level than some
of these sheets of water, particularly that called Zumpango;
and during the rainy season they burst the dykes which sepa¬
rate them, and forming a junction, rush towards the capital,
filling the streets which approach nearest to their own level.
A rapid succession of misfortunes arising from these inunda¬
tions compelled the Spanish government to adopt measures
for averting the danger. Hydraulic works of immense magni¬
tude were begun in 1607, and have been carrying on almost
ever since at a vast expense. Canals were cut, and other ar¬
tificial means were adopted to convey the waters of the lakes
in another direction. The desague, or great canal which was
constructed to carry off' the waters of the lake of Zampango,
is of stupendous dimensions, but from the nature of the soil
through which it passes, the imperfect manner in which it
is executed, and above all, from the lake itself being twenty
feet above the level of the great square of Mexico, it would
be found but an imperfect security against an inundation,
should a very rainy season occur. During the revolution
these works were much neglected, nor have they yet been
properly finished or put in a good state of repair. In the
lake of Chaleo there are a number of Chinampas, or what
have sometimes been called floating gardens. Whether or
not they ever did float is questionable; but it is certain that
at present they are all fixtures. They are artificial islands,
about fifty or sixty yards long, and not more than four or
five wide. They are separated by ditches of three or four
yards in breadth, and are formed by taking the soil from the
intervening ditch, and throwing it on the Chinampa, by
which means the ground is raised generally about a yard,
and thus forms a small fertile garden, where the finest culin¬
ary vegetables, fruits, and flowers are raised, and from which
the markets of the capital are amply supplied.
In the centre of this fine valley stands the city of Mexico,
the capital of the republic. The approach to it does not
convey a very favourable idea either of the capital or of the
country around it. On the Otumba side the valley is des¬
titute of those beautiful features by which it is character¬
ised on the south and east; the receding waters of the great
lake of Tezcuco having left a crust of carbonate of soda, by
which vegetation has been impaired or destroyed. Sterility
prevails almost the whole way from the village of San Juan
de Teotihuacan to the convent of Guadalupe, in which is
the famous image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, the patroness
of Mexico. An avenue extends from this place to the gates
of the city, upon the line of one of the ancient causeways.
The suburbs of Mexico have a ruinous and desolate appear¬
ance, and it is not until the central parts of the city are seen,
that the praises bestowed upon it by Humboldt are found to be
no exaggeration. The same distinguished traveller is of opin¬
ion, that although modern Mexico is three miles from the lake
of Tezcuco, and six miles from thatof Chaleo, it nevertheless
occupies the identical site of ancient Mexico, or Tenochtitlan,
and that a great part of the waters of the valley have been
dried up.
Mexico is undoubtedly the finest city built by Europeans
in the western hemisphere. There does not indeed exist a city
of the same extent to which it can be compared; since it is
equally remarkable for the uniform level of the ground on
which it stands, for the regularity and breadth of the streets,
and for the extent of the squares and public places. The ar¬
chitecture is generally of a very pure style, and there are Political
even edifices of exceedingly beautiful structure. The streets divisions,
are not only broad and airy, but of vast extent, some of''’^V"w
them extending nearly two miles in a straight line. The
houses which are all built of stone, are spacious, and highly
ornamented; but they appear low to a European eye, a
want of height being complained of as a general defect in
Mexican architecture. The roofs are flat, and when seen
from an elevation, have the appearance of immense terra¬
ces, the parapets by w hich they are separated being lost in
the distance. The streets are all well paved, having path¬
ways on each side. The public buildings are magnificent,
and have been constructed at an enormous expense. Near¬
ly at one extremity of the town stands the Alameda, which
communicates with the Paseo Nuevo, a broad avenue of
trees. This building is a summer palace constructed during
the viceroyalty, upon a rock, the foot of which was once wash¬
ed by the waters of Tezcuco. Its situation is beautiful,
and commands a most magnificent view of the valley of
Mexico.
Butamongstthe monuments of Spanish splendour,the cathe¬
dral and the viceregal palace are perhaps the noblest. They
are situated in the Plaza Mayor, or great square, and were
erected soon after the conquest. The cathedral, which is
built upon the site of the great Mexican temple, is spaci¬
ous, grand, and profusely ornamented. It covers an im¬
mense space of ground, and riches have been lavished in
ornamenting the interior, without, however, producing a
grand or imposing effect. The most remarkable feature is
a balustrade, which occupies the centre of the church. It
is composed of a metal brought from China, and said to be a
composition of brass and silver. In the outer wall is a
stone covered with hieroglyphical figures, employed by the
Aztecs to designate the months of the year, and which is
supposed to have formed a perpetual calendar. At a little
distance from it is a second stone, upon which human
sacrifices were offered up by the ancient inhabitants of
Mexico. The cathedral forms part of the northern side of
the square, and another whole side is occupied by the pa¬
lace ; an immense building, formerly the residence of the
viceroy, but now converted into government offices. In the
interior, the part most worthy of notice is the botanical garden,
which wTas extensive as well as rich, until the period of the re¬
volution, w hen a portion of it was converted into barracks.
It is said to contain many species of plants hitherto but little
known in Europe. Besides the cathedral, there are nearly
one hundred other churches, ornamented and decorated in
the same style of profusion. The college of mines is a mag¬
nificent building, but it has settled down in such a manner
as to deflect from the perpendicular the spacious rows of
columns, windows, and doors. The collection of minerals
which the college contains is rich but ill-arranged. The
mint is also a fine building ; and several of the convents, as
well as some private palaces, are of great extent and mag¬
nificence. The Acordada, a prison and house of correction,
is a very fine and extensive structure, capable of containing
twelve hundred inmates. Besides the hospital of San Juan
de Dios, there are other buildings appropriated to the re¬
ception of the sick poor.
The police of the city is excellent, and the streets are well
lighted and kept in good repair. There is no scarcity of
water, abundant supplies of which are brought from the lakes
by means of aqueducts. Salt is easily procured from the soil
near the city, which is impregnated with muriate of soda.
All kinds of provisions are brought to the markets in abund¬
ance from the surrounding districts, chiefly by Indians, who
likewise bring for sale little toys and baskets executed with
considerable neatness. The venders of charcoal amuse them¬
selves whilst waiting for customers, by carving little figures
of birds and other animals in the commodity which they sell.
The leperos, the lowest class of inhabitants, display remark-
814 M E X
Political able ingenuity in forming figures of soap, wax, pith of trees,
divisions. woocl, and other materials, which may be purchased for the
smallest coin. With regard to the society of Mexico it
would be hazardous to offer any opinion. A long civil war,
prosecuted with almost unparalleled ferocity, has done much
to deteriorate the morals of the people ; and it yet remains
to be seen what a better system of government can effect for
raising in the scale of civilization a race of men composed of
the most heterogeneous elements. The population amounts
to about one hundred and thirty thousand, of which num¬
ber from twenty to thirty thousand are leperos, who live in
the most wretched and filthy state.
There are a number of other towns in the state of Mex¬
ico. Acapulco, on the south-west coast, was once celebrated
for its wealth, and is described as a very fine sea-port. It
was from this place that the richly-freighted Spanish gal¬
leons took their departure to distribute the spoils of the
western over the eastern hemisphere. It subsequently sunk
into comparative insignificance; but by the recent returns
of its customs it appears to have again risen into considerable
importance. The population amounts to about five thou¬
sand. Zacatula is likewise a good port on the same shore,
but it has little trade. Toluca, in the interior, is a con¬
siderable town, situated at the foot of two steep barren hills,
and distant about twenty-seven miles south-west from the
capital. A few miles to the north-west of the city of Mexi¬
co is Tezcuco, a town formerly the residence of a tributary
Indian prince, but now almost desolate. Amongst other
small towns may be mentioned Otumba, once large and
flourishing, but now a mere village; Lerma, which is sur¬
rounded by an extensive morass, traversed by fine raised
causeways ; Chaleo, a pretty large town, situated in a lake
of the same name, about twenty miles to the south-east of
the capital; San Augustin, at which a great annual fair is
held, frequented by vast multitudes from Mexico; Tacu-
baya, a village about four miles from the gates of the capi¬
tal, and formerly the country residence of the bishop of
Mexico; Pachuca and Cuyoacan. Besides these places
there are a number of haciendas, of which Chapingo is con¬
sidered as one of the finest specimens in Mexico. It is dis¬
tant about a league from Tezcuco, and the lands around
it are exceedingly rich and well irrigated. The buildings
erected to receive the grain are on a magnificent scale, and
the vicinity of the capital affording a ready market for the
crops, the estate is one of great value. About sixty miles
from the metropolis is Cuernavaca, a place of no importance
in itself, but deriving interest from the richness of the sur¬
rounding district. In the neighbouring valley of Cuautla,
stands the town of Cuautla Amilpas, where Morelos made so
noble a stand against the royal army. The population of
the state of Mexico, according to the census of 1803, amount¬
ed to 1,511,800; but as it suffered much during the civil
war, and by the new political division of the country lost a
portion of its territory, the number of inhabitants at present
can scarcely exceed one million. The legislative assembly
composed of nineteen deputies, elected in the ratio ol one
for every fifty thousand inhabitants. The districts are pla¬
ced under the inspection of prefects and sub-prefects.
Queretaro. Queretaro.—To the north-west of Mexico is the small
state of Queretaro, the territories of which were formerly
comprehended in the neighbouring intendancies of Mexico,
La Puebla, and Guanajuato. They are now divided into
the s\x partidos or districts of Amcalco, Cadereita, San Juan
del Rio, San Pedro Toliman, Queretaro, and Xalpan, which
contain in all a population of above 200,000. The inhabi¬
tants, with the exception of those of the capital, are mostly
employed in agriculture. The wool of the sheep is highly
prized, but agriculture here is not so important a specula¬
tion as it is in other parts of the republic. Queretaro, the
capital is divided into five parishes, and contains some fine
churches and convents; particularly that of Santa Clara,
ICO.
which is an immense building, said to resemble a little town Political
in the interior, being regularly laid out in streets and plazas, divisions.
This place has quite the air of a manufacturing town. MoreV'^V-^
than half the houses contain shops, and the population is en¬
gaged either in small trades, or in the wool manufactories,
which were once very extensive, but fell off in the general
decline of manufactures. Woollen cloths, however, are still
made here. About two leagues from the town is a great
ravine called the Canada, which is inhabited by Indians, and
abounds in gardens and magnificent trees. Queretaro con¬
tains above forty thousand inhabitants.
Guanajuato—To the westward of Queretaro is Gua- Guanajuato
najuato, which may be called either a mining or an agricul¬
tural state; for the prosperity of the two branches is so
closely connected that the one can hardly be said to flourish
without the other. Manufactures of wool and cotton for¬
merly abounded in many of the towns, but they have great¬
ly decayed, and the mines, particularly the celebrated one
of Valenciana, must now be looked to as the chief source of
wealth. The toAvn of Guanajuato, in the vicinity of which
the principal mines are situated, contains numerous splen¬
did memorials of the former wealth of its inhabitants. Many
of the private dwellings are magnificent, as are the church¬
es, chapels, and other religious edifices. Zelaya is a con¬
siderable town containing about ten thousand inhabitants.
The town of Irapuato, according to the census of 1825, con¬
tains a population of sixteen thousand and fifty-four souls.
Some of the public buildings are fine, particularly the con¬
vent of nuns, called De la Ensenanza. There are a few
cotton-spinners and weavers, but the bulk of the population
consists of agriculturalists who reside in the town and have
estates in its vicinity. Salamanca is likewise a considerable
place, situated in a rich part of the country. The state of
Guanajuato contains, according to the census of 1825, a re¬
gistered population of 382,829 souls ; but this was supposed
to be incorrect and the number of the inhabitants may now
be more correctly estimated at 500,000.
Guadaeaxara or Jalisco.—To the westward of Gu- Guadala-
anajuato stretches out the large state of Guadalaxara or Jal- or
isco. Like all other states of Mexico, its shape is very ir- a 1SC0,
regular, but it is computed to contain nine thousand six
hundred and twelve square leagues, and it extends one hun¬
dred twenty-three leagues along the shores of the Pacific.
It is divided into eight districts, viz. Guadalaxara, Lagos, La
Barea, Sayula, Etzatlan, Tutlan, Tepee, and Colotlan; and
these again are subdivided into twenty-six departments, con¬
taining in all three hundred and eighteen pueblos, three
hundred and eighty-seven haciendas, and two thousand five
hundred and thirty-four ranchos, with a registered popula¬
tion in 1825 of 656,830 souls. Before the separation of the
district of Colima, Jalisco contained eight hundred thousand
inhabitants. The capital which bears the same name is rec¬
koned the second city of the republic. It is built with great
regularity, the streets running at right angles, being well
paved, and having raised pathways on each side. The houses,
with the exception of those in the suburbs, are finely built.
There are fourteen squares, twelve fountains, and a number
of convents and churches, the principal of which, the ca¬
thedral, is still a magnificent building, although it suffered
severely in an earthquake which occurred in 1818. The
Alameda or public walk is very prettily laid out, with a foun¬
tain in the centre, and a stream of water all round. With¬
in the town, the Portales de Comercio, erected on every
side of those immense squares of houses, are the principal
rendezvous ; as, besides a number of handsome shops well
provided with European and Chinese manufactures, they
contain a number of stalls covered with a great variety of
domestic productions. Considerable quantities of shawls of
striped calico were formerly made here ; but these home
manufactures have been superseded by importations from
the United States. Guadalaxara derives little benefit from
f
»
MEXICO.
Political its foreign trade, San Bias, the only sea-port which it pos-
divisions. sesseSj being nearly abandoned. Foreign goods are intro-
duced overland from San Luis or Mexico. There are here
a mint and four printing-presses, all established since the
revolution. The population of the capital is supposed to
amount to seventy thousand souls. In this state is the mag¬
nificent lake of Chapala, from thirty-six to forty leagues in
length, and varying in breadth from five to eight leagues.
Valladolid. Valladolid.—Between the states of Guadalaxara and
Mexico lies that of Mechoacan or Valladolid. It comprises the
territory formerly belonging to the Tarascos, a powerful In¬
dian nation, first allies, and afterwards rivals of the Aztecs,
whom they are said to have followed in their emigration from
the north. This state contains two cities, three towns, two
hundred and fifty-six pueblos, three hundred and thirty-three
haciendas, and one thousand three hundred and fifty-six ran¬
chos, and is distributed into eighty-three parishes and twenty-
one districts. The former riches of the state consisted almost
entirely in its agricultural produce, the most ordinary manu¬
factures being introduced from the neighbouring towns of
the Baxio. But the agricultural interest is by no means
in so flourishing a condition as it once was, nor are the mines
remarkable either for their extent or their value. The whole
western declivity of the Sierra Madre comprehended within
the province of Michoacan is noted for its insalubrity ; and
the sea-coast, as might be expected, is likewise very un¬
healthy. The tierra caliente, at the foot of the Cordillera
which is fertilised in part by the Rio Balsas, is rich in all
the ordinary productions of the tropics ; and even in the
more elevated valleys, sugar was grown to a very consider¬
able extent before the revolution. The best sugar lands
are now about twelve leagues south of Pasquaro, the ancient
capital of the Indians. At the foot of the mountain of Joml-
lo, there are plantations of cacao and indigo ; and in several
parts of the state the various productions of the table-land can
be raised in abundance. Valladolidhas been called the cradle
of the revolution, from which it suffered severely. The po¬
pulation is estimated at about half a million.
Valladolid the capital of the state, is delightfully situated
at the height of six thousand three hundred feet above the
level of the sea. It consists chiefly of one long broad street,
well paved, and kept in good order. The plaza is remark¬
able, as having broad piazzas on three of its sides, and the
fine cathedral isolated from all other buildings, bounding it
on the east. Here there is a crowded market where the ven¬
ders display their goods, as is the general custom through¬
out the republic, beneath the shade of rude mat umbrellas.
All the houses have flat roofs, with long water-spouts pro¬
jecting most incommodiously over the streets. Besides the
cathedral, which is crowded with a profusion of ornaments,
there are several other churches, two nunneries, and four
monasteries, for all which, besides an hospital and other pub¬
lic edifices, the inhabitants are indebted to the munificence
of the bishops of the see. The population has been esti¬
mated at fifteen thousand.
.a Puebla. La Puebla.—The state of La Puebla, which is situated
to the east of that of Mexico, and stretches nearly across
the continent, is divided into twenty-five districts, contain¬
ing a population of above 700,000- The principal towns
are Atlixco, which, in 1825, contained 31,657 inhabitants ;
Guauchinango 26,086; Ametopee, 25,151; La Puebla,
34,756; Tepeaca, 43,713; Tehuacande las Granadas, 43,248;
Hapa, 38,383 ; and Zacatlan 47,129. The territory of the
state extends beyond the western ridge of the Sierra Ma¬
dre, and down to the shores of the Pacific ; consequently, it
produces in abundance the fruits either of the tierra caliente,
or those common to the rest of the table-land. There are,
however, no mines which uniformly create a home market;
and as the foreign ^rade is comparatively of but little im¬
portance, the agricultural interest is in a depressed condition.
The native manufactures of wool and cotton have declined,
815
as in other parts of Mexico. Some parts of the state, parti- Political
cularly the plains of Apan, are remarkable for their fertility, divisions.
This state includes within its limits Tlascala and Cholula,
the two cities which bade defiance to all the power of Mon¬
tezuma. It contains also Popocateptl, the loftiest mountain
in Mexico, and some remarkable remains of antiquity. The
capital and largest city of this state is Puebla de los Angelos,
the seat of the richest bishopric in the country, and that of
the most extensive manufactures of cotton, earthenware, and
wool. Glass and soap are also made, the latter to a consi¬
derable extent. The streets, like those of Mexico, are rect¬
angular, spacious, airy, and paved with large stones in a
highly ornamental manner. The houses are low, but com¬
modious, and the apartments are mostly paved with por¬
celain and adorned with paintings in fresco. There are a
great number of churches, convents, and above twenty col¬
leges, with a magnificent cathedral, richly ornamented, and
held in high veneration, in consequence of a tradition that it
owes its origin to divine interference. La Puebla contains
about 60,000 inhabitants.
Oaxaca.—Oaxaca is a very fine state, the southern Oaxaca,
boundary of which extends along the coast of the Pacific
Ocean, from La Puebla to Guatemala. Agriculture is high¬
ly favoured by the fertility of the soil and the salubrity of
the climate. The mineral riches which it contains, have not
been fully explored, but there is no deficiency of mines. Co¬
chineal is raised in abundance at Misteca; the cultivation of
the insect being in the hands of Indians, who are said to be
a race much superior to the other tribes upon the table¬
land, The women are called the Circassians of Mexico;
and most of the families are affluent, above a million of dol¬
lars being annually employed in the purchase of cochineal.
In ancient times this state was the seat of tw o independent
kingdoms, viz. those of Misteca and Tzapoteca. Oaxaca
the capital, called Antequera at the time of the conquest, is
a flourishing place, although it suffered severely during the
revolution. It contains above 20,000 inhabitants. This
state has only one sea-port, Tehuantepec, and it is a bad one.
The population is estimated at above half a million.
Vera Cruz Vei'a Cruz is divided into four depart- yera ouz
ments, viz. Vera Cruz, Jalapa, Orizava, and Acayucam, con¬
taining in 1825 a total registered population of 233,705
souls. It is a narrow strip of land stretching along the
Gulf of Mexico from the state of San Luis Potosi to that of
Tobasco, a distance of about four hundred miles, whilst its
breadth on an average does not exceed fifty or sixty miles.
The department of Vera Cruz contains four cantons, Vera
Cruz, Tampico, Papantla, and Misantla, having in all a po¬
pulation of 63,106 souls, distributed throughout the tierra
caliente of the coast in fifty-three pueblos, rancherias, and
congregaciones. The produce of these cantons consists in
maize, ffijoles, rice, cotton, sugar, woods of the most precious
kinds, as mahogany, ebony, cedar; sarsaparilla, pepper, wax,
Indian rubber, and vanilla, which is very abundant in Misant¬
la, where twenty thousand roots of it were planted in the
year 1826.
The department of Jalapa is divided into two cantons,
Jalapa and Jalacingo, containing forty-one pueblos and
53,061 inhabitants. Orizana comprises three cantons, Ori-
zana, Cordova, and Cosamaluapam, with sixty-three pueb¬
los, and 84,148 inhabitants. The population of Orizana
and Cordova is employed chiefly in the cultivation of to¬
bacco and of coffee. The towns contain several distilleries,
and a number of bee-hives, which are important in a coun¬
try where such quantities of wax are consumed. Acayucam
is divided into three cantons, Acayucam, Tustla, and Nui-
manguillo, and comprises twrenty-three pueblos, having a
population of 33,354 souls. The principal agricultural pro¬
duction is cotton, but the annual amount now raised has
much declined. Almost all the trade of Mexico centres in
Vera Cruz and its sea-ports.
816 M E X
Political The city of Vera Cruz the capital of the state, is situat-
divisions. e(i on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico in lat. 19.11.52 north,
'"•"‘^/'■'^and long. 96.8.45 west. It is well and handsomely built of
madrepore ; and its red and white cupolas, towers, and bat¬
tlements, have a splendid effect when viewed from the sea.
Many of the houses are large, being built in the Moorish
or old Spanish style, and generally enclosing a square court,
with covered galleries. They have flat roofs, glass windows,
and are well adapted to the climate. There is a tolera¬
bly good square, of which the government house forms one
side, and the principal church another. There are other
churches, as well as monasteries and nunneries. Opposite
the town at the distance of about four hundred fathoms, is
a small island, containing the strong castle of San Juan de
Ulloa, which commands the town. The harbour lies be¬
tween the town and the castle, and is exceedingly insecure.
The anchorage is so bad, that vessels require to be moored
to the castle by means of ropes attached to rings fixed in the
walls ; but even this is not found to be a sufficient safeguard
against the fury of the northern winds, which sometimes
blow here with tremendous violence. Vera Cruz is extreme¬
ly unhealthy at all times; and during the warm season Euro¬
peans are exceedingly liable to become the victims of the
vomito, or prevailing distemper. The city is surrounded by
sand hills and ponds of stagnant water ; there is neither gar¬
den nor mill near it; and the only water fit for use is that
which falls from the clouds. For every article, except fish,
many beautiful species of which are here caught, the markets
are indifferent. The trade of Vera Cruz was at one period
considerable, but it sensibly declined after Mexico threw off
the yoke of Spain. Alvarado, a port about twelve leagues to
the south-east, and which constituted the seat of martime
commerce during the revolution, is built upon the left bank
of a river of the same name, at the mouth of which there
is a bar, rendering it inaccessible to vessels drawing more
than ten or twelve feet of water. Large ships must conse¬
quently be loaded and unloaded by means of lighters. The
trade of Mexico, however, has either reverted to its old
channel, or is shared by Tampico, a port which has risen
into importance within these few years. It is situated about
sixty leagues north-north-west of Vera Cruz, in lat. 22° 15'
30" N. long. 97° 52' W. being about an hundred and four
leagues from Mexico. In 1825, the population of Vera
Cruz amounted to about eight thousand.
Anoth er town in this state is Jalapa, from which a well-known
drug takes its name. Formerly it was the great mart of New
Spain for European goods, as the unhealthiness of VeraCruz
compelled traders to transfer their merchandise at once to this
city, where a great annual fair was held. It has now, however,
little commerce of its own, and is only a sort of resting-place
between Vera Cruz and Mexico. Jalapa is indebted to the
peculiarity of its position for the extreme softness of its cli¬
mate. The town stands upon a little platform, 4,335 feet
above the level of the sea, and is protected from the north¬
west winds by a ridge of mountains. The height is exact¬
ly that at which there is a continual humidity in the at¬
mosphere ; but this only imparts a balmy feeling to the air,
whilst it gives a delightful freshness to the face of nature.
The town is neatly built, although the streets are irregu¬
lar ; and the houses without being remarkable for their size
are of a superior order. Jalapa is the seat of government
for the state of Vera Cruz, and here a large garrison is kept.
The population is about 12,000. f
San Luis San Lms Potosi To the north-west of Vera Cruz, lies
Potosi. the state of San Luis Potosi, under which name, as a Spanish
intendency, were included Coahuilaand Jexas, New Leon,
Tamanlipas and San Luis, now four sovereign states. San
Luis, like the other members of the federal republic, is divided
into several districts, which, in 1825, contained a population
of 250,000 souls. Most of the haciendas are only vast sheep
walks, although many of them might be rendered a source
ICO.
of great wealth. In this state, there are a number of rich mines, Political
particularly those of Catorce, where a metalliferous ridge of divisions,
mountains extends for many miles. The state congress is |
composed of fourteen deputies elected in the proportion of
one for every twenty-thousand souls. In ecclesiastical mat¬
ters, San Luis is dependent upon the bishoprics of Guadalax-
ara and Valladolid, between which the spiritual jurisdiction
is divided. With the exception of the capital which bears
the same name, it possesses no large town. San Luis, includ- ]
ing the suburbs, contains between fifty and sixty thousand
inhabitants. It is well built, and contains a number of church¬
es, monasteries, and public buildings. The exterior architec¬
ture of the sacred edifices is generally heavy, being over¬
loaded with carved ornaments, and ill-executed statues of
saints ; yet at a short distance, they give a magnificent ap¬
pearance to the town. The palacio, now the house of the
provincial congress, forms one side of the Plaza de los Ar¬
mas, which has an excellent fountain of water in the centre.
The parroquia, or cathedral, occupies a portion of the op¬
posite side, and on its right are the soldiers’ quarters. The
two other sides are filled with shops and dwelling houses.
The former are good and well stocked, those for the sale of
liquors being by far the most numerous. To excessive in¬
dulgence in the use of pulque and other stimulants, must
be attributed the frequent brawls and assassinations which
take place in San Luis. San Luis derives great advan¬
tage from its situation, as the natural depot for the trade of
Tampico with the northern and western states. Zacatecas,
Durango, and other states, receive through this channel a
large proportion of their foreign imports; and since the
building of the new town of Tamanlipas, which, from being
on a more elevated spot than the old town (pueblo viejo) of
Tampico, is less subject to the vomito, there is every ap¬
pearance of a rapid increase in this branch of commercial
intercourse.
Zacatecas.—To the west, and north-west of San Luis Zacatecas.
Potosi, is situated Zacatecas, a state divided into eleven dis¬
tricts, viz. Zacatecas, Aguas Calientes, Sombrerete, Tlal-
tenango, Villanueva, Fresnillo, Jerez, Mazapil, Nieves, Pinos,
and Juchilipa, which, in 1825, contained a registered popu¬
lation of 272,901 souls. There are in this state one hun-
dred and twenty haciendas, with six hundred and sixteen
ranchos ; but most of the latter consist merely of three or
four wretched hovels. Zacatecas is both a mining and an
agricultural state. Manufactures there are none, excepting
in the capital, where there are a few cotton spinners, as also
at Aguas Calientes. The revenue of this state exceeds
the expenditure, tobacco being the most productive branch
of industry. A little maguey brandy is distilled at Pinos ;
but every thing else requisite for the consumption of the
inhabitants is imported from other states. As a mining dis¬
trict, Zacatecas differs materially from Guanajuato; for in¬
stead of one great principal vein, it contains three lodes,
nearly equal in importance, viz., La Quebradilla, San Ber-
nabe or Malanoche, and Veta Grande, with a number of
inferior vetas and vetillas, which may be considered as rami¬
fications of the principal lodes. The principal mines of Za¬
catecas are in the hands of companies. Aguas Calientes,
south of the capital, is a highly cultivated district, produc¬
ing nearly one-fourth of the maize, and one-third of the
frijole and chile grown in the state ; but to the north and east
of this district the country is divided into vast breeding
farms, where the population is thinly scattered over an im¬
mense tract of country. The constitution of Zacatecas was
completed as early as January 1825. The legislature con¬
sists of one chamber.
Zacatecas the capital is situated at the foot of an abrupt
and picturesque porphyritic mountain, upon the ruggedsum-
mit of which is perched a neat church and a small fortress.
From the inequalities of the ground on which it stands, the
streets are short and crooked. Besides a very noble cathe-
MEXICO.
817
'ucatan.
Political dral, it contains a number of churches and convents. Amongst
divisions, the public buildings worthy of notice, may be mentioned
the mint, the best in Mexico, and “ la casa del Ayuntami-
ento,” a magnificent edifice, where all the public offices are
established, and where the congress of the state assembles.
This town contains about twenty-two thousand inhabitants;
and Veto Grande, a village in its immediate vicinity, contains
six thousand.
Yucatan, or Merida, the southern extremity of Mexico,
is a peninsula which projects into the ocean above four hun¬
dred miles, and may be said to separate the Gulf of Mexico
from the Carribbean Sea. It is a vast plain of alluvial forma¬
tion, intersected by a mountain ridge which does not exceed
four thousand feet in height, comprising an area of three
thousand eight hundred and twenty-three square leagues,
and divided into fifteen departments, which, in 1825, con¬
tained a registered population of 496,990 souls. Upon some
parts of this extensive territory, maize, frijoles, rice, cotton,
pepper, tobacco, and the sugar cane are produced, besides
dye-wood, hides, and other articles. In the central parts, the
want of water is a very serious drawback to agriculture ; the
bre de Dios, San Juan del Rio, Cinco Sehores de Nazas, Political
Cuencame, El Oro, Indee, Papasquiaro, Tamascula, and Gua- divisions,
risamey. Its riches depend entirely upon its mines and agri-V
cultural produce; which last is so considerable, that the lands
already bi’ought under cultivation are supposed to be suffi¬
cient for the support of a population about five times as large as
that which the state now contains. The farms are upon a
large scale, and are chiefly devoted to breeding horned cattle,
mules, and sheep. Some haciendas, however, are entirely
laid out in corn lands; but although indigo and coffee are
found wild in some parts, and sugar might be raised to almost
any extent, little attention has hitherto been paid to them.
F ruits and vegetables of all kinds abound, particularly peaches
and potatoes. Maize, flour, oxen, cows, sheep, mules, and
horses, are astonishingly cheap. With the exception of a
glass manufactory, a tannery, and the fabrica de tabacos,
Durango is destitute of manufactures; but the richness of
its mineral deposits compensates for any deficiency in this
respect. There are a great number of mines,1 none of which,
with one or two exceptions, have been worked to any extent.
I he chief mining districts are consequently virgin ground ;
rainy season is very uncertain, and in many parts not even and there are few in which the old shafts might not again
a stream is known to exist, so that in unfavourable years, the be brought into activity at a trifling expense. Besides the
inhabitants are compelled to have recourse for subsistence, mines of gold and silver, which are situated on either side
to the roots which the woods supply. There are no mines, of the Sierra Madre, there are some of iron and lead, both of
and the extensive trade which was once carried on with the which metals might be obtained in abundance. In the vi-
Havanna was cut short by the war, nor has it been as yet re- cinity of the capital, materials for building abound, stone
stored. I he capital of \ ucatan is Meiida, situated on an and iime being found at a very little distance from the gates;
arid plain forty miles from the coast. It enjoys little trade, and the flint used in the manufacture of glass is readily ob-
«nd non in ins nnlv ahnnt tnn tlmnsnnrl inhahitant* Tam. i The constitution of Durango is framed in a liberal
ti'basco.
and contains only about ten thousand inhabitants. Cam¬
peche is the principal commercial town ; and here the log¬
wood, which goes by the same name, attains its greatest
perfection. There was imported into Great Britain from
Mexico in 1831, four thousand eight hundred and eighty-five
tons of this wood, the greatest part of which was shipped at
the port of Campeache. The town contains about eight
thousand inhabitants. The receipts of Yucatan in 1826,
amounted to 213,127 dollars, whilst the expenditure for the
same year was 207,199, thus leaving a small balance in fa¬
vour of the state.
Tabasco—Immediately adjoining Yucatan, is the state
of Tabasco, which is divided into three departments and
nine districts, containing in all forty-eight pueblos, sixty-
three churches, five hundred and forty-three haciendas, and
fifty-four thousand eight hundred and sixty-two inhabitants.
A large proportion of the territory of this state is laid under
M ater during the rainy season, and intercourse between the
villages must be carried on by canoes. This circumstance
is favourable to the growth of cacao, supposed to be an in¬
digenous plant, and now cultivated to a considerable extent.
Coffee is likewise groM n, and the pepper which goes by the
tained.
spirit. The congress eonsists of two chambers, containing
eleven deputies, and seven senators.
Durango, or, as it is now called, Victoria, the capital of
the state, is situated sixty-five leagues to the north-west of
Zacatecas, in the midst of a vast plain. Both the city of
Victoria, and most of the other towns of Durango, as Tama-
sula, Sianori, Mapimi, San Dimas, Canelas, Cuencame, and
others, take their origin from the mines. Before the dis¬
covery of those of’Guaresamey, Victoria was a mere village,
and as late as 1783, it contained only eight thousand inhabi¬
tants. In 1825, the population ivas estimated at twenty-two
thousand. The principal streets, the plaza mayor, the theatre,
and most of the public edifices, were built by Zambrano, a
wealthy proprietor, who is supposed to have drawn from his
mines at San Dimas and Guarisamey, upwards of thirty mil¬
lions of dollars. The towns of Villa del Nombre de Dios,
San Juan del Rio, and Cinco Senores de Nazas, are almost
the only considerable places in the state unconnected with
the mines. The great mineral wealth of this state holds
out the most encouraging prospect of ample remuneration to
those who engage in mining speculations; and there can be
is Chia-
irango.
name of the state, is found in great abundance on the banks little doubt, that ere long, the advantages which Durangopos-
of rivers. Indigo and vanilla grow wild, though little at- sesses, will be duly appreciated by foreign or native associ
tention is paid to their cultivation. The revenue of this ^ ■
state does not exceed fifty-thousand dollars, and the expen¬
diture was in 1827, nearly the same.
Las Chiapas. Between Tabasco and part of Guatemala
is situated the state of Las Chiapas, formerly a part of cen¬
tral America, but now united to Mexico. The soil is fer¬
tile, and capable of yielding in profusion tropical fruits and
grain. The cacao, although very fine, is not cultivated to
any extent. The Chiapaof the Spaniards, called also Ciu¬
dad Real, though ranking as the capital,, is now only a small mining districts would greatly exceed our limits1; it is onlv
place, containing four thousand inhabitants. A town of the necessary to mention those of Jesus Maria, San Jose de*l
same name, occupied by Indians, is larger, and carries on the Parral, on the eastern ridge of the Sierra Madre, the famous
chief trade, which, however, is inconsiderable. mines of Batopilas, on the western declivity, El Carmen,
Durango.— I he state of Durango, or New Biscay, has Dolores, Candelaria, Buen Suceso, San Antonio, Pastrana,
a great extent of surface, about sixteen thousand square and Arbitrios. Some of them are amazingly rich, and capi-
leagues, yet in 1825 the population was estimated at only tal to employ labourers is alone required to raise this state
175,000. It is divided into ten districts, viz. Durango, Nom- to wealthand importance. The revenue, in 1825, was 69,360
.VOL. XIV. 5.l
ations of capitalists.
Chihuahua—The state immediately adjoining Durango Chihuahua
to the north is that of Chihuahua. The inhabitants, who,
by the last census were estimated at 112,694 souls, are thinly
scattered over a vast tract of country, occupied by great
breeding estates, abounding in mules and horned cattle,
But agriculture is comparatively neglected; the mines, in
which this state is very rich, holding out a better prospect
of ample reward for industry. A minute description of the
818 M E X
Political dollars, and its expenses, including the contingent, 63,422
divisions, dollars. For an account of Chihuahua, the capital, see
the article under that head.
Sonora Sonora and Sinaloa.—To the west of Chihuahua ex-
and Sinaloa tends the vast state of Sonora and Sinaloa, occupying the
whole space between twenty-two and a half and thirty-three
and a half degrees of north latitude, and forming the eastern
coast of the Gulf of California as far as the Cerro de Santa
Clava, where commence the Indian lands south of the rivers
Gila and Colorado. It contains an area of above nineteen
thousand square leagues. To this vast extent of surface,
however, the population bears no proportion. It was esti¬
mated by Humboldt at 121,400 souls; but it probably ex¬
ceeds that number, as various Indian tribes inhabiting this
territory were not likely to submit to exact registration.
In many parts the soil is exceedingly fertile, and the pro¬
ductions of both the temperate and torrid zones maybe raised
within this territory. It is likewise rich in mineral trea¬
sures; many of the mines being of great value, whilst their
depth is inconsiderable. The southern part of Sonora, pro¬
perly called Sinaloa, is separated from Jalisco by the river
Canas or Bayona, twenty-five leagues from which is Rosario,
a handsomely built town, containing six thousand inhabitants,
it is a place of great commercial importance, being the de¬
pot for the port of Mazatlan; and a very considerable trade is
likewise carried on with the states of Durango and Jalisco.
In its vicinity is a celebrated mine of the same name, one
of the oldest and best in the republic, and still wrought
to some profit. Twenty-five leagues from Rosario is the
port of Mazatlan, which, though by no means a safe one, is
rising into importance. The town is miserable, consisting
mostly of about a hundred huts composed of mats, hides,
and palm leaves, and destitute of any defence, excepting the
dangerous shoals and rocky islands which encumber the
entrance to the small bay upon which it stands. Guaymas,
the best port in the republic, is situated in iat. 27. 40. M.,
about the middle of the Gulf of California. The harbour
is excellent, well sheltered, and capable of containing two
hundred vessels. The town contains above three thous¬
and inhabitants, amongst whom are many merchants. The
imports consist of Chinese, East Indian, and European ma¬
nufactures, and the exports of' wheat, flour, beef, hides, furs,
copper, silver, and gold. The heat in summer is great,
yet the town is healthy, neither the vomito nor the cholera
being known. In 1825 there was a custom-house esta¬
blished at both of these ports, and the latest returns shew
an increase of revenue from this source. The chief depot of
commerce for the whole of Upper Sonora and the port of
Guaymas is Petic, which is situated in a plain near the
confluence of the rivers Dolores and Sonora, lat. 29. 17. N.
long. 111. 3. W. The town is very irregularly built, but
contains many excellent houses, and about eight thousand
inhabitants. The neighbourhood is fertile and w ell culti¬
vated, affording abundance of the necessaries, and many of
the luxuries of life. The vine thrives well, and from it a
good wine is made, and brandy also distilled. The wheat
of Sonora is considered as the best grown in the republic.
Vegetables of every description are plentiful and cheap, and
fish are abundant. Fourteen leagues to the westward of
Petic is the town of San Miguel de Horcasitas, upon the
river Dolores. To the north of this town, appear the first
ramifications of the Sierra Madre, abounding in mines of
silver, gold, and copper. From San Miguel to Uves, on the
southern bank of the river Sonora, the distance is twelve
leagues. It is a handsomely built place; the streets are
wide and regular, and there is a large square, in which are a
church and convent. To the north of it, two ridges from
the great Cordillera intersect the country, running parallel
to the Pacific, and separated by the Dolores, Sonora, Oposu-
ra, and Barispe, rivers in all of which gold has been found.
To the north-west of Uves, and situated on a table-land,
ICO.
is the town of Babiacora, which contains three thousand in- Political
habitants, more than three-fourths of whom are Indians. The divisions,
vale of Sonora extends from this town about twelve leagues
in a northerly direction, and is considered as one of the most
productive districts in the state. It contains the towns of
Conche and Sonora, besides a number of haciendas and farms,
and a considerable population. In the neighbourhood of Babi¬
acora are numerous mines, both of gold and silver. Eighteen
leagues to the eastward is the town of Oposura, situated upon
a river of the same name, and containing above four thousand
inhabitants. The vale of Oposura is about twenty-six leagues
in length, and varies from one to four leagues in breadth.
The population consists partly of whites, who have preserved
the blood of their Biscayan ancestors in all its purity; and
partly of Indians of the Opata tribe, who in Upper Sonora
compose nearly two-thirds of the inhabitants. The whole
of this country is rich in every variety of agricultural produce.
North of Arispe and the Presidio of Fonteras (lat. 31.), is
the country of the Apaches, an independent Indian tribe.
This people are brave, and dexterous in the use of weapons, but
averse to the forms of civilised life- The road from Arispe
to the Villa del Fuerte, the capital of Sinaloa, runs nearly
due south for one hundred and twenty leagues. The prin¬
cipal towns on the way are Onabas and Los Alamos, a cele¬
brated mining district. To the north and north-west of the
latter place, between the rivers Yaqui and Mayo, there are
vast plains, inhabited by numerous tribes of Indians, who
have become reconciled to the restraints of civilized life,
and possess numerous tow ns, where they cultivate the arts
of peace. El F uerte, which was originally a military station, is
now the residence of the governor of the state; the congress,
which consists of eleven members, and the supreme tribunal
of justice, also hold their sessions in this place. The tierra
caliente of Sinaloa extends from Alamos to the confines of
Guadalaxara. It is one vast unproductive sandy plain. Cu-
lican,the most ancient and most populous tow n in Sinaloa, is
situated on a river of the same name, eighty leagues south
of El Fuerte, and contains a population of eleven thousand
souls. There are numerous other towns and mining districts
in this state, which possesses extraordinary natural advanta¬
ges, and may be considered as one of the most important
territories of the republic.
Tamaxuipas and New Leon—Along the shores of the Tamanli-
Gulf of Mexico, and to the north of Vera Cruz, extends the pas, and
state of Tamanlipas. A considerable part of this state is New Leon
traversed by the great river Bravo del Norte, at the mouth
of which is the harbour called El Brazo de Santiago. It is
situated on the river Panuco, which separates Tamanlipas
from Vera Cruz, about three miles to the northward of the
old town Of Tampico, or as it is called, Pueblo Viejo. There
are indeed three towns which bear the name of Tampico in
this quarter. Pueblo Nuevo de las Tamanlipas is of recent
erection, and built on a neat model. It is rapidly increas¬
ing. Altamira is a little town situated on the road to San
Luis Potosi. A considerable portion of this state, being low
in situation, is warm, and capable of producing tropical fruits
and vegetables; whilst on the more elevated parts are found
the usual productions of the temperate zone. Tamanlipas
possesses various mines, not only of the precious metals, but
of copper, lead, and tin; and there are several crystal ising
salt lakes in the territory.
To the westward of Tamanlipas lies the state of New Leon.
The soil is fertile, and the climate, although warm, is very
fine, producing abundance of corn and fruits. It abounds
in excellent and extensive pastures, on which are bred num¬
bers of cattle. Monterey, the capital, occupies part of a
large plain, surrounded by mountains (part of the Sierra
Madre), in lat. 26. N. Fruits abound during the whole year,
and provisions of all kinds are plentiful and cheap. It con¬
tains fifteen thousand inhabitants. Linares is a pretty large
town, situated some leagues to the east of Monterey, on an
MEXICO.
Political elevated plain between two rivers. It contains some well
diViS!^built h°use8’ and about six thousand inhabitants.
\ Cohahuila.—Adjoining to New Leon and Tamanlipas is
ahui m a, CohahuPa vvhich is generally elevated, and being well shel¬
tered from the north-west winds, possesses a healthy climate.
A considerable mountain-chain stretches across the state in a
north-westerly direction, and its surface is most luxuriantly
irrigated by the numberless springs and streams which,
bursting from these ridges, become tributaries to the great
river Bravo del Norte. Its pastures are clothed with rich
natural grasses, and are admirably calculated for breeding,
rearing, and fattening cattle; whilst its forests furnish ab¬
undance of wood, which is well calculated for every kind of
construction. There are mines of saltpetre, copperas, alum,
lead, tin, and copper, besides some silver in Santa Rosa,
and gold in Sacramento. These mineral treasures, for want
of population and of capital, have been rather ascertained
than explored. The inhabitants are almost wholly of the
white race, or with such slight mixture of the Indian blood, as
to make no distinction in colour worthy of notice. The native
tribes within the province have been extinguished; but on the
borders towards the north and w est are several warlike tribes
of Indians. In these parts also there are droves of wild cat¬
tle and horses, and herds of buffalos. Monclova is the ca¬
pital of the state, but Leona Vicario, formerly Saltillo, is the
largest town, containing about twelve thousand inhabitants.
It is situated upon the side of a hill, branching off'from the
Sierra Madre, which in this quarter presents nothing but
barren rocks, whilst the intervening valleys or plains are all
nearly destitute of vegetation. In 1811, Cohahuila contain¬
ed between seventy and eighty thousand inhabitants, and it
does not appear that their numbers have materially increas¬
ed since that time. They are chiefly occupied in agricul¬
ture, and produce excellent wheat and barley, and great
variety of fruits. The vines cultivated here make wine of
very excellent flavour, and considerable strength.
t’exas. Texas.—Texas is a north-eastern province of Mexico,
situated between 27. and 35. of north latitude, and 93.15. and
102. 30. of longitude west from Greenwich. It is bounded
on the north by Red River, which divides it from Arkansas,
Ozrack district, and New Mexico; on the south by the gulf
ot Mexico, and the Rio de las Nueces, which divides it from
Cohahuilaand Tamanlipas ; on the east by the eastern branch
of the river Sabino, and the state of Louisiana; and on the
west by Cohahuila and the territory of New Mexico. In
medium length from north to south it extends five hundred
and forty miles ; its average breadth from east to west is
four hufidred and sixty miles, and it contains an area of one
hundred and fifty thousand square miles. This extensive
territory, which is described as forming a vast inclined plain,
is one of great natural beauty and fertility. It is intersected
by a number of large rivers, amongst which may be enume¬
rated the Brazos, which has a great many branches, and a
south-easterly course of six hundred miles; the Colorado,
also with numerous branches, and a south-easterly course of
four hundred miles ; the Trinity, the Guadalupe, the Sabine,
the San Antonio, the Medina, Nueces, Naches, and Rio del
Norte, all having long courses and numerous branches. There
are several secondary streams which, although they have
short courses, are of very great importance in an agricultu¬
ral point of view.
The country is very open, being principally composed of
extensive prairies, but it is more minutely divided into plain,
undulating, and mountainous. The plain country, which may
be termed a dead level, with only here and there a gentle
slope, is thirty miles broad at the Sabine; gradually extends
its breadth to about one hundred miles on the Colorado, the
centre of the level land; afterwards it shrinks to narrow
limits ; and on the Nueces it declines to a point. This vast
819
tract of territory presents considerable variety of soil and Political
natural productions, being in some parts a low, woody, cane divisions,
brake country, and in others, sunken prairie land, having
sterile and cheerless aspect; but this gradually disappears, and
large, rich, and magnificent prairies, intersected with varie¬
gated clumps of timber, extend on either side of the Colo¬
rado and Brazos. By far the largest portion of Texas con¬
sists of undulating country; it has been described as “ lying
in the form of a triangle with the centre of its base line on
the Sabine in lat. 32°., and its vertical point resting on the
Colorado, long. 20° SO'.”1 It is remarkably salubrious,
abounds in streams and springs, timber of various kinds,
as well as fine pasturage, where cattle may be raised to
an unlimited extent, beautiful and varied scenery, and is
nearly free from noxious insects. The soil both of the
prairies anti the undulating country is generally a deep
dark mould ; but the streams are usually bordered by tracts
of alluvial land which yield a variety of timber. The
mountain range of Texas consists of spurs or branches of
the great Sierra Madre, which, in point of elevation, are only
of the third or fourth order. They are in many parts thick¬
ly covered with forests, interspersed with a great variety
of shrubbery. Extensive valleys of alluvial soil are found
throughout this range, more particularly on the water courses.
The scenery of this country is at once grand and beautiful,
and much of the land is susceptible of cultivation. With
regard to the extent of arable soil in Texas, Mr. Edward
observes; “East of the Trinidad river there will be found
one-third of the whole fit for the plough. Between the
Trinidad and the Colorado rivers one-half of the lands are
tillable. West of the Colorado one-fourth of the surface can
be laboured.”
I he natural productions of Texas comprehend most of
those which we have described as belonging to Mexico in
general, and do not therefore require to be specified. There is
abundance of timber of various kinds, fruit trees and shrubs,
amongst which may be mentioned the vine, minerals and
metals useful in the arts, wild and domesticated animals,
and fish and fowls of every description. The alluvion upon
the water courses is admirably adapted for the cultivation
of cotton and sugar ; whilst corn, wheat, and other grains
can be raised almost everywhere, and tobacco and indigo in
many parts. There is unlimited pasture for cattle during the
whole year. No country is so admirably adapted for sheep, and
there is a plentiful supply of mast for hogs. Indeed the
resources of this beautiful country, which remained almost
unknown to the Spaniards, are very great, and industry and
enterprise are only necessary to turn to account the natu¬
ral advantages which it possesses.
The southern and eastern portions of the country, which
are at present of the most importance, are divided into three
political jurisdictions, namely Nacogdoches, Brazos, and
San Antonio de Bexar. The department of Nacogdoches
is bounded on the north by Red River, on the south by the
Gulf of Mexico, on the east by the river Sabine, and on the
west by the department of Brazos. The capital, which
bears the name of the district is situated in a romantic dell
surrounded by wooded bluffs, sixty miles west of the river
Sabine, in lat. 31. 36., north, and long. 94. 36. It is a
flourishing town containing about one thousand resident in¬
habitants. San Augustin is situated on Ayish Bayou,an eastern
branch of the riverNaches, fifteen miles west of the Sabine, and
forty-five miles east of Nacogdoches. From being placed in
the centre of one of the richest landed districts in the state,
its improvement has been very rapid, indeed more so than that
of any other town in Texas. Anahuac, although at present
only the third town in the department in point of size, is, from
its peculiar advantages, destined ere long to be the first. It is
situated on a beautiful high level prairie bluff, to the south-
1 Edwards’ History of Texas, Cincinnati, 1836.
M E X I C O.
820
Political east of Galveston bay, in a comparatively healthy spot op-
divisions. posite the mouths of the Trinidad river, and is thus likely to
become the grand depot of maritime commerce.
The population of Texas has been estimated at seventy,
thousand. But there are, besides, numerous Indian tribes,
either located in particular districts, or who lead a wander¬
ing life, and make frequent descents upon the settled parts
of the country. Of the numbers actually within the limits
of the state no estimate can be formed.
New Mex- New Mexico -Texas is bounded on the western side
ico. by the arid mountains of San Saba, and by elevated plains,
which serve only to afford pasture to the buffaloes and other
wild animals. To the westward of this desert tract extends the
state of New Mexico, a long and comparatively narrow strip of
country,throughwhich theliioBravodel Norte takes its course
to the ocean. Though the latitude of NewMexico is not higher
than that of Syria and Persia, the climate is very cold. The
chiefproductions are the grains of Europe; and there is abun¬
dance of pasture for animals. The banks of the Rio Bravo are
well wooded and highly picturesque. On either side are
fine plains, which are rendered fruitful by artificial irriga¬
tion. The capital of New Mexico is Santa Fe, situated to
the east of the great river, in lat. 36.12. N., and long. 104.
52. 45. W. It is the centre of a considerable overland trade
between the northern part of Mexico and the western parts
of the United States ; and from this point proceeds the great
trading road to St. Luis, in the Missouri territory. Albu¬
querque, to the west of the Sierra Obscura, has a population
of six thousand; and Taos, to the north, has about nine
thousand. The Paseo del Norte is a place at which travel¬
lers must provide themselves with food to subsist on during
their journey of sixty leagues over the desert which sepa¬
rates it from Santa Fe. The fields there are well cultivated
with maize and wheat, and the vineyards produce excellent
sweet wines. The gardens are well stocked with figs,
peaches, apples, pears, and the other fruits of Europe. Ar¬
tificial irrigation is here conducted on very simple but very
good principles, and the effect is visible in all their crops.
The population of New Mexico has been estimated at fifty
thousand.
California. Caeifounia.—Referring to the articles which appear un¬
der this head,wre may mention, that, since they were written,
some additional information respecting this interesting por¬
tion of Mexico has been obtained, chiefly through Dr. Coul¬
ter.1 Upper California extends from the coast of the Pacific
to the Rio Colorado, and from the boundary with Lower Ca¬
lifornia, a few leagues south of San Diego, to the parallel of
42^ degrees north latitude. But the course of the Rio Colo¬
rado is entirely within theRocky Mountains,which are separat¬
ed from the inhabited, and indeed habitable, portion of Califor¬
nia, by a great sand plain, destitute of water. “ I he plain is
about one hundred miles in breadth, at its southern extre¬
mity, and about two hundred at the northern; about seven
hundred miles in length, gradually ascending toward the
north, and similar in every respect to that on the eastern
side of the Rocky Mountains. Our view is thus confined
then to a narrow tract of country of very remarkable fea¬
tures, the general run of its mountain ridges, continuous
with the chain of Lower California, being nearly parallel
with the coast, and almost all the minor streams running
north-westerly. Of the great rivers falling into the bay of
San Francisco, through the Boca de Carquinas, the Sacra¬
mento only has a southern course. The Jesu Maria and the Political
San Joaquin run westerly or north-westerly, as do all the <^vlslons'
others collected in the Tule lakes, before entering the Y ■
bay.” These lakes “ are now known not to exceed a hun¬
dred miles in total length, being fordable in the dry sea¬
son in several places; and notwithstanding their many tri¬
butaries from the eastward, they discharge during a con¬
siderable portion of the year, very little, if any, water into
San Francisco. It is only immediately after the rainy sea¬
son, which is usually ended by February, and during the
thaw of the snow on the high range of hills between the
lakes and great sand plain, that there is any considerable
discharge of water from them in this direction. Such, at
least, is the account given by the American hunters. Li¬
mited, as we have supposed, to the eastward by the sand plain,
the general form of the country is somewhat triangular, the
ridge of mountains from Lower California dividing into se¬
veral others, w hich slightly diverge as they advance north¬
ward. The great snowy peaks of San Bernardino, east of
San Gabriel, being the point from which the two principal
ranges start, the one the great snowy chain, separates the
sand plain from the Tule lakes, and the other separates the
Tule lakes from the sea board, not running further north
than San Francisco.” The only settled portion of Upper
California is that along the coast, the missions being nearly
all within one day’s journey of it. The valley is of consider¬
able size, and many parts are exceedingly fertile, produc¬
ing the finest wheat and the most luxuriant vines. But the
great article of produce of Upper California is black cat¬
tle, which have inci'eased with astonishing rapidity. Only
seventy years have elapsed since twenty-three head were
first introduced; and in 1827 the missions possessed 210,000
branded, and not less than 100,000 unbranded cattle. It is
found necessary to slaughter sixty thousand annually, to keep
the stock at the present standard, until more of the country
be settled to the eastward. Sheep have increased with near¬
ly equal rapidity, but are as yet of little interest to the trade
of California, their price having been kept enormously high
by the priests. “ It is sufficiently strange,” says Dr. Coul¬
ter, “ that where the fattest bullock is worth only eight dol¬
lars, and can rarely be sold at all, and where young cows
with calf can be bought in droves at about two dollars, and
frequently less, a sheep cannot be bought for less than three
dollars.” The white inhabitants have increased rapidly, and
are now estimated at about six thousand, whilst the abori¬
ginal population has considerably diminished in number.
The two Californias are to be considered as forming
one great chain of mountains, with several long but usu¬
ally narrow valleys dividing it into ridges nearly parallel
with the coast, and as a whole separated by the gulf of Cor¬
tez and the great sand plain, from Sonora and the Rocky
Mountains ; with the latter, however, the California chain
appears ultimately to unite north of the parallel of 42°, about
the great summit level, dividing the waters of the Colum¬
bia from those falling into the bay of San Francisco. The
neighbourhood of this bay is the only part of the country
likely ever to become of much interest to Europeans. It
is highly fertile, well wooded, watered, and perfectly healthy.
Lower California is pretty rich in minerals. Dr. Coulter
mentions having seen very rich argentiferous lead ores from
the southern extremity of it; and gold is also found in se¬
veral places.
1 Coulter’s Notes on Upper California. Journal of the Royal Geographical Society of London, voL v. part i. 1835.
Printed by T non as Allan & Co., Neill & Co.,
and Balfouk & Jack,
and Stereotyped by Thomas Allan & Co.
END OF VOLUME FOURTEENTH.
MAMMALIA
: >
/.
nt Ir .' YA Vjy/.
(. ti sorars.
mm
PoliticHl
divisioif-
'New Mex
vrrn
fea-i of Galveston 1): ^ jyn iOBiparcitivciy ' - mento only has a fouthcm course. The Jmi Miv ^ *v .- ih|
■fe Uit *iiotJthsufiiie Trinidad river ■ .> San Joaqnin mn^i^ttrly or north-westerly, as c:>) n' i1i
’;eev»n% the gi:ap.d;d4pot. i^ niAritime' + others coUected in the i'ule lakes, jheibr*-' ent< ing ie "
The pn[>'iiaiion of d’i ;a I;. be<- ve«ty. bay.” Tftese lake% are nowknown not toexa eed a Iiuiit
thousand But then are, ■ ribes, dred miles in total 5 ugth, being fordable in thf y »-
oitheHocated in part;- „'.<ander- son in several placie and notivithstanding Toir / tri-
ing lib • and make flu -ettfed parts butaries. from die eastwaru, they dis ’ urge daS.ng con-
Oi- the country. within the limits sidcrable portion of the year, very little, if any, water into
N* •••r .M l on the westen- side sun, which is usually emiod by ebn.ary, tind durir- ? the
by phi; d ami by elevated oiams, thaw of. the i-now on the high range of hillt bei . enthe
w .i, , . * the buffaloes ano other lakes and great md plrl that there is say considerable
tli is desert tract extends the disduu-gayil wa r oom them in pus i.eectr... ; ac >, a?
,ta!. •;> * ••: comparatively narrow strip of least, is the account given by the \m« lean hunters. Li-
{V a k l ibBravo del Norte takes its eoturse iiu|ed-, aswe rie supposed, tn. the • .tward by the >ai -.u pi -
■
■t o-! I'msia, the ciiuia e is vuy cold. The- ' ridge of monut ins iron tower O' ddrnia. dividing into se¬
nate the trains of Europe; and there isabun- "- eral other-i, uhieh slightly liver, e ,i.s they advance north-
.
voided and higMy picturesque On either side are .Gabriel, being the point from ad.ich-die two principal
r >, which are rendered in'’tful by artificial irriga- ranges start, the one the great s vy chain, separatee ?h(
<m. The capital of New Mexico is Santa Fe, situated to sand plain from the Tuk- lakes, aiu the other ■yarau the
• ! east of the :reat river, in lat. 36.12. N., an<{ long. 104. ’l ule lakes from tin sea board, net running furtiu v > - r r
: fd.W. It is the centre of a conside rable o - erland tivi le than San h'rancisco.’ The only tided portion oi l g; : r
K, tween the northern part of Mexico aiffthev estn part ('.cifornia is that along the co. the mis ions bvitt^ Higarlv
the United States ; ;-nd from tiris point j oreedi i •' v. m one day's journey .1 .o The .lev f; c-roh:-,
trading road to. St Luis, in ■ Mb cm?- ' r Aim- aLe ■ ' and many partsf tin 'exceedingly i rtile, pfortne-
.
if sin thousand; and Taos, t ah m nine great art? of produce of Upper Cdifon L is black cat-
thousand. The Paseodel \V’": a?, which travel- tte, which h-xv* increased.'' 4* . uishing repidity. Only
*
tf , )Un ey xr\ ;e * do- rt which sepa- first introduced i rod in Is,f " . s possessed 210,000
rate it from Santa F s are well cultivated branded, and not k dian iM) unbraiided cattle* It is
with maize .nd w 1 rds produce excellent' found necessary tc> slau -ter si, y t: - ousand annually,io keep
SW H»t W’Uif'3.
r , r.c well stocked with figs,
. pea--, imo the ither ;its of i-urope. Ar-
tific d if ■ ’.on is here conducted on very sin»ple but very
goo*' print ipie . and the effect is visible in ah their crops.
Hie pop dr ioa of New Mexico has been estimated at fifty
thousand.
Cauifoun v.— Referring to the articles which-appearun-
der this head, we may mention, ^ since they were written,
some additional information respecting this interesting por-
t m of Mexic© has been obi fined, ehn y through-Dr. Coui-
he stock at the pre-- ent tndard, m e; ’ more of * he country
be settled to the east. r<l. Sheep kite mcn -i ;ed with near-
1 equal rapidity, but are >' yet of little u>. >-e-,t to the Lid.
c California, their price having been kept en hiously high,
by the priests. f<It is^ifr eiei ; : strange,” •: iys Dr. Coul¬
ter, “ that where the fattest buModi is w ert!.< only eight dol¬
lars, andean rarely bb sold at all. andFwhere young sows
\ th calf can be bought in o at about two dollars md
frequently less, asheepcai t be-bought for less ha, throe
tie,liars.” Die white inhat 1 ; r mcrease i’v.
.!%i U] >er California •■-xtendafvon: the coast of tlie Pacific are now e stimated at about six thousand, whilst the nuori-
to-,the Bio. Colorado, and * m the boundary witli I.owhr Ca- ginal populatkm has considerably diminished in number,
liforni - :• few league out . o€S .n Diego, tc the parallel of The two Caliibmias are to be considered- as forming
421 cl, ees north fati mde. But the course of the RioColo- one great chain of mountains, with several long but usu-
radoifL utirelywithintheRot ky Moiiiitams-whichareseparat- ally narrow valleys dividing it into ridges nearly parallel
od from the inhabited, and indeed habitable, portion of Califor- with the coast, and as a whole separated by the gulf ofCor-
nia,lvv a o-eat sand plain, destitute of water. “The plain is tea and the great sand plain, from Sonora and the Rooky
mil on hundred miles in breadth, at it southern extre- Mountains ; with the latter, however, tl e California chain
no about-two fa- nd *ed at the nedhem} about seven apr-" • is ultimately to unite north, oft1 :epa-i allel oi h , obout
il miles in length, - raduaily ascending toward the the great summit level, dividing the waters of the Colum-
m l similar in every respect to that on the eastern bia from those falling into the bay of .San Francisco. The
.
. rt, tract of counti-y of very remarkable -.-a- likely ever to become of much .-of -rest to Europe;. . :l
run of its mountain ridges, continuous highly fertile, veil wooded, watered, and perfectly hi .d'h.
■ Lower-California, being nearly para ; ’
d almost all the minor streams running
. an t rivers falling into the bay oi
y , y r . g-. Boca de Carqumas, the Sacra
low r California i- 2tt\ rich h. m ; Dr. < uitei
: : '■ v s-;ea vi.ry rich, nrgcufih hh >a) ■ ruaM
ithern extremity of it; and gold ' also . 4 i, •••
r i' i»l .places. ' ^. ',.«a -:
/;; .'c.ihjbmla. Jcicnaloftlte i» t: wgr pitted Sedr’& oj\ iAttdon, v.. , w. pnj i- l'83'»
EXT) OF VOS ’ :-4*j i o ; RX 'li..
fri ,«i4 by Tfi ■: i» A
am! ! • i.*
iii-i . .. ' i i - - - ,
Pu/tecw, rufi'i ■entris
wyis />/ rA’iraj/dat//.
Tarsws spectrum
Loris t/irdzgradus.
Lerrurr ruber.
Galop o Se/itpale/ms
Hhinolophus ferrittrL-epuirutm,.
A M MALI A.
PLATE CCCXXX
Vespertilio noctula..
P//ropus Dussum/eri.
t
6.
<$.
Galeopithecus ru/hs.
I
MAMMALIA
PLATE CCCXXXI.
CraTiiiuri of 1.
Craruu.m, of $.
-—"Z^rx:_y, vous~';>i^'b'=®^«5
T. <- "^<^,' •.
CondylurcL cris tata
Chjysochloris ccopensis
Ursus orrwJu s
TeetA o/ Ictides albifrons.
^Ns.fNj'' -
’-ptn/MC
Xfasua nofa
h'/j/TUs refidgens
MAMMALIA.
plate evY.i.r.i //.
9
/ iverra civetta.
J^/xtor/MS midges.
Zsixtra. vuA/a/'is.
Megalotis Urucei.
Craxui/rn of 6/.
MAMAfAT T A
XIII.
*
(
MAMMALIA
PLATE CCCXXXin
MAMMALIA.
PL A Ti: C ((XXXIV.
Petaurus pygniceus.
Geo. Aikincin. Sculp
I iiii
MAMMALIA.
P L a ri: (< cxxxrv.
Trichecus rosmjirus
/ ’hocit
Craniiun of 4.
Teeth of 5.
Didelptds virqi'w/ma.
Didelphes casterivora
Geo. A-ikmcvn,, Scuh
Petaurus
pygmaeus
Phascolomvs wombat.
rfl
VI A M MAT! A
riATF, crcxxxv.
MAMMA LI A.
PLATE CCCXXXV.
Cranuarb of 4.
Chffromys
Sciurus cinereus
's vohtceZlci
Lowe/'
Arctorriys empetrct
Myoocis glis.
Cm/t uun, o!
ffydromys cftrysogjxster
MAMMALIA
TE CCCXXAVIJ
MAMMALIA.
PLATE CCCXXXVII.
J.
MAM MAMA
PLATE CCCAAA\7//.
PLATE CCCXAAV/II.
Ornithorhynckus paradoxus
-Echidrux seiosa
_Elep?ias /adieus.
russa.
WM'
Geo. AiLman, Sculp ]
MAMMALIA
PLATE CCCXXX1X
Young of I'Y/uus Br/rchellji.
MuPfemale. Zebra, Y Spanish Ass.
Cranium, of 4.
Came/us drorrzedaT-ins.
van cli
Cranium, of Geruis Moschus.
Geo. Aikma
Cervus alces.
Cen us tarandMs
CCXL
/
PLATE CCCJL
Cervus WcdlickiL
Camelopardalis giraffa.
cormna.
C/TYUr*
Geo. Aiknum,Sculp]
PLATE C CCA LI
M AM M ALIA.
/
riJfur&pw,.
■r>. pula
A'
Antilopt,
sen.
/InJyJjjp e chickaree.
Anl i. l/jpc picta
tfjffjwfiyl/ffjjjlrfM*
'>rVT> -V
MAMMALIA.
PL A TE CCCXLII.
mmmmm
IinJTDDD V.LV'I'/
iJelpkina&terus Pernnjj
Br
■ -
MAM MALI A.
A^aru'h/jJjjs Micro cep halus.
5.
6.
PLATE
Wind-pipe of Mariehalns.
CCCALIV.
7 Eiodon Sowerbii.
masonry
PLATE CCCXLV.
Fig.2.
tyobt, IJtl1
Geo. Aihrum. Sculpt
MASONRY.
PLATE rrCALlV.
Geo. Aiknuin, Sculp*
E
MASONRY.
PLATE CCCA7JV
/y/y. /3.
7%. 17.
Fry. 15.
Fig. 16'.
Fig. 18.
Fig. 19.
Fig. 20.
F
Fig. 24.
Fig.21.
atyo/.L />.■/'
Geo. Aikman, Sculpt
v'.
—
MASONRY
PLATE CCCXLVTT
TrecLfold.lhl1.
0
/
i
MASONRY
PLATE CCCXIVTT.
Fiq. 26.
Fig. 23.
Fig. 29.
Fig. 29.
Tredgold,Del?
Geo. AiJcman, Sculp1
ME CHANICS
PLATE CCCA/JV/I.
Xni,
t/u’.
Or
or
Mo
Geo. Aikman,Sadpt
Nature, of
t/io Motion.
Origin
of the
Motion.
jEjcplanatioTi of M motion of the mar/imr />\ means of signs.
G 3
F 2
A
*
MECHANIC S
PLATE CCCLI.
Fia. 2.
G&o. Aikmcui, Sculpt
I
MECHANICS
PLATE CCCLI.
Fy.2.
MECHANICS.
PLATE CCCLII.
Gto. Aikman, Sculp1.
by .Pliuthycn.
—r
71
1
MENSURATION
PLATE CCCLIII.
Fu/.5.
Fuj.l.
by ■ y Auhven.
Geo. Aikman, Sculp.
f
f
METEOROLOGY.
PLATE CCCLIV
Geo. Aikman. Sculp*
f
¥
*
■
PL A TE CCCLVI.
Platte
'i am
.Solomon Fork
■Imokv HiH FP
L0sa9e'
R. Neosho,
<Gr*Osagz
vanish Feaks
Negradvi or
Nesuk&Pnga or
iFl' Fork of
SDommqo)
f-J&tr, if
Cana'
W.P
SnuiJ, fork
.. VlOTl"/
rPenud
L.S.iib^
‘juT'ihfr
V \ v , °
Nati-hitochrs
^sr> del NorteJ
oNatchex
UacosiVy^.
S.Sabac
la {/modaj
^unova
Mobile
^ElenzArur
Tacani
\.Cashut£V.\
Guardin
Calcasii L
New Orlean^
tburq V.
on net
0 jFsV&bceni
\Eii<-inp\* CnheUjO^jLrm^ale^
.nCuiote <^r ^
F- °f the
•ssjssippi
Tfimjdq
T<imaquif>a " L,i.
-Lchi^
^■Sy SIJri^uiihi §||
Uriquf. ^ffpabloj
vJB 1 S C A Y /
» T .A rho/Ti
j: r's
BaptLsta,
Inli/nes
stfmm
A* ^ ijl
Refugio
fidoresl
”mto
Dolores
Luaxaqm
.HII11U '!Ill s aloulillO
^ »1* •”/ ••. J
Lujpb'o-eprion Xo.no
H^HSKl iAv'a,„Sa m.
/ °> S-Jo^pdasov
■
/»i \—, •v, ■fiarbemP'K
x XifialtiUa ■,
O t HojlM ist
e ■ M fftLJIadre
-// H ■/‘finLuji . v,arina
A" S A NVJ “ A„ (Aela M
e. Vta2SSPvSd^^to,*r
R r L° S: j oCocn \
(h' ia Chare^/J^saimj0fi‘ sBorrn del Fordo
t*OTO S 1: H.ol^asrta|^ Aaar&j*HanpU
^ vtoTuspan
[R.Colorado
fepprnueeho
U/On
lR.Bravo del Norte
{ioiuoio
if S t>jo (/,■ £!</""
| 4 'll'
sidoTxi0\
tRTigre
h ^anoh{ (
WpS Roque,"’•>
Randho
tan'txRas
Farm$.
J.tina
f/jmey.
aEscond
Bermgal.
,'0^o*-uW'' Spolore.
^A< * a] > < »n< ^
Durasno
tSaiidy I ■
gnosj
Bayono B.
^Ca&entes* ^g/13
^bAlaxaraV^ f
Leary*—_
^Vw SaJiP>‘3^."
foanico
The Triangle
P.S.Rlaal'i'.JI.M
as ti es
Marias
i.Lii/hi : Vallado^''
^1,h~l'.lo,.
jyp1"' 4 Shown
'"O/fpoton m
Los Arvos
Isitsvrivil 1:
CCoiiieiite
Amadarv X^jCua'
I ^ TerolqtlarL
taora tW,WN>>vc
VALl.AlM>Llp A
lacm
>i''.l ><i'l<‘(lo
To math
,4Lej£u(
(Jiamelay-\yi/fj M
i^V? 'in
FFNavidod Vt
Ten'Ti<an
( '-‘i Triangle
JiAmbergris I.
; -'JVllWtl
Cuerndvc
yT/mlova
Cehuaean fe
* S.Autdjnio).
Midi dam
1/
nrsholldly
qtlaiicd
heiinosa
.S, llh 11°I ','r
o.singa
>aa«Vli
eyiudmatln
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